Saturday Paddling By My 7th Grade Teacher...I was 12. He was my 7th grade teacher. A nice guy really. He would give me a solid spanking when he discovered I'd stolen one of the school typewriters.
I obediently returned the typewriter to the school. He even helped me. When I thought it was done and finished he sat me down and explained that I had a choice. It could be reported to the principal who might report it to the police or I would get a solid old-fashioned, bare-bottomed paddling. No belts but the real deal..the paddle as in paddling.
The principal at our school did not believe in the paddle. He believed in an over-the-knee, bare-bottomed belt spanking for any crime whatsoever. I'd been over his knee only three times in five years and honestly it wasn't bad. Some boys made weekly trips over his lap. It stung for a few hours and it was over.
I, of course, optioned for the spanking. It was a Saturday that Mr. Grimes, my 7th grade teacher picked me up at home and we returned the old, heavy IBM Selectric to the typing classroom. I followed him to our 7th grade classroom. Empty on Saturday I suddenly realized I might have more in store. He retrieved a paddle from his desk drawer that I'd never seen before. I was told later it was 16-inches long, 4-inches wide and an inch thick with little holes in it. Gulp!
I dropped my shorts as he placed his chair and sat next to me. He smoothly slipped his big hands under my jockeys. His cold, big hands passed over my pee-rod and rump. It gave me a chill. There I stood with my shorts and underwear clumped at my ankles. There I stood sporting a growing erection. There my 7th grade teacher sat. For some reason I was not embarrassed. Mr. Grimes was a decent lay-teacher in an all boys Catholic 1st to 8th grade elementary school. I know he’d whacked other boys but not like the brothers.
I now stood right in front of him. He lifted my legs one at a time and efficiently pulled off my shorts and jockeys. Now clad only in sneakers, white socks and my Izod golf shirt. I felt vulnerable and in a strange way wanted him to spank me. I wanted to be a good boy and I believed a spanking would help. I really needed once since the last time I’d been soundly spanked I was still 11. Now I was 12 and still acting like a seven-year-old, a little boy. Although I was only 4-foot, 8-inches tall, slender but strong, I knew I needed a hard spanking. A sound blistering on my bare-bottom would help cure my naughty ways. And, I was definitely going to have my rear-end warmed by Mr. Grimes and the paddling.
The air felt breezy against my naked bottom and legs. Then he did something that had never occurred in the dozen or more times I’d gotten a whipping. He arranged my left leg across his lap while I shakily stood on my right. Gently but firmly he twisted me over his left leg. I thought I would drop to the floor but Mr. Grimes held me in place. My right leg braced the rest of me. I was scissored over his lap and my rear-end was spread enough that I could feel that tickly breeze right up my anal hole. Before I could protest he had the paddle ready and eager to make my bottom quite sore.
What seemed like forever as I straddled his lap. It was so quiet that I could hear the birds chirping outside the schoolroom windows. His firm grip on my hip kept me positioned against his strong leg . He placed the paddle against my rear-end. I felt the cold wood against my boy bottom. It felt huge up against my skin as he teasingly stroked it along my butt cheeks.
When he spoke it was quiet, soft and soothing.
I was getting a paddling. It would hurt and he encouraged me to yell and I was allowed to curse. He reminded me no one else was in the building. It was okay to cry and this spanking would surely be painful. He would wait about 15-seconds between paddle swats. He would administer twelve swats of the paddle to my bare-bottom.
Holy crap! Twelve?
The spanking would take about five minutes. He continued explaining he might take longer as I might need a break and he would allow me to stand if need be. He cautioned me not to flee as that would lead directly to a report to the principal.
He had the paddle in hand. The first swat reverberated my young body; my legs spasmed. He counted three-two-one and the board hit my naked rump again. The next four swats were tolerable but stung like crazy. Mr. Grimes then stood me up. I was whimpering and felt shaky. I was determined not to swear or cry, but the upcoming smacks might betray my spirit.
He allowed me to stand for a minute. I was then returned over his left leg but not like before. My upper fr
Three-two-one and the paddling commenced. This was the worst slap. My rear-end quivered involuntarily. I know I screamed out in pain. I cursed. Mr. Grimes gave me an atta-boy and praised my endurance. I was angry but willing to prove he was doing the right thing. He let me calm. Yes, five swats to go. Another swat. Not nearly as hard. I arched my butt up like I wanted to kiss the paddle. It got kissed for certain. Not bad, I thought. My whole being was stinging. I could feel myself breathing fast and hard. My rear-end arched up again as if I was on auto-pilot. Yes, I nearly yelled out as Mr. Grimes applied another stinging slap of his paddle. The holes really made a difference, I thought.
Two more he said. The paddle again stung my behind. I heard myself utter spank me harder. I just wanted it over. The final slap felt so good.
I was exhausted as he stood me up. He let out a laugh. I did too. I’d never felt so good after a bare-bottom spanking. My butt was burning and stinging from the thick paddle. I clutched and rubbed it but it still ached something fierce.
He ruffled my long blond hair and kissed my neck. I just had to hug him.
We stayed like that for a minute or two. He held me very close. I could feel him breathing. I’d never got a whipping like that, I thought. When do I get another one I joked to myself?
He said that we’d go to McDonald’s and then he’d take me home.
Okay, I said as I put my clothes back on. Almost forgot that I was naked from waist down.
samyork 56-60 1 Response 1 Feb 1, 2013