Did You Write This?

Asked Miss Nelson, the junior high school Principal as we sat in her office. An ominous paddle was hanging from a peg on the wall just behind her and to her right. It was a beautifully finished piece of wood about two feet long and six inches wide.

I was shaking with fear. "Yes." I confessed, feeling faint.

In a classroom prank that started with a friend and I sending notes to girls we had gotten carried away and written increasingly suggestive lines. I topped everyone writing, "Fuck me too." and one of the girls took it to the teacher! Within a few minutes I was in the Principal's office reception room and now across the desk. She saw me looking at her "board of education."

"Looks like we have some work to do..." she observed.

"Oh God!" I exclaimed.

"Don't take the Lord's name in vain." she admonished.

"I didn't mean to..." I quickly retracted.

"Now what do you have to say for yourself?" she said holding up the note.

"It'll never happen again."

"That's right, but we need to be sure. Don't we?"

"Oh yes." I said knowing I was trapped and feeling my rectum tighten.

"Let's see what the Board of Education has to say about this..." she said reaching for a book.

I was shaking like a leaf as she turned the pages.

"I thought so." she said looking up with a wry smile.

"This is a 40 swat offense..."

"Oh my God!" I nearly collapsed.

"And," she added, "It calls for the "drilled" paddle."

I had heard of a paddle with holes in it. It was supposed to produce several times as much sting per swat. It was so awesome it was banned by some Boards of Education, but I was not that lucky.

She stood up to get it from a cabinet, opened the door and slid the implement of discipline out with a sliding sound. She put it on the desk and I just trembled.

"Well," she admonished me, "you certainly have earned this. I've never seen such a note in 20 years of teaching."

"I'm so ashamed." I begged hoping yet for a reprieve. I simply could not believe this was going to happen. Not to me!

"Now, you must think of this way..." she said as she opened a notebook. Miss Nelson was famous for "selling" a spanking. They said that by the time she got through with her pitch you would be looking forward to it.

"Now this is what you did and that tells us that you have something wrong in your mind. I can eliminate it. Isn't that what you want?"

"Uh, I don't know..." I said calming down as I looked at the ten one-inch holes in the two-foot long, five-inch wide paddle. I just could not accept this was going to happen to me.

She showed me my own note, saying, "You see, this is the way it begins." and then she opened the book to show me a picture of a young man overpowering a young woman on a couch.

"And then you'll do something like this..." and she turned the page.

"But one day suppose some young girl you force fights back." and showed me picture of a badly disheveled girl on a couch with cold staring eyes. It took me a while to realize that it was a murder scene. The girl was dead!

Then, Miss Nelson turned to a courtroom scene where a young man was standing before a judge.

"And, you are sentenced to death in the electric chair." she said with a rising voice. I was stunned to see the whole thing extending from my one ill-conceived note.

"And, finally..." she said, turning the page. It was a picture of man in an electric chair with smoke rising from the electrode clamp on his leg. His fists were clenched, urine was running between his legs and his mouth was grimaced in pain while his terrified eyes stared through the holes in the mask covering most of his face.

"But we can save you with the proper punishment. Now wouldn't you prefer this..." she said, pointing to the paddle. "To this?" she said pointing to the poor bastard in the chair.

I was trapped and in a moment she had me signing a paper for "40 hard swats in four sessions with the time and place stipulated. At the bottom was a place for her four signatures and those of the witnesses.

"What?" I gestured to the "Witness" section.

"We must have a witness for every serious spanking." And, I looked at her quizzically.

"I think I'll get Miss Johnson. She needs to see this sort of thing."

My heart sank as the last person I wanted to have see me getting spankings was the newest, prettiest, youngest teacher in the school. Miss Nelson got up and walked to the door of her office. I noticed that she was wearing very high heeled pumps that I had not seen when I came in. She noticed me looking at her legs and smiled. Then, she turned to talk to her secretary.

"Go to Miss Johnson's class. Tell her I need to see her and that you'll watch her class until she returns."

Then, she turned to me and said, "Go to that bathroom. I'm going to give you an enema." I must have looked alarmed. She added, "You're going to lose control and I don't want you going to the bathroom on my floor."

"My God," I thought. I'd never heard of that, but I got up and went into the water closet where a full enema bag hung from a hanger on the wall.

"Drop your pants and sit down." she ordered, gesturing to the commode.

I dropped my pants and underwear, sat and she handed me the pipe.

"I assume you know what to do with this." She said.

"Yes'um." I said, taking the pipe in hand. I carefully inserted it in my rectum.

"It's in, mam." I said when I got the hilt of the pipe.

"Up to the hilt?"

"Yes'um." and she flipped a clamp on the hose. The water began gurgling into me. It felt awful.

"Hang on..." she said, adding, "Keep that pipe in place until I tell you to pull it out or you'll get two extra swats."

My belly was extended and I felt like I was going to explode. I heard Miss Johnson come into the room with the unmistakable "click-slap" sound of high heels.

"Miss Johnson?" said Miss Nelson turning around. She walked away from the door and to her desk where she picked up my note. She showed it to the young teacher, who gasped, and then explained that I was going to be given ten swats once a week for a month. I was terrified, but hung onto the enema pipe for dear life. I didn't want any "extras!"

She appeared at the door to the toilet, "OK, pull it out." she ordered. At first I was relieved, but then thought, "What comes next?"

I felt like a rocket with water squirting out of my butt, farting and groaning, but soon it ended.

"Just hold your pants and come here." She said.

"Can I wipe?"

"No I want your butt wet." she said, taking me by the arm with a jerk, and pulling me out of the water closet. This was the first moment she had been physical with me and it seemed as if she were working up her anger.

"This is our little note writer." She said, presenting me to the beautiful, young teacher who sat on a chair with her gorgeous legs crossed twirling a pearl pump. She only raised her eyebrows.

"I'm sorry for what I did." I said to Miss Johnson and she said nothing.

"The proper thing to say is, "I want to apologize for making this necessary."

"I want to apologize for making this necessary." I quickly added.

Miss Nelson produced a set of handcuffs and put them on my wrists, with my hands in front. At this point I was struck with fear.

"Now go to that little chair, bend over and put your hands on it."

As I approached the chair I saw her pick up the paddle with ten holes. I took my position and she approached. I could see her feet and she put the paddle on my butt in an aiming tap. Then I saw the backswing and in a flash it was coming!

WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!

In as many seconds I had five swats and was screaming. I had never felt such pain! Every hole left a ring of fire and where the rings overlapped were little points of incredible stinging. My butt was on fire, but I did see that Miss Johnson was crying too!

"Do you have to pee?" said Miss Nelson as she put a empty coffee can under my dangling penis. I immediately urinated into the can as I continued gasping in agony. For a moment I thought she was finished and I started to get up.

"Down or you'll get extra." she yelled and I could see her pumps moving into position. I could gasp and sob. I felt another aiming touch and nearly fainted, saw the backswing and then it was coming!

WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!

If the first five hurt, the second five were "screamers." It became dark and I thought I was dying! All I could do was moan, but it was over as soon as it began and my throbbing, stinging butt felt like it was about the size of a washtub. I heard myself fart, but had no feeling for it. I had lost control and would have shit had I had any to drop.

"All right. You may get up." said Miss Nelson. I stood and she put a towel on my face and enveloped me with her arms.

"You see, we all love you and want to keep you from turning out to be a bad person." And then she guided me over to Miss Johnson, who took my hand as she dabbed her eyes with a small, feminine handkerchief.

"Yes, we all love you..."

"Now get yourself together and I'll see you here at this hour next Friday. Can you come then, Miss Johnson?"

"Oh certainly." she smiled. "Should I wear gloves?"

I left the room and walked back to my class slowly, crying all the way, but somehow I felt better knowing I would set the dress standard for the correct wear to spankings.