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After Stan walked out to meet his fate, one by one the rest of us left silently.
Dianne had band practice, I planned to hang around in the library, maybe walk down to watch them on football field, and then walk Dianne home.
Mrs. McConnal drew me aside as we were leaving. "Stay." was all she said until everyone else had left.
"You're upset. You already felt a lot of stress even before today. You can stay with me if you want." Her offer was appreciated.
"I can't go home with you, Mrs. McConnal. Not today. I promised Dianne I would meet her after practice."
"Then we can stay here if you like." was Mrs. McConnal's response. She didn't think I needed to be alone right then. No doubt she also sense a need for us to talk.
"Yes, ma'am." I said. "I think I'd like that. Thank you." I didn't call her 'ma'am' very often. When I did it was sort of a signal that I needed her to take charge of me right then, that I needed her protection. (Whenever she was about to spank me I called her 'ma'am'. Maybe it was from fear, but I think now that it was because I needed the protection she was going to give me.)
I sat down at the table and rested my head in my hands. I was curious to see where she would sit. Would she sit next to me or sit across the table? That would be an indication of whether this conversation would be more motherly or teacherly.
She sat down next to me and even slid her chair a little closer. We turned to face one another, as I hoped.
We faced each other. I was breathing deeply as if every breath was a labored sigh. No one said anything for a while. I didn't know what to say.
"Jeremy," she finally said, "the fact that Stan refused you offer to stop this says that he had every intention to go through with this. If he had taken you up on that offer I'd have backed you to the hilt. You do know that, don't you?"
I could only nod.
"Stan has consented to this spanking, Jeremy." she said, with compassion but being realistic as well. "Stan has entrusted his well being with Mrs. Wilkerson, just as you have with me. She knows him far better than I do. She has children of her own. I think she shows him more affection that does his own mother. They're pretty cold in that household.
"I was proud of the work you did in class today." she said, changing the subject.
"Dianne and I talked about this." I said hanging my head.
"I know, I was listening." she had good ears. "But you also went over your scenes with Dianne a couple of times, too. And I know you didn't feel like it, but Dianne came away from it a lot more comfortable with the verse. You were just hammering it out for her, with no feeling, and I think she has a much better understanding of the technique of it now. Were you listening to her?"
I smiled. It felt like the first I had smiled in years. "Yeah." I said, "I thought she seemed to handle it better, too. She's pretty smart, you know."
"I know." Mrs. McConnal was smiling at me now.
I blushed. "She's pretty pretty, too." I said hanging my head but smiling.
"Yes, she is." affirmed Mrs. McConnal, "And you and she are going to have a wonderful time Friday night."
"I sure hope so, Mrs. McConnal." I got concerned again, "I really want this to go right. I really do. I mean I don't want her going home never wanting to go out with me again."
"Now why would she ever do that?" she asked as if it weren't even a possibility.
"Well, I could do something stupid." I looked Mrs. McConnal square in the eyes and said seriously, "I sometimes do stupid things, you know."
She burst out laughing. She held my cheeks gently in her hands and through her laughter said, "Yes, come to think of it you do sometimes do stupid things. And I don't doubt you will continue to do stupid things for years to come. But you'll never make Dianne hate you by being yourself, Jeremy."
We heard the sound of footsteps in the hall but thought nothing of it for a moment. Then, as they approached we could hear the sound of Stan sniffling, doing his best to keep from bawling.
Mrs. McConnal looked at me, thrust back into the reality of the present as I was. Neither of us said anything.
They would pass on their way to the teachers' lounge, we expected. But they didn't. Stan had finally worked up the courage to talk to Mrs. Wilkerson. I thought it would have been better done in her room, but better now than never. I doubt if either of them considered that Mrs. McConnal and I were in her room, with the door open. We could hear them clearly.
"Mrs. Wilkerson, please wait." Stan pleaded. She kept pulling him along. "Please Mrs. Wilkerson, I love you and you loved me once. Please, doesn't that at least give me the right to talk to you now?" It did.
"Yes, Stan, it does." said Mrs. Wilkerson. "But I didn't ONCE love you. I love you now. I never stopped loving you at any time during these last several months. And you can appeal to that love any time."
"You do?" he said through sniffs.
"Of course I do, Stanley. You're my most favorite student, ever. Don't you KNOW that?" She no longer sounded like the woman who was about to whip him into oblivion. Maybe she wouldn't.
"But Jeremy's grades are better." he said sheepishly.
"So?" she replied, "That doesn't have anything to do with who I like the most, Stanley!"
"It doesn't?" a revelation to Stan.
"No!" she was astonished that he would think it did. "How many honor society meetings had Jeremy attended?"
"None." he answered.
"He even skipped out on our induction ceremony. Faked being sick, and he thinks I don't know that." Mrs. Wilkerson said, getting irritated (with me this time, not with Stan).
Finally Stan begged, "Do we have to do this?"
"Stanley, if I don't finish this," she replied, "you'll never forgive me."
Silence while that soaked in with him.
"Mrs. Wilkerson?" he was a little better composed now, "when Mrs. McConnal spanks Jeremy, takes care of him after . . . "
"I can't take you home with me, Stanley, not tonight, on a school night. But I will stay here with you as long as you want. And I'll hug you afterward for as long as you need."
"What about tomorrow?" he asked, "And next week, and the next?"
"I'll still love you."
"But what if I don't love you any more?" this frightened him most of all.
"Jeremy," she said sweetly, "I will not let you not love me any more. I will reel you back in no matter how much of a fight you put up. But you're pretty strong. I may need your help in bringing you back close to me. Will you promise to help me?"
"Yes, ma'am." was his weak reply.
"But right now we're going into the teachers' lounge. You're going to take your pants off and grab your ankles. Then I'm going to give you 10 licks with a razor strap just like the ones I gave you with the paddle this morning."
"No, Mrs. Wilkerson, please." he didn't sound frantic now, just dreading what was coming. "I don't think I need THAT bad a spanking, Mrs. Wilkerson, I really don't"
"Stanley," she was still using her sweetest voice, "even when a boy knows he needs a spanking, he always needs a worse spanking than he thinks. Let's go."
And they proceeded on down the hallway. We heard her open the door to the spanking chamber, then pull it closed behind them. We heard the latch bolt it shot from the inside. It was just the two of them now. I guess that was what Stan wanted.
Mrs. McConnal and I remained silent. When we heard the door lock she reached over and stroked my head. "Are you alright?" she asked.
I nodded and glanced at the clock. Stan was probably removing his pants right now. It would only be a few seconds before he was bent over, grabbing his ankles, all stretched and ready for his bruised behind to be sliced to ribbons by the razor strap Mrs. Wilkerson was preparing to wield on his terribly sore fanny.
I didn't think people outside could hear what went on inside the spanking room. I had always presumed that it was soundproofed or something. I don't know why I thought that. I just thought it was extremely private.
As it turned out, it's not that private. No one can see in, and no one will disturb any teacher thrashing a teenaged fanny into spank land and keeping it there for as long as she wants.
But it can be heard in the halls, and evidently in some cases even into some of the rooms.
We heard the first crack of the strap. I sat upright, eyes wide open. Stan's cry followed the crack, already howling just as he was toward the end of the paddling this morning.
His howl did die down a little bit before she put the strap to his butt a second time, but this time it was followed by the howl that told me that he was already there. He was already in spank land. He would remain there for the remaining 8 licks, and for some time longer. He would be there at the courtesy of his favorite teacher, a red haired, dark eyed beauty.
The volume of Stan's howls stayed the same as Mrs. Wilkerson look long pauses between raining that strap down on his fanny once again. His cries shot up in pitch, always just as loud. They didn't die down between licks.
I envisioned Stan in position, for all practical purposes naked. I envisioned Mrs. Wilkerson dealing licks with that strap with the same vigor as she had planted that paddle on his fresh ass earlier. His screams told us how bad it was hurting. If she was doing it like this morning, she was putting all she had into it, and continuing to work on that tender spank spot she had prepared. From the screams I figured that if she wasn't giving it all she had, she certainly had Stan fooled. She may be even leaning into it, giving herself extra leverage with a few of the licks.
The sound of sharp cracks continued. Stan's cries continued. Whether he was trying to say anything I couldn't tell. If he was it was made incoherent by his squalling.
She was taking longer than this morning. She was giving him 45 seconds, sometimes more, between licks this afternoon. He had plenty of time to feel each lick real good, let it soak in and marry with all the licks he had been subjected to already (become one with the spanking, so to speak) and think about the next one to come, before she strafed his ass again planting new stripes on tip of old ones.
Listening to it I thought that if he had ever had a hard on imagining this from her, that he probably didn't have one new. This can't be a turn on for him any more, if it ever was.
To my embarrassment I realized that though Stan probably didn't have a hard on, I did. Suddenly I wished that Mrs. McConnal was sitting across the table from me and not facing me as closely as she was. I felt it must be as obvious as a tent pole in my pants, but I was never that well endowed.
The licks continued. Stan's wailing continued. Finally there was a crack even louder that all the others that made me cringe and shake just by hearing it. But even with this Stan's bellowing did not increase in volume, although his pitch went sky high. I he was already crying as loudly as he could.
40 seconds passed, we awaited another lick. Like Stan I had ceased counting long ago. I took Mrs. Wilkerson at her word. She'd give him 10 licks. But I didn't know how many she had given him.
45 seconds passed. Then 50, and a minute. I breathed a sign of relief. She was finished. But Stan wasn't. I could see him still bending over still howling at the top of his lungs, not yet knowing that his spanking was finally over. When we heard him change to more steady yells I figured that he was coming out of spank land. No doubt he had presented Mrs. Wilkerson with the typical show after a spanking like that. He had danced around, grabbing his ass, oblivious to his nakedness in front of such a gorgeous lady.
Eventually I could discern, "I'm sorry, Mrs. Wilkerson. I'm sorry." through his cries.
She had him in spank land for at least ten minutes, he wouldn't be able to sit for two days, and it would hurt him to sit down for two weeks. That must be a record to this day.
I couldn't hear her reply. But she had promised it would be
gentle. I had no reason to doubt her word. They were still
together in there when I left, and that wasn't to come for a
little while longer.
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