I was paddled just twice in school. First time was 15 years ago when I was nine years old. Three of us girls were messing around in an art drawing class and the lovely old teacher, Mrs B, called us out front and stood us in a line. Then she went to her desk, reached down to a bottom drawer and brought out a small wooden paddle. It was about fifteen inches long including the handle, just maybe three inches across. She had us all bend over and grab hold of our ankles, then she went down our little line giving us each a single pop with the paddle. I can’t say it hurt that much, but it was still enough to quieten down the whole class for the rest of the period.

My second paddling happened when I was fifteen. My best friend of the moment, Hannah, and I had been waiting in our home room while another friend consulted with a teacher elsewhere in the building. A school caretaker came into the room and told us to get out. He was technically correct that we should not have been there, but his attitude stank. We ended up having strong words, which meant he reported us both to our vice-principal.

Our vice-principal, Mr S, called us to his office and asked us to give our side of the dispute. I feel he heard us out quite properly, but he still found we had acted offensively towards a member of staff and gave us the option of a half-day Saturday detention or three swats with the paddle. We had to meet with him later in the day and advise him of our choice.

Both Hannah and I had things we like to do on a Saturday. Detention sucks anyway. It’s boring and a complete waste of time, which I guess is the point. Three swats didn’t sound too bad a deal. Hannah, me, and two other friends debated over lunch and, with some misgivings, we both decided we’d take the swats. We were due to report back to Mr S at two-thirty, which left us the best part of an hour to sweat.

As we approached the vice-principal’s office, we found our home class teacher, Miss R, waiting outside for us. She’s quite young, mid-twenties, pretty, friendly and likeable. In fact, because she’s so nice it made it kind of embarrassing to have her there.

For a moment, I wondered whether she might be there for some other reason, but that idea disappeared when she immediately asked us whether we were taking the detention or the paddling. She didn’t comment when we said we were taking the swats, just told us to wait in the hall while she knocked and went into the vice-principal’s office.

We didn’t have to wait long, maybe two minutes, before Miss R came back out and asked which of us was going first. Hannah and I looked at each other in panic. I think we both fully intended to walk in there, bend over, take our licks, come back out and move on. Trust me, actually doing it was a whole different ball game!

The thought flashed through my mind that it would be the same spanking now or in five minutes time. Hannah was clearly in no rush to take the lead, so I suggested I go first. She confirmed that was okay by her.

Miss R opened the door and waved me in. Mr S was leaning on the front of his desk holding a wooden paddle. He stood up straight when he saw me and beckoned me to the front of the desk. I was told to check the back pockets of my jeans to make sure they were empty and then to bend over the desk. I had to rest my forearms on the surface, get right down onto the desk and stick my butt out. It seemed to be a well-rehearsed procedure for Mr S.

The position was easy enough to adopt, and comfortable and secure enough until I felt the paddle rubbing in a circular motion on my butt. Then I was scared rigid. A couple of light taps told me I was about to get it, and then my butt got pounded three times in very quick succession. Yeow! It hurt!

Then Mr S was thanking me and telling me I could go when I was ready. I’m not sure what he was thanking me for, but I got up, rubbed my aching bottom a couple of times and headed for the door. Miss R studied my face as I walked past her, and I knew I had water in my eyes. I opened the door and came face to face with Hannah, who also looked carefully at my eyes.

“Bad?” she whispered.

I shrugged, and then Miss R called Hannah in. It wasn’t hard to imagine Hannah being walked through the same procedure, and then I heard three loud pops. Within three minutes, Hannah had also had her spanking. She came out the door, and Miss R handed us both passes that meant we were free to go straight home if we wanted.

Later that day, I checked my bottom in a full-length mirror on the front of the wardrobe in my room. There was a mix of blue and red bruising on both buttocks, and it still felt sore. These faded away over the course of the next two days.

CM