I’m in my early thirties now, but I still think back about fifteen years to an event which made quite an impression on me. Up to that point I had never experienced corporal punishment of any kind. My parents did not believe in it and I was too young to have come across it in school in the UK.

Born and brought up in England, we had a great life in the leafy suburbs. Then my father got a two-year secondment with his oil company to Texas and the Gulf of Mexico. It meant me giving up my UK schooling and for two years living in my mother’s home country and seeing with her the fantastic places she had told me about, from sea to shining sea, as they say.

We were allocated a mansion, consistent with my dad’s status in the company, not far from that warm sea. The high school in which the company had arranged a place for me was supposedly one of the best in Texas, and the Principal, Mr Clinton, seemed really nice and friendly.

I was a bit of a curiosity at first, English girl in an American school, but it was so good to make friends really quickly, and I felt thoroughly welcomed there. The ethos of the school seemed to be based on open debate and good learning, although I came to realise quite soon that something I found quite extraordinary in the 21st century was being performed in the name of discipline. I heard that a girl in my grade had been paddled by the vice-principal, a lady of some physical stature, whom I found pleasant but just a bit scary. My friend, Marilou, who was telling me this must have noticed the change of expression on my face as she felt obliged to tell me that it was not that common for students of our age, so no one was about to spank my ‘butt’ imminently! I felt relieved about the supposed safety of my ‘butt’, but at the same time wary, and somewhat curious.

I asked her if she knew anyone else who had been paddled, and she out and told me she had been to ‘see’ the Vice-Principal for the third time only a few months before.

“Yeah, four licks for smoking. It hurt to sit down for two days, but you don’t want to worry your pretty little head about that. You don't smoke.”

I admit that I could never quite get used to the language differences and American expressions. Having my bottom licked by the Vice-Principal seemed completely preposterous, even if she was quite a nice lady really.

So, everything was fine. I enjoyed the school, loved my new friendships, and went touring with my mother, at weekends and holidays, for the best part of two years. We saw New York, San Francisco, and even the city with the prophetic name of ‘Bend’, over Oregon way, when our ‘tire’ blew. It was all a wonderful experience.

Towards the end of our stay, when I was in the twelfth grade, there was a gorgeous hot day, about the tenth in a row, and my friends suggested a swim in one of their pools at lunchtime. We had all got a free period before lunch, so there was time to cool off for an hour or so. Seemed like a wonderful idea. I grabbed my swimming costume from the locker and climbed into the back of the convertible, just big enough for six, two boys and four girls.

It was lovely in the pool, under the shady trees, so cooling away from the direct heat and fun with friends. Jim went to get us each an illicit beer out of the fridge and then went off with Kaylee, as did Frank with Rebecca, leaving Marylou and I to play gooseberries in the pool. We became absorbed in conversation. Marylou was a really interesting girl, and we lost track of time, as did the two couples. It was a rush to get changed and back into the car when they finally returned, and we headed off at breakneck speed, only to find that two miles down the road and a quarter of the way back to school, there was a road-block. Apparently, a truck had come off the road on a tight bend and shed its load of timber everywhere, so we needed to take a ten-mile detour, along with everybody else.

We finally got back to school about half an hour late, and attempted to sneak past the security cameras and get to our classes, hoping apologies would be enough. They weren’t. Besides, Mr Olssen, the janitor, had spotted us and we were noted in the book. At the end of the afternoon, we all found ourselves in the principal’s office. My good and wise friend reiterated on the way that I really didn’t need to worry, nothing more than a verbal roasting was due. That was right in that we did get quite a massive telling-off, but wrong in the limit of the roasting, which was about to get physical.

There had been a lot of truanting on hot days the previous summer and this year the principal, under pressure from the school board, was going to put his foot down before it got out of hand again. We were going to be made examples of, and therefore punished. There were choices; in-house detention for three days, off-site suspension for a week, or five swats with the paddle. He went on to suggest that as he suspected that we may have been drinking as well, we really should be getting the eight 'pops' that used to be the maximum in the old disciplinary code. However, we were really lucky that he was no longer allowed to award more than five in one day, but he guaranteed they would be good ones.

A look of horror spread quickly across the faces of the other students. I did not really understand the choices, although one was quite clear; Mr Clinton guessed that I might be confused.

“Jennifer, your friends will need to think very carefully about their decision because either suspension or detention will affect their assessments and may make it more difficult to graduate, and get to their first choice of college. You are leaving us and the country in a matter of weeks, so the alternative sanctions will not affect you in the same way.”

He gave us all until the following morning to decide our punishments.

The ride home in the open car was a lot more subdued than our excursion at lunchtime. I was not really involved in the discussion because, as Mr Clinton had said, I was more or less a free agent in the matter, albeit suspended or detained, but the others had their futures to consider. By the time of my delivery home, they knew they had no real choice.

Their advice to me as I walked up the driveway, “Take the suspension and have a week off!”

I nodded and half-heartedly waved goodbye.

****

Mum was in when I got home, which was good because I needed to talk things over. I did not mind admitting that I was in trouble because we were very close and confided in each other. I told her the options and said I had no idea what to do.

After thinking over carefully what I had told her, Mum reaffirmed that my friends had no choice but to accept the spanking because otherwise their graduation and future chances would be compromised.

“But you know you are just as guilty as them don’t you?” Mum continued.

I nodded, worried what she was going to say next.

“I just bet you were every bit as keen to bunk off and go swimming, weren’t you?”

I nodded again. I was perhaps a little bit annoyed because we might have left the house earlier if the two couples hadn't been otherwise engaged, but it probably wouldn't have made much difference.

“So, the others get paddled and you don’t? How’s that going to look?”

“Not good,” I had to admit.

“Do you really have a choice?”

“Yes, you’re right, Mum. It looks like I’m going to be paddled. When you were at school here, did you know anybody who got the paddle?”

“Yes.” She looked a little sheepish. “I got my butt paddled, twice. Should have been three, really.”

I was a bit flabbergasted. For some reason, it had never occurred to me that my mother could have been naughty at school.

“What for?” I cracked a brief smile, despite the tension I was feeling, sensing maybe just a little embarrassment on her part which needed prodding.

“Smoking, the first time, and the second time for doing almost exactly what you are going to get your bottom paddled for tomorrow; playing hooky. And the third time I got a suspension because the school had stopped using the paddle for a while, because of a parent’s complaint."

"So, you escaped that one?"

"Not really. Your grandpa was not impressed with my suspension, so he whupped my ass himself, as he would say.”

"That was nice of him. Had he got his own paddle?”

“Yes, and a razor strap, and if we’d been really naughty, a fresh switch, which was hell. You have no idea how good I’ve been to you, Jenny.” She finished with a grin.

“Wow! Sounds really painful. I never knew.”

“It’s just the way things were. We were a close, loving family, but if we kids stepped out of line, we got what was coming.”

“So, what was it like, getting the school paddle?”

“Do you want me to be kind or honest?”

“You know the answer to that, Mum.”

“Ok then. It will hurt like you wouldn’t believe. You will cry in front of the vice-principal and the witness. You will hardly be able to walk out of the office. The steps down to the parking lot will be hell, but I will be waiting for you. You probably won’t be able to sit down comfortably for two days, but I will help my naughty girl get through it in any way I can, including a nice warm bath and arnica cream on your tender butt.”

There was a pause. Tears welled up in my eyes briefly, but then I made my way over to hug her.

"You said witness, mum. Who would that be?"

"Could be a teacher, the secretary, any female adult really."

"What about parent?"

"Well, I never wanted my mother anywhere near. She might have told my dad unintentionally and I'd have ended up over the woodshed table again."

"Was he really that strict?"

"Just a typical, rural, American father. With a woodshed."

"So, would you do it? Be my witness, I mean."

"I really don't want to, Jenny. I don't want to see you getting hurt, quite honestly. I've spent the last 18 years trying to protect you, so I really don't want to watch you getting a spanking. I’m sorry. In any case, I don't think they would allow it. Parents are the last people they need around when they are trying to discipline our children. They'd be bound to interfere."

"OK, Mum, it was just a thought. I'll take the witness the other girls choose."

"Better idea, really. My job is to have a soft cushion on the car seat for your lift home, and then cream for the bruising.”

"Bruising?"

"Yes, sorry to say. But only for a couple of days. You'll be fine."

"I hope so. Have I really made the right choice?"

"Yes, I think so. It’ll be good for your friendship with the others. Your butt? Not so much."

And then we both dissolved into tears.

****

The next morning, the six of us were lined up in the principal’s office. He went through us one by one, asking which punishment we were going to take. My five friends all confirmed they would take the paddle, and then all eyes were on me.

“I will take the paddle too, sir,” I confirmed in a shaky voice. “It is only right.”

“Good girl,” said Mr Clinton. “I kind of thought you might.”

My co-defendants all nodded approval. I was happy with my choice, but scared stiff at the same time.

It was a bit of a weird thing for him to say, addressing me as a ‘good girl’ as I had just breached disciplinary code 104b. He went on to explain that we needed to nominate an adult witness, who could be a teacher, an administrator, a secretary, or an upstanding member of the community. The girls all chose the secretary, Mrs Cortez, a lovely lady we all knew and who would be kindly enough to stand up for our interests if the VP started to get carried away. We were to report at 16.00 to Mrs Agnew’s office, and the boys were to return to the principal’s office. We were then sent away to resume our lessons. The wait was going to be unbearable, only made a little lighter by the warmth with which the others greeted my decision to take the spanking, the same as them, rather than opt out.

Marilou joked, or at least tried to, “Sorry about your pretty little butt, Jen!”

I admitted that I was indeed very worried about it.

The seventh district Board of Education decreed that any students receiving four swats or more could get a free pass for the rest of the day, which is presumably why our school did most of their paddling at 4.00 pm. There was always a chance that, on the day, there might be a change of plan. Marilou tipped me off, and all four of us girls turned up in mid-length dresses with an extra pair of panties underneath, just in case the timetable changed. We also had jeans in our lockers as more serious protection which we could change into at lunchtime. It was just too hot to wear jeans all day, and the assumption was that we wouldn’t be going back to the pool!

Whilst Marilou and I had both told our parents, Kaylee and Becky hadn’t dared to because, coming from strict backgrounds, it was very likely the school paddling would be equalled, if not bettered, at home. Kaylee once confided in me that, even at eighteen, she still had to bend over the kitchen table at home.

At lunchtime, we all met up in the changing rooms to put on our loose-fitting jeans over the extra underwear, hoping it wouldn’t be too obvious. None of our jeans looked that loose. For goodness sake, we were eighteen, why on earth would we have baggy jeans? I for one considered my backside an asset, having put aside my English shyness and gone with the flow, so it was tight jeans and short shorts for me, except in certain circumstances, like those pending that day. I decided to stick with the ghastly pair of knickers Mum gave me. The jeans were oppressive in that heat but absolutely necessary if my 'butt' was to have any chance of surviving the ordeal.

We were to be spanked by the Vice-Principal, Mrs Agnew, a well-built woman in her late forties, who had a reputation among the girls for not taking prisoners. It was generally considered that female students got a much harder spanking than the boys. I was scared all day. I knew that I didn't have to be spanked, but having said I would be, and having attracted the empathy and admiration of my colleagues, there was no way I could back out of it.

With class over, and the time approaching five to four, Marilou and I walked up together.

“Try really hard not to stand up, and if you do, be sure you only do it once, and get back down again as quickly as you can,” Marilou offered her advice. "Hold the other side of the desk real tight, and make sure you follow instructions. Mrs Agnew gets very annoyed very quickly, and she'll hit you much harder if you don't co-operate."

Whilst I accepted the advice, all this was filling me with dread. I had never been spanked before in my life, or ever even imagined I would be. The last twenty-four hours had been filled with so many emotions; a bit of pride in the decision I had taken, a little curiosity, but mainly fear, as illustrated by the butterflies in my stomach and the weird goose-pimples on my bottom and lower body.

When we got to the office, the other two girls were already there, as well as Mrs Cortez. On what was becoming the hottest day of the year so far, it was vaguely amusing that four eighteen-year-olds were sat in that stifling hot office in thick heavy denim, rather than the briefest of mini-skirts or the shortest of shorts.

The Vice-Principal's office door opened and Kaylee was invited in, together with the secretary. You could hear instructions being issued and then, after a minute, an almighty crack as, presumably, paddle hit target. Kaylee took it quietly, and the next one after about fifteen seconds, but on the third she cried out. There was then a pause of about thirty seconds before the fourth swat hit her, with a groan in response, followed by a fifteen second lull before the final and loudest crack, which provoked an extended cry.

The door opened soon afterwards, and Kaylee walked stiffly out of the office with tears trickling down her face. She didn't acknowledge us. She didn't stop. She just walked through the outer door, assisted by the secretary, and was gone.

Then it was Rebecca's turn to be invited inside. She was no stranger to trouble, apparently. According to Marilou, no stranger to that office either, as was perhaps evident in the fact that the cracks of paddle hitting her backside came at fifteen second intervals, no pauses, although her walk through the outer office afterwards was anything but swift or steady. She turned her head away, probably to conceal the tears. She was hurting, without a doubt. My fear was just building up more and more.

I was very fond of Marilou, and to hear her being spanked so hard in the inner office really got to me. I was on my own at this point, and felt very alone. I couldn't help a few tears, in part for my friend and in part for the predicament I found myself in.

After four strokes, Marilou cried out and there was a pause before the final swat provoked a guttural rendering and the spanking stopped. Half a minute later, she appeared at the door, closely followed by Mrs Cortez, who put her arm around her shoulders by way of comfort. Gently, she guided Marilou, who was struggling to walk like the others, across the outer office.

“Take care,” Mrs Cortez said as she held the door for Marilou to pass through.

And then it was me. Mrs Cortez coaxed me into the office, and then stood at the side as Mrs Agnew, paddle in hand, issued me with instructions.

First, had I got anything in my back pockets? No.

Next, she re-iterated that I was to receive five licks with the paddle for section 104b truancy, and I was asked to confirm that I had agreed to be punished in that way, which I did.

Then, I was to lean across the desk, resting my weight on my elbows, and placing the cushion between my hips and the edge of the desk. I was told that the strikes would be approximately 15 seconds apart and that I was to remain in position until the punishment was concluded and I was told to stand up.

The paddle was made of solid wood, probably about seventeen to eighteen inches long plus an integral handle of about six inches, maybe three and a half to four inches wide, and half an inch thick, maybe a little less. The thing that struck me was the polish on it and the beautifully crafted and smooth rounded edges, a work of skill created with love. Mrs Agnew had already removed her jacket and was wearing a short sleeve blouse, but still looked warm on the hot day, possibly from her previous ministrations, fifteen smacks to three bottoms and five more still to go.

I bent over the desk as instructed, resting my lower stomach on the cushion provided. I felt her come up beside me and rest the paddle across my bottom. Then she tapped the paddle several times on my bottom. I could not have been more scared.

"Down a bit further, Jennifer, please. I need you to stick your butt out more."

I complied, even though it meant I was more or less lying across the desk. Then the tapping began again before the unworldly crack as the paddle struck me. Unlike thunder, the sound preceded the lightning by about half a second. The wave of extreme heat spread from my buttocks and seemed to consume my whole body in the fifteen seconds or so before the second smack hit. This renewed, and even perhaps more than doubled, the pain I was in. Likewise the third, which forced me to cry out and stand up clutching my tortured rear-end.

Tears were flowing then. I was in so much pain. How could anybody do this to me?

"I can't do this!" I cried.

Mrs Cortez came to my side and put her arm around my shoulder.

"Yes, you can. You have to, or those three swats will be for nothing. Just two more, and then it’s over."

Mrs Agnew, kindness personified, actually seemed to take pity on me. I had moved away slightly towards the window, still clutching my bottom, trying to ease the immense pain. That third swat had been very low, and very deliberately, I am sure, on the tenderest part. This was proving to be one of my biggest tests, but I could have walked out of that room and never come back. Was that really an option?

I turned back to the desk and slowly, with deep breaths, returned to my humiliating position. I felt the paddle on my bottom once again as Mrs Agnew measured her next stroke. The deep breaths were Mum's suggestion. She tried it herself, but when she was having me, not when her school principal was spanking her. The other advice was more of a warning from Marilou. She'd said that if you do get up, Mrs Agnew gets annoyed and the remaining swats would be harder. And so it proved, with Mum's advice just about getting me through the fourth swat, but nothing could prepare me for the power of the last one. It was completely unbearable. I screamed, I cried, but it was over, apart from the intense and building pain. My butt really had got roasted!

I lay there across the desk at the end, dazed, confused, aching like I couldn't believe, and with a fire spreading throughout my body. After a few seconds, I felt a gentle hand on my back, caressing almost. I assumed it was Mrs Cortez, but the voice was Mrs Agnew’s.

"Take your time. Get up when you are ready, Jenny."

The only advantage of being last, I suppose. I did finally straighten up but I felt so light-headed and numbed mentally, as well as hurting so much physically. Mrs Agnew gave me a box of tissues and I gratefully accepted, my eyes were streaming. Mrs Cortez was holding me steady.

"I'm guessing you've never had anything like that before. I know they don't do it in English schools these days. You took it pretty well, considering. Good girl."

That ‘good girl’ again. I didn’t actually feel like a good girl, more like a naughty little girl who’d just had her bottom spanked for the first time, which I suppose I was.

"I hate to end things like this, but you gave us no choice. I'm going on a conference to Chicago tomorrow so I won't see you again. I'd just like to say it has been really great having you with us these last years. You’ve made a wonderful contribution to our school. You’re a sweet girl and you deserve to do really well in life. I really hope it all goes your way. Oh, and you can put this little event down to one of life's experiences, and move on. I’m sure your mother knows all about arnica cream; it's the best stuff. I don’t tell that to all the girls!"

She had an amazingly sweet smile. I’d never have known, but I think maybe she liked me. I’m glad she said all that but whether it was the time or the place I wasn’t sure. My mind seemed to be on another thing.

Mrs Agnew put her hand out to shake mine, and I accepted it. I bore her no malice. I broke the rules and got punished for it. It would have been nice if she hadn't spanked me quite so hard, but I guess the other three got the same, so no hard feelings.

Mrs Cortez was good enough to escort me down to the steps for the parking lot, seeing that I was very unsteady on my feet. Mum was there waiting with Marilou. I was so pleased to see them and we all hugged.

"I'm sorry, I've only brought one cushion," said Mum as we all got into the car. "Marilou's mother just phoned to say she'd been called out to Henderson County for an emergency. No idea when she will get back, so I've invited Marilou to come home with us."

As both our mothers were doctors, we knew what 'emergency' likely meant.

Being perhaps a little selfish, I was rather looking forward to the bath, and the pampering from Mum, but I had no need to worry. Mum made us a cool lemon juice when we got back, then said it was time to survey the damage. I got up stiffly from the sofa and Mum beckoned Marilou to follow.

"We've got a bath big enough for a football team, so certainly big enough for just you two."

In a room full of mirrors, we had no difficulty inspecting our wounds. They were horrendous; what looked like two bulls-eyes, one each on the crowns of our right cheeks, and scorched earth with red, purple, and all rainbow colours spreading out from the epicentre across the whole of our bottoms. It was obvious we were not going to be sitting easily for a few days.

“I’m sure mine never looked like that this morning,” quipped Marilou, twisting to view and inspect her swollen bottom. “Have to tell you, Jen, sorry to say yours doesn’t look that pretty anymore either. In fact, it looks even worse than mine. What kind of skin care are you using?”

We had to laugh because the soreness just wasn’t going away.

"My, does that lady know how to give a spanking? You can tell she’s right-handed,” Mum observed. “You’d best stand up for the next couple of days. Sitting may not be an option.”

“Thanks, Mum, you’re making it so much easier for us!”

My mother then arranged the water cushions at either end of the bath so we could both submerge our bottoms in the warm water.

“Ten minutes, then we'll get on with part two of the very special treatment. You're lucky, Grandma never pampered me like this!"

Part two of the treatment involved lying on our fronts on my bed as Mum applied the arnica cream straight out of the fridge, taking care to be as gentle as possible because, believe me, we were still hurting. The cream was cool but it did not immediately take the sting away. The hope was that it might ease the subsequent bruising.

It turned out that Marilou's mother was going to be back really late, so we had a guest who was happy to stay with us overnight, and happy to share rather than take up one of the many guest rooms in our borrowed mansion. It was lovely to have her stay, but we did not sleep well because we were still sore from the paddling and because we just wanted to talk.

"How do you feel now, Jenny?"

"Still a bit sore, in fact quite a bit sore."

"Why did you do it, Jen?"

"What, take the paddling?"

"Yes. You'll be gone soon; you didn't need to."

"I guess I was thinking we’d got into trouble together, so we had to take our medicine together. And I didn’t want to be seen as a scaredy-cat."

"Hey kid, you planning on becoming a therapy doctor or something?"

"No, a politician!"

We laughed.

“That was the first time anyone has hit me. Mum never did,” I said.

Marilou went quiet. There were tears at the thought of her English friend's departure. I never knew, until that moment, what good friends we had become. I put my arm around her and we both had a cry, but promised to find a way to stay in touch.

"You know, Lou, there was something else too. It's gonna sound so stupid."

"Go on then, stupid!"

"I was sort of curious. You know, you had been paddled before. Mum got it at school as well. So, in a really strange way, my addled brain was thinking I needed not to miss out. I would always have wondered. I think the worst part was the humiliation. I mean the pain was awful. I don't know how I could take that much pain, but having to bend over for it, having to stick my bottom out to be spanked, she even had to tell me to stick it out, and the fact I screamed and flooded the desk with tears."

I started to cry again at the thought of that. Marilou comforted me.

After our deep philosophical conversation, and with our bottoms feeling just slightly more human, lying on our sides anyway, we finally drifted off to sleep.

Mum banged on the door good and early the next morning. A bit more bath time, then a shower, and then butt inspection again, and the application of more cream.

"My, I'm glad Mrs Agnew never spanked my butt,” Mum said. “She does a real professional job!"

We couldn't help but agree, as we lay there, side by side on our stomachs as Mum applied arnica cream to our bottoms.

"By the way, Mum, you never said what you should have got the third paddling for, and got the suspension instead."

There was a pause. Mum's hand rested on my right bottom cheek.

"I'd suggest you are not best placed to ask a question like that, young lady. I might consider it very cheeky, and rude. Do you want me to smack it or soothe it?"

She flicked my bottom with her finger-tips to emphasise my vulnerability.

"Go on, Mrs T,” Marilou encouraged. “You'll have to tell us now!"

"And as for you, Marilou, there is no reason why you shouldn't go over my knee as well!"

We both giggled. She was right, we were not best placed, but I was sure she was procrastinating. There was a pause.

"OK then, but don't tell your dad. I was caught with a boy in the storeroom. I probably should have been expelled."

"Oh, Mum, really?"

Marilou and I burst out laughing.

"Reckon you deserved the 'whuppin’ then?"

"Yes, reckon I did. I'll certainly never forget that one."

Within about a week, the shorts were back on and I was sitting comfortably, thank you for asking.

I would like to thank Megan of North Carolina. Her description of a real paddling she received in school, inspired me to write this little story, even though it pales into insignificance compared with her superb real-life account.

The End

Jenny Tomlinson 2022