||[14 Jan 2010|10:03pm]
most people that i used to watch on lj are gone
|anothe rmusing post
||[14 Jan 2010|10:00pm]
The most embarrassing thing that ever happened to me when I was in school, was
the day my teacher, Mrs. Rider, paddled me. I was 14 years old and was very
popular in school. I was a cheerleader, an editor of our school newspaper, in
honor society and could have any boy I wanted in school. I was on top of the
world and I knew it. Looking back, I think I was somewhat of a snob.
All the teachers treated me first class and sometimes let me get away with
things that would have gotten other students in trouble. One day my two best
friends and I were in the girl's room during lunch having a cigarette. We
weren't worried about being caught. I had been caught before and the teachers
had let me go.
Well, I guess we ran out of luck that day because Mrs. Rider walked in that day
and caught us, "What are you doing!" I replied "Nothing." She then said, "I
smell smoke!" I told her, "There was an 8th grade girl in the restroom smoking
when we came in." Big mistake! Mrs. Rider said, "I have been standing outside
the restroom for the past ten minutes talking to another teacher. No one went
in or out of the restroom except you three girls!" Besides she could smell
smoke on all three of us.
She marched us into her classroom and sat us all down to talk. She lectured,
"Smoking is bad enough, but lying is worse!" Just then the bell rang. I
thought, "Saved by the bell." We stood up to leave. Mrs. Rider told us, "Sit
back down!" She asked, "What are your next classes?" We told her. She sent one
of her students to our classes to inform the teachers that we would be late.
She then returned her attention to us, "You will have to be punished" "OK," I
thought, "some extra homework." Mrs. Rider had other ideas.
She opened her desk drawer. She removed her paddle! I remember seeing her
paddle a couple of boy earlier in the year but no girls ever got spanked,
EVER!!! "She is trying to scare us!" I thought--- until--- "Come with me
girls!" she led us to the back of the classroom where she paddled the boys.
"No, she can't paddle me!" I thought. I am a girl!!! Besides I am too popular
to get a paddling! Boy, was I wrong!
First she told one of my friends to lean over and put her hands flat on the
table. All of her students were watching us. I started to get really nervous!
Mrs. Rider warned my friend that if she didn't keep her hands on the table that
she would start her count all over again. We were all going to get at least
five spanks. My heart was beating 90 miles an hour trying to figure out how to
avoid the paddling!
All of a sudden I heard and saw Mrs. Rider lay the first spank on my friend's
rear. She hollered from both pain and surprise and--- She lifted her hands off
the table to protect her rear. Mrs. Rider said that will be one more! Well, I
thought I would die, as Mrs. Rider paddled both of them. They were crying like
In my mind I kept hoping that someone would save me before this crazy woman
paddled me. No Calvary, it was my turn. I was so scared and then the thought
hit me all of her students weren't "my type " they were the bottom feeders in
my mind! Now they were going to watch me get the first paddling in my whole
school life. "Oh please don't paddle me!" I cried.
"Lean over and put your hands on the table, NOW!" Mrs. Rider ordered. My
stomach rolled as I complied. I swear I could hear the paddle move through the
air as she swung it back then forward. Crack was the sound it made as it hit my
bottom! This loud cry came from me! Forgetting about not moving my hands, I
used them to protect my bottom. Mrs. Rider said, "That will be one more for
you!" The next three spanks were very painful! I was bawling like crazy.
Without thinking I tried to protect my bottom again with my hands. Mrs. Rider
calmly reminded me, "Well, we've got to start all over! One!" The paddle found
its mark again!! I was able to keep my hands on the table during the next five
spanks, but, OH was I in pain.
She told us to sit there at that table until we were finished crying.
Before the end of the day everyone in school knew that, Mrs. Rider had paddled
us three cheerleaders. For the rest of that school year many of the "bottom
feeder" students would see one of us they would point and laugh. Every time it
happened to me I would die of embarrassment.
By Sister Sharon
First this all apparently took place between about 12:40-45 and 1:00-1:05 pm,
about 20 minutes, at least from the time Mrs. Rider caught them until their
paddlings were over. For one thing, this is very efficient use of time. The
teacher did not lose more than five minutes of teaching time total by giving
these three paddlings instead of other punishment which would have taken 10
times as much time for her to just look at. For the girls as well, time from
the crime to punishment was negligible, and the lasting effects of the
correction were great. Punishment was appropriate, in that no real harm was
done, they endured 1-2 minutes of intense pain which left no physical damage
and they were on their way to their next class, not losing more than about 20
minutes total class time either. It says a lot for corporal punishment
From Linda's writing of this, it was a long-lasting memory, for 1-2 minutes of
punishment. I am sure that 10 hours spent on a paper would not have had this
effect. Punishment, or a better word, correction, can take many forms.
Physical punishment is not always appropriate, nor is it good for all children.
Some respond to nothing else, on others it has no effect, so it is not to be
taken as an absolute way of treating every situation. I used this with my own
children, not often, but I used it. The advantages are that a spanking can be
done immediately after the incident. Children often have short memories (Adults
are different?) punishment should not be delayed particularly with younger
children. Even older ones will have time to rationalize and color what the
punishment is for if you give enough time. For all corrective procedures it is
good to keep time between act and punishment short. There is nothing that a
parent or teacher can do more efficiently than a spanking for minimizing this
Mrs. Rider also did an excellent job of detailing why the spanking was to
occur prior to giving it. This is very important with any punishment. A child,
or an adult, punished or hurt that does not understand why they are being hurt,
only interprets the punishment as an attack, and it is! There are two parts of
this, 1. Clear communication. If you are to correct someone, you must be sure
they understand why and what is happening.
I remember once getting a severe spanking because I heard an actor on TV say
that all businessmen cheated. I was five years old and did not know what
cheated meant. I did know my father was a businessman. While he was closing
a deal, we lived in our trailer sales lot, I walked in and said all businessmen
cheated. My father gave me an intense whipping with his belt as soon as the
customers were gone. However, he never said a word about what the whipping was
about. I learned to fear my father! I stayed away from him for years, because
I had no idea what provoked his whippings.
Later, I think a couple of years, cheating was explained to us in school. I
remembered what I had said, and the whipping that followed it. It made sense,
but for a five-year-old learning the language it didn't! The whipping only
corrected my relationship with my father. When he came in a room, I would
quietly gather my toys and move to another one. I am no different as an adult,
when hurt, either by accident or on purpose, If I know why, I can deal with it
and learn from it. If I have no idea why I was hurt, it confuses me, and may
linger in my mind for years. Usually I move to another room, but do not change
With all punishment, or correction, it must be timely, and the person must know
and understand the reason. Mrs. Rider's handling was perfect. I know that each
of these girls knew that they were being spanked for smoking, but more
importantly for lying. I am sure that this would have been in their minds any
time they were questioned by a teacher after that.
Pain is a good teacher. It is also one that must be controlled well. The
position intrigues me. Leaning over. I read this several times before I caught
that. I thought they were bent over, laying on the table. Apparently not. They
were leaned over with their hands flat on the table. In this position the
buttocks are tightened, holding you up, the more forward organs etc., are
completely protected and not hit, as are the bones are protected by normal teen
age buttock muscles. It is a little less exposing in one way, but in another
it is interesting. The girls were not pouting their bottoms up for the
spanking, but were facing the class. They cried and had to look the other
students in the eye while each spank was given. This is a very good object
lesson for them and the other students. Some of their modesty was preserved,
but the effect of the spanking was crystal clear to every person in the room,
including the girl feeling the swats.
Also, the use of a paddle, this can vary, but the idea is to have an instrument
that gives maximum pain with minimal injury. A tool like a paddle is ideal. The
hand can be used with too much force and do injury if you hit too hard. It also
does not have the stinging effect of an extension of the hand like a paddle. A
paddle of leather or other light flexible material, with small holes, can make
blisters with the holes, creating a longer effect, the speed with which it hits
gives a maximum stinging with no damage to either the skin or deeper tissue,
and the control of it is excellent, not hitting somewhere you do not intend as
can happen with a belt etc. A hard paddle can be ok if it is light, but a hard
paddle that is too heavy can injure tissue. A paddling should give intense pain
of short duration with no real damage. That is the purpose of this form of
correction, particularly with children.
Now that being said, that is the problem with corporal punishment, control,
and injury. The person giving the spanking, as was Mrs. Rider, should not be
angry. It is clear that she was very methodical, set the boundaries, five
spanks, so long as the girl held her hands flat on the table, and she showed no
emotion. Anyone giving punishment of this sort, has to have this kind of
control. Not all teachers or parents do. Those that don't may want to use
physical punishment, but should not!! My father for one, had a temper. If I
made a mistake, he tended to punish me when he seemed to be mad. Bad idea.
Children have been killed this way.
A principle, a large man, in a school near one in which my mother was a teacher
during WWII, killed a small boy by beating him to death with a wooden paddle.
It was not a normal punishment. The man went crazy. He locked his office and
the teachers could hear the child screaming. They tried to get in but could
not. Someone went for help. By the time the janitor broke into the room, it
was too late. In other memories of spankings posted on line, it was common for
the principle to have a witness to the spanking. I know this was not always or
even usually the case, but I am sure that this a good idea. Someone to stop
the spanker if there is a problem.
Another factor with this spanking scene that was compelling was the keeping the
hands on the table part. Our heroine got nine swats rather than five or six as
her friends seemed to have gotten. The number of spanks they got was not made
absolutely clear. The putting the punished party in the position of partially
choosing the degree of their spanking is a good one. Our heroine was the one
that lied--- not the other girls, yet they were spanked to for going along. It
was most appropriate that she got more punishment. She knew she caused them to
be spanked, that if she had told the truth, that none of them would have been
spanked. There should have been some guilt on her part as she watched them
crying as the spankings were administered. It was highly appropriate for her
to put her hands back after, one then three swats to lengthen and increase her
own punishment. This technique of Mrs. Riders, made it clear, that she would
give 5 spanks as a base. The girls, by their actions could increase the level
of their punishment. I think this is good. Linda was saved to last, because she
was the main villain as well as the heroine. By being last she could gauge
what she needed to have and did.
This posting got me thinking about all this, and is frankly the motivation for
all the spanking stories. It touched something in me that needed to be worked
out. I really think it was my own past. I am not into spankings at all, at
least not physically. I did have some trauma with my father over this, and I am
sure this affected my life. It made relationships with men more difficult and
perhaps more traumatic. It was something I needed to work out. It is an issue,
and it just came to the surface for some reason.
||[01 Nov 2009|10:47am]
loved it enough to share its been a long time, posting anything and i finally had a chance to chatch up on reading and i found this one from 2005 and i loved it heres my share
Going Back to Work (t/mf, MF/t, M/t)
(Part II of the Babysitter series)
The next day at school Tammy was fidgety and had a hard time
sitting. She was still sore from the previous night's punishment.
Worse still was the fact that it was Wednesday and PE was on the
schedule. The last things Tammy wanted to do was shower and have
girls see her black and blue bottom. She decided that there was
little she could about that. Also being Wednesday it meant that
although she didn't have to work today, she did have to go to work
tomorrow and still probably have trouble sitting and definitely have
to face the spanker and the children who saw her in all her glory.
She was really starting to rethink the financial freedom thing. The
day went rather well up until 7th period which was PE. The class
went fine but then came shower time. She thought it would be
embarrassing having her bruised bottom on display but no one really
noticed. Tammy also thought she saw some evidence of others who were
Thursday morning arrived and Tammy had second thoughts about
facing the day. She was still about $30 away from affording her
outfit and that motivation alone gave her reason to get out of bed.
That afternoon she walked a little slower than usual to the Baker's
residence. When she arrived she found both Mr. and Mrs. Baker
waiting for her. Mrs. Baker explained that she had left money for
pizza and the number for the local Pizza Hut. The children were well
behaved at first. They immediately did their homework. Tammy must
have been anxious or had nervous energy because she also finished her
homework in approximately an hour, about half the time it normally
took. When the pizza arrived all three enjoyed the pizza and pop.
After dinner the children had about an hour before bedtime. Both
children admitted that they had something to share with Tammy. Brad
went first and explained how guilty they felt for getting Tammy
spanked the other night. Brad also admitted how guilty he was that
he enjoyed seeing her bare bottom and other unmentionables. Tanya
followed that by agreeing with Brad and adding that they both felt
that they needed a spanking to be fair about this. Brad said that he
should get it worse for the enjoyment he had. Tammy told them that
she would spank both of them but that she would not give Brad extra
because she did not want to discourage his budding interest in the
Brad and Tanya both wanted to be the first to receive their
punishments. Tammy decided that since Brad had gone first last time
that she would punish Tammy first and then spank Brad. Tanya was
wearing a pair of shorts, a T-shirt and she was barefoot. She
immediately removed her shorts and panties and flung herself over
Tammy's lap. Tammy spanked Tanya's bare bottom in a steady rhythm
being sure to get all parts. After about 5 minutes of spanking Tanya
was crying, sobbing in fact, and Tammy thought she had certainly had
enough. When Tammy told Tanya that she could get up, the little girl
stayed on the teen's lap. She was sobbing but she managed to get out
that her and Brad both felt that they should also get some whacks
from the paddle. The teen thought that Tanya had suffered enough but
when she saw Tanya's persistence she told Brad to get the paddle.
Both Tanya and Brad had decided previously that they would take the
full twelve that Tammy had gotten (minus the additional 2 swats for
interference). Tammy did not feel right administering the full
twelve so she gave the young girl only six swats. The sobbing girl
got up and put her shorts and panties back on. She rubbed the sting
while still crying.
Brad then stood up and took off his pants and underwear and
proceeded to go over Tammy's lap. Tammy then noticed that Brad's
manhood was stiff as he went over her lap. Tammy started the
spanking and rapidly covered Brad's bottom. After a few minutes Brad
was crying heavily and his butt was on fire. Brad's mind was giving
him mixed signals. His butt hurt, he was sobbing and yet somehow he
was enjoying the process on some level. After another couple of
minutes of the hand spanking Tammy got the paddle out. The boy was
now a pile of blubbering mixed emotions. As the paddle made contact
with the boy's bruised skin he howled. Tammy continued to add
another five swats to the poor boy's red posterior. When Tammy had
concluded the six strokes she let the young boy up. Poor Brad just
laid there taking in the moment. He was sobbing and yet happier than
he had ever been.
After the spankings were concluded both of the children got
ready for bed. By 8:00 they were in bed and ready for a good night's
sleep. As Tammy sat on the couch watching TV she recalled the day's
events. She thought about Brad's weird reaction and about the
reaction she had to her own spanking two nights earlier. She
couldn't get past how good she felt even though her bottom was in
pain. She waited another twenty minutes, until 8:30 and the Baker's
still hadn't shown up. She decided that although it might hurt a lot
she needed to get that feeling again. That feeling of complete
release of guilt at the same time the twinge of guilt over what she
was feeling. She came up with a plan. She went into the kitchen and
got two bowls out of the cupboard. She then took the ice cream and
melted just a little bit of it in the microwave. She then took the
ice cream and placed it each bowl and placed the bowls on the table.
When the Bakers arrived home Mr. Baker found the bowls on the table.
When he inquired as to what had happened Tammy told a lie. She said
that she had given the children some ice cream right before bedtime.
Mr. Baker was very upset. He thought that Tammy had not learned a
lesson about responsibility from her last spanking. He was tempted
to fire the teen from her babysitting post and told her so. Then he
added that he was not going to fire her because he would only be
punishing himself because he would have to run another ad and look
for another babysitter.
Mr. Baker decided that since the previous spanking hadn't
worked maybe it was time for another, more effective, one. Mr. Baker
told Tammy that a spanking was in order and that if she wanted to
keep her job, there were some standards that needed to be met. Mr.
Baker also stated that since the kids had nothing to do with this
that it was not necessary to punish them. Further, to keep from
waking them, Mr. Baker said that the punishment would be carried out
in the basement. Mr. Baker told Tammy that there was a space set up
for punishment usually used for serious offenses. Mr. Baker guided
the teen down the stairs that led to the basement. He flipped on a
switch and Tammy could hardly believe what she saw. In front of her
was a table with straps for the arms and legs. Tammy was really
having second thoughts about being spanked down here with no freedom
to move until the punishment was over. Mr. Baker announced that
because the first spanking was not sufficient that Tammy would now
get 20 spankings with the paddle and a warm up spanking with the
hand. Tammy was really wondering how she would feel and whether it
was worth all this for that feeling that she had the other night.
"Now when I punished you the other night, upstairs in front
of the others, I allowed you the decency of retaining your shirt, but
down here I will insist on total nudity." Mr. Baker's remarks made
Tammy's insides quiver with fear. "Completely nude" she
thought "that's a bit extreme". As she was thinking this it also
occurred to her that this was no time for disobedience. She was
already barefoot and quickly removed her blouse. She quickly took
off her pink skirt and was there in just panties and a bra. She
quickly removed them and was now completely nude as the day she was
"Okay, very good, now bend over the table and be still." Mr.
Baker said positioning the young teen on the table and fastened the
straps that bound her wrists to the table and her ankles to the foot
of the table. "What an amazing bottom she had it was still bruised
from the previous spanking which made it only more sexy." Mr. Baker
thought. He then realized what it must be like to be Tammy's dad and
also realized the curious treasures that awaited the coming
discipline of his own teenager to be someday. Mr. Baker warmed Tammy
up with a dozen quick hand spankings that covered her bottom. These
spankings elicited some howls as they landed on previously bruised
"Now, for the punishment that you deserve, I will insist on
very little movement and hopefully we can get through this quickly."
Mr. Baker said obviously not enjoying the coming moments as much as
Tammy thought he would. Or was he just posturing? WHACK! The first
spank landed with such force that it resonated through her whole
body. The teen let out a hard scream. SMACK! ! The next shot
landed almost exactly where the previous smack had landed. Now the
tears were flowing freely. Tammy wondered why she had ever thought
about this and yet at the same time she could not ignore the fact
that she felt that sensation again. Her thoughts of bliss were
interrupted by the landing of another shot, lower than the previous
two. Spanks four, five and six landed in rapid succession. Tammy
had no time to recover and was now sobbing. Oh how she regretted her
decision, and yet again she didn't. After six strokes Mr. Baker was
also taken back by his handiwork. He admired the teen form, the bare
sweetness and the ravished skin that made young girls so attractive
when they finally started to bloom! Somehow Mr. Baker managed to get
back to the task at hand. It was now nine o'clock and he didn't want
to delay things any longer than necessary. He delivered a quick
volley of four spanks and poor Tammy was now bawling. She was half
way through the spanking and didn't know if she could take another
ten strokes. Tammy's bottom was now a deep shade of red although
that fact was known only to Mr. Baker. Mr. Baker continued to spank
and fell into a sort of rhythm. He focused on new parts of her
bottom, at least new to this particular spanking. After another half
dozen Tammy was sobbing and yet she was feeling new heights of joy in
her inner most parts. Mr. Baker complimented the sobbing teen on how
well she was doing despite the great pain being inflicted. Just then
Tammy and Mr. Baker both heard Mrs. Baker open the cellar door. She
came downstairs to find the young teen's bright red bottom on full
display. Mr. Baker finished the final four spanks and each one stung
like a thousand bees!
When he was done Mr. Baker went to release his young charge from her
bounds. Mrs. Baker stepped in just before he did and approached the
naked babysitter. Mrs. Baker had her doubts. First of all she
wondered why the children would be so sound asleep when ice cream
after dinner usually kept them up for hours. Secondly she wondered
why there were no spoons in the bowl. She had woke up Brad and asked
him and he said that neither he nor Tanya had any ice cream that
evening. Mrs. Baker knew something simply didn't add up. Then it
dawned on her that maybe Tammy wanted these spankings. She realized
the joy that a young lady found being dominated by such a forceful
figure. Just then she did something that shocked both her husband
and Tammy. She reached her hand between the naked teenager's legs
and felt what she expected to find. She removed her hand when she
felt the wetness in the teen's private area. She then informed her
husband who secretly knew what was going on all along. Mrs. Baker
informed Tammy that she knew what was going on and that this was not
really a punishment because she had manipulated the whole thing. She
told her husband to leave the teen bound to the table for further
punishment. The teen was stunned that her plan had been discovered.
Mrs. Baker then picked up the paddle and started her own punishment.
She knew from her own experiences that there was no joy to be had for
a young lady to receive punishment from another young lady without
any male influence. She told her husband to go back upstairs and she
proceeded to spank Tammy. Tammy was howling from the first shot.
Not only was her bottom sore, but she was really scared. Here she
was at the mercy of a woman whose husband had provided, inadvertently
both thought, sexual joy to this budding teen. She was also a bit
scared because she did not know when the punishment would end. The
mother began to spank like only a mother can. She made contact over
and over again with the naked young flesh of a manipulative young
girl. Shot after shot made Tammy howl anew. Tammy lost count of the
spanks after 12 but the mother did not. She laid it on heavy. She
paddled Tammy 35 times on top of the punishment she had already
incurred! When she was finished it was almost 9:30 and the well
punished young girl was not the least bit interested in the time.
Mrs. Baker released Tammy's bounds but it took her a few minutes to
regain composure. Mrs. Baker went upstairs and left Tammy to get
dressed. Finally, at almost 10:00 the teen appeared. Mr. Baker
handed Tammy an envelope with her cash for the evening. He then took
Tammy home for the evening. Tammy went inside and her parents were
livid when they saw how late it was. Tammy tried to explain but knew
that any explanation would only lead to them contacting the Baker's
finding out what was going on. There was no way out. Her dad
informed her that she would be getting a spanking. She started
bawling immediately. When her dad announced a spanking Tammy knew
what to expect. She went upstairs and laid on her tummy on her bed.
When her dad came upstairs she was on her bed, on her tummy, with her
skirt hiked up to her back and her panties down around her ankles.
When her dad saw the condition of his daughter's backside he was
astonished. He asked her what had happened and all she said was that
she was spanked for a poor babysitting job. Her dad removed his belt
and doubled it over for the punishment. He began wailing away at his
daughter's bare bottom while lecturing about punctuality and
responsibility. He threatened that another stunt like this and he
would have her quit her job. As he spanked the teen she was sobbing
and howling. It stung worse than anything she could remember. Her
dad laid on 25 strokes of the belt and welts were beginning to form
on the naked flesh.
As she lay there, Tammy recalled the evening in vivid detail. She
relived the joy and pain that Brad had felt. She recalled the sweet
way that the children had accepted a punishment for the guilt she had
felt. She recalled with joy the plan she had devised and the sweet
but painful spanking she had endured at the hand (or paddle) of Mr.
Baker. She also recalled the vivid beating that she got from Mrs.
Baker and then to cap it off she recalled her dad's spanking of her
bottom. She was in great pain, great joy, great guilt and she was a
mess. She reached into her skirt pocket and pulled out the envelope
she got from Mr. Baker. In it was $80! Wow that was more than
double what she expected and way more than enough to buy the outfit
she wanted and maybe even the matching shoes!
||[17 Feb 2008|01:56pm]
for the last time i am not a lurker, i simply prefer to read then post
|i cant even function i am so full of fear
||[15 Oct 2007|07:15pm]
i am beginning to fail most of my classes, i just dont have time to be intrested in what i do any more... or i just dont want to be intrested any more. i dont feel clever enough to persue it, and well not making enough money 20 hours a week is not helping me fund it. honestly what am i doing here. my shift at work tomarrow starts at 6am, i have to be on the road at 5 to make sure i am there on time. and taking a half hour to get ready means waking up at the un godly hour of 430am, i get off work at 2pm, but i typically get out at arroud 3pm. i have class at 430pm. i wont leave ithaca still after 930pm. and then getting home at 1030pm, and getting to sleep at around 11pm. and doing the same fucking thing the next day... this is getting to monotonous. i am ready to call in tomarrow, and sleep throught my classes.... the pain is so great i feel nothing at all...
||[21 May 2007|12:02pm]
someone posted this, so i figured i would as well its short
1. Tell me something obvious about yourself.
i am a girl
2. Tell me something about yourself that I don't know.
i normally dont tell people that i am a huge treekie
3. What is your biggest fear?
afraid that someone wont be there fore me
4. Do you normally take the safe route or the shortcut?
something in between
5. What is the one thing you want the most that you can't buy with money?
i guess the typical response, love
6. What is your most treasured possession?
7. What is the one thing you hate most about yourself that you do the most often?
8. Tell me something about you sexually that I don't know.
i have tiny boobs,
9. Tell me something about you sexually that everybody knows.
i get off on girls, well mostly
10. What is your favorite lie to tell?
telling would give it away
11. Name something you have done once that you can't wait to do again.
12. Are you the jealous type?
13. What is the 1 person, place or thing that you can never say no to?
14. What is the nicest thing someone has ever done for you?
giving me their camera
15. If you could do something crazy right now, what would it be?
i really am a silly bitch, i can to anything
16. When was the last time you cried?
right before i came on line
17. When was the last time you felt so good that nothing else mattered?
the last time i drove a hitchhiker home, the last time i made someone laugh, the last time i drove a car, but that was all at once, the day before i crashed my car
18. Do you feel comfortable in public with no shirt on?
yeah, but i dont think other people are
19. Name something embarrassing you did while drunk.
talked about Salvador dail, and i dont know why
20. If you post this in your journal, do you want me to answer it?
||[06 May 2007|02:36pm]
A warm spring day in western North Carolina, and the last thing on the minds of the 8th grade students was school. It was a day just right for outdoor fun. So as lunchtime drew to a close Larry, Will, Tom and Judy made the decision to leave school instead of returning to class. After a stop at the bakery for donuts and soda pop they were off to the park for n afternoon of fun. As the time for school to dismiss approached Tom looked at the others and said “We forgot about the history test this afternoon”. The others suddenly realized as well that they had indeed missed the test. “Wonder what he will say tomorrow?” Judy said. Thoughts of zeros went through their minds. “I am sure we will find out tomorrow morning” Tom replied.
Tomorrow morning came all too soon. Nothing was said or done right away, but when it came time for morning recess Mr. P said he wanted to see them. The rest of the class filed outside into the warm sun, but the four of them remained in the classroom. Mr. P got right to the point. “I debated giving all four of you zeros on the test you missed yesterday’ he said. “But after giving it some thought I decided I will allow you to take a makeup test during recess tomorrow”. Everyone echoed a “thank you” when he said that. Mr. P then said “However, I cannot overlook the fact that you skipped half the school day. And for that there must be a penalty. You may either do two days after-school detention of you may take six licks. I will give you a few minutes to decide.” He left the room and we all looked at each other. Tom spoke first. “Its too nice out to stay in after school for two afternoons.” The other two boys agreed, but Judy expressed some doubts. “I have never had a paddling at school” Judy said. “Larry replied “Let’s make it unanimous. Either we all take the padding or we all take the detention. The paddling will be over quick.
We will be stuck in here two days on detention. You have seen Mr. P paddle. It’s not that bad. Besides you know he has that smaller paddle for the girls.” After a moment of thought Judy agreed.
Mr. P returned to the classroom. “What will it be?” he asked. He was informed of the decision and he then got out the larger leather paddle that he used on the boys. Larry went first. He moved to the side of the desk and bent over. After the first lick landed I thought it sounded much harder than what Mr. P. usually gave. The next five followed in rapid succession. Larry straightened up and rubbed, then said “Wow my butt feels like it’s on fire.” Since Larry was no stranger to the paddle, the rest of us began to wonder if we had made the right decision. Will stepped up next and everything repeated itself, except that Will made no comment when it was over, he just stood aside quietly. I was next and I walked to the desk and bent over as the first two had done. I had been paddled once before in 6th grade with a small paddleball paddle that was more embarrassing than painful, but I had the feeling this was going to involve a little more. I wasn’t wrong. After a brief pause I heard the resounding crack of the paddle and felt the heat explode across my butt. I jerked forward a little, but stayed down. The next two followed quickly, then a brief pause as he moved slightly to “switch sides”. The last three were delivered quickly, and I felt the intense burning sting on both sides now. I moved away from the desk, grateful that it was over. I looked over at Judy, who appeared to be very apprehensive. I patted her shoulder reassuringly and said, “Don’t worry. Everything will be all right. It will be over with quickly.
Mr. P put the boys paddle back in the drawer and removed the somewhat smaller leather paddle he had for the girls. Judy took nervous steps to the desk and bent over quickly. She looked at the boys quickly, then looked briefly at Mr. P holding the paddle. She then lowered her head and stared at the desktop. Mr. P. did not waste anytime. He gave her the first lick, and although the paddle was somewhat smaller it was every bit as hard as what the boys had gotten. Judy gave out with a little “Ooh” and twisted her butt slightly away from the paddle. As before the next two followed quickly, and Judy bucked a little and gave out with the little “Ooh” after each. He gave her the last three, and Judy stood up. Tears were welling in her eyes, but she was not crying.
Mr. P put the paddle away and told us he would see us during recess the next day for a makeup test. Judy was still rubbing as we all left to go out for what remained of the recess period. Although all of us had hot stinging butts we were glad it was over. As we got to the schoolyard we were asked by classmates what happened. “He gave us a choice, two days detention or 6 licks. We all took the six licks.” “Judy too?” They asked. “Yes” we said. One of Judy’s girlfriends looked very surprised. “Judy you have never been paddled before. Were you scared? Did it hurt?” her friend asked. “Yes” Judy replied. “I was petrified. Since I was last I got more scared watching the guys get it. And it felt like my rear end was on fire. And humiliating too. Any other questions Miss Need-to-know?” That was basically the end of the incident. A few giggly remarks about Judy were made the following day, and we took our makeup test. All of did well on the test, and thoughts of hooking school even for part of the day were not entertained the remainder of the year. Three years would go by before Judy and I were part of a group that found itself in the principal’s office. But that is another story.
||[16 Apr 2007|12:12am]
i am posting here more then in my main journal, i just turned off in the life, just becuase the show just finished, each time i watch that show i have problems coming to terms with my sexuality. i dont think we ever truly know what we are... we know what we want... ah life is so confused right now...
anyway itl provided me a few more good references for things that i need to do, for example i need to make an outdoor living reference i did that with "your expedition" and there was a piece on irainan sexuality, which was actually supportive for something i am doing in history of photo, and the recent exhibit "persion visions"... honestly i do not recall why i am typing this...
||[15 Apr 2007|06:29pm]
My Meeting with "The Board of Education"
By Megan Lowry
In the spring of 1993 I was a seventeen year old high school senior in the Sandhills Region of North Carolina. Our school district issued a parent/student handbook each fall containing some rather vague references to corporal punishment but with nothing clearly spelled out beyond its availability as "a disciplinary option." Some years before, the county school board had voted for some modifications in their paddling policies, largely in response to a 1981 incident in which three girls were severely paddled, some would say abusively, by a male staff member. That affair led to a lawsuit against the district and focused a good deal of unwanted media attention on the paddling in schools issue. One significant change to come about was the implimentation of a same gender rule, i.e., that girls were to receive licks only from a female administrator or teacher.
Although I was aware that licks were authorized, the possibility of actually receiving any myself was not something I had ever seriously contemplated, save once. In middle school I was an active combatant in what certain of my classmates humorously (and otherwise) named "The Great Lillington Food Fight of 1989." This messy affair was sparked by ill will between two opposing student cliques, and began with verbal taunts in the lunchline that rapidly escalated into all-out confrontation during which Yours Truly fired a paper cup of applesauce. The gooey projectile failed to strike its intended target and sailed through the double doors into the hallway wither it splattered against the lockers. While several belligerents were rounded up and marched away to face summary justice in the principal's office, my role somehow remained undetected. I passed three of the most anxious hours of my life until the bell mercifully rang at 3:20, fearing from moment to moment the intercom would buzz with the dread order to go report to the office. It didn't, a fact for which I was sincerely grateful to whatever kindly providence had spared my backside.
Paddling was not a subject much discussed by anyone at school, maybe out of embarrassment, but some who had found themselves on the receiving end laughed it off as a joke. While paddlings did happen from time to time they were a comparative rarity, and it appeared to me that most violations resulted in detention or a simple reprimand.
I began smoking at age 16, a habit I acquired from my friend Amanda. While my mom never actually forbade me to smoke, she disliked it and missed no oppertunity to say so. Mom was a lifelong nonsmoker and was equally disapproving of my dad's pipe. So, wearying of her maternal admonitions against the evils of tobacco, I let her believe I had quit when in truth I hadn't, and continued to sneak the occasional puff in my room.
Late in March of my senior year we were enjoying the first warm days of spring, and during the lunch hour everybody congregated outside on the lawn or in the parking lot. Amanda and I were sitting at a picnic table on the west side of the building when she made the gesture of pulling on a cigarette and exhaling. She nodded towards the building, and I understood her to mean we should go to an upstairs washroom for a quick smoke, something we'd done before without problems. I didn't refuse, although a couple of weeks before I served 120 minutes detention for smoking in the parking lot.
We went through the doors and up the staircase. The 2nd floor washroom is just to the left as you come up, and we were glad to find the hallway entirely empty. Marlboros were my brand of choice, and I had a pack with three cigarettes rolled up in my pocket. We hung out for 15 minutes before it was time to head back downstairs. But as luck would have it, just as we were going an old hag art teacher, Mrs. Gilly, pushed open the door and confronted us: "Are you girls smoking in here?" Busted ! There was no way to deny what we were up to because, first, the smell made it obvious, second, a few blue wisps of smoke hung in the air catching the sunlight, and third - most damning of all - the red and white Marlboro pack was conspicuously in my right hand. She confiscated this contraband and hauled our sorry hind ends down to the Assistant Principal's office.
Entering the school's main office, off the central corridor, to the far left there's a door marked "Assistant Principal." Through this door is a small waiting room with a window to your right and a few office chairs. Directly in front of you is the door to the A.P.'s real office, which we walked though. Amanda and I sat on chairs in front of the Assistant Principal's desk. She was a woman in her mid 30's named Jessica Dodd who was in her first year with the district and was someone I didn't know well. She listened to what Mrs. Gilly had to say and took the incriminating Marlboro pack from her, causing me to lose a perfectly good cigarette on top of all else ! Once Mrs. Gilly left Ms. Dodd asked to hear our side, and with such favorite adolescent monosyllables as "um" and "yea" we effectively conceded our guilt.
Ms. Dodd lectured us on smoking: "Don't you realize it's bad for your health?" and "Didn't you know this campus is smoke free?" (We couldn't plead ignorance on No.2 - the student handbook did clearly say as much.) Neither of us offered much in reply. Ms. Dodd stood up from her desk and walked to the grey metal filing cabinets in the corner. Taking out two manila folders, our student files for her office, she returned to the desk and began paging through their contents. Finally laying them to one side, she looked at us and said she saw from our records that this was the third violation that quarter for each of us. This was so. As mentioned before, I was caught smoking in the parking lot and also skipped a day in early March. Amanda had skipped with me and had another violation I don't recall. Ms. Dodd then said that under the policies adopted by the county school board she had the "option" (her word) of using corporal punishment in lieu of detention for a third violation. It occured to me that if this was, in fact, the official policy, it was not clearly spelled out in any information ever provided to me. What she said next gave me the feeling of an electric charge in the pit of my stomach: "I think you ladies could benefit from a paddlng. I'm sorry, but I really do."
Opening a desk drawer she took out two blue slips of paper. These were Parental Consent Forms whose use was only recently mandated by the Board. She handed one to each of us, said to have mom or dad sign it and to bring it in to her at 7:30 the following morning. The current rule is that parents must indicate by checking the form and signing whether corporal punishment can be administered for a violation, and detention is automatically assigned if permission for licks is denied. Ms. Dodd told us to get ready for our next class at 12:45 and we walked out into the hallway. Once out of the office, Amanda was nonchalant "Don't worry about it. I got it in 9th and it wasn't too bad." I assured her I was not worried in any way because "My mom will *never* let this happen!" I was 100% sure of that, too.
Mom hit the ceiling when, at 4:00 that afternoon, I 'fessed up about what happened. We engaged in verbal sparring for the better part of two hours, and she was really torqued off. First, she was upset at more trouble in school when I'd just pulled detention for skipping, plus the revelation of my having also served detention for a previous smoking incident, something he hadn't known. Mom also felt I'd lied to her, having led her to think I'd quit smoking when I hadn't. To cut to the chase, she said she'd give her permission for licks because, quote: "You have to learn that sometimes when you break rules there are going to be consequences you don't like!" (Duhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, mom! Thanks for that lesson in logic. I guess I'd never have figured that out otherwise, now would I?) It made no difference how I tried to talk, plead or whine my way out of it. She wasn't listening and I gave up arguing.
That evening I had some English homework on The Merchant of Venice and I remember the movie I was trying to watch when my boyfriend Jeff stopped over at 7:30 The flick had Johnny Cash as a sheriff in the 1940's and Andy Griffith as a guy who'd killed somebody for stealing a cow. It was probably an okay movie, but my mind was distracted and I was growing more and more apprehensive over what would happen in the morning. Jeff asked me if something was wrong and I told him no. Out of sheer embarrassment, I intimated nothing about what had happened and nothing about my hiney's impending doom. After he left I considered phoning Amanda with the idea if *her* parents had refused to give permission, then my mom might still be dissuaded. But I never called.
I went to bed around 10:00 and had no trouble falling asleep. Morning dawned all too soon, and I had to get up and get ready for school. I put on jeans and plain white cotton panties, with a pullover top and sneakers. I wore a gold chain on my left wrist, a gift the previous Christmas from Jeff, and had my hair tied back as I normally wore it then. Mom had piled my books and stuff on the kitchen counter. Protruding from between the pages of one, where I couldn't fail to see it, was the blue consent form, checked, signed and folded. Looking back at it now, I'll say that had I known she'd really give her permission for the paddling I'd have forged her signature and left her in the dark about what had happened. I have no memory of breakfast, only that I had no appetite. With mounting anxiety I realized if I refused to be paddled after mom gave her okay, I would be automatically suspended with failing grades for the quarter, something that simply wasn't in the picture. I was trying to maintain my g.p.a. with graduation was only two months ahead. I threw on a white windbreaker and left without the usual Good Byes, giving the door a slam - but not as hard as I'd have liked to !
My wheels took the form of a 1975 Monte Carlo my dad had found for me in Fayetteville, one of those with the radical long hoods, light blue with white vinyl roof. With eight blocks to drive to school, I drove through the Stop-and-Go lights down the block and switched on the radio to WDKS-FM. They were playing Alan Parsons Project "Eye in the Sky" as I turned into the parking lot and pulled up in my usual spot. Needless to say, hearing that song today always sends me right back to that time and place.
I walked into the building and went to my locker to deposit my windbreaker. Probably almost blushing with self consciousness, I went through the main office where, thankfully, no one paid any attention. I was happy to see only a few school secretaries and no other kids hanging around. On entering the waiting area, I saw two desks had been brought in since yesterday. Amanda was seated at one, writing on some lined paper. I said hi, and she mumbled "hi" back, nothing more. Undoubtedly her emotions were exactly in sync with mine: fear, anger and embarrassment.
Amanda was wearing white Levis and a red sweat shirt with the school logo in white. She was a member of The Rubies, the school's danceline troupe that performed at games, Homecoming and so on. Ms. Dodd stepped out of the office and asked for the consent form which I had folded up small in my hand - very small, that is, not wanting anyone I might encounter to suspect what was happening. She scanned it, then handed me some lined paper. "Megan, I want you to write these sentences fifty times. 'I was paddled for smoking on school property. I will not commit this offense again.' Then, when you're done, just sign it at the bottom, understand?" I understood, and plopped down to begin scribbling these words of wisdom.
Amanda had been there awhile and was halfway through her sentences. I made an effort to stimulate conversation but she had little to say and remained intently focused on her writing. For just a moment she put her head down on her arms and I thought she would start crying, but she didn't. I desperately wanted to say something that might help, but could think of nothing at all. Amanda put down her pen and ran her finger down one side of the paper then the other, making certain she'd completed all fifty sentences. She stood up quickly and walked into the office, her whole demeanor seeming to say "OK, FINE, LET'S GET THIS OVER WITH NOW." I overheard Jessica Dodd click the intercom and say something about "come down now..." She was summoning another teacher to act as witness, a precaution required by North Carolina law in event Amanda or I would claim our punishments were excessive or abusive.
The witness evidently knew what she was coming for, but hadn't been told who was involved. The door from the main office opened a minute later and she walked in. Her name was Andrea Kelly, somewhere in her mid 20's, an English teacher who was also in charge of the drama club. I knew Ms. Kelly but never had one of her classes. "Oh, hi Megan" she chirped, just like she'd run into me at the mall or somewhere. "What are you doing in here?" I told her quickly what had happened, thinking maybe she would or could do something to get us out of the mess we were in. No such luck. She arched her eyebrows in a somewhat reproachful look, said "Hmmmmmmmmmm, well...." and went into the office shutting the door behind her.
Sitting alone at the desk, cheery spring sunshine beaming in the windows, my stomach doing flip flops and feelings of anxiety heightening by the second, I emphatically did not find the notion of being paddled to be a joke casually laughed off. The situation was truly intimidating. I was worried I'd cry when getting spanked and hoped I'd be able to hold it back and not show any emotions. I feared if Amanda cried, I'd be more likely to when feeling the sting of the paddle a few minutes later. I reasoned if I could survive the licks without tears, Ms. Dodd would think it hadn't much hurt and thus I'd preserve some dignity. I was not a happy camper, as they used to say, but I was acutely aware we were being punished for willful infractions of the school rules and that punishment isn't meant for fun.
From inside the office I could hear voices, but the words were unintelligible. Then, sudden and startling, "CRACK!!!" Silence. I was thankful Amanda hadn't screamed. Nervous as the proverbial long tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs, if Amanda had screamed so would I ! 10 to 15 seconds later ...."CRACK!!!!!" Silence again. Amanda was doing okay with it until, that is, she got her 4th lick, greeted with a sharp yelp of "WOO-HOO!!" Maybe ten seconds later was her fifth and final lick, at which she seemed to gasp and stifle a scream. Apart from this I heard nothing, and felt a certain relief that Amanda's paddling hadn't seemed quite as severe an ordeal as I'd feared.
Within half a minute Amanda came out, her face flushed and eyes moist, appearing angry and sullen. Looking at her I stammered "Did it hurt?" (Dumb question, huh?) Amanda shot back, "My God, Megan! Do you HAVE to be such a baby about everything?" She grabbed her jacket and books and stormed out.
Jessica Dodd came to the door, telling me to "hurry up and finish writing." Done at last, I forced myself away from the desk and entered her office. For the sake of drama I wish it were possible for me to write that I was replaying in my mind the "Last Mile" scene from some corny Jimmy Cagney movie, but I wasn't. All I was thinking is that I wanted this over and done with, and right now.
Ms. Dodd took the paper from me, and I was told "sit down for just a minute" while she and Ms. Kelly tinkered with a FAX machine on the small table to the right of the door as you walked in. Sitting in the exact same spot as the day before, on an office chair in front of her desk, it occured to me it was still within my power to stop this. Nobody could prevent me from simply walking out, firing up the Monte Carlo and driving away. But, to avoid being paddled in this way would have entailed academic consequences I couldn't afford, namely failing grades for the quarter two months before graduation. Not a cool option, and I stayed put. My eyes were all over that room with its tacky aqua carpeting and walls painted off white. There was a window behind the desk, and as I sat there a semi or heavy Diesel truck of some kind rumbled past on the street, the driver for some reason giving a blast on its deep air horn. Why this sticks in my mind I cannot say. My eyes darted all over the office for the paddle, but it was nowhere to be seen. Rumor had it the paddles were made downstairs in the woodworking shop and there were two designs: essentially the same, but a slightly lighter version for girls. Having never actually seen the "Board of Education" I was unsure what to expect. Uncomfortably warm, self conscious and edgy, I felt like screaming at Ms. Dodd and Ms. Kelly "WILL YOU GET ON WITH IT, DAMN YOU ?! "
Whatever the problem was with the FAX, they got it resolved. Ms. Dodd told me to stand up, and Andrea Kelly walked over and shoved my chair to the left and up against the wall. Ms. Dodd asked if there was anything in my back pockets, and I removed a pocket comb and a couple of coins and laid them on the desk. The Assistant Principal walked over to those same filing cabinets that held our records, reached behind it and brought out the paddle. Seeing it made my heart go up in my throat. About 20" long and 4" wide, it looked to be about a half inch thick. It was made from light colored wood and appeared heavy. One end was sawed in to form the handle which was wrapped in black tape. My sister Laurie, who is now a high school English teacher, later told me this is done to provide a better grip.
Ms. Dodd stood by the filing cabinet and told me to "lean way forward" over the front of her desk. The usual desk clutter, including a lamp and telephone, had been pushed to one side. Being out of options I did as ordered, resting my weight on my elbows and crossing my arms. Just as I bent down the first bell rang, and from out in the hallway filtered in the sound of people going back and forth, locker doors slamming and all the mundane noises of the start of the school day. The faded blue denim of my jeans stretched tightly across my upturned buttocks and was uncomfortable.
Once I was bent down, Jessica Dodd walked away from the filing cabinets and to my left and a little ways behind. Andrea Kelly stood to my right, near the door to the waiting room, arms folded and staring at the floor. She didn't seem happy at being there. Turning my head to see what Ms. Dodd was doing, I saw she had the paddle in her right hand and was tapping it against the palm of her left. We had a moment's eye contact, and she said to stand with my feet a little further apart. I was still looking back when she touched the paddle to the seat of my jeans and I recall that spooky pressure only too well. The paddle felt hard and solid and cold. No pain yet, but the sick thought that heartbeats from now it would burn like hellfire.
Ms. Dodd rubbed the paddle slightly from left to right, lining it up to take aim, making a slight rustling sound. Laurie, ever a fountainhead of information, would also later tell me this is done as a precaution in order to avoid striking the lower back or legs. Jessica Dodd swung the paddle way back to her right. I turned my face forward and concentrated on the wall beneath the window behind her desk. I tensed, clenching the muscles in my butt, clenching my teeth, balling my hands into fists, and telling myself "HERE IT IS AND IT ISN"T GOING TO BE SO BAD !"
"whoooooosssshhh .......... CRRRAACK !!!!!!!!" The sound and the sensation was like a firecracker exploding. And HURT? It burned like I had just sat on a hot stove. I swallowed hard, determined they wouldn't see me cry. A few seconds passed. Jessica Dodd again lined up the paddle against my backside and delivered the second lick. With buttocks already sore and throbbing and hot, the second spank seared across my bottom with such intensity that I quite literally saw stars. I kid you not, as Bogart says in The Caine Mutiny. I was whacked with enough force knock me forward a little and up onto my toes. Struggling to seem in control, I steeled myself and concentrated on not breaking down. The Assistant Principal repeated the routine, again lining up the paddle on my now sizzling backside for a few seconds, and cracked my butt a third time. On top of the accumulated pain of two slaps within 30 seconds, the sting was far sharper than I'd anticipated and salty tears welled up in my eyes. Like Amanda, my self control couldn't survive the 4th spank. "THWACCCCKK !!!!" I screamed. Jumping up from the desk and placing both hands on my bottom, hot tears rolling down my cheeks, I blubbered to Jessica Dodd "I CAN'T TAKE ANY MORE OF THIS !!!!!!........"
Ms. Kelly walked over and asked very quietly if I was all right. I was afraid to answer, knowing my voice would crack if I did. Ms. Dodd said I was required to take all five licks "or it doesn't count," but "it's okay if you need a minute to recover." Andrea Kelly handed me a Kleenex. Stepping away from them, I stood by the office window, eyes bleary with tears and gradually regaining some control. More than anything else I needed to avoid breaking down completely. The assistant principal and the witness stood in front of the desk while I passed a couple of minutes leaning against the window, bottom afire and burning with deeper shame and humiliation than I'd ever felt in my life. Finally, Andrea Kelly walked over and in that same quiet little voice said "Megan, I think it would be a good idea if you took the last one while you're still numb." I turned away from the window and came to the front of the desk, avoiding eye contact with both, and bent over. Right off, without lining up the paddle, Jessica Dodd gave me my last lick, pretty hard but not quite as hard as the first four. "That's all, Meg" and she said I could stand up. Ms. Dodd offered a pen and said I could sign my name on the paddle as this was a "school tradition." I declined. She shrugged her shoulders and said "Up to you." A number of signatures were scrawled on the paddle. Someone had drawn a "Smiley Face."
The paddle had a small hole in the upper handle, and she returned it to the hook behind the cabinets. She turned and in a very matter of fact voice, just like she was discussing the weather, told me I could go and to get ready for homeroom. I didn't say a word, but picked up my comb and coins from the desk and walked into the waiting area to grab my books. Three school secretaries stood behind the counter in the main office, two of them just a few years older than me. All three wore grins on their faces as though sharing a private joke, and one looked directly at me. They'd obviously overheard the two of us being punished and must have found the whole thing funny.
Andrea Kelly followed me into the hallway. "Megan, were you ever paddled before?" I told her I hadn't. "Well, I'm sure this'll be the only time, hon." I had the impression she wished to say more, maybe that she didn't approve of what she'd just seen, but she didn't. Once in the washroom, I spashed cold water on my face, combed my air and went to homeroom at 8:30.
The intense sting wore off in a few minutes, but I was hot and headachy all day, the hard desk chairs feeling uncomfortable. For the remainder of that day the sensation in my nether regions was like a bad sunburn, and my jeans felt tight and chaffed. Returning home that afternoon I showered and checked for damage in the full length mirror in the bathroom. My bottom was still reddish to dark pink with some bruising on the right cheek but not the left. No welts like I figured there might be. The bruise lasted a few days, but the redness was largely faded by the next morning. For a couple of days I experienced an annoying "twang" of discomfort when sitting on a hard surface or moving in just the wrong way.
At the time, I had a part time job Thursday and some Friday evenings at Food Lion, working at the courtesy counter from 5:00 to 8:00 PM. So there I was, a young woman old enough to drive and hold employment, conversant with the facts of life, and mature in most ways, at my job with a sore bottom because of being spanked like an eight year old a few hours before. The irony was not lost on me, not then and not now.
For awhile after the paddling I carried around feelings of shame and self pity. You might say the paddle had stung my pride more than my 17 year old backside, and I'll admit that's true. The following weekend I told the whole story to my older sister. She was sympathetic to the emotions caused by the spanking, but not to the behavior that resulted in it. She helped me place it in clearer perspective when she said, "Well, I know it was painful but now it's over and done with. It's nothing to worry about." She told me she didn't "exactly agree" with our mom giving permission, but it would be best to simply regard it all as a part of growing up. That was wise advice which I have followed.
|a day late and a pound short
||[18 Mar 2007|05:22pm]
Dedicated to the memory of John Kelly
Chorus: Say hey johnny boy, the battle call United we stand, divided we fall Together we are what we can't be alone We came to this country you made it our home
This man so humble, this man so brave A legend to many, he fought to his grave Saved family and friends from the hardship and horror In a land of depression he gave hope for tomorrow
Say Johnny boy this ones for you With the strength of many and the courage of few To what do we owe this man who's fight Was for the masses, he gave his life
A friend to the locals who dabbled in crime He'd give you a job and he'd give you his time He wasn't a crook but he couldn't be conned John knew the difference between right and wrong Say Johnny me boy, you live hear no longer Others forgotten, your memory's stronger Lets drink to the causes in your life Your family, your friends, the union, your wife
And the boys on the docks needed john for sure When they came to this country he opened the door He said men I'll tell ya they don't like our kind Though it starts with a fist it must end with your mind
|another birthday spanking short and sweet
||[04 Mar 2007|10:52am]
My name is Jillian and the following is one of my many true experiences.
It was my 18th birthday and I was sleeping in late. My parents had long left for work. I planned to have a lazy relaxing day, but my sister Jill (yes our parents weren’t too creative with names) had other plans. She was a year older and she and three of her girl friends came into my room.
“Time for your birthday spankings”, she exclaimed with a huge smile on her face.
I told her to get out and leave me alone, but she and her friends quickly grabbed me and positioned me on the edge of the bed with my ass on display. My nightgown was pushed up leaving my ass only protected by my panties.
The girls took turns spanking me with their hand each giving my 18 swats. At first I cried and screamed as they were not holding back and my ass was soon stinging. About the time the second girl started her swats was when I started to enjoy the pain - my pussy was beginning to tingle. I stopped protesting and started enjoying it and at the time the third girl finished, I came twice.
All had given me their swats except my sister. The girls released me and when my sister told her girl friends she would see them later they promptly left. I remained on the edge of the bed, too sore to move. Jill felt the dampness of my panties and said, “I knew you were enjoying it.” I blushed at the thought of my sister knowing I came in front of her from spankings. She soon stopped feeling the wetness and started rubbing it.
“Get undressed and back in the same position”, she commanded. I did as she asked without hesitation, shocking myself as I did and lay naked in a vulnerable position in front of Jill. She started spanking me hard and rubbing my red ass in between spanks. She brought me to multiple orgasms as she slowly spanked me.
When she was done giving me my 18 swats, which seemed like it took forever, she told me to get into the bed. She removed her clothes and climbed in behind me spooning and holding me from behind as we drifted off to sleep.
Just as I was falling asleep, she whispered in my ear, “I love you.”
You are welcome to contact the author Jillian Henderson
|i think this is funny
||[28 Feb 2007|12:28am]
American women asking to be spanked!
by our woman who knows the benefits of a stout pair of woollen bloomers,
The recent scandal surrounding Jennifer Gonzalez, a 28-year-old woman who was arrested in Los Angeles for masquerading as a teenage high school student, reveals a disturbing trend at the rotten core of American society: grown women who want to be spanked!
"American women feel empty inside," California psychiatrist Dr Janelle Jerkovitz told Utterpants. "So empty that their only escape from themselves is try to return to the happiest years of their life, when things were simple — when they were carefree teens. By surrendering their adulthood they are in effect placing their bare bottoms over their mother's knees and handing her the hairbrush."
"You mean these adult women really want mummy to spank them?" we asked.
"You bet," replied Dr Jerkovitz, loosening her fraternity tie. "Once they realise how cute they look in a school uniform, they can't wait to get down to Wal-Mart and recapture the carefree security of their teenage years."
Kim Rogers, a twenty-nine-year-old accountant, from South Bend, Indiana, is typical of the hundreds of US women who are turning their backs on the responsibilities of adulthood and baring their bottoms to the parental paddle. "My mom and the salesclerk agreed that my 'little apple boobies' were too small for my Wonder Bras, so now I wear these cool little half shirts that totally flatten out my chest," enthused the petite born again teen. "Every outfit I have shows my belly button, and my panties all have cute little clowns and animals on them. I didn't realise how young I looked until I got into an argument about my hairstyle at the beauty salon," she added sheepishly. "Mom just turned me over her knee, pulled up my school skirt and took down my 'Barney' panties and all of the other women in the parlour just laughed! I came home from the mall with my face as red as my bottom — and my once stylish hair in pigtails!"
Across North America young women are finding their 'second childhood' is filled with similar surprises.
"As a school administrator I've always been jealous of my students' uncomplicated lives," Jenna Garner, 26, from British Columbia, told Utterpants. "So naturally I jumped at the chance to spend a sabbatical year as a teenage student. Imagine my surprise when my mom enrolled me as a student at my own school!"
Ms Garner went on to tell us that it wasn't until she donned the outfits she used to complain about herself that she realized just how short the skirts were. "I was like, constantly trying to cover my panties," she gushed. "My old joke that 'short skirts are easier to raise at spanking time!' rang hollow as I watched my grinning mother complete the 'Corporal Punishment Authorisation' forms! Miss Lash, the gym teacher, didn't hesitate to swat my little pussy when I didn't jump high enough or run fast enough," the disturbed young woman giggled.
We asked Dr Janelle Jerkovitz what is driving these sick women to subject themselves to such appalling abuse. "Adulthood is frightening," explained the smartly dressed counsellor. "Which is why stripping away their financial and parental responsibilities is so attractive to these young women. They are crying out for discipline and the firm hand their husbands and partners aren't giving them."
But many of these "born again teens" are finding their new roles leave them vulnerable to exploitation and vengeance.
LAPD officer Kelly DeLuca, 27, had been strict and uncompromising when she had babysat for Ashley Richards ten years earlier. But now Ashley was 19, and when Ms DeLuca's mother called and asked her to baby-sit 'cute little Kelly,' Ashley jumped at the chance for payback.
"I called my boyfriend Brad to come over and help," Ashley explained to us, her voice dripping with malicious glee. "He's my age, and he'd been terrorized by that bitch Kelly back when she was the babysitter from Hell. You should have seen the look on Kelly's face when her mom gave me permission to spank her 'panties down' if she 'acted up.' Needless to say Kelly was the perfect little angel and fetched and carried for us all evening," Ashley chortled gleefully. "All I had to do was tap her hairbrush against her cute little butt and smile sweetly at the little slut!"
"What happened then?" we asked.
"Kelly kept it together pretty well until Brad and I took her upstairs for her bath," the teenager explained. "She didn't want to undress in front of us, and she practically threw a tantrum when we started removing her top and bra ourselves. Brad and I nearly laughed ourselves silly when we saw the little 'Winnie the Pooh' panties she was wearing! Well naturally I used her 'disobedience' as my excuse to spank her. I bent her right over the tub til her little titties were in the water, slid her cute panties down and used the bath brush to paddle her tight buns until she begged for mercy! She was pretty good during her bath, even though I could tell she didn't really like me watching while Brad washed all of those 'hard to reach spots."
Many mothers are surprised by their own reaction to disciplining their daughters."My daughter graduated with Honours from Stanford Law School," another mother confided to us. "She still thinks she can argue her way out of anything. But she soon loses her ginger when she sees the hairbrush in my hand. Now when she sasses me she ends up pleading her case with her bare bottom wiggling over my knee," chuckled the forty-two-year-old hairdresser. "Exercising my maternal authority is very empowering, and it's wonderful to finally win an argument with my daughter. The brush is my gavel, and all my decisions are final!"
Although some born again American teens regret their decision the vast majority adapt quickly and successfully — aided in no small part by their mother's handy hairbrush. The increasing popularity of this sickening trend has prompted one state legislature to codify the trend into law.
"The new Born Again Teen Act will allow a woman to transfer legal, financial, and disciplinary control back to their actual or a surrogate mother with a one page notarised form," Michigan State Legislator Sandy Shufflebotham told Utterpants. "The Born Again Teen is allowed to specify a time limit when she signs the form, but naturally all of the other details are left up to her mom."
When we asked the thirty-two year-old Representative whether she would sign such a form if the proposal becomes law, she was enthusiastic. "My Mom and I have already argued about the clothes I'll wear," laughed the leggy legislator coyly. "I don't think she'll really make me wear all of those teenybopper clothes she has in my closet, but I've gone on a diet just in case."
"What about the parental discipline?" we asked
Representative Shufflebotham blushed. "My Mom bought a paddle with the words, 'For Sandy's BARE Bottom' inscribed on it, along with a little picture of a bear rubbing its fanny," she admitted nervously. "But I think she's just trying to scare me. I mean — she wouldn't really spank me — not on my bare...would she?" Sandy pleaded, her voice trailing off huskily.
||[25 Feb 2007|09:14pm]
i am just going to long on to, aim, yahoo, and jabber and see what happens...
im me if you want
||[11 Jan 2007|08:36pm]
when i was younger i would often go online and look up spanking... downloads of film... or simply pictures, or find lots of fics to read. now this started when i was around 13 or so... once in a while my mother would take long weekends, and i would have the house to myself... this is one of those nights...
i have a vary creative mind. i am a photographer. but i have never taken any nudes. and i really want to, a close friend of mine is pretty much executively nudes. they find that the human form is a pretty unexplored subject matter, or even an entirely different art form.
i consider myself a macro photographer, so, if i take a pciture of a person, its close... varry close, i get there goosebumps, and body hair, wrinkles in there skin... thoes things...
but now all of a sudden, i want to take a picture of the human body, as it is, or start with some fetish/fashion shots.... portraits are not my most favorite thing to take a pictures of.
but then i was going over stieglitz work, and remembering what wonderful shots he did of his wife (georgia o’keeffe) taking the human body and forming it into “dunes” or “green pepper”... i was goign to write more... but now i am lost in thought....
||[03 Jan 2007|07:01pm]
thick drops of rain sound like the way you spanked me
your pleasure thrills in every way you make me
thick drops. .
all by myself and you're not here to take me
my red hot stain still makes you call me, baby
tattooed your name, so you wouldn't forget to claim
if i see you're like your daddy and i should be gone
i would try to burn you but i won't
if i think that loving you could be just like a drug
i would try to burn you but i won't
it's all your graces, your deadly sins
love and hate you it's so intense
if i could burn you walk away not see you anymore
i would try to burn you but i won't
thick drops of rain sound like the way you miss me
your windowpane steams like the way you kiss me
you're so profane, that's why i love the way
if i see you're like your daddy and i should be gone
i would try to burn you but i won't
if i think that loving you could be just like a drug
i would try to burn you but i won't
it's all your graces, your deadly sins
love and hate you it's so intense
if i could burn you walk away not see you anymore
i would try to burn you but i won't
like drops of rain your love has no pain
if i see you're like your daddy and i should be gone
i would try to burn you but i won't
if i think that loving you could be just like a drug
i would try to burn you but i won't
if i see that you're the precious i was looking for,
i would try to burn you but i won't
if i could burn you walk away not see you anymore
i would try to burn you but i won't
||[09 Dec 2006|10:25pm]
i have no clue who wrote it but it is awsome, ok at least fun to read...
“Not good,” I thought. Definitely not good. I recognized Aunt Suzanne’s handwriting immediately and somehow the words – Meet me in the parlor right after dinner – filled me with gloom. We NEVER used the parlor except for special occasions, and today was definitely not a special occasion. And considering what had been happening around here recently, her presence and her summons no doubt meant trouble for me.
Aunt Suzanne was Daddy’s younger sister, a strong personality and (if my cousins’ stories were to be even half-believed) an avid disciplinarian. She had arrived last night, much to my and my sister’s surprise, but apparently with Daddy’s blessing. Somehow I knew that my easygoing-parents-life had taken a definite turn, and probably not for the better. Momma was never much of an authority figure, though recently she had been pretty stern at carrying out what she claimed were Daddy’s instructions. I have always been able to pretty-much wrap Daddy around my finger, which was why I had skated past any serious repercussions from my recent college peccadilloes. But after he discovered my emails on my Yahoo Groups and photo collection, both with the help of that bratty sister of mine, I figured that I might be in for some restrictions. But the look on Daddy’s face when he read about my interest in spanking (in place of the boring lectures or brow-beatings that he and Momma always hand out) and about my less-than-virginal interactions with boys, told me I had probably gone too far. Why, oh why had I kept all that stuff on my computer?
Anyway, I was a little surprised when supper turned out to be just me, since my parents and sister had gone out for the evening and Aunt Suzanne had not joined me. Needless to say, I didn’t have much of an appetite, sitting there in the big room alone, with just the maid serving the food, and clucking about my not eating. My expectations of what was to happen fluctuated between hope of a mild scolding and the deep fear of Aunt Suzanne and a bullwhip. The fact that neither extreme was likely didn’t really prepare me for the eventual outcome.
After playing with my dessert for several minutes, I looked up as Aunt Suzanne stepped into the room. Without saying a word, just crooking a finger to show me I needed to follow her, she led me to the parlor. She was dressed a little sternly, yet somehow managed to exude a provocative air. He skirt, though slightly below the knee, was slit rather high on her thigh, and I glimpsed a bit of the top of her stockings (rather than pantyhose, as she walked briskly. Her white blouse wasn’t cur low, but I could easily see the curves of her ample bosom. I had always admired the way she combined a voluptuous figure with a curious mix of softness and strength. I always hoped I could look as good as she does, even though is approaching middle- age. While I could admire the look of her walking ahead of me, I began to feel a sense of oncoming doom.
She opened the sliding doors to the parlor and stood by them as she motioned me into the room. I noticed that one of the straight-backed chairs had been pulled away from the table and was now facing out into the center of the room. I cautiously moved forward and could hear her close and lock the doors behind me. The solid oak, I knew, effectively muffled most of the sound in this room. I flinched at the noise made by the closing doors and surprising loud click of the key. Her silence (which I didn’t dare disturb) heightened my rising tension. She sat down in the chair.
“Come over here young lady,” she called out, her voice an even tone and surprisingly low volume. I stepped in front of her and stood there, head down, hands folded in front of me. I figured a humble posture couldn’t do anything but help my situation. I avoided looking her in the face, not wanting to see what look she might be giving me. “I understand,” she went on, “that you have not only embarrassed yourself by virtually flunking out of college, and worried your parents through your slutty behavior with your friends, but are even now fighting against your parents attempts to help you learn the discipline you need to ...”
At that point I again showed my lack of wisdom by interrupting her. “I didn’t really FLUNK OUT, I just didn’t do as well as I could have. And I haven’t really done anything slutty, I just ...” Fortunately I looked up at that point and saw the scowl that told me I had definitely committed a faux pas. I shut up instantly, too late, of course.
“As I was saying ... and I see that, just as your parents had reported, you seem to have no respect at all for your elders – you are fighting your parents’ best efforts to help you learn self- discipline. Since they are too sweet to take the steps necessary to teach you proper discipline, your father asked if I might step in and try to help. Since you refuse to develop self-discipline, I shall have to bring the discipline TO you. I assure you that it would have been much, MUCH easier if you had taken their help, but I assure you, also, that you WILL get the discipline that you need.”
“Now,” she uttered in a voice that I didn’t recognize as being able to come from a woman as pretty as she, “take off that dress; step out of those shoes, and get over here.” I paused, not sure I had heard what I clearly heard, until she gave me a look that went through me like an icicle in a hurricane. There was such venom in that look that for a minute I wondered who it was in the room there with me. But I did as instructed and was soon standing there in my bikini underwear and demi-bra. I felt myself beginning to shiver, though it wasn’t from the cold. She stared at me for what seemed like and hour but was no doubt only a minute or so. I think I noticed her chest moving (heaving?) from a couple of deep breaths and the shivering sort of stopped and an unrecognizable feeling began to arise deep within me. “Take the bra off, also,” she more breathed than said, her voice slightly husky. She again crooked a finger at me, reminding me that I had not completely obeyed her.
When I was right in front (though slightly to the side) she reached up and quickly grabbed a wrist and jerked downward. I found myself across her lap, then, and squirmed quickly, trying to regain my footing. Much to my surprise, her left hand on my shoulders was strong enough to keep me from lifting myself upward, and I felt her pulling my panties downward. I let out a squeal, “Aunt Suzanne, what are you ...” She shushed me and began to whack my backside with what was obviously her hand but which felt, right then, like some sort of leather belt. (Not that I had ever had a leather belt slapping my butt, but I IMAGINED that it felt like that.) I had not had a spanking since I was a little girl (and couldn’t really remember having been spanked even then, but was sure I had been). I then made the mistake of reaching back with my right hand, which did nothing but cause me to lose balance when she grabbed THAT wrist and held it firmly down against my lower back. I sort of stopped squirming, then, since it felt like I would fall down onto the floor if I moved like I had been.
My fanny was beginning to really sting, then, and I was biting my lower lip, softly, to avoid calling out. I felt like crying, but somehow held onto enough pride that I didn’t want to be seen to be acting like a little girl. And then, my head began to swim as I felt the stinging in my butt beginning to turn into a strange tingling deep in my groin. Actually, the feeling wasn’t all that strange, since it was very much like the feelings I would get when boys would play with me down-there (particularly when they would try – and often succeed in – going down on me). What made it strange was that this was not a sexual setting. Was it?
As the spanking continued, my mind swirled with that curious mix of pain and pleasure and I was beginning to grow ashamed that I was feeling vaguely turned on by the whole thing. I may have been mistaken, but it seemed that she had softened and slowed her slaps. Suddenly, she stopped the whipping and paused before suddenly saying:
“And what is that odor I smell, you little tart? You’re supposed to be being punished. Maybe what you father discovered on your computer was right. Have you acquired a perverse interest in pain? Here, let me check.” With that, she put a finger down between my butt checks and moved it forward. Since I felt it slide forward, I knew that I had, indeed, begun to lubricate. Had I truly become a slutty pervert, what they call a masochist? Did I enjoy being spanked? Could that even be POPSSIBLE? “Just as I thought, you little minx. You’re positively WET down there.” Not content to just confirm her suspicion, she began to probe my vagina with that finger, and then with a second. I felt myself respond to the penetration and it was almost like I was masturbating myself. My juices began to really flow and my butt began to squirm, again, this time with a guilty pleasure as I responded to her manipulations. Suddenly a wild thought sprang to my mind – Aunt Suzanne was actually diddling my twat. I could feel her chest rising and falling, her luscious breasts plopping down onto my back as he hand began to move in and out of my vagina, in a quickening pace.
As I began to squirm more strenuously, my excitement building toward what I somehow knew was going to be a powerful orgasm, Aunt Suzanne pulled one leg out from under me and placed it on top of my legs, holding me tighter down onto her lap. And then I thought I could detect HER fragrance, musky and tart. Her hand was moving quickly, now, my legs spread as much as I was able, to allow her free movement and clear access to my innermost regions. I could hear myself moaning and gasping as my climax approached. My knees quivered and I am certain I would have fallen to the floor had she not been holding me tight. And I sort-of thought that I could feel HER knees quivering also, though all sensation soon faded as wave after wave of good feelings swept over me. She stopped frigging me, then and I managed to regain a normal heartbeat as I floated downward from the heights of my thrill-ride. I didn’t know whether to feel ashamed that somehow my own aunt had brought me to that point, or to pray that this could be the start of something wonderful between us.
So it came as a huge surprise when she apparently picked up some kind of paddle (or belt, since it seemed flexible) and began to whack the living daylights out of my already-beaten fanny. I tried my damnedest to get free, but he grip on my wrist and her leg across mine guaranteed that I wasn’t going anywhere. Ad the pain quickly became indescribable. I cried. I begged her to stop. I screamed. All to no avail. The strap rained down on my poor blistered butt, again and again, moving all over, preventing me from even guessing where the next one might land. I was bawling my eyes out; sobbing so hard it became difficult to even take a breath. I literally though I might die. I didn’t know anyone could do such a thing to another human being.
And then it stopped, mercifully, though I was still finding it hard to get my breath. She then let me go and I fell to the floor. When my punished fanny touched the carpet, I screeched and jumped up; it hurt so bad. My face must have looked horrible, tear (and snot) - covered and probably red and blotchy. I looked at her, my face no doubt reflecting my total confusion at what-all had just happened. She looked up at me, her face not betraying even one little emotion:
“Now, you wanton bitch. You will begin to understand and cooperate, or this will become a regular part of each of your days. Do you understand”? I nodded, slightly, not really understanding but certain that I needed to agree with whatever she was telling me.
“And you WILL agree to wear that chastity belt ...”
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