Mrs. McConnal XXII

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.

Chapter Twenty Two: Awaiting

Mrs. McConnal had a few words to say to Stan in private before our drama class began. I couldn't hear what she was saying to him, but I could hear her tone. It was gentle and soothing. Virtually everyone in the school gave Stan their most earnest sympathy and kindness the rest of the day. Whether the teachers had discussed this among themselves or not I wasn't sure, but they all gave Stan all the gentleness they could, and for several days after. Mrs. McConnal was probably already offering to let him stand throughout her class if he wanted, for as long as he wanted. He did, for two more days.

Her class being the last one of the day, meant that Stan faced his worst spanking immediately after this. Everyone there was counting the minutes as if a person were awaiting their execution. No one really wanting it to happen, now that it comes down to it, but everyone feeling powerless to stop it; as if a spanking like this takes on a life of its own once it has been determined, and by this time everyone has to go one through it.

He told us later that Mrs. McConnal had offered to let him go somewhere he could be alone if he wanted. He didn't want to be alone right then. He could either compose himself all alone and face this with some little pride left; or he might break down completely if left alone now and wind up having to be dragged to the teachers' lounge. Perhaps even forcibly held in place which would mean at least two more people in there; watching her, watching him, hearing the wailing that he didn't want anyone to hear, but had entrusted to Mrs. Wilkerson. This spanking this afternoon didn't need to be done in the presence of anyone but the two of them. No doubt he also knew that lots of people would remember this for a long time, and he didn't want them remembering him being dragged, bawling, to meet his fate.

So Stan elected to remain in class, but already too sore to sit down. It was not a jovial class by any means. We went through the motions of learning how to say the long speeches in "A Midsummer Night's Dream", but no one's heart was in it.

Mrs. McConnal pointed out to me once that it is those times when the ability to focus was most important. Those times should be rare, but they will come in life. And the ability to maintain focus on your intended goal does become extremely important at those times.

So in its own way it was a good class, spent in groups of two and three working together. Stan did elect not to directly participate. I don't think he trusted himself to speak aloud without everyone hearing the tremors of fear in his voice. But his usual group did stand up together for him. They usually sat around a table.

Every eye in the room lit and settled on Stan's unfortunate 16 year old butt at least once during that class. I was still visibly shaken. In fact, being in Stan's presence, with the whipping hour fast approaching, I was even more upset than I was at lunch.

Dianne and I were in a group together. She would play one of the fairies (such a cute little fairy). Clark was playing Oberon, king of the fairies. I played Puck, the king's chief messenger, more or less. Dianne and I had scenes together, and this afternoon felt like an excellent time for us to 'work on our scenes'. Like most groups we did go over our scenes once or twice, but mostly we talked about that day's events. It was the same in every other class that afternoon.

Stan's spanking had already become one of the most memorable events of many people's high school days. I don't know if this was what he intended (sometimes nowadays I think it was). His double spanking that day had firmly imprinted itself into the consciousness and memories of everyone who even knew what was happening in school that day. Those who didn't even know either of the main participants, or even the direct witnesses of any of it were effected by what was going down.

Everyone was expecting that the classic it looked like Stan was going to get that afternoon, added onto the most severe paddling ever given in front of a class ever in that school earlier in the morning, would be one of the worst - maybe the worst - spanking any student ever received in our school.

Stan had thought his grades would be something no one could ever match. When he saw what happened when I entered the ninth grade; that his grade record was going to be shattered the very next year after his graduation, it had been a blow to him. He showed a little animosity to me for a short time a year earlier. He never failed to be polite, though. I approached the matter by being nice to him. I also told him how much I respected and looked up to him. That made him feel a little better. It still bothered him, but the fact that I never acted as though I looked down on him but rather acted deferential to him eased his animosity toward me. I also hoped he might feel some responsibility to protect me should I find myself in a jam. Considering my smart mouth, when dealing with some of the older students as well as the teachers, the likelihood of some of the older boys getting pissed off enough that they wanted to hurt me was well within the reach of anyone's imagination. Stan being 3 years older and 3 years bigger might save me some day. It never hurts to have some insurance. Still we never hung out much together up until now. It occurred to me that he still felt a little inadequate that he was unable to set any mark in the school that would stand.

Well, he was sure setting a mark today that no one would ever want to shatter. My stomach actually began cramping during class I was so upset. I would have been this upset, I think, over this happening to anyone. But Stan, all in all, was a decent guy. He was not a mean person. I hated for this to be happening to him. I really thought Mrs. Wilkerson's 10 licks that morning should have been sufficient for her to consider that she gave him what he had coming. After all, she did have him in spank land for the last three or four licks, and they were the hardest ones. So, since she was going so slow, she had him there for at least 2-3 minutes before he regained a knowledge or where he was and who were around him.

Judging from what his ass looked like a couple of hours earlier, and knowing that those welts now had nearly a full day to mature, she could have him in spank land with the first lick this afternoon if that's what she wants. Checking the clock behind her this morning, listening to it steadily click off the seconds, I counted 20-30 seconds between licks. At that rate, if she gave him 10 licks again, it would take somewhere around four minutes to complete the spanking, perhaps leaving him in spank land for as much as two minutes after she finally quit.

And he just thought he didn't want to sit down now. An hour from now he would be certain that he would never sit down again for the rest of his life.

Yep, no doubt about it, Stan was on his way to setting the bar on this one so high that it would never be topped in the minds and memories of everyone knew about it. His grades may not be remembered, but no one remembers someone else's grades anyhow. People remember athletes who excel greatly, but Stan never could do that. He was good in track, but he wasn't after an athletic scholarship.

But he would be famous among the people who were in the school then. It was the only time he was ever spanked in school, and from what he told me earlier probably the only REAL spanking he ever got. (That day I thought of them as being two spankings, but now I see it as a spanking that started early in class and hung over the whole day until it was completed that afternoon in the teachers' lounge.)

The final bell gave everyone a start. Some of the girls even let out a startled cry, a few nearly jumped out of their desks. It had come before anyone expected it. Most of us were probably hoping, like me, that it never would ring and quit watching the clock at twenty minutes before the hour and pretended that time had frozen there.

Everyone's eyes shot to Stan and Stan's ass. He was shaking. He seemed frozen to the spot. The thought flashed through my mind that he might be about to lose it. I went to him. I had to say something even though I had no idea what to say.

"Stan," I said quietly, just between the two of us, "are you OK? 'Cause, man, if you're about to pass out or something you need to lay down now. And we'll get you to a hospital."

Just in case he didn't grasp what I was saying; "Stan, I'm serious." I said intently being sure that he understood me, "If you feel like you're about to pass out we need to get you to a hospital right now. Right now, Stan!"

He was white as a sheet and his shaking seemed uncontrollable. I had given him an out. If he said he was going to pass out I knew Mrs. McConnal would back me up. She was only a few feet away by now. Everyone knew he was being given a opportunity out of this. No one would blame him for taking it, not even Mrs. Wilkerson. Whether she would spank him later or feel that he had been put through enough torment I don't know. We will never know.

Stan drew himself up. Took a deep breath. And told us both that he would be fine. And he thanked us as we both looked on with sympathy.

No one in the class moved until Stan had left the room.
 

The End