Turned around

I was raised as an only child and my mother always tried to be more of a friend than a mother. By the age of 13, I had become unruly and quite disrespectful. I was still not brave enough to be this way towards my mother – my teachers, on the other hand, were not quite as fortunate.

I was nasty to them and didn’t want them to see that I was a kid who was hurt and lonely for a normal family life. I was a freshman in high school when I was broken in to the fine art of spanking. I was caught outside the building during finals. I had a record of being truant and late on several occasions but when they contacted my mother, she always made excuses for me.

On this particular occasion, I was caught smoking and was made to go to the principal’s office while the janitor followed close behind. I was made to sit outside her office while he explained that he found me and I had been smoking. The door opened and the janitor walked by me without a look and continued with his duties.

The principal, Mrs Redlich, ordered me in and told me to close the door behind me. She explained to me that she understood what I difficult life I had grown up with and that she sympathised, but she couldn’t turn her back on my misbehaving anymore.

She withdrew a wooden paddle from her drawer – it was about 10in in length with a short handle. Something came over me and for the first time, I realised I wasn’t in charge anymore. Mrs Redlich told me it was time to learn a lesson. My bottom tingled and my heart did too.

I told her that I had never been spanked and begged to be suspended or detention or any other form of punishment she could think of. My tone had changed and I appeared to be more like a little girl waiting for her first bottom warming than the tough tomboy I had always portrayed. “No,” she said. “A spanking is what you need.”

She called me over to her lap – I stood there, not even knowing how to take a spanking. She ordered my jeans down to my knees and then to bend over her lap. I unfastened my jeans and slid them down, and I realised my chin quivered and my eyes burned.

Mrs Redlich laid her arm across my back and took the paddle in the other hand. I cried and told her again that I had never been spanked and to please go easy. She tapped my bottom a few times and told me: “No talking during your punishment”. With that, she raised the paddle and warmed my bottom good for me.

I cried deep from my soul. My insides hurt as much as my bottom. At one point, I reached back to stop the assault but she ordered my hand back to the floor and told me I had earned extras. Finally, she allowed me up and handed me a tissue. She let me pull my jeans up then ordered me into the corner. When my sniffling subsided, she allowed me to go back to class.

From then on I was a different person; more feminine, more loving, more respectful. I received four other paddlings from Mrs Redlich over that year – but I went on to my sophomore year to be class secretary and homecoming queen.

Contributor: Anonymous

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