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The Clock Incident
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
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From: [email protected] (Swatter)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.spanking
Subject: The Clock Incident (Mmm)
Date: 18 Feb 1995 00:41:48 -0500
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"THE CLOCK INCIDENT"
I was raised in a small town in Texas where corporal
punishment (paddling) in the public schools was a fact of life,
and a significant part of one's educational experience. Most of
my personal experiences with the paddle occurred at school, even
though my father also used to spank or strap me at home when I
was growing up. But most of my most severe whippings occurred at
school, from about grade 7 in junior high right on up through
12th grade in high school. A few times, even as a senior, I had
my bottom tanned but good.
From junior high on most of my teachers had paddles right
in the classroom and kept them in a desk drawer or storage
cabinet. During the average week, hardly a class period went by
without at least once a young boy somewhere in the building would
be taken out into the hallway and be asked to bend over and grab
his knees to receive licks.
Depending on the severity of the punishment, licks were
meted out in multiples of three: 3, 6, 9, 12. In most cases the
favored instrument used to punish student's young bottoms was a
wooden paddle approximately 2 feet long by 3 inches wide and a
quarter inch thick, usually made out of pine or oak. In most
cases the paddle was wrapped with either black electrical tape or
white adhesive tape. The purpose of the tape was to help keep
the wood from splintering or cracking, plus the overlaps of the
tape wrappings gave a rougher, unsmooth surface to the paddle
which enabled it to sting fire into our naughty little bottoms
all the more.
The MOST licks that I ever received AT ONE TIME at school
was in the 8th grade. A friend of mine and I were walking down
the hallway of our school. Large clocks hung from the ceiling of
this hallway at regular intervals. He and I were jumping up to
touch these as we made our way down te hall. Well, at one point
he jumped up to touch a clock and he hit it a little too hard. It
came loose from the mounting and fell in pieces to the floor with
a loud crash!
Unfortuneately, the principal had seen the whole escapade
from the far end of the hall. I remember how he was so incredibly
pissed over the whole deal. He snapped, "You boys come with me!
To the Office! NOW!" I knew we were in trouble at that point.
Anytime a boy was invited to the office for a "visit" he could
usually count on having a fiery hot bottom when he came out.
After we got there the principal spent a few moments alone
talking the matter over with the vice-principal. We just waited
outside in the outer office, and by now were feeling a little
sick to our stomachs and nervous. I had an uncomfortable tingling
in my bottom and I hadn't even been whacked yet! When they came
out of the office the vice-principal was carrying "the board" ,
as most guys called the paddle. He glared at us both and roared,
"Who's first?" Tom and I just looked at each other. Finally, I
said, "I'll go first, sir."
The vice-principal motioned me into his office. I walked in
before him followed by the principal (the witness) and he closed
the door behind him. He then asked me if I had underwear on
beneath my Levis. I told him yes. He said I could either take
twelve licks over jeans and shorts or nine licks over jeans
alone. Man, what a choice! I chose the nine over jeans alone
because I knew his paddlings to be real stingers.
He said, "OK then. Take off your pants, remove your
underwear, put your Levis back on and let's get on with it." I
turned around with my back to the men, pulled off my boots, took
off my Levis and briefs, then put my jeans back on. The principal
told me to take these like a man or else there would be "Hell to
pay." He then pulled a straight-backed chair out from the wall
and into the middle of the office.
The typical procedure when getting "busted" in the office
was to bend over the back of a chair or sometimes across the desk
and grab the other side to get your licks. This time, the
vice-principal asked me to "Bend over son, and grab the seat" of
the chair. I was to get two extra swats for each time my hands
left the seat of that chair. He then stepped back and before I
could even catch my breath some he delivered nine of the hardest,
most painful stinging licks by bottom had EVER received!
They came FAST and HARD, one right after the other. It
stung like wildfire and hurt so bad I couldn't even breathe. My
butt felt like it was sitting on a beehive and getting kicked by
a mule at the same time! I think six of them landed in exactly
the same spot on my butt and man did I ever want to squirm! What
I wanted to do was to jump up and rub, but I remembered the "two
extra" rule and was able to stay down. The entire licking
probably only took no more than 30 to 45 seconds , but I was so
shaken up by the experience that I can still even now remember
the pain as though it just now happened. My bottom was now red
hot and had welts and bruises on it that took a full week to fade
away.
After that ninth and final lick, the principal pulled me up
by my shoulder to an upright position and said, "Good man!" He
handed me my underwear, which I painfully replaced over my
tortured butt underneath my Levis. I replaced my boots and he
open the door to let me out. My butt hurt even to have my clothes
touch it. As I painfully sort of limped out of the office with my
Levis rubbing against my sore butt, my friend Tom looked as white
as a sheet. It was plain now he was really scared and hadn't
expected the spankings to be so hard. Tom walked shakily into the
office and the door closed. It was he, after all, who had
actually broken the damned clock. I was hoping he would get his
ass steamed good.
Tom must not have taken his shorts off because I heard him
take twelve. He was crying and shuffling his feet by number six
and boo-hooing like a baby by the time the twelfth one had
landed. I had several paddlings in school after that, but this
one is the most memorable.
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