I was paddled twice in school and twice in my college sorority.
My first school paddling happened when I was eight-years-old. We’d had a singing class and I was bored with the old song we were being taught. I let my feelings be known with a loud sigh and then, when our teacher asked what was wrong, I told her exactly what I thought of the awful song.
Mrs T’s response was to have me stand out front of the class with my nose close to the wall. Of course, I should have kept quiet and accepted my punishment, but my position meant I was standing behind the teacher’s back and thus was able to act the class clown and make gestures to my fellow students. It took Mrs T several minutes before she realised why people were laughing when she was trying to work with this somber old song. I got caught out when she suddenly turned round.
I was immediately sent out into the hall while Mrs T sorted out something for the others to do while she dealt with me. As I waited for her, I worried whether she was going to deal with me herself or take me to the principal’s office. I quite liked Mrs T, but I’d never even spoken to the principal, Mr B, and the thought of being taken to him was much more scary than facing Mrs T. I expected her to at least bawl me out, with just an outside chance she might paddle me.
The situation became clear when Mrs T emerged from the classroom with a small paddle in her hand. I was curtly told to wait where I was while she went to find another teacher to serve as a witness. That was the point where I really regretted my actions. Paddlings were very rare in that school at that age. I’d just seen two boys paddled up to that point. I began to tear up. The paddle wasn’t at all fearsome-looking. It was actually quite small. The blade couldn’t have been much more than a foot in length, on the end of a rounded handle, three inches wide and made of quite thin pale-colored wood.
Mrs T found Mrs W, another middle-aged teacher, in the very next classroom, and called for me to join them. Mrs W’s classroom was empty. I guess her class was having a gym or sport lesson. They were both looking at me as I reached the open doorway. I remember feeling frightened to enter as I peered inside.
Both teachers spoke quite gently as they tried to persuade me to enter. As soon as I went into the classroom, I was ‘invited’ to bend over a desk in the front row. Actually, they weren’t really desks, more tables with metal legs and an imitation wood top that two students were able to share. I was wearing blue jeans that day with some kind of top, probably a T-shirt.
With verbal persuasion and a helping hand from Mrs W, I was bent over the table, and Mrs T immediately swatted my behind. I leapt up and grabbed the seat of my jeans, although in reality it wasn’t a hard swat. I guess I was in a particularly sensitive mood.
Mrs W, I remember, kind of took charge of getting me back over that table for my next swat. She spoke to me and grabbed me by the shoulders, trying to push me down across the surface. I resisted as best I could, but her greater strength got me bending over again, and Mrs T quickly applied the paddle to my backside. I screamed, although it barely hurt. Mrs W held me down for the third swat, and then I was released. I rubbed my not-very-sore butt and the tears continued to roll down my face.
As I was led back to class, my main regret was having to rejoin my peers while still bawling. No brave face for me!
My second school paddling came when I was fifteen. Four of us had messed around in the shower room after a soccer game, flicking each other with wet towels, shouting excitedly and generally having a good time. Miss A didn’t see it quite the same way. I don’t recall there being any animosity in what we did, but she saw it as potentially dangerous and therefore a serious matter.
It was close to the end of school for that day, so the four of us were told to get dried off and get dressed, then report to Miss A’s small office. Of course, everyone teased us about what would happen to us, and we got wet towels flicked at our butts and stuff. At the age of fifteen, I think we all expected to get either an after-school detention lasting one hour, or a Saturday detention lasting three hours.
When we crowded into Miss A’s office, we first got the anticipated lecture about shower rooms being such dangerous places that we shouldn’t even dream of messing around, what injuries might have resulted, etc. Then Miss A stood up, went to a tall metal cabinet and brought out a typical school paddle. We were given the option of three hours Saturday detention or three licks with the paddle.
Miss A allowed us some minutes to think about it. We didn’t talk amongst ourselves, although I guess we could have. For my part, it was a question of weighing up how important my Saturday morning was to me. Pretty important! So important that I’d take a spanking to keep it free? Not so sure. I waited to see what the others were going to do.
Then Miss A got a little impatient and asked us for our decisions. I guess we were all waiting to see what the others would do. Then, one of the girls said she’d take the spanking. Immediately, another girl said the same, and then us remaining two fell into line.
I instantly began to doubt myself. Had I really just agreed to allow Miss A to use that paddle on my backside? We were fifteen, and the three swats I’d had as an eight-year-old were nothing compared to what Miss A had in mind, I was sure. But then you get to the point where you lose more face backing out than going ahead with the others.
Miss A invited one of the other girls to step outside her office where there was more space. She was told to bend over and grab hold of her shins. I could see her butt quite clearly from where I was standing, in particular her panty-line showing through her jeans, and then Miss A applied three pretty meaty swats. No, this was not going to be like my previous paddling, aged eight!
The first girl stood aside and Miss A called me forward. I really did not want to go next! But I had to. Everyone was looking at me like they were the audience to a show waiting for the next scene to begin. My face felt hot and red as I took the first girl’s place and bent over. I also was wearing jeans, and they were stretched tight around my backside as I grasped my shins. I stared down at the floor, but within a second or two I felt the paddle slam against my backside. It hurt! Before I really knew it, though, a second swat hit home on much the same spot. And then the third scorched my butt. I was done.
Miss A told me to stand aside, and I didn’t hesitate. I went to stand next to the first girl, rubbed my backside and together we waited for the next performance. It probably only took three or four minutes for Miss A to spank the final two girls, and then we were all allowed to leave.
There wasn’t much conversation between us. We all now knew Miss A could spank effectively! Even so, it seemed we all felt taking the paddling was better than serving Saturday detention. None of us ever complained.
The next time I got paddled was when I was nineteen and starting out at university. I applied for and was accepted into a kind of sorority, which gave me certain social benefits and decent accommodation at reasonable cost. Of course, there were initiation rites to go through which mainly comprised various fairly harmless dares. Swimming naked for two lengths of a secluded swimming pool was one, cutting grass with scissors was another. The final one was to take a single swat with a paddle. It was a typical school-type paddle applied by one of the three senior members of the sorority while we took it in turns to bend over the back of a sofa, dressed in just bra and panties.
I was in the middle of a line of eight pledges and none of us seemed to have any misgivings about taking our swats. I took mine and it stung, but not so much as the swats applied by Miss A.
Eighteen months later, I arrived back at the house after curfew and somewhat intoxicated. I was twenty-one at the time, so it wasn’t illegal for me to have been drinking. But being after curfew and somewhat incapable certainly was against sorority rules. I was called to appear before a disciplinary committee comprising three senior ‘sisters’.
It was a bit like a mini-courtroom appearance. I sat the opposite side of a table from the three seniors. The charges against me were read out, and I was asked to plead guilty or not guilty. I’d taken advice and pled guilty, which should lead to a lesser sentence, or so I was told. I was fined $200.
At the time, $200 was something I could afford, just. I mean, I wasn’t going to starve or anything. But maybe I might need to miss a couple of activities I’d prefer not to miss. I’d been pre-warned there would be alternatives offered to me, and I listened as the most senior sister told me I could take five licks of a paddle in place of the fine.
The thing with this kind of sorority is that you want to fit in. You want to be one of the sisters, and maybe aspire to become one of the senior sisters. It’s all about being accepted as one of the girls, someone who joins in all the activities of the sorority, and goes along with the majority. It had been suggested to me that if I was offered a spanking it would be because they liked the idea. I looked across the table at the senior and her two assistants, trying to read their minds.
As far as I could gauge, the senior and one other were practically licking their lips at getting me bent over for a spanking. The other one, I wasn’t so sure about. She just looked a little nervous when the word ‘spanking’ was mentioned. So, it was a question of whether I simply paid the fine or allowed these young women to have a little fun at my expense. With an eye towards my future within the sorority, I asked to be spanked.
Right choice! Suddenly, the mood within the room lightened. Stern faces across the table from me relaxed, began smiling, and all three women came around and hugged me. My status within the sorority had immediately gone up several notches.
I asked when I could expect my spanking to happen, and was told we’d go straight to the lounge and get it done. With a mind going back to my initiation, when we’d all been spanked in our underwear, I asked whether I needed to dress in any particular way. At the time, I was wearing red pants and a pale yellow blouse. I was told not to worry, they’d deal with that.
I was then escorted by the three seniors along to the lounge where there were a dozen or more girls sitting around and drinking coffee, reading, or just chatting. Did they know something beforehand? As soon as the seniors and I entered the room, one of the three long sofas was vacated and I was steered to stand behind it. Curiously, most of the girls decided to stand either alongside or to the back of the sofa.
The senior girl had disappeared, but returned a couple of minutes later with probably the same paddle as was used in our initiations. Two girls then took my arms and held them outstretched to my sides while a third girl fumbled at the front of my red pants, unbuttoning the waistband and sliding down the zip. Then the pants were pulled right down in one swift move. Then the girl who had pulled down my pants asked if she should pull down my panties too.
The most senior girl, now standing to my left and a little behind me, paddle in hand, asked me in a way that suggested the answer she preferred, what I felt about it. Several girls also expressed what their preference would be if they were in my situation which, they said, was to have them pulled down. Really? The panties I was wearing were thin, black and lacey. I didn’t want them damaged, and I knew they would offer little or no protection from the spanking. I told them to go for it, and down came my underwear.
I was then hauled over the back of the sofa until I had to stand on tippy-toe to maintain contact with the carpet, and held down in position while the senior girl applied five real hard licks to my backside. She really laid it on! I was immediately released and allowed to rub my buttocks. I stood up, but refrained from pulling up my underwear and pants to give the girls a good examination of my well-spanked backside. It seemed to be appreciated! Despite my sore butt, my popularity had risen a good few steps.
Now in my final year at university, I am now one of the senior sisters. Of course I’ve helped out at several initiations for pledges that have come after me, and have seen a few punishment spankings where others have chosen a paddling instead of a fine. I have yet to actually administer a spanking.
JA