It was a terrible day! It was overcast, rainy, cold, and miserable. Maybe that is why Bill tripped old Mrs. Billings. He didn't know. The only thing he really did know now is that within 10 minutes of doing it, he was on his way to the school Disciplinarium. It was all happening too fast for his 10 year old brain to comprehend. Mrs. Billings wasn't really hurt, or anything, and the class really got a laugh out of his antics. She just got up, pulled him out of his chair, and walked him to the office where she filled out a discipline slip, grabbed his arm again, and marched him to "the machine" as the kids called it.
Elm St. Elementary was the first school in the city to have its own Disciplinarium. There was talk that every school would have one eventually, but, based upon discipline statistics, it was felt that Elm St. needed one the worst. It was just installed on Saturday, and here it was Monday morning, and Bill was being pulled to it. Unlike the normal Disciplinariums, this one was smaller, and fit into a remodeled classroom in the basement of the 80 year old building. No student that Bill knew had ever seen the thing, although everyone was familiar with the workings of the normal machines, either from first hand experience, or from hearing (or seeing) their friends results from their visits.
Bill had never been to any of the machines. His older sister, Pam, was sent there by her 5th grade teacher last year. He remembered vividly her return home, crying and holding onto her bottom like it was going to fall off. Of course, Mom was upset about the whole thing, and pulled Pam's slacks and panties down to her knees right there in front of Bill. He was amazed at her bottom. While he didn't see it too often, he was familiar enough with it to know that he hardly would have recognized it. It was bright red, with darker red stripes all down it. He wanted to touch the welts, but knew that he better not. Mom just went "tsk", and told Pam to lie on the couch on her tummy. She left, and came back with some sort of cold cream that she rubbed on her butt. Pam cried out at first, but seemed to calm down. She kept telling Mom how much it hurt. After she stopped sniffling, Mom took off her sneaker, and spanked Pam's red butt like nothing he had ever seen. Pam screamed, and kicked her legs so hard that her slacks and panties went flying off of her ankles. Mom told her that no daughter of hers would ever embarass the family name by being sent to a machine, and not expect to get something to think about when she got back. She made Pam get up off of the couch. Pam slowly pulled her legs up under her, until her butt was high up, and then slowly pushed up. Bill was amazed at everything he saw. He was white faced, and sitting quietly. Mom sent Pam to her room, without supper, and turned to Bill. She shook her sneaker in his face and told him to remember what he had just seen, because if he EVER did something like it he would regret it for as long as he lived.
Mrs. Billings dragged him up to the door of the "machine". She slid some sort of card in the door, and opened it. There it was, a gleaming steel monster. He gulped, and squeezed his butt cheeks together as he stared at it. Mrs. Billings closed and locked the door, and told him to take off his pants and underpants. When he just stared at her, she yelled "NOW". Bill started to cry as he reached for his belt. He slowly undid it. He looked up with pleading eyes to Mrs. Billings. She just stared at him. With shaking fingers, he undid the top button on his pants, and then unzipped them. The weight of his belt caused them to immediately slide down off of his skinny frame and form a puddle at his ankles. He once again stared at her. She told him that he had better quit fooling around, or she would give him more strokes.
He stepped out of his pants, and then stuck both thumbs into the elastic waistband of his little white jockey shorts. With a sigh and a shiver, he slowly pulled them down. He stepped out of them, and noticed for the first time that his little penis was at rigid attention. He was so embarassed!
Mrs. Billings pulled him over to the machine, which, unlike the machines at the free standing Disciplinariums, was not enclosed. She picked Bill up, and deposited him on some yellow foot pads. She told him to grab some yellow handle like things above his head. He did so, and immediately his ankles and wrists were restrained by the machine. A large monitor then lit up in front of Bill, and he could see his little bottom as the machine bent him over a small, narrow, padded bench. The monitor showed "27" in the upper right hand corner. He heard a hissing sort of noise, and looked over his shoulder. What he saw caused his heart to miss a beat. There was a wicked looking plastic paddle with air holes in it attached to a mechanical arm. It was in the process of slowly moving backward. Even more frightening to Bill was the sight of Mrs. Billings face staring at his butt, probably not 4 feet away! He heard a snapping noise, and his world suddenly became a world of burning pain. The paddle had hit him at the top of his tightly bent over bottom. It seemed to hesitate for a second, and then pulled away. He was so shocked that he didn't even cry, until number two caught him just at the crease of his butt and thighs.
He screamed out in pain, and terror. Pain from the strokes, and terror that he could not move. He tried to wave his butt back and forth, but a restraining strap held him tightly in place. Number three hit near the top again, followed by number 4 at the bottom. These strokes rotated, hitting on top of the already sore areas. Through tear streaked eyes, he noticed his butt was not horribly red both at the top, and bottom. In between, it was still white. Strokes five and six followed in the same pattern. Then, so quickly that he could not count them, he received 8 strokes in the middle of his butt. He was in anguish. He got back enough of his voice to beg Mrs. Billings to stop it.
Suddenly, he felt himself being moved. He thanked Mrs. Billings for her pity. The machine stood him up to about a 45 degree angle. He suddenly felt straps grip him at the top of his thighs, as the machine then pulled his legs apart and bent him back over. He stared in shock at the monitor. Sure enough, he was going back down, but this time, his bottom was separated, showing an untouched area along his crack, along with his bottom hole, and his little swaying bag. Even the head of his little penis was now visible in front of his bag. For a second he was in shock, then he remembered Mrs. Billings. He twisted his head, and sure enough, she was still there!
He only had a second to think about that when the paddle screamed down at a different angle, and smacked along the inside crease on his left butt cheek. He received 5 terrible strokes, followed by 5 more on the inside of his right butt cheek. He tried to clench, but couldn't. He heard the machine moving, and watched in horror as the dreaded arm moved in front of his head. Quick as anything, the arm snapped down, and he felt a thousand bees sting inside his crack and over his little hole. This was repeated twice more, and then the arm raised up out of the way. He stared at the monitor, and saw that the number showed "0". He was so happy! The monitor also showed his bottom to be nothing but red, from top to bottom, and from inside edge to outside edge.
He was slowly raised up, and the restraints were released. He grabbed his butt and tried to rub the sting away. It did not even feel like his butt, it was so swollen.
Mrs Billings watched him do his "spanking dance". She smiled as she watched, seemingly content to watch him jumping up and down, rubbing and crying. Finally, she told him to stop it, or she would see that he got even more. She helped him dress, snapping the waistband of his underware, and causing another cry from him. She escorted him back to the classroom, a crying, red faced boy who still only wanted to rub his butt and dance around. She made him stand in the corner for the rest of the period.
It was starting to snow as he left school. Instead of running and playing like the rest of the kids, he walked slowly, feeling the heat his butt cheeks with every step. He slowly opened the door as he got home. Mom was waiting, with her sneaker in her hand. Pam stood behind her grinning like a cat.
Without a word, he took off his coat, dropped his pants and undies, and laid down on the couch. Mom said not a word. Her sneaker spoke for her!
Back to Issue 20
Back to All the Stories