When I was about 10, we used to have one afternoon where our form teacher would read stories to us. We would all sit around her – some on the floor – others on chairs.
I would often sit on the floor right next to Miss Rogers as she read. I can clearly remember being quite excited by the feel of her nylon clad legs as my head would sometimes brush against them. I don’t think I really understood why – nor did I realise why I wanted to be naughty. I think I wanted the attention – and probably without knowing, I wanted to feel her hand across my bare bottom as I lay helplessly across her thighs sobbing.
The first time it happened was after an incident in an art lesson where I had thrown some paint powder over a girl’s back. She saw me do it and was very, very angry. I was told to sit down in the corner. Everyone went very quiet and got on with their work while I sat down feeling very anxious, and waited. Nothing happened all lesson. When the bell went and the class was dismissed, I got up to go – but the very second I stood up, I heard her strong voice: “Simon – sit down at once – I haven’t finished with you.” “Yes miss,” I murmured and cowered down.
Miss Rogers carried on clearing the room while the class shuffled out – occasionally looking over their shoulders in my direction. I was scared now – I was in trouble – and that probably meant my mother would be told when she came to pick me up and that would mean a long walk home with her saying – “Just you wait until we get home, my boy…”
I waited and watched Miss Rogers as she swiftly moved around the room, collecting up books and pens and paper. She was about 40, quite tall, smartly dressed with a blue skirt and white shirt – and of course her shapely nylon clad legs. I looked down at the ground…
“Simon,” she said angrily, “now come with me.”
I followed her in silence as her heels echoed around the hallway. Was it a visit to the headmistress? I feared it would be. Perhaps a telephone call to my mother… She stopped abruptly outside her office, opened the door and her hand behind my back pushed me in firmly. “Now stand in front of the desk.”
She went around to her chair, crossed her legs and looked up at me. “Simon, what on earth do you think you were doing in my lesson?” I quivered: “I don’t know Miss – I think I slipped and…”
“Simon,” her voice rising above mine, “I haven’t brought you in here to have you lie to me. Now, tell me what you’re doing or things will get a lot worse than they already are.”
“I’m sorry Miss – I thought it would be funny.” I was frightened now.
“It’s not so funny now, is it? Nor will it be when your Mother comes to pick you up and I have to tell her that I had to spank you because you were so badly behaved.”
“But miss..” Spank me? But, surely not. I just stood open mouthed staring at the floor. I heard her get up – and she moved around to the chair next to where I was standing.
“I will not tolerate that sort of behaviour in my lesson – and to make you remember, I am going to punish you.” And with that, she sat down and pulled me in front of her.
I can remember being absolutely frozen as her fingers slipped inside the waistband of my shorts and tugged them down. I started to cry. It made no difference. Within seconds, I had been hauled over her knee and I could feel her thighs underneath mine. My little blue pants were next and they were left at my knees. Her hand rested on my bare bottom and it made me jump.
“Now Simon, I am going to spank you. You’re a naughty boy.”
SPANK SPANK SPANK…. it hurt and I wriggled, my right arm tried to protect my bottom – but her strong arm lifted it behind my back.
SPANK SPANK SPANK… it seemed to get harder as I bounced up and down on her lap. Finally she stopped. I sobbed and lay still. Her hand rested back on my stinging bottom – and she told me it was over, gently patting me while scolding me once more.
I can clearly remember the confusion I felt. I was still sobbing quietly but I felt excited – my bottom burning – her hand gently patting me – and my bare thighs rubbing against her nylon thighs.
I wouldn’t have known it perhaps – but I think I was becoming erect as she hauled me off her knee and pulled up my pants – lifting them over my small penis. She seemed to make a fuss of this part – I just stood absolutely still as she carried on, her hand brushing against my excitement as she lifted my shorts and tucked my shirt in. Then I was turned around, she patted me once more – a little harder – and marched me back to my class.