Note From The Editor: The writer of this very nice story sent it to me and asked to remain anonymous. However, I have his e-mail address, so if you want to tell him what you think about his story you can email me ([email protected]) and I will make sure he gets your comments.
I think now that Mrs. Wilkerson did what she did to Stan not out of sheer anger any more than had Mrs. McConnal acted out of pure impulse whenever she really laid one on me. Whenever Mrs. McConnal spanked me solely upon impulse was when she would give me one of her hand spankings. They were meant to sting, and sting pretty bad, or so it felt at the time. But they were never meant to hurt like the ones she had seriously studied over.
I think that anyone who would give a kid (any kid) such a severe spanking as those on impulse needs to be restrained. I understood that then. That's why, I know now, I had given Mrs. McConnal permission to spank me as severely as she felt I needed. I knew not only that she would never really hurt me, I knew I was safe when in her charge.
And I had really given her my permission to spank me like that soon after we had first met, when I was 10. It took her a while to reel me in. I was like a cautious puppy, not sure of whom he could trust, not sure if he could trust anybody. And she showed me that I could trust her, and that she loved me, and that I was safe in her care.
I think now that Stan and Mrs. Wilkerson had some sort of unwritten, unspoken, contract that gave her not just the administrative right to spank him, but an agreement between then that gave her his consent and that he would trust whatever she deemed appropriate.
And I think also that part of that unspoken yet internally understood compact between them was that when she finally did spank him Mrs. Wilkerson would give Stan one all time classic ass demolishings. And Stan would never need a real spanking again.
Stan was ready to make a great change in mindset, a change that most kids make over a more extended period of time than Stan was going through. I don't think he felt he could begin that next stage of growing up until he had gotten the spanking for everything wrong he had done over this earlier stage of growing up. As if he had not paid for these transgression or shortcomings (be they real or imagined) and needed the help of someone who loved him to help him through this.
Mrs. Wilkerson loved him enough to do that for him. I have no doubt she gave him more than he was expecting, but that was part of Stan's horror in experiencing the day and several days after that. And it was experiencing the horror that Stan both wanted and needed to help him put a more childish mindset behind him and move on to a more adult one.
But equally important was her accepting him afterward just as she had before all this started. He was her pet, much like I was seen as Pretty Lady's pet. In neither of our cases did it embarrass us to be considered 'pets' of those teachers. We loved them. They loved us. Both of us coveted our relationships with those ladies.
I never felt my relationship with Mrs. McConnal to be at risk. I was tempted to become cold and sullen after each real spanking she gave me, but part of our unsaid agreement was that both of us would put forth all the effort necessary to help both of us recover and cement our relationship. It meant that she would take care of me after spanking me like that. It meant that I would fight with all my might the temptation to be angry with her afterwards and want to excise some penalty to her for having spanked me, like shutting myself off from her afterward. I didn't. It also meant that she would not only be loving and gentle afterward, to an excess if need be, she had to promise that her reason for being angry with me, her reasons for feeling so strongly that I needed to be punished that severely, were now gone and taken care of.
She would never be still angry with me after she wore me out. She gave me all the sympathy in the world. She would wear me out good and proper if I needed it, but she was truly sorry after the fact that I had been required to go through such a painful and traumatic an experience.
After each of those spankings I spent the night in her house, most often with her watching over me and taking care of me the next day. No words but loving and encouraging did she speak to me during those times.
But, although I did imagine plenty of spankings from her, it was her hand spankings that were my reward for that. Mrs. McConnal usually gave me those as a reminder of what a real spanking could be like. She would do it on the spot and at the spur of the moment. They did sting, but were more or less a way of saying calming me down. I would sometimes toy with her and tease her in my cutting up so that she bent me over and slapped my behind with her hand 5-10 times. Sometimes she would give me 3 licks like that more in fun than anger. It meant, 'OK we've played your game out and the end of it, as you knew when you started it, is a spanking for you, so here's three licks.' Sometimes she would give me 15 or 20, those were, more often than not, therapy for an over-excited child.
I once thought that I didn't want those serious spankings from her, but now I think that I knew I needed those releases. The state of release when getting to spank land, as much as it hurt my ass, really did let me to release a lot of pent up tension and stress that would build up within me. I always really did feel like a great weight had been lifted off of my shoulders after one of those spankings. Perhaps my behavior was a signal to her that it was time for such a release.
I was always scared when I knew one of those was coming and would have gladly stepped away from it if possible. I gave her my consent years earlier, and nothing had come about to make me want to rescind that consent. But Mrs. McConnal never put me through the sheer horror that Mrs. Wilkerson put Stan through.
I presumed that if he brought her to that state of anger that he would be unhappily surprised from the landing of the very first lick of her paddle. He never expected her to spank him with the severity and gusto as she had exhibited that morning. But to sentence him to spend the rest of the school day knowing that his morning spanking was nothing but a warm pu for the main attraction that afternoon; that seemed too much to put on any boy.
Stan was on the verge of a nervous breakdown the rest of the day. I had PE with him, as well as Clark, the next class after calculus. And then Stan, Dianne, Clark, and I were all together in Mrs. McConnal's drama class.
His butt was the center of attention in the locker room. Slightly more than an hour after receiving it, Stan was bent over in the locker room describing his memory of the event while being told some things that he did not remember, like the fact that she gave him 10 licks - he had lost count fairly early.
His butt was purple. Needless to say, the darkest area was his sit spot. He was asked if his bottom was getting hard yet. It was. All any of us could think about was how badly it would hurt to get spanked on that wrecked hind end.
"You looking forward to her working on your ass on the bare, Stan?" No "Looking forward to pulling your pants down for her?" (no answer) "How 'bout its Stan? You looking forward to her seeing you naked? Too bad you won't get to see her naked, too." (still no answer from Stan) "I bet you're getting a hard on just thinking about it, aren't you, Stan?" (no answer) "Stand up, Stan. Let's see how hard your dick is."
Stan did slowly stand up. Yes, he had a hard on from thinking about it (what else could he possibly think about today?). "Whoooo! Stan, you're going to enjoy this one coming up." "Yeah, man, that hot fox of your is going to blister your naked ass in a few hours, and you're about to pop off just thinking about it." It's OK, man, we're all about to pop off just thinking about it." "Yeah, but Stan's the one who is going to get it." "Then it's good he is getting off on it. It would be even worse if he weren't." "Bend back over, Stan."
He bent over again. "So really, Stan, do you like the idea of her seeing you with your pants down this afternoon?" Yes, sort of. But I don't want her to spank me again. "Are you sure?" "Man, who could WANT to get what he's gonna get?" "Hay, Stan, how 'bout if she got naked, too?" "Hoowee, man, I'd trade places with you for that!" (That comment set all our minds to racing.)
One of the jokers, someone who often delighted in tormenting the soon-to-be recipient of a spanking by reminding him of how terrible it was going to be, gave Stan a solid slap with his hand, right on that spot Hrs. Wilkerson had worked so hard on.
Stan jumped up grabbing his butt, not quite able to stifle a cry. Nothing had to be said. Mrs. Wilkerson was certain to hit him a lot harder, and with a lot harder implement than that.
And she would NOT be playing.
Frankly it terrifies me even now that Stan had to go through that. Those of us who saw it were transfixed. Girls and boys alike had mixed feelings watching it come about and transpiring. There was a fascination about it, something we could not look away from. But what started out merely being scary, seeing Mrs. Wilkerson that livid, turned step by step into a nightmare. As scared as I have been contemplating a severe spanking Mrs. McConnal was soon to give me, the spanking that I remain the most in horror of was Stan's.
He probably didn't get any more total licks than did Joel from Mrs. Johnson the year before. It was the breaking it up, and giving Stan (and the rest of the school, too, students and teachers alike) the sense of a spanking stopped in the middle, with the next blow waiting to fall on a butt already so sore it can't be sat down on without great pain.
But Stan never needed a real spanking again. This was all the spankings he would ever need. Just one. But what a one.
Dianne joined me at lunch. I wasn't eating very much. In fact I was still shaking from what I had seen that morning.
She had heard what was being said. When I told her I had been there and had seen Stan's ass only moments earlier she and her friends wanted to know all. I told then all that I had witnessed. I also told her of what had gone down between Stan and Mrs. Wilkerson, their relationship, what had come up between, as well as it coming to a head this morning.
She could see how shaken up I was by all of it, but I had to point out, "Oh, I'm not nothing shook up like Stan is shook up. Dianne, he's about to flip out. He cried at even the thought of what's going to happen this afternoon. I mean, the spanking he's going to get this afternoon . . . Oh, Dianne, it terrifies me just to think about it. It's a hundred times worse on Stan.
"I don't know if he ever tried talking with her," I went on, "but if I were him I would surely give it another try. I mean, it couldn't hurt. She said that arguing with her would only make it worse, but it could never hurt to tell the teacher that's about to take you to spank land that you love her . . . just in case she forgot. I mean, it certainly won't make her any MORE mad at you than she already is, and it might help a little." (I always tried to make a point to tell Mrs. McConnal that I loved her right before she gave me a good blistering; it was true and it sure couldn't hurt.)
"Do you get this scared before Mrs. McConnal spanks you?" Dianne asked me.
"This scared? Yeah, I guess so, but not this upset about the way it's being carried out. Besides, Mrs McConnal never hit me THAT hard, Dianne." Then it dawned on me, "How did you know that Mrs. McConnal spanked me? And it's not like she has to do it regularly, by the way."
"She spanked you over her knee with a hairbrush last year." she said innocently enough. "Spanked you on your bare bottom, they say."
"Who told you that?" I really wanted to know. ('They say" she spanked me naked, which she did. Word had to spread, but none of the girls would bring up that part with me.)
"One of the older girls told me first." she said trying to remember, "But too many people have told me now that I forget who told me first."
She saw my embarrassment. "They weren't making fun of you. One of the older girls said that she wished that she could have done it to you herself. The others giggled when she said that. They think you've got a cute bottom."
"Did they say that?" I wanted to know.
"A girl knows these things, Jeremy. And I am a girl, you know." Hmmmmm.
"I was 12 then." I said, as if I were so much older now and too old for spankings such as those.
"It's OK." she said, "That's how I spank Timmy, too. Though I'm sure Mrs. McConnal spanked you a lot worse than I've ever spanked Timmy."
"You spank Timmy?" I never dreamed that.
"Of course I do. If you had a mother and a big sister they'd both spank you too."
My mind immediately raced to Gloria. Bless her heart. I spent a moment wishing Gloria a wonderful day at college.
"Big sisters spank little brothers? In real life?" What a dumb thing to say, 'in real life'.
"In real life?" she laughed. "Of course. Haven't you ever known a friend with a big sister who spanked him?"
"I don't know." was all I could say, "I never asked and no one ever brought it up."
But back to where I wanted the conversation to go; "You spank him on his bare butt? with a hairbrush?"
"Yes!" she was getting irritated at my asking her to repeat herself, but I was still astonished. The image of her with her little brother bare-assed over her knees was a complete turn on to me right then. (The irony that one spanking should disrupt my psycho-emotional state as badly as Stan's did, yet Dianne blistering her little brother's fanny was such a turn on to me was not lost on me even at the time.)
I had to ask, "Do you still get spanked, Dianne?"
"Sometimes my Daddy will spank me, but I would have to do something real out of line or real juvenile to earn one from him now. It's been a long time."
"How does he spank you?" I asked her to continue.
"He takes me over his knee and spanks me with a hairbrush," it seemed pretty ubiquitous, "but he usually spanks on my panties. He doesn't think a girl my age should have to bare her fanny for a spanking."
(Pant.) 'Will you bare your fanny for me?' I wanted so badly to ask, but knew better. Nevertheless my mind was still picturing her getting spanked on her shapely bare, pink, bottom. Oh what a splendid sight that would be. Likewise I hoped her 10 year old brother got some satisfaction out of the spankings he got from his beautiful big sister. I suspected that he did.
I changed the topic of conversation to the dance that weekend. Stan's impending backside execution was never far from the forefront of my mind, but I wanted to try to put it aside for a moment. Also I didn't want to continue asking her to tell me about her spankings and those she gave Timmy. To do so right now, I thought, would be rushing things.
We'd all see each other in another hour in Mrs. McConnal's class.
Then I would wait around until after band practice so that I
could walk her home.
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