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.
Comments:
It is odd, isn't it? I was hit fairly frequently as a child, though not remotely as much or hard as the hideous abuse suffered by your correspondent. I hated it, it has left me with lasting resentment, a determination that my own children would suffer no such thing, and an intense erotic interest that seems to me about 80% of my sexuality. Unlike your correspondent it doesn't bother me too much, indeed I regard it as comnpensation (I don't want to get too psychobabble but i suspect I may have erotisised it to make it less frightening). I hope the lady concerned finds her peace with it.i was shocked that my first paddling would be from a woman, i could hardly stand up i looked at her she looked to be about 10ft tall but was only about 5'1 she closed the door behind me. told me too go to the middle of her office and grab my ankles. she then open her door again and ask the attend to come inside as a witness she was a classmate of mine. when i heard the door close behind me. i could see them threw my legs as she walked over to her desk and took out a large red paddle. she then walked up behind placing her hand in the middle of my back, she raised her paddle and hit me so hard i though i would fall over, then again and again three hard swats all burning and sting me i was shocked she could swat so hard. then i was told to standup recieved a short lecture on cutting classes then dismissed. it was the most exciting way to begin my spanking world. i have loved spankings every since but will always remember my first paddling. Dee
The really strange angle was when my father announced I was due for another caning at 19 years of age, I refused to comply, convinced I was by then above such humiliation.
I paid a terrible price, and nearly killed myself on drugs during the resulting rebellion.
It took quite a few years to realise I needed to face that caning, and maybe even many more before I would ever again stand a chance of getting back on the right tracks.
When I finally found the courage to visit an Ed. Psychologist who was also a Teacher and also applied beatings to his boys, it was a beating such as I had never known before.
The catharthis and transformation was instant, and a dangerous drinking and smoking pattern suffered a direct hit.
The 'pattern' has never fully recovered!
However, I have noticed over the past 5 years or so of getting my but soundly beaten, a tendency to lapse whenever I felt the venture should be terminated.
It now transpires that I am in fact repeating the same mistake with my father at 19 years.
So the lesson has to be that it will up to the Mentor when he decides my beatings have done their course.
Any others interested in parental Mentoring please contact.
Phillip T -UK
The doors opened for most students at 8:00. A student who had misbehaved had to present himself or herself to the school guard at 7:30, and he would send you on in to the appropriate place. The lower school students, kindergarten through grade 4, all went to a female vice principal. The fifth through eighth graders went to the male principal, Father Frances.
It was awful, knowing that all the kids on the playground could see that you were reporting for a spanking. The guard, too, would give you a knowing smile, as if he could picture how red your bottom would soon be.
We girls wore blue skirts with white blouses and blue sweaters. In the winter, we wore wool skirts, but in the fall and spring, we had just cotton skirts, which were very little protection from the paddle the principal used.
Father Frances would lecture whoever arrived, whether it was one child or ten, all together. He ran through our individual misdeeds--skipping class, swearing, smoking, disrespecting a teacher, fighting, whatever. Each time he mentioned your particular wrongdoing, he would look over his glasses at you, to see if you looked sorry. If you looked "smug" or worse, if you smiled or laughed, he would inform you that you were returning the next day, too.
We sat in a room with his desk and a big round table across from it. The students would sit at the table. When the lecturing was over, he would call each student, starting with the fifth graders. The designated child would walk up to his desk and bend over it, gripping the far corner. (It wasn't very wide.) Father Frances would announce the number of swats, anywhere from 3 to 15, then he'd get down to business. He swung a wide and heavy paddle, quite hard. Almost all of us were in tears after the first smack.
After a child was paddled, the priest would make him or her return to the table and sit respectfully, while the others were spanked.
I tried hard to behave, but I found myself in this position once in fifth grade, once in sixth grade, and three times each in seventh and eighth grades.
The last time was the worst, twelve swats for being discovered necking with a high school boy in the school yard after school.
The nuns told my parents immediately. When I got home, my mom just about wore out her arm applying a wide-backed hairbrush to my my bare bottom, then when he got home, my dad went after me with a heavy leather strap, so I cried myself to sleep on my tummy.
When I got up, my butt was still red, and seriously bruised and swollen. I thought about cutting school, but a friend of mine had done that once on a day she was scheduled for a spanking, and Father Frances had spanked her three days in a row.
There were just two other students in the session that morning, both fifth grade girls who had cheated on a test. I was upset, because I knew I would cry a lot, and I didn't want these fifth graders telling the whole school what a baby I was.
I need not have worried. Both of them were first-timers, and they were bawling during the lecture phase. By the time it was my turn, they were both sobbing at full throttle.
Father Frances laid the paddle on as hard as he always did, and I thought I would pass out by the sixth swat, but I survived, and I certainly didn't get caught necking in the school yard again!
I was a fairly spirited, rebellious teenager and had received several swats over my school skirt by the Father, who was the only teacher that dealt out our corporal punishment. We would be called to his office and be made to first sit through a lecture about the error of our ways. After showing the desired contrition, Father Mark would have us (or at least myself and my school girlfriends), bend over the large bookcase that he had in the corner of his room and we were told to hold that position until he was ready to deal with us.
Sometimes, I found myself doubled over for a good ten to twenty minutes while Father either took phone calls or even occasionally had quick meetings with other teachers. I'm sure that you can imagine the humiliation that I felt - especially with another adult in the room, observing my butt high in the air, waiting for the strapping that Father Mark was to inflict.
Often, before he came to my punishment, I would be softly crying - more from nerves and the fear of his belt than anything else.
The lashing always hurt, we would be given anywhere from three to ten of them, basically it all depended on how serious our "sin" had been and what sort of mood the Father was in that day. I have never forgotten what a large, powerful man he was though, and also how he lashed us with little mercy.
The day that I have never forgotten is when I was caught trying to break into the sports store room to get a ball. For some mad reason, this infraction was considered to be a very serious breech of the schoool rules as it was classed as theft.
I knew what was in store for me and endured an extremely long lecture in which I was berated for always being in trouble. Father Mark said that he was going to have to administer a more severe punishment as I obviously had not yet learnt a thing from my earlier strappings. He then forced me over his large desk,pulled my regulation school knickers down to mid-thigh and told me that if I moved I would get a double dose. He disappeared and returned immediately with a large paddle, which he made me examine. He told me that it had always just been the school strap before that, but as I refused to learn, it'd be a hard paddling for me.
Scared, I began crying my eyes out. Showing no mercy, I was ordered to lift up my school skirt and to hold on to the desk.Father then told me that I deserved the largest number of spankings that he is able to administer and that would be twelve of the best.
With my knickers around my knees and my skirt up around my waist, he began. The pain was intense and I am sure that he made certain that every paddle was administered with great force. After about three, or maybe even five of them, I was sobbing and begging for forgiveness. At this time when I was at my most vulnerable, there was a knock on the door and a boy that I knew from the lower grades was told to enter. His eyes grew into saucers when he saw my semi-nude state, however he was still ordered to enter by Father Mark and told to sit on the bench against the wall to wait his own retribution.
I felt so embarrassed, knowing that my bare bottom was exposed to his eyes as well. With no mercy my paddling continued, the last two strokes were especially horrible, I was told to stand up and to touch my toes. I am sure that Father Ted had me face away from the other student so that he could ogle my red and burning thighs and bottom. The last two strokes were administered on my upper thighs and finally I was told to stand and to thank the Father and our God for being corrected in my reckless ways!
I mumbled a quick thankyou and with tears streaming down my cheeks,and looking far away from the fellow student, ran out of the room.
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