From: kentls001@worldnet.att.net (MR KENT L STONEKING)
Date: Tue, 16 Jul 1996 19:50:27, -0500
To: laura@netgate.net
Subject: Room 111

This story is an attempt to combine two of my favorite fantasies: a schoolgirl paddling and the "spanking machine". Hope you enjoy it!

The usual disclaimer: if you're under 18, or are offended by this type of literature, then please find some other newsgroup. Read further at your own risk.

Room 111

The morning bell rang as students scurried to their desks. Cheryl was already seated comfortably at hers; it was only her second week at the Josephson Academy, and she was still trying to make a good impression on her teachers. After all, as her parents constantly reminded her, it cost a good deal of money to send her to this private school, so she'd better not mess up! Having spent the first four years of her education in public schools, Cheryl was thankful for the opportunity to attend the Josephson.

Mrs. Thompson, Cheryl's mathematics teacher, strode to the front of the room. "All right, students, settle down! Please turn in the homework you were assigned yesterday."

Cheryl flipped open her notebook and froze. The homework wasn't there! She had spent two hours on it last night, checking and re-checking her answers to make sure everything was correct, and then she hadn't brought it to school! She felt a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.

"Where's your homework, Cheryl?" Mrs. Thompson loomed over the girl,

hands on her hips.

"I...I guess I left it home, Mrs. Thompson. I'm sorry."

Mrs. Thompson sighed exasperatedly. "This is the third time this week you haven't had your homework, Cheryl. I was trying to go easy on you since you are new to this school, but it appears you need a lesson."

Striding quickly to her desk, the teacher removed a pad from the top drawer. She made two marks on the top sheet with her pen, then tore the sheet off, folded it in half, and handed it to Cheryl. "Take this to Mr. Dewey in Room 111."

Room 111! The feeling in Cheryl's stomach got worse. She'd seen other students sent to Room 111, and they always came back red-faced and unable to sit comfortably in their seats the rest of the day. She knew the Josephson Academy practiced corporal punishment; this had been discussed with her and her parents during her admission interview. But she didn't know precisely _how_ such punishments were

administered. Now, it seemed, she was going to find out.

Some of the other students were snickering as Cheryl got to her feet and headed for the classroom door, but Mrs. Thompson silenced them by saying "Anyone who finds this amusing can join her."

Cheryl walked quickly through the silent halls of the Josephson towards Room 111. She knew that her teacher had called Mr. Dewey on the school's intercom system and notified him that she was coming. Although Cheryl wasn't overjoyed at the thought of her first spanking

in over six years, she didn't want to make it any worse by dawdling along. She did unfold and look at the paper; it was preprinted with five boxes on the left side, numbered from one to five, and two other boxes on the right side, labelled "U" and "D". Mrs. Thompson had marked the boxes for "1" and "U". Cheryl didn't have any idea what that meant.

She soon reached the door to Room 111; steeling herself, she opened the door and walked inside. The room was hardly bigger than a broom closet; the only furnishings were a desk and a bench. Behind the desk was Mr. Dewey, a bald, burly man wearing a pair of coveralls like a janitor's. Seated on the bench were three boys, each a year or two younger than Cheryl, and a girl she recognized as Brenda Jefferson, who was in the sixth grade. Each clutched a slip of paper similar to Cheryl's. On the far wall was another, slightly larger door.

Stepping up to the desk, Cheryl extended the paper to the burly man. "Mr. Dewey?" He nodded. "My teacher said to give this to you."

He took the paper, glanced at it, then handed it back to Cheryl. "This is your first time, right?" Cheryl nodded. "Have a seat by the others. There's one more of you coming, then we'll get started."

Cheryl seated herself on the bench next to Brenda. Nobody said a word.

The time dragged slowly by; Cheryl wished the last student would hurry up and get there. The anticipation of the punishment was almost more than she could stand. She glanced down at Brenda's slip; it had the

boxes "4" and "D" marked.

Finally the door opened and in walked a small boy, a first- or second-grader by the looks of him. Mr. Dewey got up from behind the desk and opened the far door. With a sweep of his great arm, he ushered the children in.

The inner room was considerably larger, and housed what Cheryl first took to be a small Ferris wheel. Instead of seats for the passengers,

though, it had what looked like narrow wooden benches. Cheryl counted six such benches at various positions along the wheel. A ramp lead up to the first bench, beside which was the control panel for the device.

Mr. Dewey strode to the top of the ramp, then turned and beckoned to the first boy. When the child reached the ramptop, Mr. Dewey took the boy's slip, then lifted him by the armpits and draped him face-down across the bench. Cheryl watched as Mr. Dewey secured the boy's wrists to the bottom of the bench, using a pair of padded leather cuffs, then laced a leather strap firmly across the boy's waist. As a finishing touch, Mr. Dewey took hold of the boy's uniform short pants

and drew them down to just below his knees.

Stepping over to the control panel, Mr. Dewey flipped a switch, and the wheel started to turn, clockwise. The bench was mounted on some type of pivot, as it turned with the wheel to always keep the boy in the same position. Mr. Dewey stopped the wheel as the second bench reached the ramp, and motioned to the second boy. The first boy was suspended in midair, his bare legs dangling helplessly, his underwear-clad bottom pointed directly at the ceiling.

The second boy reached the top of the ramp, and Mr. Dewey repeated the process with him: across the bench, wrists secured, strap across the waist, pants down. Then, to Cheryl's amazement, Mr. Dewey pulled the

boy's underwear down too, leaving his bare bottom exposed for all to

see.

The third boy was soon in the same position (underwear up), and then it was Brenda's turn. After securing the girl across the bench, Mr.

Dewey pulled up her skirt, tucking it into the strap around her waist,

then drew her panties down to knee level. He turned the wheel again,

bringing the fifth bench into position, then beckoned to Cheryl.

Swallowing hard, Cheryl walked to the top of the ramp. Mr. Dewey took her slip, then put his hands under her armpits and lifted her across the bench. Cheryl was not a small girl, but Mr. Dewey exerted no more effort in lifting her than he would have in hoisting a newborn baby. He fitted Cheryl's hands into the cuffs and drew them tight, then cinched the strap across her waist. She felt her skirt being lifted and tucked underneath the strap. Then, to Cheryl's relief, Mr. Dewey

stepped away and started the wheel moving again. At least she got to keep her panties on.

While waiting for the last boy to be put in place, Cheryl craned her neck upwards. She could see Brenda dangling, bare rump upturned, legs kicking slightly. She knew her pantied behind presented a similar display to the boy below her. Then Mr. Dewey threw another switch and the wheel started moving again, counterclockwise this time. The wheel backed up until Brenda was at the bottom and Cheryl was above her; then it stopped and started moving forward again.

As Cheryl reached the bottom of the wheel, she heard a loud CRACK! and an outcry from above and behind her. She twisted her head around, but couldn't see what was happening. The wheel kept turning, and Brenda disappeared above Cheryl. A second CRACK! and outcry sounded, followed shortly by a third. Cheryl could now see the last boy below her; his underwear was up.

When Cheryl reached the top position, she heard another CRACK! and the sound of Brenda's scream. The wheel continued to turn, and Cheryl knew she was next. She closed her eyes and braced herself.

CRACK!

Despite her preparation, Cheryl threw her head back and howled. She never imagined anything would hurt as much as this! Tears sprang instantly to her eyes; she longed to reach back and rub her inflamed bottom, but her hands were restrained. Every inch of her behind ached. Cheryl's panties did absolutely nothing to cushion the blow.

Her modesty may have been spared, but it appeared her bottom would not be.

Looking upward, Cheryl saw a mechanical arm attached to the wall. The arm held a large paddle which looked like a huge beaver's tail. As Cheryl watched, the arm slowly drew back, then sprang forward and delivered a resounding blow to the bottom of the boy above her. He squealed and kicked his legs.

As the rotation continued, Brenda came into view again, her backside already bright pink. All too soon, Cheryl found herself at the top of the wheel, awaiting her second spank.

CRACK!

Cheryl thought she was prepared for the blow, but she was wrong. The second spank hurt about twice as bad as the first! She tried to squirm into a different position, but the waist strap held her tightly in place. The wheel continued its slow, inexorable rotation.

CRACK!

The girl's already-tender bottom absorbed another blow as Cheryl experienced new levels of pain. Brenda went by again, her bottom a solid, bright red. Cheryl knew her own backside was in no better condition.

CRACK...CRACK...CRACK...

Each time Cheryl thought it couldn't get any worse, the paddle proved

her wrong. The pain was now completely unbearable and she didn't know how much more of this she could take. She abandoned her struggles and lay limp, crying uncontrollably and unashamedly.

CRACK...CRACK...CRACK...

As the merciless paddling continued, Cheryl felt another emotion, one that bothered her more than the pain in her backside, her helplessness, or her embarrassment from having her skirt up in front of her schoolmates and Mr. Dewey. It was the completely cold nature of the punishment. Cheryl's parents had always hand-spanked her over

their knees, and she could always, even through the pain, feel the warmth of their bodies and the love in their touch. Besides which, the spankings would always end with them hugging and kissing her tears away. Here there was no warmth, no feeling of love, only the hard bench beneath her and the harder paddle on her rump; and she knew no hugs or kisses awaited her when (if?) the spanking ended.

CRACK...CRACK...CRACK...

After the twelfth spank, Cheryl felt the wheel come slowly to a halt.

The room was quiet, except for the sound of crying children. The strap around her waist loosened; she looked up and saw she was at the bottom of the wheel, Mr. Dewey beside her. He freed her wrists, then lifted her off the bench and back onto the ramp. Cheryl staggered a bit, but managed to keep her feet. Her paddling was over.

Mr. Dewey checked his watch and wrote the current time on Cheryl's slip. "Here," he said, handing it to her, "take this back to your teacher. You can stop in the girl's room if you like, but if you're not in your classroom in five minutes, you'll be back here for another dose."

Cheryl walked slowly and unsteadily down the ramp. At the doorway, she turned and looked back; Mr. Dewey had freed the youngest boy and was starting the wheel again, to continue the remaining children's punishment. Unwilling to witness any more carnage, Cheryl turned and fled quickly through the outer office and into the hall, the cries of the remaining spankees echoing in her ears as she ran.

The girl's room was deserted, and Cheryl used the interlude to regain

control of herself and give her face a good scrubbing. She then lowered her panties and dabbed gently at her seat with a moist paper towel. She gasped at the contact of the cold water on her hot flesh,

but the pain did lessen...somewhat. Cheryl was very glad that the Josephson still used paper towels instead of hot air blowers. More heat on her bottom was the last thing she needed now!

Heading back to her classroom, Cheryl reflected that now she knew what the boxes on the punishment slips stood for. The numbers "1" through "5" were the number of dozens of spanks that the child would receive,

while "U" and "D" reflected the position of the child's underwear: Up or Down. She felt sorry for Brenda Jefferson, and wondered what the girl had done to merit 48 spanks on her bare behind.

As Cheryl re-entered her classroom, the students were busy working on the day's math assignment. She strode over to Mrs. Thompson's desk and handed her teacher the punishment slip.

Mrs. Thompson checked the clock; Cheryl had made it back with over a minute to spare. "Well, Cheryl, do you feel you're learned a lesson? "

"Yes, Mrs. Thompson."

"And you'll have your homework tomorrow?"

"Yes, Mrs. Thompson."

"Very well. You may take your seat. The assignment is on the board. "

Back at her desk, Cheryl struggled to find the least uncomfortable position to sit. Never again, she vowed to herself, never again would she be strapped to the punishment wheel in Room 111.