Patterns

Amanda sat in an uncomfortable chair in the principal's office and listened to a litany of her son's misdeeds.  Her hands were folded neatly in her lap.  Her bare feet wore strappy sandals with high heels.  Her toes were coated with a soft peach polish that matched her fingernails.  Her legs were crossed, causing her short pale green dress to climb up her slender bare thighs.  Her long black hair, shiny and thick, had been pulled back at the sides and fell to the middle of her back.  Her pretty face was expressionless, her large dark eyes dreamy.  Her full lips, creamy and moist with pastel lipstick were slightly parted. She heard the principal's monotone voice as though from a long distance drone on about her son's behavior, but she was not really listening.  She'd heard it all before.  She'd spanked him for his naughtiness countless times.  She thought now about the pattern she followed each time she spanked him. Max had been disrespectful, or had not done his homework, or had lied, or had been involved in some mischief with some other boys from school.  It was always something.  Whatever the naughty thing was, Amanda would take her son by the hand and walk upstairs to her bedroom.  She sat on her bed with Max standing next to her.  She would question him about his actions, he would admit what he had done, she would ask him if he knew he was going to get spanked and he always nodded his head.  She would scold him as she unbuttoned, unzipped and pulled down his pants.  She would chide him for being naughty and spank his brief-covered bottom while he stood next to her knee.  She would hitch up her dress and turn him over her bare thighs.  She'd smack his covered bottom a few more times while chastising him for his actions. She'd rest her hand on his full, little-boy bottom and tell him she was going to pull down his underpants and spank him bare.  He would sometimes nod his head; sometimes he would squeak "yes", as though asking her to go ahead rather than acknowledging what she had said.  She would slip her slender fingers inside his briefs, lightly raking his flesh with her long fingernails, and pull them down, uncovering his bottom, slide them down his thighs until they reached his knees.  She would then glide her hands back up his strong legs and over his bottom, now slightly pink, not yet warm, from the few spanks she had already given.  And then she'd spank in earnest.  Each smack a sharp, crisp sound followed by a yelp from Max.  She'd spank each plump cheek back and forth, her palm slightly cupped.  When his bottom cheeks were deeply pink, she'd spank heartily and quickly in one spot until it was deeply red, hot to the touch and Max was kicking and pleading.  Then she'd move to the other side and do it again.  And Max would kick and plead again.  She'd spank in the middle, covering some of each of her son's wiggling cheeks.  And all the while she would scold and ask questions.  "Were you a naughty boy?  Do you deserve a spanking over Mommy's knees?  What did you do that was naughty?  Does your bottom burn?"  Or  "I'm going to teach you not to lie to me.  What a naughty boy you are for lying to Mommy!"  Once, when he had pulled up a girl's dress at school, Amanda threatened him.  "You let everyone see her panties.  If you ever do that again," she warned as she spanked, "I'll put panties on you and let all your friends see.  I'll tell the teacher I pulled your little panties down and spanked you." Max was now 12 years old and she was still spanking him. She never thought he'd be naughty for such a long time.  She had begun to suspect that he deliberately got into trouble solely to get a spanking.  Once he had told her that even though he hadn't done anything wrong, he thought she should spank him just to "remind" him to behave.  Amanda had laughed it off and refused. That very same evening, Max refused to do his homework and so had got his spanking anyway.  If he had been hoping for something a bit lighter than usual, he must have been disappointed.      What, Amanda wondered while the principal went on, could she do to discipline a boy who asked to be spanked?  Was it possible he enjoyed having his bottom bared, being draped over her legs, her hand stinging each squirming cheek, the heat in his bottom? He kicked and cried and pleaded while she spanked.  He also had, she could not help but notice, an erection after each spanking. She would hold him on her lap and ask him if he was going to be a good boy.  She'd stroke his hot bottom cheeks and tell him she didn't want to have to spank him.  He'd snuggle in close and promise to behave.  A week or two later, he was bare-bottomed over her knees kicking and squirming while she spanked.  Pleading and promising while she heated the plump flesh under her hand.      Amanda could not prevent a small sigh from escaping.  The principal stopped talking and looked up.      "Okay, you get the idea.  Max's a problem and, frankly, I am seriously considering expelling him from this school," he said, tapping his index finger on his desk.      "I'd like you to consider giving him just one more chance," Amanda said.  "I realize it's a lot to ask, given his behavior. But I have an idea that after today, he'll be the most well behaved boy in the school.  Will you just give me this one opportunity?"           The principal nodded in quick up and down bobs of his head. "I'll have him sent in," he said.      "No," Amanda said.  "I'd like to go to his classroom."      The principal again nodded.  "Fine.  I'm sure you know the way.  Go ahead," he permitted.  "But I warn you, this is Max's last chance.  If you can't take care of the problem, he will have to leave this school."      This time it was Amanda's turn to nod.  She rose and walked quickly on her high heels along the wide corridor until she reached her son's classroom.  After a brief knock on the door, she entered the room.  Her son's teacher greeted her with a smile.  Max's eyes opened widely.  He knew he was in trouble, he knew why, he hoped he was wrong about what his mother was doing in his classroom.  "Please," he silently prayed, "just let her be here to take me home."       He watched intently as his mother spoke to his teacher.  He saw the surprise on his teacher's face.  He watched her nod, almost imperceptibly.  His eyes never left her as she pulled her chair out from behind her desk and placed it next to his mother. He watched her turn toward him.  He saw his mother look in his direction.      "Max," his teacher said.  "Come up here."       There was no "please" in either her words or her voice.  All eyes in the room turned to Max and a low hum began among the students.  Max's heart began to beat a little faster.  "She's just here to take me home," he told himself over and over even as he saw his mother sit in the big chair.  "Going home," he told himself as he got up from his desk and walked to the front of the room on wobbly knees.  He stood next to his teacher's desk. "Yes?" he asked his teacher, looking directly into her big blue eyes as though he didn't see his mother sitting in that big chair.  As though he didn't know she was waiting for him.       His teacher folded her arms across her pale yellow dress and inclined her head toward Max's mother.  He swallowed hard and slowly turned toward his mother.  Sitting in that big chair, she pointed at a spot on the floor next to her.  Max took a step in her direction.      "Are we going home?" he asked, trying to sound casual, trying to force his foot to take another step toward his mother.      Amanda shook her head.  "Not now," she said softly.      Max took another step.  He was at his mother's right side. The way his mother looked, her manner, everything about this moment told him he should be standing next to his mother in her bedroom.       The collective whispering of the students was a constant low drone.      "I was in the principal's office a moment ago," Amanda began.  "He had many things to tell me about you.  Many things you've done.  Tell me what you think he said," his mother demanded in her soft voice.      Dangerous ground.  What if he admitted doing something the principal didn't mention?   He was in front of his classmates, too.  If he tried to sound contrite, he would be laughed at.  How could he recite a list of wrongdoings and make it sound like bragging to them and an apology to his mother at the same time? He stood silent.  He frowned in concentration, as though trying to remember of what he could have been accused.      His mother turned to the teacher.  "Do you have a ruler in...?"      "I pushed some kids out of my way," Max blurted.      Amanda looked at him.  "Really?  I don't think the principal mentioned that."      Rats, Max thought and looked at the floor.      "What else did you do?" Amanda asked quietly, sliding her short dress up her bare thighs.      Max watched the pale green fabric of his mother's dress inch up her legs.  Her lap was ready.  He could hear the kids in the classroom begin to murmur.      "I, um, ..." he shrugged.       The teacher handed Amanda a ruler.  She tapped it against her bare thigh.      Max gulped.  "I wrote stuff on the bathroom walls," he confessed.      "Hmmm.  I hadn't heard that one, either."      Max closed his eyes.   Ohhhh, what had that big jerk told her? he wondered.      "Continue," Amanda insisted.      Max hesitated. Amanda slapped the ruler against the palm of her hand.  The students gasped.      "I threw food in the cafeteria," Max rushed to confess.      "Ah.  Yes.  I heard about that," Amanda said quietly and nodded.  "Is there anything else you'd like to tell me?"      Max shook his head.  He did not want to tell her anything.      "I see.  Perhaps later you will remember some other things, as well.  For now, tell me, what do you think of your behavior?"      Max shrugged. A whoosh of air sounded the warning a split second before the ruler smacked one side of Max's pant-covered bottom.   "Unh!" the class shrieked.  "Unh!" Max howled.      "What do you think of your behavior, Max?" Amanda repeated.      "It was bad," he admitted, tears smarting his eyes.      "Bad?" Amanda asked.  "Is that a word we use?"  She lifted up the ruler again.      "Naughty," Max quickly whispered.      "I don't think your friends heard you."      "Naughty," Max repeated to the soft giggles of his classmates.      "Speak in complete sentences, Max."      "I was naughty."      "What happens when you are naughty?"           Max silently pleaded with his large dark eyes.      Amanda looked back impassively.  "Hmmm?"      "I get spanked," Max admitted and then listened to the eruption of laughter from his classmates.      "How?" Amanda asked.  "Explain."      "Over your knee," he whispered.  There wasn't a sound in the room.      "And?"      "You pull my pants down."      "And?"      "You spank me," Max admitted softly.      "Do you mean I spank you over your underpants?" Amanda innocently asked.      The class shrieked with glee.      "No," Max said miserably.      "Well?" his mother encouraged.      "You pull my ... underpants down."      "And then?" Amanda asked.      "You spank me."      "Yes, that's right," Amanda agreed.  "I turn you over my knee and spank your bare bottom.  A big boy like you still gets your bare bottom spanked when you are naughty.       Again the class burst into laughter, not wanting to miss a single word, unable to help themselves.       "And what do you do and say while I'm spanking you?" Amanda asked.      Max's face was in full blush.  "I kick and cry and ask you to stop."      "Ask me to stop?  How do you ask?  What do you say, Max?"      "I say please stop," Max wept softly.      "Please stop, what?"      "Please stop, .... Mommy."      "Haaaa!" the students chorused.       "I'm going to spank you now, Max.  Right here in this classroom, in front of all of your friends.  Right on your bare bottom."      Max's eyes filled with tears that spilled over and ran down his cheeks.           Amanda unbuttoned her son's pants.      "Did you think about the spanking I would give you when you were pushing kids out of your way?"      "No," Max said as his mother pulled down the zipper on his pants.      Amanda pulled her son's pants down, tugging at them until they were at his ankles.       "Did you think about your bare bottom burning under my hand while you were throwing food in the cafeteria?" Amanda asked, allowing the class a good long look at Max's bare legs, his t- shirt barely covering his bottom.      "No," Max choked.      Amanda placed the ruler on the teacher's desk.  She turned her son over her naked thighs.  She lifted his t-shirt.  She patted his chubby brief-covered bottom.       "Can everyone see?" she asked the class.       A few students in the back stood up.  Amanda slipped her fingers inside Max's briefs, lightly raking his flesh with her long nails.  She pulled his white underpants down, slowly uncovering his round white bottom.  She glided them down his strong legs until they joined the pants puddled at his ankles.      Amanda raised her hand and spanked quickly, but not hard, as she warmed up her son's bottom.  She spanked every part of each cheek until his entire bottom was pink.  Max burst into tears and cried out loud, a noise that joined the ooohs and giggles of his classmates.      His teacher stood behind her desk, her eyes glued to Max's plump bare and bouncing bottom. Corporal punishment was allowed in the school, but she had never used it.  As she watched each spank land and each shade of pink that followed, she knew that discipline in her classroom would take on a whole new meaning.      "Is this what you had in mind when you were writing on the bathroom walls?" Amanda asked, spanking harder now, back and forth across each plump bottom cheek.       "Nooooo!" Max screeched. "I think it's time you demonstrated to your friends what happens when I give you a good spanking.  I think they'll see a very different Max than the one who pushes children and throws food and destroys school property."  Amanda spanked harder then, over and over in one spot on her son's bottom until it was red before moving to another spot and spanking there.      Max kicked and wailed.  His bottom jiggled and squirmed over his mother's lap.      The teacher watched Max's bouncing bottom hoping that another student would give her the slightest excuse to warm his bottom.      "Mommy stoooop!" Max pleaded.   "Pleeeeease!  Mommyyyyy! Owwwww!  It hurrrrrts!" he howled.  "I'll be good, Mommy, I promise!"      "Are you going to write on the walls, Max?" Amanda softly asked, spanking then pausing to wait for an answer.      "Nooooo!" Max vowed.           Amanda spanked the tops of her son's thighs.  "Are you going to push the other children out of your way?"  She rested her hand on her son's hot bottom while he answered.      "Nooooo!"       Amanda spanked up one cheek and down the other.      "Are you going to throw food?"      "Nooooo!"      "Are you going to be a good boy for Mommy?"      "Yessss!" Max wept, his body limp over his mother's lap.      Amanda picked up the ruler and rested its cool wood on her son's hot bottom.       "If you are ever naughty at school again, I'll come back and spank you with this ruler on your bare bottom in front of the entire student body," Amanda promised.  "Do you believe me?"      "Yes," Max sobbed.       Amanda pulled up her son's briefs and helped him to stand. She pulled him back down onto her lap and wrapped her arms around him.  She held him and rocked him while he cried.  She glanced up at the students who turned away from her gaze. Max snuggled closer, inhaling his mother's warmth and light sweet scent. Naughty at school, she had specifically said.