This story was written by an OBB reader.
Mr. Chavin looked up from his desk at the knock on his door– it was 7pm he was working late, on some new computers. “Come in,” he said, standing and reaching out to shake the hand of the woman who entered. “Susan Jones” She was his neighbor, she was a widow with two boys and lived near the school not too far from his own house.
“Paul Chavin,” she said back to him, completing their introduction. “How are you?”
“I’m doing well, and yourself? What brings you here this evening,” he said, sitting again and then gesturing at the empty seat near him. “Please feel free to have a seat.”
Ms. Jones looked at the chair, then slowly let her gaze find Paul again. “I believe I’ll stand, thank you. I’d like to be direct about a few things, if you don’t mind me getting straight to it.”
The Paul sat up a little straighter, giving Ms. Jones his undivided attention. “Is there a problem? I value conference time for all of my students but I really have only praise for your boys. They are bright, talkative, curious. A real joy to have in class,” he finished. It was cliche, but it was true.
“Yes,” replied Ms. Jones, both hands on the strap of the purse that hung from one of her shoulders. Yes they have been good children with a lot of initiative. They helped build your class website, is that correct?”
“It is,” answered Paul, still not understanding the source of her discomfort.
“A project I assume you have been intimately involved in?” Ms. Jones pressed, her lips tight between the words.
“Well yes,” Paul answered again, though as he spoke he realized that wasn’t entirely accurate. The boys and a few others had taken so quickly to the project when it was introduced, as the semester progressed, he’d offered less and less guidance. In truth, it was sort of nice to have some time in the day that was quiet, where he wasn’t needed for a few short minutes.
“Pull up the website, please,” Ms. Jones said, moving to stand behind Paul so they were both facing the screen of the computer on his desk. Not sure what else to do, the teacher complied. For a few minutes there were only the sounds of soft keyboard clicks, and then a simple but effective webpage popped up. Small tigers danced across the bottom of the screen, the school’s mascot. “Look closely,” she said after a few seconds.
Paul leaned in, as he scrolled slowly down the page, followed by a quick startled motion. “What in the world,” he said in disbelief. What first appeared to be a run of the mill geometric background was actually an intricate pattern of profane words and lewd drawings. It wasn’t obvious at first, but then hard to unsee. “How long has this been up?” He could hear the nerves in his voice as his fingers began typing again, pulling up the editing software he needed to change the page.
“I noticed it yesterday,” Ms. Jones answered. “I just decided to come and see if you were here.”
Paul’s ears burned but he kept the bulk of his attention on the computer screen, where he quickly replaced the offending file with a solid dark blue. He actually remembered seeing the email but hadn’t opened it. He clicked upload, then went back to scanning the site for anything else that would be a problem.
As he worked, Ms. Jones stepped back around to the other side of the desk. “I’ve already spoken to the boys,” she said, placing the pads of her fingers on the edge of the desk and leaning forward, her voice hard. “And I expect you will speak to the others involved tomorrow.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Paul answered, his default setting extremely polite as most of his attention went to the computer screen. It seemed unlikely than many people would have visited their little classroom site– in fact he could see that few people had from their statistics page– but the last thing he wanted was to end up as some twitter main character because a group of kids threw up a bunch of curse words and penises on a page linked to the school’s main website.
“There’s nothing else,” Ms. Jones said firmly. Paul looked up at her, face still warm with both nerves and embarrassment. He felt small under her gaze, a feeling strengthened as she spoke further. “The entire thing was sneaky, and bold, and childish,” she said. “But of course, they are children. It’s the sort of thing we can expect children to do. It is also the sort of thing I would have expected you to catch, Mr. Chavin.”
“Please, call me Paul,” he replied weakly, not sure what else to say. She was right, he should have caught it. It wasn’t so cunning that he wouldn’t have noticed it with even the smallest bit of supervision.
“I don’t think this makes the boys, or any of the others, bad students. It certainly doesn’t make them any less clever. But no student does well when they aren’t offered any guidance.”
Paul felt himself shrinking under her stern gaze and wished he had some sort of defense for himself, but he had none. He was a good teacher, but in this instance he had been neglectful.
“You’re lucky there weren’t larger consequences, you could lose your job” Ms. Jones continued, as if reading his mind. “He knew this is the sort of thing that could have gotten out of hand very quickly.”
Again Paul could do nothing but agree. The shock of the many worst case scenarios flashing through his mind almost kept him from being surprised at Ms. Jones’s next move. She reached into her purse and pulled out a red paddle. “I don’t…” he said unsteadily, looking around the classroom, though for what he wasn’t sure. “We don’t…” he began again.
Ms. Jones spoke before he could find an end to his sentence. “I believe in corporal punishment Paul,” she said firmly. I think you’ve more than earned it. Don’t you agree?”
There were several seconds in which her question went unanswered, and then slowly and against all of his instincts, Paul nodded. His hands slipped from the keyboard, and he looked slowly up to make eye contact. He was oddly lifted to see that she was pleased with him.
“I appreciate a young man who understands how to take responsibility,” she said, standing to her full height once again. “Go ahead and pull your chair out from behind the desk, please.”
“Now get your trousers and underpants around your ankles and lie over my lap. You, my boy, are in for a spanking.”
I stood rooted to the spot. at first I couldn’t believe my ears, but her look of impatience hurried me up. I undid my belt and with one motion pulled down both my trousers and underpants. Thankfully Mrs Jones chose not to notice my half-erect penis, instead she just patted her lap. I tottered over and slowly began to lower myself over her. She impatiently grabbed my arm tugging me down firmly. I felt a hand, wonderfully cool to the touch rearrange my penis so that it was lying trapped between her open thighs. I am going to squeeze and tease your penis while I spank your ass, she announced.
“Normally I expect to use just the paddle, but because it is you I think I will use my hand as well,”she said. With that there was the brief coolness of her hand’s absence, and then it landed again with a loud smack and his spanking was suddenly underway. He clenched his jaw against the sounds his body wished to make but he couldn’t stop his toes from pushing against the floor or the sharp eeks the rubber of his shoes made against the tile. He was surprised by how hard her hand was, though he wasn’t sure what he had expected. Nothing about this night was going like it was supposed to. He thought he’d be packing up to go home right now, not belly down across the knee of a parent.
A life of playing tennis had turned this woman into quite a powerful spanker, as my bottom quickly found out. The spanks were hard and fast, covering every area of my bottom. Very soon I was wriggling around, as the pain increased on my bare bum. The same time my wriggling was teasing my penis between her thighs to stay hard.
“Please Mrs Jones! I’m really sorry!”.
“Not quite enough.” Her spanks continued for a little while longer, before finally, thankfully, she stopped. She ran her hands over my bottom for a moment,vsqueezing and rubbing my cheeks, while shifting her thighs and teasing my penis.
I so desperate to please her, to like me again; I couldn’t bear to disappoint her again. I knew the paddle was coming and tried to get ready for it.
Just as the heat was starting to subside, Mrs Jones picked up the red paddle. I looked nervously at the paddle she was holding, as she moved me over to center me, on her lap. I felt the paddle resting on the small of my back and its weight sent a shiver down my spine.
“Now Paul, this is going to really hurt, you take this spanking and everything will be alright.” Her words were soft and reassuring, it felt so right to be over the lap of this wonderful woman.
The pain stunned me. It was incredible, far, far worse than the hand spanking.
I couldn’t take it, it was too much. She paused between each smack to shift her thighs and rub my ass, it was so good.
The last two were the worst of the lot. My bottom throbbed angrily, my penis pulsed btween her thighs. I twitched around, desperate for some signal that it was okay for me to reach up and touch my ass. Then I felt Mrs Jones’s hands caressing my heated buttocks. As the soft strokes began to soothe my burning bottom I finally began to relax. There I remained for several minutes, it felt so wonderful, I didn’t want it to end absorbing her gentler touches and kinder words as she comforted me. Then slowly and a bit unsteadily, I got to my feet, grabbing for my jeans pulling them up. I met Ms. Jones’s eyes and cast my gaze downward, bashful. “Thank you,” I said quietly.
“Now give me a hug.”she said
I reached over to hug her tightly. She patted me affectionately on the back.
“You’re a very good teacher, Paul,” Ms. Jones said. “I’m sure I would have been up here at the school much earlier otherwise. Everyone slips up from time to time. I am glad we set things right again.”
“You did very well,” she replied, returning the paddle to her purse. Paul picked up his chair and moved it back to its usual home. He stood there for a moment, hands on the seat back, clutching it tightly to prevent himself from rubbing his bottom. She looked up at him and continued, “I feel confident we can take care of any issue, again when needed.”
“Yes ma’am,” he answered politely. I am a widow prehaps you could come for dinner next friday night, she said. I will be happy to, Paul replied.
He walked toward the classroom door and Ms. Jones followed, then exited when he opened the door. “Thank you again,” he said as she stood in the hallway and he meant it. She nodded graciously, see you at 6 on friday and don’t be late. The moment the door closed, Paul’s hands found his bottom. “Yowch,” he sighed happily. I think Ms. Jomes would be happy to give me a spanking at our dinner if I ask, he thought to himself and the empty computer lab.
He gathered himself again, returned to his desk, and began to pack up to go home.