I could hardly wait to get to school. I knew that I would be in trouble for not returning a note sent home by my math teacher, Mr. Porter. Just the day before, Mr. Porter had paddled me for disrupting class. He gave me 12 hard swats with my pants down and only a jock strap partially hiding my nakedness.
Mr. Porter gave me a note and told me to have my father sign it and return it. Trouble was, my father refused to sign it. He said I would just "have to face the consequences of my unruly behavior."
Instead, my dad gave me another spanking. This time, I got it completely nude and in front of my mother. Dad thrashed me with a belt and a wooden hairbrush, both of which left my bottom throbbing all night.
I knew if I didn't return the note to Mr. Porter the next morning I should be prepared for yet another paddling. Oddly enough, I was looking forward to another spanking. I had set myself up for the first paddling by purposely disrupting class. I had always wanted to find out firsthand what it was like to be paddled.
After I received my first taste of the wood, I knew that wasn't going to be enough to satisfy my desire. I would have to have another paddling. My dad's refusal to sign the note just made it that much easier for me to earn a second taste so soon after the first.
I was still a little nervous as I left for school to face Mr. Porter. I knew that Mr. Porter was expecting me to have the note, and I didn't have it. I also knew that the second paddling likely would be far worse than the first one.
As class got under way and Mr. Porter started calling roll, my buttocks were already starting to tingle again. I knew that they would soon be set on fire for the third time in less than 24 hours.
When Mr. Porter reached my name on the roll sheet, he paused.
"Johnson, I believe you should have something for me this morning," he said without even looking up from the roster. "Please bring the note forward."
I sat motionless.
"Well, where is it?" Mr. Porter asked impatiently.
"I don't have it, sir," I said, my voice shaking as I spoke. I knew what was coming next.
"Would you like to try to explain why you don't have your note this morning?" Mr. Johnson continued.
"Mr. father wouldn't sign it, sir," I replied.
"I see." Mr. Porter then proceeded to finish calling roll. I couldn't believe it. Surely, Mr. Porter wasn't going to let me get away with not having the note. He had to punish me again.
I didn't have to wait long to find out what Mr. Porter would do. After he finished the roll, Mr. Porter reached into his desk drawer. I thought for sure he was reaching for the paddle. Instead, he pulled out a piece of paper and began writing.
It was a discipline slip, sending me to the principal's office. I was being sent to the principal! I could hardly contain myself. Our principal, Mr. Swanson, was a former Marine who really knew how to give swats.
Once Mr. Porter finished writing, he looked up again.
"Mr. Johnson, you wasted enough of the class's time yesterday," he said. "I'll not waste any more time with you today. You can just go see Mr. Swanson."
I quietly got up and went forward to get my disciplinary slip. Mr. Porter handed me the slip and then proceeded to begin the day's math lesson.
As I walked slowly to the office, I glanced down at the piece of paper in my hand. It outlined my offenses and had a place for my teacher to recommend a punishment. On the bottom line that asked for the "Desired Action to be Taken," Mr. Porter had written, "Student in dire need of correction. Paddling STRONGLY URGED."
If Mr. Porter only knew how true that was. I was in need of correction. Serious correction.
Since it was only first period, I didn't have to wait long to see Mr. Swanson. Still, I could feel my buttocks beginning to burn already as I waited in the outer office.
The principal was very surprised to see me. I'd never been a problem student before and had never been in his office.
Mr. Swanson read the disciplinary slip and then listened as I explained why I didn't return the note. He didn't believed me when I told him my dad refused to sign.
"Come on, boy, do you expect me to believe your father wouldn't sign this note?" Mr. Swanson demanded.
"It's true," I assured him.
"Well, maybe I should just call your father and ask him if you even showed him the note," he said.
I knew Dad would be furious if he got a call at work, but what could I do? Mr. Swanson instructed me to wait in the outer office while he made the call.
"If I find out you're lying to me, boy, I'm going to bust your bottom good," he said as I left his office.
I waited for what seemed like forever before Mr. Swanson finally buzzed the secretary to have me come back in. As I took a seat in front of his desk again, I noticed that Mr. Swanson had placed a paddle on top of his desk.
"Well, Johnson, it seems you were telling the truth after all," he said. "Your father told me why he didn't sign."
I was silent.
"I told your father that I would still have to punish you for not having the note," Mr. Swanson continued. "I don't him you would have a choice between a week in detention and another paddling. Your father told me to remind you what would happen when you get home if you do get another spanking today, but he said it's your choice. So what will it be?"
I thought for a minute. I knew my dad would whip me harder tonight, but I didn't care.
"I want the paddle," I blurted out, seeming almost too eager.
"Very well," Mr. Swanson said. "I want you to stand up and remove everything from your back pockets."
As I emptied my pockets, the principal went to the door and motioned for Miss Harris, his secretary, to come witness the paddling.
"All right, Mr. Johnson, I need you to pull your shirttail out of your trousers, unbuckle your belt and unzip your pants please," he said.
I did exactly as he instructed, first unticking my shirt and then unbuckling my belt and unzipping my fly.
"Bend over," Mr. Swanson ordered.
I stepped forward and stretched across his desk. Mr. Swanson then moved in behind me and lifted my shirttail so that part of my back was exposed. He also tugged my jeans down a little so that the top of my underwear was showing. I braced myself for the first swat.
Mr. Swanson pressed the paddle firmly against my butt, then without warning, he raised the board and brought it back down with a loud crash. WHACK! The force was so strong, it made me lose my balance and literally knocked across the desk.
"Johnson, stand up and don't move again!'' he ordered. "Or I'll put you over my knee and spank you like I do the younger students."
Within seconds, another swat slammed against my bottom. SMACK!! It was even harder than the first. I winced but managed to stand in place. A few seconds later, the next swat landed, followed by another one and then another.
WHACK! . . . WHACK! . . .
Each swat was harder than the one before and seemed to tear the flesh from my already tender buttocks. I could feel my bluejeans sliding further and further off my bottom until soon my pants were down completely.
My thin briefs were little protection from Mr. Swanson's wrath. He proceeded to administer 24 swats with the paddle, twice the number I had received the day before.
After the 12th lick, my butt was numb. Tears were flowing freely down my face as the paddling continued. The swats kept coming one right after another.
The harder I cried, the harder the swats. Mr. Swanson pummeled my bottom, far worse than even the bare-bottom spanking that Dad had given me the night before. I didn't know how much more I could stand.
He gave me 10 more swats before, finally, he stopped. Mr. Swanson walked to the other side of the desk and laid the paddle down.
"OK, Johnson, get up," he said.
I stood up and my hands immediately went to rub my bottom. It felt like it had been through a meat tenderizer. I could hardly stand to pull my jeans up. I was still crying. Mr. Swanson told me to go to his office bathroom until I could control myself.
Before I left his office, Mr. Swanson told me he hoped he never saw me in his office again. I, on the other hand, could hardly wait for my next visit.