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The year was 1972. I was just about to start the 4th grade at my new school, a Catholic school. I was new to the neighborhood and didn’t know anybody yet, but I was anxious to make new friends. However, I was a little hesitant about going to this school. It would be my first time attending a Catholic school and it was made clear when I enrolled that corporal punishment was allowed. This concerned me, as I had never been spanked before. I tried not to think too much about it as the first day of school approached.
On that first day, I dressed in my new school uniform which was something else that was new for me. I wore navy blue dress pants, a white button down dress shirt, and a clip on tie. All the boys wore this same uniform while the girls wore a blue plaid jumper over a white blouse. My mom drove me to school that first day and I entered my classroom.
My teacher was Sister H. She was an old school nun, cold and stern. It was clear from day one that she would not tolerate any misbehavior or disobedience. I also found out through some of my new classmates that corporal punishment at school was worse than I was expecting. During lunch and recess that first day some of the guys in my class were educating me and one other new student about it. Basically, every teacher had the right to spank as they saw fit. Some teachers were more strict than others, but all were known to spank in some fashion. For more serious offenses you would be sent to the rectory to be disciplined by Father D with a leather belt. And then they told me the piece of information that scared me the most. Teachers could spank you on your bare butt if they chose, and many did.

I was mortified by this information. The idea of getting spanked was bad enough, but having to pull down my pants and underwear too! I was a very timid boy and the idea of having to disrobe in front of a teacher would be a nightmare come true.
It didn’t take long to find out how strict Sister Helen was. On the third day of school one of the boys, Andy, burped loudly right in the middle of class. Sister H chewed him out and then ordered him to come up to the front of the classroom. Andy turned pale and slowly got out of his seat, but didn’t move forward. In the meantime, Sister H grabbed her chair and brought it out in front of her desk.
When she saw that Andy hadn’t moved, she said, “Andrew G, get up here right now!”
Andy put his head down and walked the green mile towards Sister. She was now sitting in the chair facing the class. When Andy got close enough she grabbed his wrist and pulled him towards her so that he was standing right next to her on her left. Without saying a word, her hands went to Andy’s waist. I watched transfixed in horror as she methodically unbuckled his belt and unzipped and unsnapped his pants. She roughly yanked them down to his ankles. Then her fingers went to the waistband of his white underpants and quickly slid them down to join his trousers. He stood there completely bare form his waist to his ankles in a dress shirt and tie.
Sister H then looked Andy in the eye and said, “Andy, why are you being punished?”
Even from my vantage point I could see Andy’s lip quiver as he said, “Because I burped.”
Sister H then asked, “And now how am I going to punish you?”
Andy responded something but was so faint he couldn’t be heard.
Sister H said, “Speak up so the whole class can hear you!”
This time Andy said, “You’re gonna spank me.”
“How am I going to spank you, Andy?”
Andy seemed a bit confused and said, “With your hand?”
“Yes, I am going to spank you with my hand, but that isn’t what I meant. Where are your pants?”
Andy looked down and then said, “At my ankles.”
On the verge of tears, he replied, “My ankles.”
Sister H asked, “Why are they at your ankles?”
Andy responded, “Because you pulled them down, Sister.”
Sister H seemed mildly exasperated. “And why did I pull them down, young man?”
Leading him to the answer, she asked, “To spank you on your? What?”
Suddenly it came to Andy what she was driving at. “To spank me on my bare bottom?”
“That’s right.” She now looked at the class. “I want all of you to pay attention because this is what will happen to bad little boys and girls in this class. You will be spanked on your bare bottom.”
With that, she guided Andy over her lap. She pushed up his shirt tails to his mid-back then proceeded to give Andy a good hard spanking. The smacks on his bare skin were loud inside the classroom and Andy was soon crying loudly as well. After about 20 smacks the spanking was over. She then had Andy shuffle over to the corner to stand there with his back to us and his pants and underwear still at his ankles.
“You will stand here with your naughty bottom on display for 10 minutes.”
Just like that, class resumed, although many of us couldn’t help but look over at Andy and his red behind in the corner. After 10 minutes were up Sister Helen simply said, “Pull up your pants, Andy, and go back to your seat.”
My senses had been overwhelmed and I found it difficult to focus the rest of the day. I hoped and prayed I would not end up like Andy at some point.

A Day In The Life of an American Girl Paddled at School
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Hi,

I hope you don't mind me sharing another story. Unlike the stories I
have posted so far, this story is mostly true (the school paddling
definitely happened) with a little of my own fantasy sprinkled in.
It's told by, or as I hoped it would be told, by the young lady and
classmate who received the paddling.

It's a long wordy story, so I'm going to break it up into four parts.
Also, the ending gets a little pornographic, so I will clean that up
and condense it some.

Anyway, here is the first part of A Day In the Life of an American
Girl Paddled at School.

I hope you enjoy.

Thanks,
Will

My name is Lisa Haynes and I’m an 18-year old senior at Montini High
School, a small school located in Central Illinois. It’s 1984 and at
my school they still use corporal punishment to discipline the
students. Most paddling’s are administered by the teacher in the
hallway outside of class and for more serious infractions you’re taken
to Mr. Scroggins’s, the principal, office where he swats your butt.
Both boys and girls are paddled. I would probably say more boys than
girls though. All teachers have different size paddles that they keep
in their desk drawer. Most of the paddles are usually made by the
boys in shop class, but some teachers have made their own or brought
them from another school. The paddles are made of some form of wood
and have a rectangular shaped with a rounded edge. They range from 12
inches to 18 inches long, 4 to 6 inches wide, and ¼ to ¾ inch thick.
Some have electrical tape wrapped around the blade and even some have
holes drilled into the blade. Swats with the perforated paddles seem
to sting the most. The boys and girls P.E. teachers use paddleball
paddles. This type of paddle has a long handle and a big round blade
with holes in it and boy does it sting, especially when wearing tight
knit shorts. Though they’re not allowed to make you take off any
clothing, they do make the girls raise their skirts, which I think is
totally unfair in my opinion. Also, I’ve heard that some boys last
year got swats from the football coach in their jocks. I would have
love to seen that :-) There are some pretty cute buns on some of
those boys. Still I can only imagine how painful that would have
been, especially from Coach Workman. He’s the last person I’d want
paddling my ass. He’s a very big man. I don’t know if I, or any
girl, could take his swats. He’s so strong and quite handsome, too,
but that’s a story for another day. :-)

I have been paddled four times in my high school career, including
once this year. Yes, believe it or not, seniors get paddled too.
Before I tell you about my first paddling as a senior, let me tell you
a little about myself. I am 5’4 and 120 pounds. I have soft baby
blue eyes, shoulder length blonde hair, feathered to the back and
parted in the middle. I’m a 32B and have a tanned, athletically toned
body. I’m a cheerleader and I play guard on the basketball team. I’m
an average student making mostly B’s and C’s. I’ve had several
boyfriends and have developed quite a reputation around the school for
being a bad girl. Let’s just say I really like to have fun.  I love
to dance, listen to music and have a good time with my friends. At
home my parents still use corporal punishment at home to discipline my
16-year old sister Lori and me. Mom usually makes us lay over her
knees and spanks us with her hand or a hairbrush. Dad makes lay over
our beds and whips us with a doubled over thick western belt. I don’t
know which is worse, but I can tell you either way, you’re good and
sore afterwards. We have to pull our jeans down or lift our skirts and
most spankings are given over our panties, tights or hose, but
sometimes if you really did something bad (like call the teacher a
bitch and get paddled at school, hint, hint), you get your bare ass
beat. All spankings are administered in private in our bedrooms, but
we live in an old farm house and the walls are pretty thin, so if
someone is getting spanked, you can pretty much hear it all over the
house. Also, Lori’s room is next to mine, so we can definitely hear
the other being spanked. I would say that Lori has probably been
spanked the most. She’s definitely received more paddling’s at school
than I have. Also, it seems to me that her spankings at home are
worse than mine, but she’s far more the party girl than I am, which
may be the reason. :-)

Now about my first paddling of the year, which I can tell you won’t be
my last. It was Friday during Ms. Preston’s 3rd period English III
class and she was droning on about Shakespeare. I wasn’t really
paying attention because for one, I could care less, it was so boring,
and two, she had already pissed me off. Earlier, I was chewing gum
and she yelled at me and told me to throw it away. Ms. Preston can be
a real bitch at times and this morning it seemed like she was picking
on me. Then later while she was teaching I whispered to my friend
Cindy to ask her if she had an extra pencil. Ms. Preston thought I
was talking and she said. “Miss Haynes, do you have something to
say?” I started to explain to her that I was just trying to borrow a
pencil and she rudely cut me off and told me to keep my mouth shut. I
was really mad now because she had embarrassed me in front of the
entire class twice. In the heat of the moment (not as hot as it was
going to be), I wrote in the corner my notebook “What a bitch” and I
tore it out as quietly as I could and folded it up. I waited until
she had her back to me and then I slipped to Cindy, but as soon as she
grabbed it, Ms. Preston turned around and saw her take it out of my
hand. She abruptly stopped teaching and glared at Cindy and then at
me. “Miss Doty, what do you have in your hand?” She asked sternly.
“Oh shit!” I thought. I froze momentarily in panicked disbelief. I
felt a rush of fear tingle through my body. Cindy looked at the paper
in her hand and then back at Ms. Preston. I was hoping the Cindy
wouldn’t get in trouble; after all it was my fault. “Bring it to me,
young lady.” Ms. Preston commanded. Cindy got up and walked to the
front of the class and handed her the note. As she opened it, I put
my hands over my eyes. I was gonna get it for sure. I had never been
paddled by Ms. Preston, but several of my friends, boys and girls had
been paddled by her and the girls always came back to class and you
could see they had been crying. Even some of the boys came back with
red faces and eyes.

Ms. Preston exploded! She glared at me and motioned toward the door.
“Out in the hall now, Miss Haynes!” She yelled and then quickly
walked around behind her desk leaned over, pulled out her bottom
drawer and removed her paddle. There it was THE PADDLE! It looked
dreadful. It was huge, 18 inches long, 4 inches wide and 1/4 inch
thick. It was made of polished maple wood and had three rows of holes
drilled into the blade and had a rubber handled grip. It looked solid
and hard. I instantly began pleading for my ass because I knew swats
with that board would be rough. I tried say I was sorry and even put
on my sweet, innocent face, but she wasn’t buying it. She was boiling
mad and I could see there was no way out of this mess. My fate was
sealed. I was going to be paddled. As I slowly rose to my feet, I
could feel the eyes of the class on me as I walked with my head down
up the aisle towards the front of the class and the doorway leading to
the hall. I could feel the hot red blush of embarrassment on my face
and neck. The butterflies fluttered in my stomach and a lump
instantly formed in my throat. Ms. Preston gave the class a reading
assignment and ordered the class to sit quietly or else. I walked
almost like a zombie out of the class and into the hallway and then
Ms. Preston quickly followed holding the paddle down by her side. She
slammed the door behind her, which startled the hell out of me, and
then she told me to stand next to the wall. She crossed the hall to
Ms. Yarnell’s class, as all paddling’s had to be witnessed by another
teacher or faculty. If being paddled wasn’t humbling enough, the fact
that some was going to watch was adding insult to injury. I stood
silently with my hands clasped behind my back waiting for Ms. Preston
to return with a witness. Although I had been paddled in the hall
before, I still got nauseous waiting. I hated the lecture that was
about to come. You felt like a child getting your ass chewed out. The
absolute worst part about being paddled in the hall was all of your
friends and classmates would hear the paddle smacking your ass. It
was loud, too. It echoed throughout the hall and into the classroom.
It was so loud that some teachers in the nearby class rooms would have
to stop teaching until the paddling was over. And you just knew your
classmates were having fun. They were smiling, making faces and
smartass remarks, especially the boys. They almost seemed giddy when
someone was getting the board and they were ruthless when it was a
girl on the receiving end. After class the word would spread like
wildfire that you got paddled and you would be the talk of the
school. One time after I got swats, Todd Henderson came up from
behind and smacked me on the ass. It hurt so bad, I could have killed
him. He thought it was so damn funny.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Ms. Preston returned with
Ms. Yarnell following close behind, their heels making a click, clack,
click, clack, sound on the tile floor as they walked toward me. Ms.
Preston stopped and stood directly in front of me and Ms. Yarnell
stood off to her right. “Well Miss Yarnell, Miss Haynes here thinks
I’m a bitch.” Ms. Preston glared at me as she began her lecture. She
had her hands on her hips. The paddle hung at her right side from her
wrist on a leather string that was tied through a whole near the end
of the handle. “Oh, she does now?” Ms. Yarnell replied staring at me
sternly. She had her arms crossed and was leaning back with all of
her weight on her back foot. “Miss Haynes, do you think I’m a
bitch?” Ms. Preston asked firmly. “No ma’am.” I replied with my head
down. “Look at me when I’m talking to you, young lady.” She
commanded. Almost in tears, I raised my head and looked her in the
eyes. “Well, you wrote it on this piece of paper, didn’t you?” She
blared, holding the note up. “Yes ma’am, but I’m sorry. I didn’t
mean it.” I said. “Then why did you write it?” She asked now
standing with her arms at her side, lightly waving the paddle in her
right hand. Ms. Preston wore a long sleeve crème colored blouse, tight
black knee length skirt, and black hose. She was a very attractive 45-
year old woman. She had shoulder length blonde h
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