From: SFPo8@aol.com To: laura@netgate.net Subject: Three Little Maids Three Little Maids In my four years as a teacher, I had never struck a child in anger, never even considered doing so. I did not believe in corporal punishment, certainly not for children of the age I taught in my seventh and eighth grade history classes. I never would have thought of delivering a spanking to a child in my class, under any conditions. Yet, secretly, the idea of it fascinated me. My dreams often were filled with vague scenes in which I delivered a sound spanking to an unknown girl lying across my lap, or in which I was the girl lying there, my own bottom being chastised by some stranger. I would awaken and a sheen of liquid between my thighs. I had never been spanked; I had never spanked anyone. But I could imagine what it would be like, and the imagining always caused me to feel just a little shiver, and wetness to spread in my loins. Still, I was a professional, caring teacher. I could never have suggested spanking as a rational form of discipline, even for those students whose behavior, so often, called out for some response on my part beyond the limited, ineffective procedures the Margaret Finney Girls' School allowed. It was the girls, really, who convinced me to do it. There were three of them, all seventh graders: Missy, Blair, and Bonny. I had never thought of them as bad kids, just rambunctious, a bit precocious, and occasionally rude. I was not entirely surprised to find them in my classroom during recess, therefore, even though they were forbidden by school rules to be in any classroom without a teacher. But I was surprised to find that they were so engrossed with something they were looking at that they did not even notice me enter the room. I was upon them before they did, and it was then that I saw what had riveted their attention. They were examining the contents of one of their desks with great curiosity, and among those contents were a pack of condoms and a pornographic magazine. Suddenly realizing that I was standing behind them, Blair slammed down the desk top and blushed furiously red, as all three became deathly silent. "It is just a bit too late, girls," I said. "I am afraid I have seen what you had, there. Open the desk, please. This is a serious matter." "Oh, please, Miss Tucker," Blair said. "Don't make me open the desk. I don't want you to . . . I mean, I'll. . . we'll get in terrible trouble if . . . can't you just forget it? It isn't really my . . . our . . . that is . . . we didn't bring . . . oh, gosh, just don't look, please, please!" But I had already opened the desk lid and then realized why Blair's plea was so impassioned. Not only were three packaged condoms lying there, and an issue of Going Down, but a small, plastic baggie filled with what was obviously marijuana. Expulsion would be automatic. "I'm really sorry, girls, " I said, and I meant it. "But I have no choice. I will have to take these to the school principal immediately, and you will have to go with me. Take your books and belongings; I am sure your parents will be called, and you will be going home, and you will not return. There's just nothing I can do about it, even though I truly wish there were." "But, wait, Miss Tucker, wait a minute," cried Missy. " Those things aren't Blair's. They don't belong to any of us, really. It was just . . . well, someone dared us to . . . I can't explain it. I just can't. But we didn't bring that stuff to school. And if our parents thought we did . . . well, it wouldn't be fair. Sure, we shouldn't have . . . I mean, I know that we got caught, and we never should have even taken the risk . . . but still, look, this really isn't our stuff, none of it, and we shouldn't have to be kicked out of school. Look, Miss Tucker, you said you'd really like to help us. Can't you just pretend you never saw this? I promise we'll..." "No, stop right there," I answered. "I can't pretend. Look, maybe this isn't your stuff. But I saw you with that magazine; I saw the picture you were looking at. It was disgusting! And I heard what you were saying, the jokes you were making about those, uh, rubbers, I guess you'd call them. If I was one of your parents, why I'd, I'd, I don't know what, but I certainly wouldn't just forget the whole thing. What would your parents do, Blair?" "Gee, I don't know," Blair said. "Ground me forever, I guess. Take away my TV for a year. Gee, a few years ago I would have got a spanking; maybe that would have been even better." "Yeah, my parents spanked me when I was little," said Missy. But not for a long time . . . wait a minute. Miss Tucker, why don't you give each of us a spanking? I mean, you can't ground us, or take away privileges, but you could spank us. Would that be enough punishment? We'd rather be spanked then expelled from school, and, well, I guess we do deserve something. " "Wait a minute!" interrupted Bonny. "What do you mean, give us a spanking? I've never been spanked, and I don't want to be; it's too embarrassing to even think of. And, anyway, Miss Tucker, you wouldn't do that, would you? It's against the law, or something." "No, I wouldn't . . . ordinarily. I would report this to the principal, and that would be an end of it. And that is what I plan to do. Unless . . . unless you all can agree that you want to follow Missy's suggestion. It never occurred to me before, but perhaps Missy is right. Perhaps a spanking would be better than forcing you to leave the school. But not unless that's what you want. All of you. And if that is what you want, that is what you'll get . . . on my terms, by which I mean as hard . . . and as long . . . and in any way I choose to do it. And one choice I will make right now, and you better know it from the start. I don't know if you are thinking that some light slaps on your blue jeans would constitute a spanking, but I don't. Any spankings I give will be applied to your bare bottoms, so if that is a problem for you, just give up the idea right now. Talk it over, and decide. Is it going to be expulsion for the three of you from school or a trip across my knee, bottoms-up!" The girls stood silent, eyeing each other nervously. Then, in huddled whispers, they came to agreement. This was more than they had bargained for, yet it was still, all in all, preferable to the only alternative. Better spanking, no matter how administered, than expulsion. Spanking, once over, would be over, and they could go on with their lives. "Do we have to watch each other being spanked?" Missy asked, blushing. "Yes," I answered. No need, as far as I could see, to spare them that element of humiliation. These were three smart-aleck kids; perhaps their smartness would be lessened by seeing each other's backsides really smart! "You need, more than anything, to being 'taken down a peg,'" I said, "and I think your watching each other's pants being taken down will accomplish exactly that. Now, who is going to be first?" "Uh, me, I guess," said Missy, who had suggested spanking in the first place. "Gee, it's been a while, but I guess . . . uh, do you want me to . . . uh, well, my mother used to . . . I mean, what should I do?" "Just come here," I said, motioning her to stand by my right side as I pulled an armless chair from behind the desk. "You other two girls, you just stand in front of me, and watch. And think about your own turns, which will be coming up shortly." As I seated myself, I placed my right hand in the small of Missy's back and firmly pushed her towards me, forcing her over my knees. Her toes just touched the floor, I noted, as I took the back of her blue uniform skirt and flipped it up, over her back, revealing a pair of white cotton panties. I placed my left hand on the skirt, holding it and Missy in position, and slid my fingers under the elastic top of the underpants, feeling a slight shiver from the girl across my lap as I began to pull them down, revealing a pink, plump pair of buttocks, softly curved with, as the panties continued to be drawn down over the knees to the ankles, the slightest hint of a tuft of hair curling from beneath the separation of the cheeks. I paused, feeling Missy squirm slightly, savoring the moment of her anticipation. The room was deadly quiet, as all three girls seemed to be holding their breaths, waiting and wondering nervously about the punishment about to descend on that naked, exposed behind. I waited until the tension in the room was unbearable and then, deliberately, brought my right hand down across the crack of Missy's bottom as hard as I could, flipping my wrist at the last instant to produce a resounding "SMACK" and, in half a second, a cry of surprise and pain from Missy, accompanied by a leap of her whole body which almost spilled her from my lap! I wanted that first spank not only to impress Missy and her friends of the seriousness of my purpose but to create an instant feeling of fear that, perhaps, they would each get a far more severe bottom-warming than they had bargained for. As indeed they would. The imprint of my hand appeared in pink across Missy's backside. I took aim at the center of her left cheek and applied a second smack, followed quickly with a similar smack to the right cheek. Missy twisted her bottom from side to side from the strokes, as new glows of pink appeared. Still, she tried not to cry out, and I determined to have her do so. A rapid series of spanks were applied, alternating one side of her bottom and then the other, covering the pale parts of her buttocks until they began to glow uniformly pink and then begin to redden. I could feel the warmth building beneath her skin, but still she only moaned as I continue to spank her. I was determined to hear her cry out; I aimed carefully at the fatty under-crease of her buttocks and smacked solidly upward! To my satisfaction, this not only caused Missy finally to cry out, "Oh, ouch, please, not so hard!" but made her buck her body forward across my knees, as if she sought to escape the next blows. Naturally, having found the good target I sought, I continued the spanking on the same portion of her bottom, until she shouted, "Oh, OWWW! PLEASE, not there, it hurrrrts!" "Very well, Missy!" I answered, as I aimed my next blow to land on the flat part of her backside above the curve of her now well-reddened bottom. As I guessed, this caused an even greater reaction, the spank having landed on a part which lacked much protective body fat and therefore stung even more. I continued to spank that part of her, painting the entire exposed flesh a lovely red. It was altogether satisfying to hear Missy begin to blubber and actually to ask, helplessly, "Oh, please, Miss Tucker, isn't that enough?" "No, Missy, it is not. I intend to give you a thorough, sound spanking, as you agreed to accept. You will accept it, won't you?" "Oh, yes, Miss Tucker, I will, only . . . only it hurts so much . . . please, could you . . . I mean . . . I mean, please . . . could you spank me lower, where you did before? I hurts so much up there . . . OH, OWWW! OHH, NO!" For I had, as she asked, resumed spanking her on the rounded part of her buttocks, which were now quite tender and, as I added an extra snap to each stroke, an equally painful target. Missy had just discovered that now every part of her bottom had become red enough and sore enough so that any additional spanking would be exceptionally painful. It was more than she had ever expected, and she dissolved in helpless tears. I was pleased to note that Missy's partners in crime had been observing the punishment scene carefully and with rising consternation. Having held back from being spanked first, they now began to realize not only what fate soon awaited them but how unpleasant it was to have to wait and anticipate the inevitable moment when they, too, would have to lower their panties and be stretched across my lap for similar chastisement. Watching Missy's buttocks turn to fire, they could imagine their own bottoms similarly reddened; in her sobs, they heard a frightening hint of how they would soon sound; watching her helplessly thrashing about under my strokes, they knew that their own behavior, all too soon, in similar circumstances, would be no less humiliating. The sobbing, well-spanked little girl lying across my lap would soon be replaced by one of them, and each of them could not help but think how, had they only known, they would have preferred to take their bottom-warming first, and have it over with first, rather than have to suffer the anticipation which the sights and sounds before them caused. How they wanted Missy's spanking to end! How they dreaded the moment when it did! I sensed that Missy had reached a point where my vigorous efforts were no longer producing the effect I wanted. Her bottom had become slightly numbed, and my hand was beginning to feel sore from its labor. It was time to begin the second spanking of the afternoon. "Missy," I said, "that is enough . . . for now." The words hung in the air. "Get up, but leave your pants off. There may be more spanking to come. Blair, your turn. Pants down, bottoms up, and over my knee, right this instant!" I purposely did not give the girls a choice. Bonny, I remembered, had never been spanked before, and I wanted to save her for the last. Blair hastened across my knee, her bottom already prepared for punishment, as I had ordered. It was an especially cute and chubby bottom, I thought, as I brought my hand down for the first spank and proceeded, following very much the same pattern as I had with Missy, to paint every inch of that cute, round backside a crimson shade. Blair actually began to cry much earlier than Missy had, having, no doubt, built up a larger amount of fear before assuming the position for chastisement across my lap. She had already anticipated, from watching Missy's thrashing, how much it would hurt, and when her expectations were confirmed, she quickly gave in to sobs and imploring expressions, none of which, of course, did any good at all. Her spanking went on as planned until tears flowed freely and the cries, pleas, and sobs became one long moan, punctuated by the sound of my hand imprinting its message on her blazing flesh. I knew Bonny would be special. Snotty little Bonny, a child of privilege, always talking about her horses, and her trips to Hawaii, and all the wonderful things she enjoyed. She had everything, every privilege a girl could want. No one had ever punished Bonny. And now, we all knew, Bonny was going to find out whether she could take it, whether, when the chips were down, she could be brave enough to accept the same punishment as her less privileged friends. I could sense the interest of Blair and Missy in what was about to happen. They realized that their best friend was facing a challenge. When all was said and done (they must have been thinking) all Bonny's money isn't going to protect that little butt of hers! With her pants down and her bottom blazing, she won't be any different than we were: she'll be a howling, well-spanked child, and we'll be here to see whether she can take it or not! Well, during the next ten minutes, Bonny took it, not especially well, but she took it. I could feel her quiver with anticipation as she settled across my knees, and I felt a definite shiver throughout her body as I carefully lifted her skirt, tucked it in at her waist, and then with deliberate slowness peeled down her expensive, lace-topped, pink satin panties. Bonny's bottom was not as chubby as Blair's; her exercise at horseback riding kept her slim, and her buttocks were taut and smooth, without any excess flesh showing. As my hand first smacked against the white skin of her bottom, I could feel only a little "give" in the flesh, and within a few seconds, Bonny's pained cries and kicking legs showed that she felt the spanking keenly. So keenly, in fact, that her kicking legs bounced her around my lap, so that I was forced to clamp one leg across her thighs in order to continue to lay on strokes to her behind. Her thrashing about was thereby lessened, but her outcries of pain, embarrassment, and regret rose in volume, and, as the other two girls looked on, Bonny began a long, sobbing, pleading monologue which continued without stopping as her bottom was turned to fire. "Oh, oww, Miss Parker, please, stop, oh, ouch, no, Don't! I'll be good OOH! Please don't OWWW! My bottom OUCH! IT HURTS SO . . . OWWW! NOOOO! PLEASE! Don't spank me any more . . . OOOOOOW! I'll be good . . . OUUUCH!" and so on, as my hand continued to paint Bonny's cute little buns a bright red shade while she danced across my knees. I spanked Bonny a full ten minutes, pausing only now and then to ask, "Are you ready for the next part of your spanking?" and waiting for her to answer before continuing the punishment. It must have seemed to her as if the spanking had gone on, and would go on, forever. When finally I allowed her to rise, her face tear-streaked, I noted that her two friends put their arms about her shoulders . She had risen in their esteem by enduring at least as severe a whipping as they had. As the three girls stood together and hugged each other, I decided to give them one last lesson to send them on their way. "Now girls," I said. "You have each had your bottoms well warmed. But, since you got in trouble together, there is one last part of your punishment which you will receive together. Please bend over my desk, and lift your skirts up so I can see those nice, toasty red bottoms. Do it, now, if you know what's good for you. That's right; side by side, "cheek to cheek." Ah, there we are. . . your backsides have been well prepared, nice and tingly now. I'm just going to give you all a little extra, so that when you get home you will still be able to feel the heat, and the sting, in those cute little buns. Oh, yes, I forgot to tell you: this time, I'm using my ruler!" Before they had time to respond, I had taken the ruler from my desk and cracked it smartly across Missy's buttocks. The sound of the ruler on her already smarting flesh must have startled the others; both raised their heads and almost stood up. "Keep bent over that desk," I warned them, as the ruler slapped down on Blair's bottom. "If any one of you moves out of position, or tries to cover up, the others will get her spanking until she gets back into place. Share and share alike, girls. It's time for you to dance across my desk, and I promise, you will!" And, indeed, as I whipped the ruler down with a satisfying SMACK! on each behind in turn, left to right, and then left to right again, the girls did leap about, holding the front of the desk tightly to avoid getting out of position, but unable to keep from jumping up and down, little bare legs kicking, frequently revealing charming little creases between their legs. Their voices alternated in protest, shrieks and cries and pleas for forgiveness, as the wooden ruler whacked away from one buttock to the next, leaving stripes of a deeper red across the rosy flesh. It was when the crying and the dancing and the pleading began to subside that I knew they had finally had enough. They were as well-spanked as children can be, and they knew it. It remained only for me to say, "Very well, girls. You may stand up. Turn around, each of you, so the others can see your bottoms. See them, and remember them. Remember, too, that you asked to have me spank you. You may now thank me, politely, for doing so." It was a hint the girls knew should be taken. "Thank you for spanking us, Miss Parker," mumbled Missy. "Thank you for the spanking, Miss Parker," whispered Blair. And then, to my surprise, it was Bonny who said," Yes, really, thank you for spanking us. You know, we did deserve it. I've deserved a spanking before, I know, but nobody ever cared enough. It really hurt; my bottom's going to be on fire for hours. But you know what? It feels good to have somebody care enough about me to make it that way. Thanks!" I almost had tears in my own eyes (not to mention noticeable moisture elsewhere) as the girls pulled their panties up over blazing behinds, smoothed out their skirts, and shuffled from the room.