Mark and I grew up together. We were entering seventh grade. While in sixth grade we heard all about all the new teachers we would have in seventh grade. We were warned about Mr. Reed. We heard that he had a paddle. BIG DEAL !! So this guys got a paddle. Now just how much could a couple of whacks across the ass hurt anyway?
Being seventh graders both Mark and I were really curious about a lot of things. We went to Science class. Yep, we had Mr. Reed. He seemed like a nice guy; but the rumors were still that he used the dreaded paddle.
A few weeks went by the we hadn't heard anything about anybody getting their asses paddled. Maybe it was just a rumor. We had to find out; but how?
Mark and I decided that we would do something for which we would get caught and be reported to Mr. Reed - just to see what would happen. The worst (we thought) would be a swat or two. Big Deal. We were tough little _s_h_i_t_s, and our tough little asses could stand just about anything.
The plan was that we would go to the library and cheat on a science assignment and let ourselves get caught by the librarian. The librarian would tell Reed and we would find out for sure what would happen.
It worked. Mark and I were walking down the hall and Mr. Reed found us. Come to my room young men, we need to talk. "Talk" BIG DEAL !! Mark and I followed Mr. Reed to his science lab. He told us that he knew we had cheated and that we needed to be punished. We agreed. Mr. Reed said, do you know what happens to students who cheat". "Sure" we said, "they get paddled.
"Okay whose going to be first", said Mr. Reed. Mark said "Me". Mr. Reed told him to put his hands on his knees. He then told us that we would get ten good swats which his paddle. Mr. Reed took the paddle out of his desk. It was black walnut about 19 inches long, about 3 inches wide, and about 3/4 inch thick. It was drilled full of holes.
We had been curious. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all. Mr. Reed brought his strong arm back as far as he could. The paddle met it's target on Mark's ass. "Oh sit", I thought. This was not a good idea. Mark just stood there. Swats two through nine were really ass burners. Then came number ten. Mr. Reed said get ready for "Big Red Number Ten" The paddle made contact with Marks already blistered. Mark jumped into the air, tears running down his face.
Now it was my turn. Same routine. Hands on your knees, swats one through nine were the worst ass blistering I had even gotten. I waited for "Big Ren Number Ten". It came. Oh _s_h_i_t_. My tough little ass was on fire.
We had been curious - now we knew - When Mr. Reed paddles an ass he does a expert job. You know what? Mark and I never wanted, or got, another paddling from Reed. It took a week for the blisters to heal.