Haunted by the Past

Another erotic story from the FLOGMASTER!

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Haunted by the Past

(****, M/f, Severe, nc paddling)

An innocent schoolgirl's naughty history earns her severe punishment. (Approximately 1,792 words. Originally published 2006-08.)

Yeow! Now that was a hard swat. I've got to hand it to Principal Mailer, he may be a dweeb, but he knows how to swing a board. That one stung a bit. Either that or the seat of my jeans has worn so thin from frequent paddlings that his spankings actually hurt, now.

Ooh, another scorcher. My whole butt is tingling and we're just getting started. He's really putting muscle behind it. Has he been working out? I didn't know he had this in him.

Normally I'm not too worried about a paddling from Mr. Mailer. My parents are strict and I get spanked often, so pain is nothing usual or new (not that one can ever quite get used to liquid fire spreading across your asscheeks). It's my dad that concerns me. He's a staunch member of the "spanked-at-school, spanked-at-home" club. Usually when I'm bent over squirming from the principal's paddle all I'm really thinking about is how hard my dad's gonna strap me when I get home.

But I must confess that today's principal paddling has me a little concerned. The sting of the paddle isn't bothering me as much as the injustice of it. I mean, I hadn't done anything wrong!

Sure, I was guilty in the past. Yes, I was the one who replaced the school flag with a homemade version involving a cartoon of the Mr. Mailer and a donkey, and yes, I did put the hose in his car and literally flood it, and I know I was caught writing graffiti on the wall of the girls' restroom, but I swear that this time I am innocent! I did not cheat on my math test!

Okay, so math isn't my favorite subject and I've never excelled at it, to be sure, but I really studied this time, I really did. I even got a geek to tutor me -- that Andrew Prescott guy -- and something clicked during our last couple of lessons and I really started understanding it. I just hoped I'd get a C so I'd pass and not have to go to summer school and instead I got an A. Actually, it was worse than that -- I got a one hundred percent! Yes, that's right, I answered every single question correctly.

So what's my reward? Getting my ass popped with Mr. Mailer's "board of education." Shit, but he's really laying it on. That last one really hurt. My whole butt's on fire and I can feel the blisters starting to form. And we're only halfway done!

Normally the school board limits Mr. Mailer to a maximum of ten swats, and that's only for the most severe of repeat offenders (like me). Unfortunately, my father signed a paper that allows Mr. Mailer to give me up to thirty swats, if he thinks I deserve it. And there's little question of what he thinks about cheating.

Oooch! That was, uh, seventeen, I think. Or was it eighteen? I'm starting to get a little confused and losing count. Damn, that really stings! I'm sure glad my father didn't give Mr. Mailer permission to paddle me bare ass. It's bad enough over my jeans and panties -- the way he's going at it it's like I've got nothing on anyway.

Shi-iiiiiit! That was three-in-a-row. No time to recover between swats, the sting just builds and builds. Ohmygod it's still hurting so baaaad! That's not legal, is it? Isn't there some law against that? He can't do that any more can, he? Oh fuck, he's doing it again! I can't take much more of this. Ohmygod, that was four, no five at once. Five in like, two seconds. Oh my ass will never be the same after this. I won't be able to sit for a month.

I think we've GOT to be near the end. It sure feels like the end. Remember what I said about an hour ago when this torture started? About how the pain wasn't a big deal because I get spanked all the time? Well forget that. That was complete BS. I mean, yeah, I do get spanked a lot, but hell, nothing like this! This is taking it to a new level, a new really uncomfortable level. I never wanna go through anything like this ever again. Ohmygod, it's over. Oh thank heavens. He's stopping. He's putting the fuckin' paddle down. My ass is throbbing and I feel like I've been sitting on a red hot grill for the past hour.

Now I've got to stand up and smile, pretend that it didn't hurt that bad, but that I learned my lesson. Hell that last part won't be difficult, not this time. Hey, what's wrong with my legs? I can't barely stand up. I'm all wobbly. My knees are rubber. Gotta brace myself on the desk.

Shit. Mr. Mailer saw that tear trickle down my face. I tried to reach up and wipe it away but I was too slow. He didn't say anything, but I could see it on his face: that smug self-satisfied expression. He saw it, all right.

How long's he going to lecture? Can't he tell I'm not hearing anything? I couldn't hear him if I tried. My whole focus is on easing the burning of my ass. Who gives a fuck _why_ he paddled me? He'd jump at any excuse, so the why doesn't matter. The point is simply that he did. Can't he just let me go? I gotta get to the girl's room and get some cool water on my ass.

Damn, it's like ice out here. I didn't realize the Principal's office was so hot. Like a sauna in there. I'm dripping. Shit, there's the bell. Everyone's out in the hallways, now. Gotta smile and pretend nothing happened. Gotta get to the girl's room before anyone notices my makeup's all ruined from crying. Oh fuck, the room's a zoo. Why the hell don't they make these bathroom's bigger? Four stalls for forty girls needing to pee in the five minutes between classes? Our parents' tax dollars at work.

Oh crap. That thought reminded me of my dad, and the hell I'm gonna get when I get home. Compared to then, my ass feels good now. I'd better enjoy the "relief" while I can, ha ha.

Ah, finally an open stall. Take a deep breath. Just sit for a few seconds. Hang my tender ass over the open toilet so it's not touching the rim. Ignore the bitch pounding on the door. Ignore that ringing bell that means I'm late to Mr. Johnson's history class. I've got a hellava excuse. Sorry, teach, I was in the ladies' room trying to cool off my steaming butt. Wanna see how red it is?

I just bet he would, that pervert. Mr. Ted Johnson. He's gotta be at least forty, and no doubt a virgin. He'd love to see my bare red ass. Speaking of that, let's get a look at it myself. The coast is clear now. The bathroom's empty.

Oh shit! Look at that thing. It's like twice its normal size. I've never seen it so red. That's like magenta, or carmine, or something worse. It's practically purple. Oh man did Mr. Mailer do a good job. I swear he got every inch of my butt. Damn the flesh in my crack sure looks pale next to that scarlet stuff all around it. It's like whiter than white.

Eeech! That was a mistake. I shouldn't have touched my ass. God that's tender. The flesh, it feels all thick and heavy, like the skin's all hard and crusted. I wonder what causes that? Oh, I know, it's the paddle that _causes_ it, I mean, why does it do that? It is some sort of skin self-protection thing? If so, I can't imagine what shape my ass would be in without it.

Fuck. Ten swats I can handle in my sleep. Fifteen or twenty, not fun, but not unbearable. But thirty? Come on, that's getting into abuse, isn't it? And Daddy still plans to whip these tender beauties tonight?

Oh crap, I'm crying again. I can't help myself. Just the thought of that riding crop lashing across these sore cheeks has me welling up.

It's so unfair. I mean, I know I was bad in the past, but I was good this time. I aced the test far and square. And Mr. Mailer said I'll get a zero on the exam and that will mean I'll fail the class and have to retake it during summer school. Fuck all!

If I can just get them to let me retake the test, show them I didn't cheat, it'll be okay. Of course that won't happen until after I've had my ass whipped off, but I guess that's the price I'll have to pay. I don't like it, but I have to put myself in their shoes: would I trust myself after all the naughty things I've done? Why should they believe me?

If only Patsy Anderson hadn't been sitting next to me. She got a perfect score too. Naturally the assumption was that I cheated. Hell, even I'd have thought that if you'd told me a couple weeks ago!

Shit! Look at the time. I've missed half of history. I can't delay any longer. I'll probably get detention as it is. Hell, I hate going back to class after a paddling. I know that technically no one really knows what just happened to you, but damn it sure feels like every one of those boring eyes is mocking you and has full knowledge that a few minutes earlier you were bent over the principal's desk getting your ass whacked with a heavy wooden board. The girls are all giggling and feeling superior, and the guys are all getting stiffies under their desks thinking about your ass all crimson and hot. And of course you walk funny, or at least it feels funny, since you're suddenly hyper-aware of every jiggle and bounce of your oh-so-tender butt, and you're just positive everyone notices.

Look at that. Look at how I'm walking. How can anyone fail to know that I've just been paddled? My butt's like, bigger, too. Must be swollen. Damn, it's still hot, too. These jeans are waaay too tight.

Oh fuck history. There's no way I can sit down, not with my butt this sore. I'm already so late I'll probably get detention anyway; I might as well ditch. Hell, I'll just ditch the rest of the day. Fuck Mr. Mailer. I shouldn't have to endure school after enduring a spanking like that anyway. Especially when I've got another one coming at home anyway.

The End