True Accounts
Descriptions of real life punishments. Please note that we find the spanking of children to be a dangerous and ineffective form of punishment. This category is only offered to explore the various forms of spanking that people endured growing up.
Tuesday, June 21, 2005
More true accounts of high school corporal punishment with a paddle
For the most part, when I discuss true accounts of spanking, I generally only post accounts that I have heard first hand from a trusted source. In most cases, the accounts are from kids and teens that I grew up with that were subjected to corporal punishment. In addition, I often discuss spanking accounts that were told to me by our various models during their interviews.
On occasion, I will post true spanking accounts from individuals that I have never met, but have maintained online correspondence with. With my profession, I am contacted by many people for a variety of reasons. One of the most common e-mails I get, come from women who have had spanking desires their entire life and have always hidden these thoughts from everyone. I guess they contact me because it is an easy and anonymous first step in coming to grips with their fetish. For them, it is major progress to write to someone and confess their secret desires. They are generally not looking for anything from me, they have repressed their feelings for so very long that they almost just need to confess that they want to be spanked. As a fairly visible member of the spanking community, it makes sense to them to contact me.
In some cases, I just wish them luck and encourage them to explore their sexuality without feeling the current guilt that they do. Some of the correspondence continues as I try my best to help these ladies understand their desires. A couple of years ago I began correspondence with a young lady who was having trouble coming to grips with her desires. To her, these thoughts made her feel ashamed, due to the fact that she received frequent corporal punishment for most of her childhood. We have discussed her childhood punishments in detail and I have no doubt that every word she has ever written me to be completely true. Due to the uniqueness of her true spanking accounts, and with her permission, I thought I would share some of the experiences she has sent me.
Click “MORE” for the complete account of the last paddling she received as a senior in high school.
This young lady grew up in the deep South in the very heart of the Bible belt. Corporal punishment was not only used at all grade levels in her schools, it was highly encouraged by the community. She feels that this is one school district in which corporal punishment will never be banned, she does not feel that the community would stand for it. By all standards, the town she grew up in is very small with farming being the main source of income for most of the families. She has described corporal punishment being just a fact of life where she grew up. The belt and the paddle seem to be the implements of choice in the homes and they were used liberally. Not only was she spanked frequently by her parents, but almost just as often by her friend’s parents. She told me that if her mother was friends with the mother of one of her own friends, than that parent had full consent to spank her. For the most part, this was a two way street and her friends were also spanked by her mother on occasion. If she got into any trouble with a friend, the punishment was administered on the spot to both of them, regardless of whose house the infraction took place at. Any punishment that took place outside of the home was reapplied by her parents. Hopefully this provides enough background and gives you some insight as to the type of community this took place in. While these punishments took place more than 15 years ago, she states that nothing has changed.
While she received corporal punishment at school during her early years, I wanted to focus on her true accounts from high school. While in the early grades teachers had the authority to spank, in her high school all corporal punishment was administered by the male vice principal. What makes her accounts unique is the fact that just about all of the corporal punishment guidelines that most schools adhere by were not utilized at her school. First, a male administrator could paddle female students. There were no requirements for a witness to be present and as far as she could tell, there was no stated limit as to how many swats could be administered. In addition, an alternate form of punishment was not always given as a choice, a student could get in trouble and simply be paddled, without any say in the matter. When a paddling was required, the student could receive anywhere from two to ten swats. On the five occasions over three years that she was paddled, two of them involved 4 swats (“pops� was the term they used in her school), two involved 6 swats, and one was an eight swat paddling. While she never received it or witnessed it, she knew of a few students that received ten.
There were many things that led her to believe that the male VP enjoyed paddling her. While she did not necessarily know this to be the case when was in high school, it has been her online research as an adult that led her to believe that he enjoyed it. She stated that he was very much into the ritual of the paddling and made it a lengthy event with lots of formality. In discussing her paddlings with other girls of the school, she came to the conclusion that the “pretty� girls were more likely to be paddled. From talking with guys who had been paddled, she felt they seem to have less ritual involved than her personal experiences. The thing that she hated the absolute most, was the fact that he often delayed her punishment, with her having no idea when she would receive it. This left her a feeling of dread that she carried with her until the actual paddling was administered. How and when are the most unique part and my focus in this post.
On the five occasions in which she was paddled, three of them were a delayed punishment. This meant that he told her that she would be paddled, but he did not have the time to do it right then and that he would “track her down� later for her “pops�. On the three occasions that this happened, one took place the next day, one was a few days later, and the final one she had to wait more than a week. She stated that nothing was worse than having to wait, not knowing when she would actually be paddled. Her heart would sink anytime someone came into class late. Every time the door opened after the bell had rung, she was convinced that it was the VP with the paddle. She felt that the delayed punishment affected her schoolwork because she was always distracted with the thought of her bottom feeling the board at any moment. The worst one that she described for me was during her senior year and it was her third offense for smoking. She said the experience was typically the same, the only thing that differed between her three delayed punishments was the class she was in when he came to get her and the amount of “pops� she received. I will describe her final paddling, the one that consisted of eight swats.
She was in her first class after lunch and it was her chemistry lab. About half way through the class the VP knocked on the door and entered the classroom, carrying his large wooden paddle. As before, he politely asked the teacher if he could “borrow� Ms. ________, and she quickly left her seat and exited the classroom with him. The lecture had already been taken care of, so he was quick to get right to the business at hand. She was instructed to place her hands on the lockers, walk her feet back, and bend at a 90 degree angle at the waist. This put her in a position with her arms fully extended above her head and her feet several feet from the lockers. It essentially made it impossible to remove her hands from the locker during the paddling without falling over.
Once she was in place, he would take a few minutes to fill out the required paperwork. This always drove her crazy and she saw no point in her having to bend over while he did paperwork. But, she was not in a place to argue and had to deal with it. She felt he was purposely slow to maximize the anticipation of what was to come. As he wrote, he would often read aloud. Things like, “Offense…..smoking�, “Disciplinary action…..�very hard pops�. While not on this occasion, but during a previous hallway paddling, while she was assuming the position, another faculty member came strolling down the hall and the VP proceeded to have a several minute conversation with them, completely ignoring the fact that she was bent over with her bottom out for everyone to see. Another aspect of this punishment that really got to her was the fact that she never knew how many swats she was to receive. From her experience at home she had found it much easier to get though a spanking knowing how many times she would be spanked. But with this VP, he would just begin paddling and she never knew if she had just felt the last swat or not.
After a long waiting period in which the anticipation of the paddling was maximized, he finally set down his clipboard and approached her from behind. She stated that he always included a final lecture in which he always emphasized that he would have to apply the paddle in a very serious manner in order to bring the point home. He would generally make her state aloud why she was being paddled before he began. While I often hear accounts in which the VP rubbed or tapped the bottom before the first swat, she said she never knew when it was coming. The first swat would land, without any warning, and she told me that the pain was always enough to take her breath away. She had learned from a previous three swat paddling, that became a four swat paddling, that she needed to do everything in her power to hold still or it could be worse. She said that she “buckled her legs� after the first swat, but never moved out of position. The pain was enough that tears were instant. She did not feel as though he paddled at different degrees of intensity, instead the punishment was adjusted based on the number of swats applied. She felt that the all of the paddlings she received from him over three years were applied very severely.
Unlike the punishments she received at home, which were applied as fast as her mother or father could swing, he liked to pause for a considerable amount of time between “pops�. She stated that there was always at least a minute between swats. He would allow her time to calm down and control her breathing before he laid on the next one. She did not feel that this was done out of kindness, she felt it was done so he could maximize the effect of each individual swat. As with the first swat, there was never any clue as to when the next one would land. She would just remain bent over, fighting back the tears when the next one would land. The swats were generally applied on top of each other so the lower part of her bottom would feel most of the pain. This process continued until he was done. She had no way of knowing if it was done or not. She was very surprised on this occasion to have received eight, with six having been her previous highest number of swats. While tears were immediate after the first swat, by three or four she would be gently crying. She felt that tears did not affect the process at all, so there was no point in playing it up. Her goal was to be as quiet as possible so the students in her class, as well as other classrooms in the hallway, would not hear her crying. She said it was very difficult to stay quiet and on more than one occasion during a hallway paddling that she would yell a little immediately after a swat. After her eighth and final swat, he waited a couple of minutes before picking up his clipboard, which was her only clue that the whole process was really over. He would then spend a minute filling out the rest of the paperwork, with her still bent over. She estimated that from the time she was called out of the classroom until she was told she could stand back up, close to fifteen minutes had passed. During that period of time, one faculty member, and at least three students passed down the hallway and witnessed her bent over with her hands on the locker.
As with her two previous hallway paddlings, he then escorted her to the bathroom so she could “clean herself up�. He would wait outside the bathroom and then walk her back to class. For her, this part was almost as bad as the paddling itself. To have to face the students who just listened to her getting paddled, was tough. Being that she was escorted in by the VP, still holding the paddle, at least there was no giggling or teasing at that moment. She would walk quickly to her desk and bury her face in her arms. By the end of the day, it seemed that just about everyone in school would be aware that she was paddled. Some were mean and teased her, some were sympathetic to what she had gone through. During her three years of school, besides her, she only witnessed him come and get a student out of class to be paddles on two occasions. On both occasions these were female students and she felt that they were attractive. She felt that the whole “not having time to paddle you� excuse was bogus and that it was simply a way for him to make more of a production out of paddling the “cute little asses of pretty high school girls�.
As is often the case, she has grown up very confused as to why she is so fascinated with the concept of being spanked as an adult. She never gained any sexual excitement from any spanking she ever received, nor did she ever fantasize about the process. For her a spanking was simply about pain and being punished. With her permission, I may further explore some of her childhood spanking experiences, they are quite unique.
Monday, May 02, 2005
Sorority Paddling, Hazing, and Initiations
Click for full-sized image with article text
I think most people that are into spanking find the thought of cute sorority girls paddling each other to be quite sexy. Unfortunately most of these activities are kept a secret and most of us will never get the full details. As illustrated in the image above, (which I believe to be from Life magazine) in the past these activities were not as frowned upon as they are today. There are enough current news stories to demonstrate that sorority paddling as an initiation and as hazing is still alive and well, but we hear little about it because it is a very quick way to get your sorority charter revoked. Most of the news I have read tends to focus on the injuries that resulted from sorority paddling and there is certainly nothing sexy about internal bleeding as the result of abuse.
But we love to fantasize about a row of cute pledges with their skirts lifted being paddled by their pledgemaster. I was a member of a fraternity as an undergraduate in college, and as a result, I knew my fair share of sorority girls. As pledges and active sisters they are very dedicated to keeping all of their pledge activities a secret. But, not everything is a secret and I was able to obtain some minor details in regards to sorority girls being paddled. First, I have never heard a verifiable account of a modern sorority paddling their pledges as a form of discipline. I have read articles in which pledges were paddled as an inititation, but never when they were in trouble. This is not to say that it does not take place, but I do not report on things that I do not have a reliable source on. The one consistant paddling account that seems to be universal is based on a pledge giving her “big sister” her paddle. Most fraternities and sororities honor the tradition that the “little brother” or “little sister” is to make and give the paddle to their “big sister” or “big brother”. I have yet to meet a sorority girl that owns a paddle in which she did not get at least one swat from it. All of the sorority girls that I knew in college that would talk about it admitted that when the paddle was presented that a single swat was exchanged by the girls. In most cases this was done in front of the entire sorority membership. More than one girl admitted to me that it was not uncommon for the active member (having already received her swat first) to raise the pledges skirt. With as competitive as many of these girls are, the swats were administered in an attempt to apply the swat harder than it was received. The distinction for them that seperated this from hazing, is that this was a voluntary ritual and was not a requirement. In addition, the pledge and the active sister got to swat each other, so this was not considered hazing of the pledges.
One girl in particular also told me that there is an exchange of swats between the president of the pledge class and the president of the sorority, when the pledge class presented their pledge paddle to be hung on the sorority house wall. These paddle are traditionally very large, often over four feet. While I am sure they are difficult to swing, from her accounts this exchange is one of the highlights of each semester. She felt that both presidents felt pressure to lay it on as hard as they could and that a two handed baseball swing was common and almost required to swing a paddle so large. She told me that the year she was a pledge that the paddle that they had spent many hours glueing letters and decorations on, had to be redone because half of the ornaments went flying after her pledge president took her swat from the sorority president.
There are many women who visit this blog, and do so in a anonymous way, so help fuel our fantasies and give us a few juicy details. You do not need to provide a school or sorority name, just let us know if you had any real life experience being paddled in a sorority. Regardless, next time you are visiting a friend who still hangs her sorority paddle on the wall, you can feel confident in knowing that her bottom knows what that paddle feels like.
On a side note, I noticed that agony auntie posted a picture that she felt was a modern day sorority paddling. I had not seen this picture before, so if you have any details of the source I would love to know. The picture is below and this is the full resolution version that I have. It certainly looks like it could be on a college campus and just as with the historic picture above, this paddling seems to have drawn a crowd and is being administered with a very large paddle swung with both hands. If you have details please send me or post in the comments section. Thanks!
Saturday, April 30, 2005
A unique true account of corporal punishment at home and school
Early on in the days of Realspankings.com when I was still shooting content out of my house, I was contacted by a woman who had always fantasized about being punished as an adult. She so desperately wanted a real punishment for real life issues that she was willing to fly to my city from Oklahoma, get spanked, and then fly right back home on the same day. Obviously, I took her up on her offer and we set a date for her punishment.
As I have always done when dealing with real life discipline issues, I spent a great deal of time communicating with her to determine not only what she was looking for, but also trying to get a better understanding for her motivation. We spent a couple of months communicating via e-mail and chat and she clearly described for me her extensive experiences with corporal punishment as a child and teen.
She grew up in rural Oklahoma and never left. She currently works as a teacher in the same school district that she attended while growing up. While we often see progress in the United States, it was clear from her accounts that not much had changed in the small town she lived in. This town might as well be the poster00.
child for the “Bible Belt”. Just as when she was a kid, corporal punishment is the primary form of discipline that is still used today. The schools not only use the paddle as the primary form of discipline, it is clearly encouraged by just about every member of the community.
We often read fictionalized accounts of corporal punishment on the web in which the author describes being spanked until they moved out of their parent’s house. I take most “true accounts” on the web with a grain of salt knowing that they are generally people just caught up in their own fantasies. As a result, I never report true accounts of spanking unless I am 100% positive that what I have heard is true. There is no doubt in my mind that everything she told me is true and she was indeed spanked not only until she moved off to college, but she also managed to get spanked during her first summer back from college after her Freshman year.
By all accounts her parents were as conservative as they come. From Kindergarten through 12th grade, she was only allowed to wear dresses to school. While grounding was common as an additional punishment, every punishment in her house included a spanking. Her spanking memories start as early as she can remember and continued until she was almost twenty. She was not able to estimate how many spankings she received growing up, but she figured she received one to two a week, as a minimum. While they became less frequent as she grew older she stated that they also got much more severe.
Her most memorable spankings, and the ones she was the most detailed in describing, occurred in her later years of high school. She described her mother as the judge and her father as the enforcer. Just about every spanking she ever received was at the request of her mother. Her mother would not only tell her dad when to spank her, but she would oversee all of the spankings and tell her father when she had had enough. She said it was common for the father to have finished and for the mother to tell him that they were not even close and that he needed to start again only harder.
She wrote a very detailed account of the hardest punishment she ever received and it occurred when she was a junior in high school. The strange thing is that this punishment was for coming home less than 10 minutes late. It seems her mother had grown tired of the constant lateness that had been occurring over several weeks. After repeated warnings and several spankings, her mother had finally had enough. Her mother had decided that this was the night that a long lasting impression would be made. She arrived just a few minutes after her curfew and it was clear as soon as she walked in the door that she was really in for it.
She described coming in the door and being met by her mother who told her to get the paddle. The paddle was the primary implement that was used to punish her and she guessed that they had probably gone through five or six over the course of her childhood. She stated that there was nothing fancy about it; it was simply a thick board that was cut into a paddle. She felt that it was at least an inch thick and hit with much more of a thud than a sting. A typical paddling generally involved between 10 and 20 swats, depending on her mother’s mood and the severity of the offense. On this occasion, she knew that arguing would be futile, so she simply went and got the paddle from the shelf above the washing mashing in the laundry room. She returned and handed the paddle to her mother and was told to assume the position.
Since puberty, the position used was always the same and required her to bend at the waist with outstretched arms and place her hands on the wall. Any lecture was always given by her mother and took place while she was in the position. She stated that her mom was far from calm at these moments and usually displayed visible anger. When her mother felt it was time for the punishment, she would hand the paddle to her dad and he would begin. On this particular occasion her mother made it very clear to the father that she needed to really feel this paddling. The strokes were laid on close to full force and just a few swats into it she was already in tears. This did not faze her mother at all and she asked the father to “put more into it”. After what she felt was the 12th or 13th swat, the paddle broke. While bawling her eyes out, she was very relieved. In the past a broken paddle meant that the punishment was over and that her dad would be in the garage the next day crafting a new one. On this occasion, it was not to be, her mother felt that they were just getting started.
She was told to remain in position and her mother went to find a belt. She had not had the belt for many years and while concerned, she was relieved that the rest of the punishment would not be with the paddle. Her mother returned with the belt and handed it to her father. The mother told him to “start from the beginning”, and just as her tears were drying up, the force of the belt brought them quickly back. While not as bad as the paddle, she stated that the belt was just vicious on her sore bottom. She thought that her mother must have felt that the belt was not all that effective because she had him blister her bottom for a couple of minutes straight. When all was said and done, she had received the spanking of her life. While this spanking stood out the most in her memory because of the broken paddle, she felt that there were dozens of others that were close in intensity. I asked her if she was ever spanked on the bare or just on her panties and she said that it never once happened. Apparently, any form of nudity was highly frowned upon in her house and she was not even allowed to walk around in a long t-shirt as a night shirt, so there was never a case of her being spanked with any skin exposed.
Unfortunately for her, being spanked at home was not the worst of it. The school she attended, and currently teaches at, uses the paddle on a daily basis. We are not just talking about students being sent to the office to be paddled by an administrator, we are talking about a school in which every teacher has the option of possessing a paddle in their classroom. The only thing that has changed in the thirty years since she was a student is that all paddlings administered by a teacher have to have a witness. The worst of it for her happened in the 10th grade when her math teacher was her father’s best friend. Apparently all of the students in all of the grades knew his reputation as a heavy hitter and one of the most frequent paddling teachers at the school. Being a small K-12 school, there was only one math teacher for the tenth grade level, so there was no way to avoid being in his class. It was even more difficult for her in that she had known him most of her life and he was well aware of the nature of the discipline used in her home.
She felt that for the most part his discipline was effective and resulted in just about the best behaved classroom in the school. While he would never hesitate to paddle for the smallest infraction, the students stayed on their toes and followed the school rules very closely in his class. For her the problem began when her math teacher was having dinner at their house, which was a very common occurrence. The mother began to inquire as to how her math work was going and the teacher stated that she could do better and that she had turned in some assignments late. Over the course of dinner it was decided, mostly by the mother, that the teacher’s requirements for her should be higher and that he should feel free to handle discipline however he felt the situation called for. The policies at this school did not really allow for discipline based on schoolwork, it was more behavior based. It was clear by the end of dinner that anytime he felt a paddling would be effective he had full consent to apply it. While the conversation seemed to have somehow made the mother happy, the daughter was very stressed.
It took less than a week for her first paddling in that class. The teacher asked all of the students to pass up their homework and she had forgotten hers in her locker. She asked if she could go and get it and she was quickly invited into the hallway. She stepped out into the hall and he told her to stay put and that he would be with her in a moment. She said that she was forced to wait almost half the period before he finally came out. Her heart dropped as he came into the hall caring his big wooden paddle. She stated that his was different than most in that it was completely wrapped in black tape. He explained to her that homework begins when he gives the assignment and ends when it is turned in completed at the beginning of class and that any variation is understood to be incomplete. As a result of not completing her homework she was to be paddled.
He had her stand in the middle of the hallway and face down the hall. She was instructed to assume a wide stance, “lock her legs”, and grab her ankles. She was told that she would get six “pops” the maximum that a teacher was allowed to apply for a single offense. As it turns out, there was not a maximum for the Vice Principal. As soon as she grabbed her ankles the first swat landed and she jumped up, grabbed her bottom, and told him through the tears that were already beginning to flow and in a very rude manner, “that was entirely too hard”. He told her to grab her ankles for the remaining five “pops” and that she would now be receiving an additional three “pops” for disrespect. He presented it as a separate offense which made additional swats allowable by school policy. She resumed her position and endured another eight swats as hard as she ever felt. She never thought her dad went lightly, but she described his paddling as “a whole new level of enthusiasm”. After her paddling she was escorted back into the classroom immediately with the tears still flowing. While everyone watched her sit down, she stated that no one giggled as she winced in pain as they often did on other classes, because they knew it might result in them receiving their own paddling.
Prior to this year in school, she looked at being paddled by a teacher as a good thing because it was not documented, nor were the student’s parents notified. Any paddling that took place in the office resulted in parents being contacted, and for her, always meant more of the same at home. But, this teacher was a close friend of the family and her mom was notified by the teacher during his lunch break. When she returned from school, her mother let her know that she would get a “healthy dose of the paddle” when her father got home from work. As expected, just before dinner, she took another ten swats on her already bruised bottom from her father minutes before dinner. Over the course of her 10th grade year she estimates that she got it from this teacher and then again at home almost 10 different times.
From her descriptions it seems that in most cases her punishments were a little over the top. While discipline this frequent and this severe seemed somewhat common to her, I feel that it borders on abuse. I grew up in a neighborhood where most kids were spanked with a belt, but for the most part, the punishment seemed to fit the crime. While she did not feel that her desire to be spanked developed until many years after she moved out of her parent’s house, she states that she was at least intrigued with the concept. She felt that this was most evident in her need to see her marked bottom after a paddling. She would always check her butt after a spanking and then everyday after until the marks disappeared. From her descriptions it sounds as though her bottom was pretty worn out after every spanking she received. She described the typical bull’s eye bruises that result from a hard paddling and stated that they were a deep black and blue that would last for close to a week. She felt that her bottom was pretty sore after a paddling but nothing compared with “the unbearable pain” the following day. She felt that a Monday paddling, whether at home or at school, was the worst because she then had to deal with four more days of a bruised bottom while sitting at a hard wooden desk.
As horrible as all of her spanking experiences seemed, as well as the fact that she did not sexualize any element of the spankings at the time, I found it quite surprising that she wanted me to deal with her real life discipline using a large wooden paddle. I guess people stick with what they know. I found it a little unusual that she feels that she developed a spanking fetish late in life, when most people report these thoughts at a very early age. While living at home she never fantasized about spanking, nor did she find herself masturbating after a spanking. It was not until her mid-twenties that she began to fantasize about being properly punished again.
Having had the experiences she did, I asked her about how she feels about the paddling that still takes place at the school she teaches at and if she ever paddles students herself. She told me that every teacher has the authority to paddle any student for a “clear violation of school rules”. She told me that there is not a day that goes by at that school in which they do not hear the crack of the paddle in the hallway. While she is not fully opposed to paddling students, she feels that the teachers paddling a student in the hallway only serves as a distraction to all of the other classrooms on that hallway. She feels that from the moment the first swat lands until it is clear that it is over, every student stops what they are doing to listen. In addition, during the paddling, the classroom that the student came from as well as the classroom in which the teacher who serves as a witness are essentially left unattended. She feels that there are literally hours a semester wasted as a result of the distractions from hallway paddlings. As a result, she sends all disciplinary referrals to the office. Based on the form the students bring back after being sent to the office, she estimates that a little more than half of the students she “sends up” receive “pops”.
While she has chosen not to paddle students, she does serve as a witness on occasion. She estimated that she serves as a witness more than 20 times a year. Another aspect of the hallway paddling experience that she dislikes as a teacher is the lack of consistency between punishments. While all teachers are limited to six swats, she feels there is too much variation in the way the paddling is applied. A specific offense in one class might earn a student 2 swats from a female teacher who is just trying to make a point, where the same offense in another class can result in six severe swats from a hard hitting coach that is expecting tears from the first swat. As a result of her own experiences being paddled, she feels that there should be a cooling off period after a paddling and the student should be allowed to go to the rest room to compose themselves before returning to class. While many teachers seem to allow this, she states that there are many who feel the additional embarrassment of being walked right back into class with watering eyes is just as effective of a punishment as the paddling itself. She feels that any punishment, regardless of the severity of the offense, should not involve the student feeling humiliated.
She really dislikes the teacher directly across the hall from her class and feels that he is very similar to her math teacher. She feels that he takes it to slightly different level and not only paddles for all offenses, she feels he looks for a reason to paddle whenever he can. Her first year in that classroom, due to proximity, she served as his witness. The following year she told him that he needed to find someone else to serve as his witness. There were a few reasons for this decision. The first goes back to the distraction to her class. While she currently witnesses around 20 a year, with him it was 3-4 a day. She felt that a period rarely went by in which someone wasn’t paddled. She knew how well students behaved in the class she was in with a frequent paddler, so she assumed that students would be on their best behavior in this class. She felt that he had to be looking for reasons to paddle a student in more than half of his classes everyday. She also felt that he paddled harder than was appropriate and that there was no variation based on the offense. If she was called out as a witness for this teacher, it was always the same process. Male students received the maximum six swats and female students received four. She did not feel that he ever changed the severity of the swats and always swung full force. In addition, he taught grades 9-12 and did not adjust for age. The student was brought into the hall and made to bend over with their hands on the locker. He then swung the paddle as hard and fast as he could, delivering all the swats in less than five seconds. He would thank her for witnessing and immediately march the student back into class. She stated it was very rare for a student to not at least have watering eyes and that all out crying was more common.
I found her experiences to be quite unique as well as offering some perspective for those of you who felt you had it rough growing up. In rereading this before posting I realized that I made many references to the fact that this is how it is still done “today”. The original accounts she wrote for me were in 1998, so I guess it is far from current. However, if things stayed the same for 30 years, I doubt much has changed in the last 7.
Monday, March 28, 2005
Public Display of Implements
I have always wondered if the displaying of implements that are used to spank really works as a deterrent to bad behavior. It seems to me that if the spanking is applied forcefully, then the person who was spanked has a clear mental reference, that will either deter future bad behavior or it will not. I question if the public placement of the implement used has any additional effects.
Regardless, at least when I was growing up, this seemed to be a common practice. I related the account of Traci, in which her parents stored a small wooden stake with sanded edges on the mantle above the fireplace. It was not super obvious; she actually had to point it out to me before I ever noticed it on my own. I did however notice it every single time I went in her house after that day. My best friend, who along with his sister, was punished with a belt until at least the age of 15. The belt seemed to be used exclusive for smacking their bottoms and was kept in the family room, folded over a cart that held TV trays. Three doors down from me was a girl a couple of years younger than me and we did not really hang out all that much, but I did end up in her house on various occasions. Hanging on the doorknob of the hall closet was a large wooden brush, what I think you would refer to as a “clothes brush”, and when I asked her what it was for, it was clear from the various shades of red she turned and her stuttering response, that it was applied to her and her sister’s bottoms. She would not admit it, but there was no doubt that this was its intended use in her house. Dee has also described for me that paddle that hung on the wall of her best friend’s living room. It was the first time she had ever seen a “Spencer Paddle”, a wooden paddle with holes drilled into it. Apparently it became a fixture in their living room when her friend’s mom remarried. I guess the step-dad decided that his hands were full with the discipline of his two teenage step-daughters and that a paddle would help.
I can’t even imagine how horrifying it must have been to not only be in a house in which you were punished with various implements, but to also have these implements displayed in a public way for your friends to ask about. Some of the implements were pretty obscure and had various uses around the house, but a wooden paddle with holes, hanging on the wall of the living room is a hard one to explain to your friends.
Sunday, January 23, 2005
True Account, M/ff, Severe
A couple of years ago a girl named Andrea posted a true account on The World Spanking Forum that I have always found to be one of the best I have read. It recounts a very strict strapping she witnessed as a teen and then details her six year search in trying to find out what it would be like to endure a punishment equal in severity. Needless to say, she finally finds the discipline she was looking for and learns the hard way to be careful what you ask for.
From Andrea at the World Spanking Forum
This is account is the result of a 6 year search to try and recreate and receive a very severe strapping I saw a good friend of mine receive.
The event that affected my life in such a deep way happened when I was 15 years old. A good friend of mine, Gina, had very strict parents and her dad was a Pastor at our local church. On several occasions, I had seen her well-marked bottom after a strapping from her father. Already very curious (and excited) about the whole concept of spanking, I often asked her about her punishments. While she was not shy about letting me view the results, she would not give me the details that I craved about her punishments. About as much as I could get out of her was that they were applied very forcefully on her bare bottom with a strap. She was always too embarrassed (and I think thought I was pretty weird to ask) to give me a blow-by-blow account. One Wednesday afternoon, this all changed.
Several girls at school had begun to smoke and it seemed a cool thing to do. I snagged 3 cigarettes from my dad one morning and after school that day, at Gina’s house, I talked her into trying one with me. We were confident that no one would be home for at least an hour, so we went into her backyard and lit a smoke. We both tried to inhale and ended up just coughing our lungs out. So, we decided not to inhale and just see what it was like to smoke. We shared the first and lit a second to share it as well. Halfway into the second smoke, the backdoor opened and her father came out. We tried to hide the cigarette, but it was too late. He immediately looked so angry and was speechless for a moment. He walked right over to us and slapped Gina across the face hard and she burst into tears. Then all he said was, “Girls, in the house now�.
We hurried into the house and my heart was racing so hard. He told us to sit down on the couch and wait. With that said he left the room for a moment. Gina continued to cry. I am not sure if this was from the pain of her stinging face or the thought of what might follow. When he came back in the room he seemed a little more composed and was not so angry. That did not last very long. As soon as he began to lecture us, he got all worked up again was yelling in no time at all. He did not really focus on the dangers of smoking, more the fact that he could not believe his daughter would do such a thing. He finally told Gina that she had “the whuppin’ of her life coming�. He explained to me that I had certainly earned one to, but he did not have the authority to “blister my bottom�. He further explained that while he could not spank me, there was nothing to stop him from having me see what I got his daughter into. In retrospect, it is kind of strange how he automatically assumed that I was the one who brought the cigarettes and talked her into it. While this was the case, I just found it strange that he never asked who’s they were.
He had us both stand and move to the back of the couch. He pulled up a chair for me and ordered me to have a seat. As curious as I had been about this very event, I was scared. Not just for Gina, but just plain scared. In my mind I had always focused on the physical acts of spanking, not all of the emotions that played into as well as the sheer anger that was being expressed. I did not want to see this at this point, I wanted to run and hide. It was truly a very scary situation.
He ordered Gina to bend over the back of the couch and to “tuck her hands under the cushions�. I found that part a little strange, but through years of replaying this event in my mind, I can only assume it was to keep her from reaching back immediately during her spanking. Not that having her hands under the cushions would really stop her, maybe that was just his policy. He then lifted her dress (I rarely saw her wearing anything else) and yanked her panties down to her ankles. He then unbuckled his large western style belt and folded it in half. While my heart had been racing, the overall formality of this occasion sent my heart into overload. My whole body was trembling slightly and I could not control it. He then looked at me briefly and told me to watch what “I had caused�.
Without another word, he lifted the belt high above his head and brought it down full force on her bottom. She screamed like she had been shot and was instantly in tears again. He paused for close to 5 seconds and then laid another one on her poor bottom. While I had seen her bruised bottom in the past, this was much different. The marks that the belt was leaving were not purple yet, they were a deep red, and the lines from the belt actually rose off the surface of her bottom. The right hand side of her bottom was the only part that already showed small signs of bruising. It seemed the tip of the belt must have hit differently than the rest. Once again, a 5 second pause and then another stroke. She screamed after each stroke of the belt. This continued for 5-6 stroked and then he began to pick up the pace. When I had tried to picture her getting strapped in my head, I always imagined a stroke, some lecturing, and then another. He did not say a word throughout. His pace quickened to one every couple of seconds. I was very impressed with Gina, she struggled a little, but her hands never left their spot from under the cushion. I was quite curious how she was able to do it. I was not sure if it was just that she was tough, or that she knew what the results would be if she tried to get away. Either way, I was very impressed and knew that I would not be able to take that and stay still.
Throughout the strapping, her reactions were pretty much the same. She would scream a little when every stroke landed and cry hard in between. As the pace grew faster, there was hardly any time to scream between each stroke. This led to a sort of continuous wailing from her. To my surprise, the strapping just kept getting faster. It slowly sped up until I do not think he could lay the strokes on any quicker. I would say that it was about 20 strokes into it when he reached this pace. Now he was just smacking, her now bright red bottom, what seemed to be as hard and as fast as he could. About 10 or more strokes into the pace, a weird thing started to happen, Gina started to calm down a bit. Just when I would have begun to think I was dying, it seemed she was relaxing. Her body was not wriggling so forcefully and she was no longer yelling after each stroke. Her loud crying was replaced with gentle sobbing. I was amazed, truly amazed. He kept up his pace for another 10 or so strokes with the belt and then it was over. Once again her reaction was much less than I ever would have imagined. She lay very still and was crying very gently. My conclusion at that point in time was that she had just run out of energy.
To this very day, I still kick myself for not counting. For some reason I want to know how many strokes she actually got. I have replayed this scene in my head more than a thousand times, and my best guess is around 40 strokes maybe a little more. He told her to stand up and pull up her panties. I was far too embarrassed, having witnessed this whole thing, to even look at her. She pulled up her panties and ran to her room. This left me alone with her dad and the whole room grew that much more uncomfortable. He looked at me and suggested that we make a phone call to my parents. He told me to go and call one of them and put him on the phone. I dialed my mom’s work number and got her on the phone. As soon as I said “mom�, he grabbed the phone out of my hand. Basically he said, “Mrs. ___________, I came home early today and caught our girls out in my backyard smoking. My daughter does not have access to cigarettes, so I can only assume your daughter brought them over. Gina just got the whuppin’ of her life and I suggest that when your daughter gets home, she receive the same. She is on her way home now, good day Ma’am�. He then hung up the phone and told me to “get my bottom home now�.
I got out of that house as quickly as I could and basically ran home. The whole time I tried to digest what I had just witnessed. There was a lot of conflict going on in my head. My initial thoughts were of remorse for Gina and what she had just gone through. But, at the same time there was unbelievable excitement, having just witnessed something I had tried to imagine hundreds of times. The final variable was the fact that I was going to really be in for it when I got home. Although my parents were smokers, they had made it very clear that I would not be one. My parents had never spanked me and I knew they would not today. As expected, when I got home there was a very lengthy lecture and I was grounded for two weeks, including use of the phone. This was about as bad as it got in the way of punishments at my house. I had a lot of time over the next two weeks to reflect on the enormity of the punishment I had witnessed. After the initial shock had worn off, I was pretty much just left with excitement.
As a result of witnessing this punishment, I would begin to fantasize about what it would have been like had I been the one who was spanked that day. This would become a frequent and unavoidable fantasy of mine for the next 6 years. I would play it in my head two ways. The first, he was my father and I was the one strapped. The second variation was that he just went ahead and strapped me as well that day. The father aspect tended to weird me out a little, so my most frequent fantasy was for me to have been included in the punishment. When I say fantasy, I think obsession is a better word for it. Some how, some way I needed to take this out of my head and see what the experience was really like.
Last year, just after I turned 20, I decided that I needed to find a way to live out this experience for myself and see what Gina really went through. I tried to explain to my current boyfriend at the time my desire. I think he thought I was a little weird (which at this point I did not care) and he humored me with the first spanking of my life. He took me over his knee, gave me a few love taps, and that was the end of it. It was clear that I was not going to be able to experience what I really desired with him.
As I am beginning to discover, I took the route that many women have and turned to, the Internet. I began spending late nights in the computer lab at my school and began reading message boards, chatting in spanking rooms, and posting online personals. This led to three separate encounters in which I was spanked. All of them involved the use of a safeword (something that I was advised was the smart way to go about it). On one occasion, in which a strap was used, I used the safeword almost immediately. On the second occasion, he would not spank me very hard at all, and it was more playful than painful. On the third occasion, the man was all about sex and I was out of there quickly. Three experiences, three disappointments, I had tried hard, but was still unable to fulfill my fantasy.
The first guy was the closest I came to what I wanted. But, he really lacked any sort of authority. The whole process was just kind of mechanical. He talked too much about the strapping, there was no sense of being in trouble, but the strokes were very hard. I was disappointed in myself that I was not able to take all that much. What I felt was lacking was the very stern presence of a real authority figure. Someone I would not dare try and get out of the spanking with. I also felt the safeword was standing in my way. While I wanted to have a safe experience, I needed to give up complete control and the use of a safeword was standing in my way. Gina did not have the option of stopping her punishment with a word. She was forced to take everything she had coming and her opinions, feelings, or pain tolerance were not a factor. I was forced to rethink my plan.
I decided the best thing to do was to find a very real disciplinarian, someone with tons of experience. Not the “I love to spank girls� types that I had previously contacted. After asking around online, I was referred to a web site in which a man offered “disciplinary services�. He stated that he was safe and sane, but only dealt with true punishments. His site further explained that he could provide references. To me, this sounded like what I had been looking for. It was about a 10-hour drive from where I lived, but I felt I had to check into it. I began exchanging e-mails with this guy and from the very beginning he seemed like a winner. He was very stern in his communication style, yet very polite. He treated me with the utmost respect, yet made me feel like a little girl at the same time. The only problem that arose was when I began to speak of wanting to be punished without the use of a safeword. At first, he refused. He stated that all first sessions involve the use of a safeword. I continued to argue the point and he finally offered me a deal. I was to write a 1000 word essay with the goal of trying to convince him that I realty wanted a session without a safeword. He said once he read it, he would say either yes or no and we would not argue the point any further.
For the next 3 days I basically neglected all of my schoolwork and poured everything I had into this essay. It was very strange to be spending so much time trying to convince someone to beat my ass with a belt. But, this also helped to strengthen my thoughts that this guy was indeed safe and the one for me. I finished my e-mail and sent it to him. I waited three days for a response and after class one day I saw an e-mail from him in my mailbox. Almost too scared to look, I finally checked the mail. The answer was simple, “Yes. On what day will you be arriving?�. My heart dropped.
We made arrangements for me to drive up in three weeks. He also had me send him a detailed written account of the experience I was looking for. The three weeks passed and I was on the road. My head was full of emotions during the 10-hour drive. This really seemed as if it was going to be it. Six years of waiting and I was going to finally know what Gina had experienced. While prior to the drive my thoughts were exciting, for the first time the enormity of the situation hit me and I was scared.
I arrived in his city and called the number he had given me. He gave me directions to a local deli and said he wanted to meet for lunch first. I drove there and waited. He arrived a few minutes later. He knew what kind of car I was driving and walked right up to my window. I rolled down the window and said hello. He greeted me with a warm smile, but informed me that I would call him “Sir�. My heart sank and I replied with a “Yes Sir�. We went inside and ordered some food to go. He said that before we started, he wanted to be able to talk to me in person for a little while and make sure I really wanted to go through with this. He felt that we should go somewhere where we could talk in private. He told me to follow him and we drove to a very nice park. We sat under a tree and ate our lunch. My stomach was in knots, so it was hard to eat. He asked me many questions. He wanted to better understand my motivations for this and wanted to know in detail what I hoped to gain. He seemed genuinely concerned about my feelings and listened very carefully as I went into detail. After about a 45-minute conversation, he said that we would go on with it as planned. We walked to our cars and he told me to follow him to his house.
As excited as I now was, I felt like I was going to throw up. I felt that in just a few minutes, I was going to experience the most intense pain of my life and would not be able to do anything about it. A gave the whole thing second thoughts more than once. We finally arrived at his house and it was very nice. He got out of his car and I started to get out of mine, when he waved me back in. He walked over to me and told me to hold on just a minute. He walked several feet away and got out his cell phone and made a call. I desperately wanted to hear what he was saying, but could not. Finally, he put away his cell phone and motioned for me to get out of the car. At this point things got strange for a moment and I began to question if this was a good idea. He presented me with some sort of story about the entryway of his house was being worked on, so he did not want me to go through that way. He informed me that he would go in the front, but I needed to go around back. I agreed, but was very confused. I began to fear his motivations for some reason, but against better judgment, I did as I was told and walked through the back gate, while he entered through the front door.
When I walked into the backyard, I was startled when there was a girl around my age in the backyard. I immediately told her that Mr._______ had told me to come back this way. She told me that she knew who I was and to come over to her. I was thoroughly confused at this point. Who was this strange girl? All it took were her next words for everything to come together in my head. She said “hey, I do not think he will be home for a least an hour, want to have a smoke with me�. All of a sudden reality and fantasy crashed together. I could not believe what was going on. She pulled out a cigarette and lit it up and took a few drags off of it and handed it to me. I took a few drags, but did not inhale. I had not smoked since that day in Gina’s backyard. When I handed the cigarette back to her my hands were shaking like mad. She told me not to be nervous, that he still had an hour at work and we would not get caught. I could not believe how elaborate this setup was. All of a sudden I was 15 and smoking in my friend’s yard. Less than a second later the curtains on the window we were standing in front of were pulled open, and there he stood. He yanked the window open with such force, the pane of glass actually cracked. I think that surprised us all. Instantly he was yelling at both of us about how he could not believe we were smoking. Honest to God, I have never been more scared, he was truly pissed. My heart was racing a thousand miles per hour and my whole body was shaking to the point of convulsions.
He yelled at us through the window for another moment and then told us to get into the house. He once again slammed the window shut and pulled the curtains. The girl actually said to me as me walked toward the back door, “see what you got us into�. I could not believe my ears. I replied with, “it was your idea, it isn’t my fault�. At this point I crossed a very strange line. The weird thing was is that when I said that, I was not role-playing. It was her fault that we were about to get in trouble, this did not seem like it was all a result of something I had requested. Once again, fantasy and reality began to blur as I got caught up the realism of this situation.
She opened the back door and we walked into a kitchen area. He called to us from the living room and told us to come to him. We walked into the room and he just stared at us. It was the most intimidating stare I had ever seen in my life. I wanted to just disappear and forget the whole thing. He walked closer and asked us is we had both been smoking. At the exact same time, we both replied. She replied “Yes, Sir� and I made the mistake of replying with just a “Yes�. Out of know where his left hand came up and slapped me hard across the right cheek. This I did not expect at all. My eyes filled with tears and my ears were ringing. While I had explained to him the entire details of Gina’s punishment, I had never requested to be slapped. But, in his defense, I had told him on many occasions I wanted to know exactly what she had experienced. I had never been slapped before, nor had I ever been in a fight and been hit in the face. This was completely new to me and I was stunned in a very big way. Tears streamed down my face and I heard him say, “didn’t I tell you earlier to always call me sir�. Still too stunned to really comprehend what he was saying, he slapped me again on the other cheek. That was all it took for me to really start crying. He said to me very loudly, “when I ask you a question, I expect an answer, do you understand?�. I replied with a “Yes, Sir� through my tears. I had really thought his previous question was a statement, that is why I did not answer. Either way, the point has been made very clear to me. While he was just staring at me, I glanced at the girl next to me, and while she appeared nervous, I detected a faint smile in my direction. He then asked me again, “were both of you smoking?�. This time I replied with a “Yes, Sir�.
He said that both of us smoking made it nice an easy for him. If we were both smoking in his house on his property, then he was going to give us both “the whuppin’ of our life�. I could not believe how well prepared he was for this, he was using exact quotes from my account. He then said, “Since you have not been punished by me before, I will let you watch Tara take her whuppin’ so you can see what I expect from you�. He walked to the bar and pulled up a tall barstool for me to sit on and motioned for me to sit. I did as I was instructed and sat down, rubbing my now pulsating face. He told Tara to bend over the back of the couch and to “tuck her hands under the cushions�. She did as she was told and waited. He pulled up her dress and pulled down her panties. She was a petite girl with the smallest little butt I have ever seen.
As he began to unbuckle his belt I reflected on this moment in time. All of a sudden I was 15 years old again. It seemed as time had warped and everything I had pictured in my head for the last 6 years was now reality. It began to sink in that I was really going to be punished this time and it was not a fantasy. He removed his belt and it seemed much larger then the one Gina had been strapped with. It was not really longer, but this seemed to be a very thick, well-worn belt. Just as Gina’s punishment had started, this one started the same way. There were no more words spoken, he simple raised the belt high above his head and swung it with all his might. He swung a little different in the fact that just before he brought the belt down, he kind of raised his front leg off the ground and brought it down firmly as he swung. It seemed kind of like the way a pitcher in baseball wound up to throw the ball. The reactions from the first stroke were ear piercing. Tara screamed with every ounce of energy she had in her. Her reactions made Gina’s seem tame. Her tiny butt instantly displayed the marks from the first stroke. About 10 seconds later the next stroke landed with the same reaction. Unlike Gina’s bottom early into the punishment, this girl’s bottom was showing deep bruising. I assume it is because she had no padding at all on her bottom. The parallel lines from the belt were leaving deep bruises and her right cheek was black and blue from where the tip of the belt had landed. As much as she had screamed, she had not really begun to cry yet that I could tell.
He continued, giving her a stroke every 6-8 seconds. As he continued, she slowly started to cry. Throughout, she never moved an inch. After around 20 strokes, he began to pick up the pace. The strokes were now less than 5 seconds apart and he was really laying it on. She began to cry louder and louder as the speed picked up. Just as I had described to him in my accounts, the pace continued to quicken. Somewhere around the 30th stroke, he was swinging as fast as he could. Her crying was loud and continuous and he just continued to beat her poor bottom. Just after 60 strokes, I began to see the same change that I had witnessed with Gina. She began to calm herself a little and the crying quieted down. This had no effect on him and he continued to whip her bottom. Unlike Gina’s punishment, I counted every stroke this time. He stopped on number 87.
He straightened up and was breathing loudly with sweat beading on his forehead. He took a moment to look at her bottom. It was a big mess of bruises. I could not believe the damage that had been done. Her entire right cheek appeared to be one big mass of bruises. I was amazed that someone’s bottom could even look like that. She continued quietly sobbing as he caught his breath. He called me from my chair and told me to take a look at Tara’s bottom to see what I could expect. It once again hit me that I was not just a spectator, that I was going to be a participant. I felt a little faint as I stepped off the stool. He called me closer and had me kneel down with my face just a few inches from her bottom. I could no longer tell where each stroke had landed; her entire butt was red, black, and blue. Her bottom gently quivered with her sobbing. He had me stand back up and sit down on the stool again. He pulled up a second stool and had Tara take a seat. He made her keep her panties around her ankles and her dress above her waist. She sat down very gingerly, and pulled her dress to her tear stained face and just buried her face deep into the cloth.
He informed me that he needed a moment to get his rest and regain his strength, so he could punish me as effectively. He went to the kitchen and grabbed himself a bottle of water. Considering what I just witnessed, and the fact that I was next, I was overcome with emotion. I unexpectedly began to cry. He came back into the room and sat on the back of the couch looking at us. I made the decision right there that I wanted to back out. This had been my ultimate fantasy, but I no longer wanted any part of it. I think some things are just best left to the imagination. There is no way I could take what that girl got and I just wanted to start my drive back home, having just witnessed another very real punishment.
I gathered all the courage I could muster and I told him, “Sir, I have changed my mind, I no longer want to go through with this and would like to leave now�. Tara instantly looked right at me. He stood up, walked to within a foot of me and said in a very stern voice, “young lady, you are the one that got in trouble and you are in my house. You must be very confused if you think you have any say in this at all. It was my decision to punish you girls in this matter for smoking, so there is nothing in your mind to change about this situation. You will face the consequences of your actions and you will leave when you have been properly punished, DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?�. I was dumbfounded and did not know what to say, I just stared at the ground. Once again, out of nowhere, a hard slap landed across my left cheek. Once again, “DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?�. I replied with a quiet “Yes, Sir� through my tears. I really had no say in this at all. I had spent 6 years waiting for this moment, but I no longer wanted to go through with it. But, here I sat like a helpless little girl with no power to stop what was about to happen. I once again felt sick and thought I might throw up.
He set his water on the bar and grabbed me hard by the arm and dragged me over to the couch. He yelled for me to bend over and put my hands under the couch cushions. I immediately did as I was told. I felt my dress being lifted and his fingers enter the waistband of my panties as he yanked them forcefully to my ankles. The anticipation was too much for me to bear and I began to cry loudly. With no warning, the first stroke landed. I was shocked by the pain, it was 10 times harder than any swat I had from the guy in which I used the safeword. I immediately jumped up and grabbed my bottom, screaming at the top of my lungs. I strong hard pushed me on the middle of my back and forced me back down. With a lot of anger in his voice he said, “young lady, you have earned this punishment and you will take every stroke I give you and you will stay in position. If you chose to get up again, this will be the result�. I then felt a brutal stroke, which landed on my thighs halfway between my knees and my bottom. I once again jumped up and started rubbing my thigh. I was crying as hard as I ever have in my life after just two strokes. The one on the thigh made the one on my bottom seem tame. He forced me back over again and informed me that this punishment would continue on my thighs until I learned to take my punishment properly. As promised the next stroke landed, once again, on my thighs. I used every ounce of energy I had to stay still. I gripped the underside of the cushion with all my might and managed to stay bent over. He said, “that is better� and the next stroke landed on my bottom. While better than the thigh, it was still the most intense pain I had ever experienced. I focused on my grip on the cushions and held firm. With me better under control, he fell into a rhythm, giving me a stroke every 10 or so seconds. I yelled loud and cried hard. While both punishments I had now witnessed seemed very painful, there was just no way that I ever expected it to be like this.
I lost track of time and reality. Reality for me at this point was a pain I never knew before. All I could focus on was the pain on my bottom and the death grip I had on the cushions. Somehow, focusing on my hands seemed to make it all just bearable. As expected, I noticed the blows on my bottom increasing in speed. With no time to recover between the strokes, I began a constant sort of screaming. I was crying, screaming, gasping for breath, and almost blinded by the tears in my eyes. There was no way I could take this, THERE WAS NO WAY I COULD TAKE THIS! The pain increased to a whole new level and I became disoriented and confused. My mind was cluttered an overloaded with sensations. While still keeping my feet in place and my hands gripped tight on the cushion, my whole body was convulsing under the blows from his thick belt. I could no longer tell the difference between when the blows were landing and when they were not, it was just a constant and continuous pain I was unable to escape.
At some point, I do not know when (it could have been 30 strokes into it, it could have been 30,000) I began to give up the fight. I quit gripping quite so tight on the cushion, I let my body relax and quit convulsing, and I ran out of energy to scream. The whuppin’ was still going on, but something had overcome me. I do not know if this was an out of the body experience, if I was submitting, or if I lacked the energy to fight it. The pain while still very intense was somehow tolerable. I was achieving the impossible and I was able to take this. The pain no longer mattered, he could whip me all day and I felt I could take it. Just as I contemplated these feelings, it stopped.
I was instantly overcome with a flood of new emotions and resumed crying pretty hard. I just buried my face in the couch and had a very good cry. While very aware of the pain of my bottom, it was not as I expected as far as overall soreness. My entire bottom pulsated with the fast beat of my heart and it stung, but I expected the first few minutes after a strapping to be the very worst part. From what seemed like another world entirely, I heard a voice tell me to stand up. I quickly realized that there were other people in the room with me and that this was real. I quietly replied with a “Yes, Sir� and stood up, a little dizzy and disoriented. My eyes locked with Tara’s as she stared deeply into my soul. This moment was broken when a stern voice informed us, “well, that should keep you girls from smoking in the future. Tara, you need to get to your room now�. She replied with a “Yes, Sir� and ran off awkwardly with her panties still around her ankles.
He reached his hand out and grabbed my chin and pulled my head up until I was looking at him. He looked deep into my eyes and asked me if I had learned a proper lesson about smoking. I told him I had. He informed me that a phone call to my house would not be necessary, since he had elected to take care of things his own way. He told me that it was getting late and I better head on home. With that said I was dismissed. I walked out the front door into the lightness of the day and for a moment, felt like I needed to walk to my parent’s house. I got my wits about me, located my keys, and got in my car and drove away. I had no idea what I was doing or where I was going, I just drove down the street and hopped on the first freeway I came to. I did not consider time, distance, or directions; I just drove trying to grasp everything that had just happened. It was a lot to absorb and it was going to take me a very long time to figure it all out mentally. My bottom had a nice warm and surprisingly pleasant feeling. I thought that a sore bottom would be one of the worst parts, but it really was not bothering me. I noticed that my heart rate was probably still close to double its normal rate.
Five minutes or five hours later (I really have no idea) I came across a grouping of hotels and restaurants next to a mall. I had packed a bag, knowing I did not want to repeat the long drive in a single day and decided to get a room. I walked to the counter, still in a daze, and paid for a room. I drove my car around to my room, entered, and collapsed on the bed. Fully overloaded mentally and physically, I drifted off to sleep. When I awoke it was dark outside. I have no idea what time I checked in, but the clock now showed 10:30 PM. It took me a moment to even realize where I was and if this afternoon had been a dream. As I stood up, I became very aware of my bottom. It hurt to stand up and walk. With every step I felt an intense soreness that I had never experienced before. I walked to the mirror and flipped up my dress. Even the process of lowering my panties caused considerable pain. When I saw my bottom for the first time I was shocked. It was a nasty mix of purple, black, and blue. Just like Tara’s bottom, the right cheek was a mess of angry bruises. Surprisingly, my whole bottom was kind of hard to the touch. It had somehow firmed up everywhere the belt had hit. On the backs of my legs there were two of the worst bruises I have ever seen. It looked like I would not be wearing shorts for quite some time. I must have spent 30 minutes looking at my poor bottom. The biggest surprise was when I sat on the toilet to pee. I found it almost impossible. While when driving I thought that I had somehow gotten lucky and my bottom was not that sore, I guess it just takes time. I ended up squatting above the seat to go to the bathroom.
I desperately needed some food, so I walked across the parking lot to a Chili’s. Once again the act of walking proved to be painful. I sat alone and had dinner. I struggled for 45 minutes to try and find a way to sit comfortably and it never happened. I was still in a bit of a daze while I ate and reflected on the resolution of a 6-year fantasy. It was more than I ever expected. It went far beyond what I wanted. It was the worst experience of my life; it was the greatest moment I have ever experienced. It was the most pain I have ever felt and the hardest I have ever cried. The next morning I began the long drive home. The drive turned out to be almost as painful as the strapping itself. I had no idea that the pain got worse with time not better, I felt far worse than I had the night before. I stopped dozens of times just to get the weight off my bottom. When I returned to the dorms, I was beat.
I experienced pain for more than 5 days. The bruises on my bottom lasted more than 2 weeks and the marks on my thighs did not fully fade for almost a month. I came up with a good excuse for the bruises on my thighs so I could resume wearing shorts. About a week after my experience, I received an e-mail from him asking me to describe my experiences for him. I went into great detail and relived the whole experience for him. As I reread my very long e-mail, I noticed that it resembled a thank you note. As horrible as the experience was, I loved him for it. He had taken my fantasy to a whole new level, one which I did not think was possible. I asked him a few questions, especially the thing I was the most curious about, who was Tara and why was she there? He explained to me that he had been punishing Tara for almost 2 years. She was a young girl that craved very intense discipline. One of her fantasies had been to be punished severely with another girl watching and then to get to watch. He had arranged that day for both of us to fulfill fantasies. I guess I am not the only person out there with these bizarre feelings.
Well, that is the full account of one of two spanking I have received in my life, both as an adult. Thanks for listening.
A.
Thursday, January 13, 2005
True account of school corporal punishment
A description of a school paddling that a good friend of mine received in a public school in Texas during the late 80’s.
It should be clear by now that I have a fascination with school corporal punishment. I think one of the main reasons is the fact that it was my only personal experience with spanking growing up, being that I was never spanked by my parents. As I have stated before, as a teen, I would do just about anything I could to get girls I knew to talk about their experiences being spanked. Today, I thought I would detail one of my favorite school paddling accounts that was actually told to me directly by the girl who experienced it.
The girl in question is the younger sister of one of my good friends. While a couple of years younger than the group I hung with in high school, she was close with her brother and as a result, we were often at the same parties together or just hanging out on the weekends. Being that this is still a person that I communicate with, I will change her name and the school involved, but everything else is 100% accurate. Even though “Laura� was a sophomore when I was a senior, every guy considered her to be one of the hottest girls we knew. She was unbelievably gorgeous with the kind of ass that fuels every school boy’s fantasies. The summer before her sophomore year, her brother, mother, and her all moved to a different school district. The school was actually closer to my house than the one I attended, but it was a different district. I lived in a suburb of Ft. Worth Texas, which was a small town that was about as far away from the city as you could get without being in the country. The town they moved to was maybe ten miles from where I lived, but it was considered “the country�. This was a town that had three different schools, a primary, middle, and high school. Although small, they were their own independent school district.
While they had moved, we still hung out just as much because they were not any farther away. One day I was asking her brother what he thought of the new school and his response was “it is Hicksville�. He explained some of the differences between the new school and the one I attended. One thing that I found odd was that they had a dress code. Things like concert shirts, shorts, and ripped jeans were not allowed. If you wore a button up shirt, every button had to be fastened. It was clear that this was a much different school environment than they were used to. Through further probing, he mentioned that each and every week he had heard at least one paddling take place in the hallway. This of course got my attention, so I asked him if he had been paddled. He laughed and said “Hell no, but Laura managed to get one during just her second week�, I just about fell out of my seat. The thought of Laura presenting her beautiful bottom to be paddled was almost more than I could bear. Trying not to cross the line between being curious and being perverted, I simply asked him how that went. He responded with “you would have to ask her, but she said it hurt like a mother fu****�. I left it at that but knew that at some point I would have to get all the details.
It was several months before I found a chance to talk to her about it without being in a room full of people. It was a Friday night and we were having our typical gathering at an older friend’s place that had his own apartment. Most of us were there and my friend got a call from his sister asking him to come and pick her up and bring her to the party. He told her no and that he was not going to drive an hour round trip to pick her up. I quickly made up the excuse that I was going to run and get cigarettes anyway and that I would swing by and get her and bring her over. He told her that I could come and get her and she was happy and said she would be ready. I drove the 20 miles to get her, considering how to explore the topic of her school paddling. As I pulled up she came running out and was very grateful that I had come all that way to get her.
I went right into a school talk and her if she was making new friends. I continued with the small talk in the hopes that she would mention that she had been paddled. If never came up so I finally just said, “oh yeah, your brother said that someone paddled you, is that true�? She answered with, “Hell yeah, he busted my ass good�. Trying not to focus too much on the paddling, I asked her what she had done to get paddled. After finally breaking the ice, Laura detailed the entire experience during the rest of the drive. I will leave out the additional probing I did to get all the details and simply leave you with her full account. There may be a few details I have missed, but for the most part this is exactly what she experienced with her first school paddling.
As hot as she was, she obviously received a lot of attention from the boys in her school. This is what led to her first paddling. In a class with a female teacher, she had been extra chatty with a couple of the boys. They flirted and past notes throughout the class for several days. One day the teacher had enough and singled Laura out as the trouble maker. She was given a stern warning about the distractions she was creating in class. Near the end of her second week of school it happened again and this time she was “sent up� for it. There was no warning, she was simply asked to come to the front of the room. The teacher handed her a “pink slip� and told her to go see the Vice Principal. While at my high school there was a girl’s VP and a boy’s VP, there was a single male at her school who handled the discipline problems. She told me that what annoyed her the most was what she read on the pink slip as she walked to the office. It said “disrupting class, multiple warnings, disciplinary action required�. She was pissed because she had only been warned once, not “multiple� times. She was also bothered that on both occasions, the boy she was chatting with was never included as someone else that was also disrupting class. She knew she was pushing the teacher’s limits, and felt that she might get in trouble, she just didn’t like the way what had happened was represented on the pink slip.
She went to the office and asked the secretary where to go. She took Laura’s pink slip and told her to have a seat. The pink slip was taken to the VP’s office and she waited. After about 5 minutes the secretary told her she could go in. She entered his office and was told to take a seat. She stated that she was pretty intimidated because she had never even seen this man before. He took her pink slip and then spent a minute creating a file folder for her. He asked her if “disrupting class� meant chatting with her neighbor and such and she replied “yes�. He also told her that based on the teacher’s notes that this seemed to be an ongoing issue. She replied that is had only happened one time before. She felt that he was used to students flat out lying to him and basically just dismissed what she had to say. She felt that he did not even really listen to her and had already made up his mind as to how to handle it. After he got her side of the story, she said that he became a little more stern and gave her a brief lecture. It seemed his main point was that he had very little tolerance for things that “interfered with the educational process�. He stated that most students see things like whispering in class and being late as minor offenses, but he saw things differently. His problem was that these were things that did not just affect a single student, they had the potential to distract everyone in the classroom and that all of these little distractions greatly affected how much learning could take place over the course of a day. She said that he made a few references to “how things were done at your previous school� and that he really made it sound like she came from a terrible school where discipline was out of control.
After the lecture he told her that she would get three “licks� for this offense and three “licks� for the previous offenses that had only resulted in warnings. He told her that a warning is basically a free pass, assuming the behavior is corrected, and that if it is not corrected, then there must be accountability for previous actions. She said that she was basically stunned. She said that she was not an idiot and knew what “licks� were, but the fact that this was actually going to happen to her, at that very moment, greatly concerned her. A school paddling was not something completely foreign to her as a concept; they had paddled at her junior high, but never girls. She also never knew of a paddling at her previous school in which it was not offered as a choice. She said her heart rate increased and she basically just sat there staring at the floor, wondering what was next. She told me that she had heard two paddlings take place in the hallway since she had been at school and that they were very loud. She looked up when she heard him open a file drawer and she then saw the paddle for the first time. She described it as “big as hell� with black tape wrapped around the handle. Unlike the paddling schools I had attended, there were no signatures on this paddle. She told me that it look as though it “had a lot of miles on it�. When I asked her to estimate the size she held up her hands about three feet apart.
He stood up from his desk and went and closed his office door while she just sat nervously in her chair. He then grabbed what she called a “Kindergarten chair� from next to a file cabinet and pulled it into the center of his office. I asked her what a “Kindergarten chair� was and she described it as “the little bitty chairs that you see in a daycare�. He instructed her to stand up and approach the chair. He told her to bend over, put both hands on the chair, and to position her feet so that were at least two floor tiles between them. I guess this is politically correct way to say “spread your legs�. She stated that he was very specific about her position and that she was to keep her hands in place and legs straight at all times. She told me that even before it started that it really sucked. She found grabbing the seat of that little chair to be difficult and really put a strain on the backs of her legs. Once in place he took his spot behind her and announced her sentence, “Laura you are getting six licks for disrupting the educational process�. She felt the paddle on her bottom for a moment and then received the first “lick�. She said that at first it did not hurt as much as she suspected, but very quickly the pain set in. Before she could catch her breath the next one fell, followed by the third. She was given a several second pause and then the next three were laid on just as fast.
She described the pain as “unfu***** believable�. She told me she had had her share of spankings from her mom when she was younger, but it was nothing close to this paddling. She honestly did not believe a spanking could hurt this much. She said that “it burned and just would not go away�. He walked back around his desk and put the paddle away. She told me that she was a little confused and was not sure if she could stand up. To be safe, she stayed in place until he told her to have a seat. I know how tough Laura was, so I asked her if she cried. She told me that tears streamed down her face after the first swat, but “I was not going to give the prick the satisfaction of seeing me blubber�. He filled out her pink slip and sent her right back to class. She told me that she went to the bathroom to pull herself together but ended up actually crying once she got there. I wanted to ask her how her butt looked afterwards, but felt that that might come off as a little perverted. Instead I asked her if it hurt for very long. Her exact response was “dude, my ass burned for days�. As a side note, she felt that the words on her pink slip “disciplinary action required� was the teacher’s code for “this student needs to be paddled�.
This account has always stood out in my mind for many reasons. First, it was one of the most detailed accounts I had ever heard from a girl about being paddled at school. Second, she had one of the greatest asses I had ever seen and I had personally fantasized about spanking her prior to hearing this account. This is also one of the few accounts I have heard in which a female was paddled by a male without a witness present. It is also one of very few accounts I have heard in which the paddling was not an option, it was the only course of action. Right or wrong, this was very real and it did take place in a public school in Texas. Beyond paddling in the office, this was a school (and still is as far as I know) that allowed teachers to paddle students in the hallway where everyone else could hear. I asked her a little bit about this and she told me that she only knew of a few teachers (mostly coaches) that paddled themselves and that most teachers just sent student up. It was a drive that I will never forget and I was very disappointed when we made it back to the party. Thanks to “Laura� for fueling the spanking fantasies I had as a teen.
Sunday, January 02, 2005
Growing with spanking in Texas
Getting the girls of my childhood neighborhood to talk about their punishments.
For me, as I suspect is the case with many, my spanking fetish started at a very early age. I was having spanking related fantasies well before I was at a point in which I was thinking about having sex with girls. While I was not looking at girls sexually at an early age, that does not mean I did not think about those same girls bending over for a spanking. Let me be very clear that I do not think the spanking of children is an effective form of discipline and it is a practice that should not take place. But as a child, I was not aware of the concept of “consensual spanking� between adults. I did not know that I would grow up and be in a place in which I spank dozens of different girls a month. The only thing I had to fuel my spanking fantasies was the thought of girls I knew being spanked in their home.
As I have stated in previous posts, I moved from California to Texas the summer before I started Junior High. While spankings took place in the neighborhood I lived in California, they were not the norm, and if they happened very often to people that I knew, I was not aware of it. The whole concept was much different in Texas and being spanked or “getting a whuppin� was a common enough occurrence that most kids were not embarrassed by the fact that it happened to them. It happened enough to all of the kids in the neighborhood that is was just a fact a life and one that they did not hesitate that much to talk about it. Like most into the fetish I suspect, as a kid I went out of my way to get the various girls in my neighborhood to talk about times that they were spanked. While always trying to appear uninterested and casual, I pressed them for as many details as I could get without seeming like a pervert.
There was not a single girl in my neighborhood that I talked to, that denied that she was spanked. While some would not tell me anything about their experiences, they would confirm that they were spanked. For me, the stuff that childhood spanking fantasies were made of, came from a girl named Traci. She was a year younger than me, and at the time, I thought she had one of the cutest bottoms I had ever seen. I was good friends were her older brother, so I had almost daily contact with her. Her brother loved to embarrass her and would often announce to us that Traci had been spanked the night before. While it would often make her blush, she would never deny it. After about a year of getting information about her spankings this way, I began to press Traci in private for more details. To my surprise, she had no problem not only taking about her punishments, but describing them in detail.
For Traci, a spanking at home occurred three to four times a month. Anytime she got in trouble, it involved a spanking. There were times that extra chores or being grounded were added on top of the punishment, but a spanking was always the first step. She was most often spanked with a little wooden paddle that her father had made in the garage. It was really just a wooden stake that her father has sanded the edges for a handle. The first time I asked her if I could see it, she simply walked up to the mantle in their family room and pulled it down. As many times that I had been in their house, I had never noticed the little piece of wood that was tucked away behind some family photos on the brick mantle above their fireplace. It was the first time in my life that I had touched an implement that was designed and used for spanking. It wasn’t all that big or intimidating, but I had no doubt in my mind that it must have hurt like hell. Traci told me that it was generally used right there in the family room with her grabbing her knees. Her mom was the only one that ever paddled her and she stated that she generally got between 5 and 20 swats with it. I asked her is she cried when she was spanked and her response was “hell yeah, wouldn’t you?�.
Of course I wanted to know if she ever got it on the bare butt and she stated that she had never been paddled that way. She did explain however, that a couple of times a year when she was in serious trouble, she would be taken to her parent’s bedroom and strapped on her panties, with her pants around her knees. To me the belt seemed like a step down, not a step up in severity, from the paddle. She told me that a single paddle swat did hurt more, but that a “session with the belt� was a long and drawn out process that was far worse than any paddling she ever received. She related that a belt spanking was always for the worst offenses and was generally followed with being grounded for a month or so. As she described it, she would follow her mom upstairs and be told to lower her pants and bend over the edge of the bed. She told me that this was not bending over, but more laying over the edge of the bed. Her mom would then go to the closet and retrieve one of her father’s large Western belts. While she waited with her pants around her knees her mom would yell at her for several minutes. After a long lecture the spanking would start. Unlike the paddle swats which were always spaced out, the belt spanking would be as fast as she could swing and last for more than a minute. She felt her mom spanked with the belt until she ran out of breath. Depending on how much trouble she was in, she could expect this process to happen between two and five times. Her mom would simply catch her breath, lecture a bit more, and then give another painful flurry of strokes with the belt. She estimated that her worst one had probably involved 4-5 separate applications of the belt, spread out over close to 45 minutes. She guessed that over the course of that entire punishment that she was probably smacked close to 150 times with the belt.
I am not sure what happened to Traci, she moved away when I was sixteen, but I will always remember the first girl to really fuel my spanking fantasies. I can only hope that somewhere she is still baring her bottom for a very lucky husband. While there were many girls in my neighborhood that were spanked, only Traci would give me a blow by blow account of her experience. If it helps at all, there was never a spanking that she was given that she did not feel she deserved.