My Tutor

a schoolboy's rite of passage into spanking and adulthood

by

Steve Timmons

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 All rights reserved
Copyright © September 2016 by Steve Timmons

Published by LSF Publications

http://www.lsfpublications.com/

Cover design by Nathaniel Scott.

No part of this publication may be reproduced or

transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or
mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any
information storage or retrieval system, without permission
in writing from the publisher.

Spanking activities represented in this book are fantasies

only, intended for adults. Any resemblance to actual
persons, places or events is purely coincidental.

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 When high school student Tom Farrell is labelled as an
underachiever, his brilliantly academic parents arrange for
him to have a private tutor. Tom is surprised to find she is
already known to him ... Casey Corrigan is a friend of his
older sister and someone he has the hots for. Casey has an
excellent reputation as a tutor, though her methods are
somewhat unusual, as Tom quickly finds when she paddles
his bottom because he was late for a lesson. However,
Casey's corporal punishment proves a suitable motivation
for Tom, particularly when administered on his bare bottom.
His grades improve steadily and he develops a healthy
respect for Casey, who regularly punishes him with several
'tune up' spankings to help keep him in line.

Maths is Tom's weak area, and as it isn't Casey's best

subject, she brings in another tutor to help out. Her name is
Amy, and Tom falls in love with her on the spot. Amy helps
him through his worst subject and doesn't hesitate to spank
where necessary, and she and Casey are there for him when
he is caught up in an incident at school. Going to the aid of
a younger boy who is being bullied, Tom is falsely accused
and has to face the unjust, severe, and painful
consequences.

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 Contents
1. How it Began
2. Tom Gets Paddled
3. The PTA Meeting
4. Talking with Casey
5. My First Tune Up
6. Valentine's Day
7. A Very Bad Day
8. The Aftermath
9. Success and Happiness

Other Titles from LSF Publications

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 1. How it Began

"Hey Hon," I called from the kitchen table where I was

reading the morning paper as I finished my breakfast, "look
who's just been named 'Teacher of the Year'."
My wife paused a moment from packing our son's
lunch to peer over my shoulder at the paper. Spotting the
story, she quickly zeroed in on the name.
"Casey Corrigan!"
"My high school tutor," I added.
"And big time school boy crush!" she teased.
"True," I admitted, "but that was before I met you, my
love."
Together, we read the glowing description of the many
accomplishments that had garnered Casey the award. It had
been years since either one of us had seen her, but it
seemed that Casey had made quite a career for herself as
an educator. No surprise there, I thought to myself. She
already had all the makings when she first tutored me
fifteen years ago.
As my wife hustled our son out to the car to drop him
off at his school on her way to her own job as a high school
teacher, I poured another cup of coffee and sat down to
reread the article. As I did so, my mind wandered back over
the years...

---oOo---

I grew up in a college town, the second child of

parents who were psychologists and tenured professors at
the university. Not only were Mom and Dad senior
professors, they were also published authors (multiple
times); they were involved in numerous research projects,
and very busy on the guest lecturer circuit. All of these
activities really kept them on the go, often for weeks at a
time. Consequently, I spent much of my pre-school years in
the university day care program and my early grade school
years in the after-school program.
Honesty compels me to admit that I was an indifferent
student throughout grade school. By the time I entered my
freshman year in high school, I had been officially labeled as
an 'underachiever' which must have been a real
disappointment to my brilliant parents.
My sister Mary Ann, four years older than me and a
senior, was just the opposite. She excelled at everything all
through school. When I was in eighth grade, my parents got
the idea that they would pay Mary Ann to be my tutor. That
was a total bust! The dynamic was all wrong. I just couldn't
stand the idea of being subjected to my bossy sister's
authority and, as often happens with people who learn
things easily themselves, she had very little patience when I
couldn't or wouldn't understand what she was trying to
teach me. We gave the whole thing up after a couple of
frustrating months.
Very early in my freshman year, my parents were
talking about me with one of the Deans at a faculty affair.
The Dean mentioned that he and his wife had employed a
tutor to help prepare their own son for the rigorous entrance
exam required for admission to the University Prep School.
They were very pleased with the results and recommended
her enthusiastically.
That was good enough for my parents and they
immediately asked for the name of this fantastic tutor. I
think that they were expecting it to be one of the university
students so they were more than a bit surprised when it
turned out to be a girl who was not only still a high school
senior, but also was well known to them.
Casey Corrigan was one of my sister's closest friends
and had been in and out of our house many times. She had
even been my sitter on a number of occasions when I was
about ten. Her family lived right around the corner and her
mother was also a member of the university faculty. Small
world, indeed!
Casey was a classmate of my sister at the University
Prep School (whereas I was in the public high school) and,
like Mary Ann, she was eighteen. She was also a goddess,
and I'd had a big case of 'puppy love' for her for a couple
years now. She was always nice to me, but I'm sure that in
her eyes I was just Mary Ann's little brother.
The first inkling I had of the impending change was
seeing Casey leaving our house as I was coming home from
soccer practice. I thought that it was unusual, because Mary
Ann was still at school and I was pretty certain that Casey
had not come to visit me.
Two nights later, just after dinner, I got the word from
my parents that I was going to be getting a new tutor. My
new tutor would be Casey Corrigan. Casey's visit, it seems,
had been to interview with Mom and Dad.
My folks made it clear that my cooperation with this
tutor was not only expected but unequivocally required.
Failure to do so would mean my instant withdrawal from all
extracurricular activities … in other words, no sports! Dad
went on to explain that I might find some of Casey's
methods unusual, but she’d had excellent results with other
students and Dad was sure if I made a good faith effort that
they would work for me as well. But he wanted me to be
absolutely clear on one point… Casey was to be in charge
and I was to toe the mark, or else!
 My tutoring sessions were scheduled for Monday and
Thursday, from three to five. My first session was set for the
following Monday. That schedule allowed me time to get
home from school and change clothes before heading
around the corner to Casey's house.
Come Monday, however, my lackadaisical attitude was
to cause me trouble right off the bat, because I got to
Casey's ten minutes late. I was expecting the worst as she
opened the door, but was relieved when she greeted me
with a smile, saying, "Hello Tom, come in. I was beginning to
think that you weren't coming."
"Sorry Casey, I just lost track of the time."
"Well," she replied, "we won't worry about that right
now. We have a lot of work to do so let's get to it. Oh, I want
to be sure that we can work right through these sessions, so
if you need to use the bathroom, you should do so now."
"I'm all set," I replied. "I did just before leaving the
house."
"That's good planning. Come with me to the classroom
and we'll get going."
I thought she was joking when she said 'classroom',
but following her down to the basement I found that there
was, indeed, a small classroom set up in a special room
down there. Casey told me that her parents had arranged it
about six months back when it appeared that her tutoring
services were going to be in regular demand.
The 'classroom' was small but it had room for a
teacher's desk and chair, situated in the opposite corner
from the door. There was a white board mounted in the
middle of the front wall, an easel with a large scratch pad, a
book shelf with a large selection of text books, and a table
with four chairs around it, plus three high school size
student desks. I automatically headed to one of the student
desks but Casey redirected me to the table where she sat
down as well.
The main order of business that day was a
comprehensive evaluation of my strengths and weaknesses.
In preparation for that, Casey had already interviewed my
teachers and we discussed what they had told her. She had
me do a few short quizzes to establish a base line against
which to measure my progress. Throughout the whole
process, Casey was very pleasant, friendly in fact, and the
time passed quickly.
At the end of the evaluation process, she was very
encouraging about my prospects and I was beginning to feel
pretty good about the whole tutoring idea. Finally, she said,
"Well Tom, normally, this would be the point at which I would
be saying 'see you on Thursday' and sending you on your
way. Today, however, there is one more thing we have to
deal with."
"What's that, Casey?"
"Your tardiness," she answered.
"Gosh, Casey, I didn't mean to be late and I said I was
sorry. Besides, you said it was no problem," I protested.
"No, Tom, I did not say it was 'no problem'. I said that
we wouldn't worry about it at that moment. I did that
because I wanted our first session to get off on a positive
note, and I believe it did. But I can't let you walk out of here
thinking that being late for our sessions is 'no problem', as
you put it, because it is a problem, Tom. Not so much the
ten minutes in and of themselves, but more importantly,
what your tardiness represents."
"But I told you that I didn't mean to be late; I just lost
track of the time."
"Fortunately, I believe you. But that doesn't get you
off the hook. Whether you realize it or not, being late today
is symbolic of an underlying problem that I have to address
now or, sooner or later, it will come back to haunt us."
"What problem?" I asked.
"Call it 'indifference' or 'carelessness' or 'poor attitude'
or 'lack of motivation'; it really doesn't matter. There is also
the issue of respect. Showing up late for your very first
tutoring session suggests that you may not have the proper
level of respect for me that you should. For all intents and
purposes, during these sessions, I am your teacher and you
need to start thinking about me that way."
"I'm really, really sorry, Casey, and I promise it won't
happen again. You're not going to tell my parents, are you?"
"No, not on this occasion. For now, this will remain
between us. I am going to punish you, however. Your
parents have agreed to give me that authority. In fact, I
insisted on it before I signed on to be your tutor."
"Punish me, how?"
"I'm going to paddle you," she answered calmly.
I looked at her in amazement as she got up from the
table and went to the desk. Taking a large wooden paddle
from one of the drawers, she walked back and ordered me
to stand up. In a daze, I found myself rising to my feet. She
pulled my chair off to one side to clear a space.
"Tom, I want you to bend over across the top of the
table and stretch your arms out so you can hold onto the
opposite side."
"Please Casey, I'm really sorry. Can't you give a break
this one time, please?"
My pleading fell on deaf ears as she responded, "You
know the alternatives, Tom. It's my way or the highway. Now
quit stalling or I may decide to add to your punishment."
My face red with embarrassment, I reluctantly
assumed the position she had directed and grabbed on
tightly to the opposite edge of the table top. Now, I had
been spanked occasionally when I was a much younger
child but those spankings had only been by hand and were
few and far between. I couldn't even remember the last
time it had happened. Part of my problems, some of you
might say. But, in any event, I was now quite scared as that
paddle was awfully big and Casey seemed awfully stern.
"How many?" I barely managed to ask through my
suddenly very dry throat.
"You were ten minutes late so you'll get ten swats. I
expect you to hold your position. If you don't, you'll get
extras. If you put your hand back to try to cover your butt,
you'll get extras. Understand?"
"Yes, Casey."
"And another thing, until your paddling is over, it's
'Miss Casey'. Clear?"
"Yes, Miss Casey."
"Very good. Now keep your legs straight and your feet
together."
Then she stood to my left and pushed down on my
waist as she pressed the paddle up against my butt. The
thing felt huge and seemed to completely cover my rear
end. As she lifted the paddle, I felt myself shiver and she
must have as well because, instead of delivering a swat, she
gave me a few words of encouragement.
"Tom, I know from your parents that you don't have
much experience with corporal punishment so I realize that
you may be a little scared right now. But this will be a
paddling not a beating. Yes, it will hurt but that's the whole
point. Do the best you can to take your punishment but
there's no shame in crying; in fact, it's perfectly normal."
Easy for her to say, I thought as I felt the paddle
pressed against my butt once again but, honestly, I did find
some encouragement in her words.
As the paddle was once more lifted away, she asked,
"Ready?"
"Yes, Miss Casey," I replied, and...
SWAT!
Before I could blink, that paddle slammed smartly
across the fullest part of my butt. Even through my jeans
and boxers, it hurt, a lot!
Yikes, I thought. That's awful! Then, in quick
succession, came the second and the third, and I quickly
realized that, when it came to paddling, I was just beginning
to know what awful really meant. The fourth and fifth paddle
strokes raised the heat and pain in my defenseless bottom
to ever higher levels and, to my embarrassment, on the fifth
stroke I couldn't stay quiet any longer.
In response to my audible groan, Casey told me,
"That's half way, Tom; five more to come. You're doing very
well so far but, as you've already seen, the pain builds with
each stroke so you will have to try very hard to stay in
position from here on. You will do that for me, won't you,
Tom?"
"Yes, I'll try, Miss Casey," I answered with a choked
voice.
"Good boy," she said as she delivered number six.
"Oww! That really hurts!" I cried out loudly. And for the
rest of the paddling, I could not restrain myself from crying
out, stamping my feet and shaking my butt wildly at each
solid impact of the paddle.
"That's ten," Casey announced after the final stroke.
"You can stand up now."
Instantly I was on my feet. My fists were clenched to
help me resist the urgent temptation to grab my scorched
butt. I could not, however, mask the tears in my eyes.
Taking pity on me in my obvious distress, Casey used a
Kleenex to gently dab away the moisture leaking from my
eyes and then gave me a big hug.
"Tom, you did very well for your first paddling," she
told me. "It must have been especially hard for you not to
let go of the table edge. I'm proud of you. Now run upstairs
to the bathroom and wash your face. When you're ready,
come back down and we'll talk for a few minutes. Then I'll
send you on home for dinner. Okay?"
"Yes, Miss Casey."
"Your punishment is over so it can just be 'Casey' now,
if you like."
After splashing cold water on my face and finally
indulging myself with a good bottom rub to try, rather
futilely, to ease some of the burning sting that permeated
my entire butt, I returned to the classroom.
Casey was seated at the table and as I approached,
she warned me, "Tom, you might want to try just easing
yourself onto that chair."
She was right, because even sitting was
uncomfortable at first. Then, Casey talked while I listened.
"Tom, I'm sorry that I had to paddle you, but I hope
you understand why I did it and, more importantly, I hope
that you understand that corporal punishment will be a part
of your tutoring program whenever I think it's necessary. You
won't be spanked for honest mistakes. Mistakes are a
natural part of the learning process. If you make the same
mistakes over and over, you will be punished, not because
of the errors, per se, but because you're not learning from
them, and that means, in all likelihood, that you're not really
making a genuine effort.
"You will be punished for lack of effort, for being
uncooperative, for willful disobedience, for disrespect and,
as you know, for being late, or for missing a session without
a really good excuse. As a courtesy to me, I expect you to
call me in advance if you know that you are going to be late
or must miss a session. My time is important to me and I
don't want to waste it waiting for someone who's not going
to show up.
"I will be keeping in regular contact with your teachers
and I will see all of your tests and all graded work and, of
course, your report cards. If you're misbehaving or
sloughing off in school, I will know about it and I will punish
you for it. The purpose of this tutoring program is to help
you to become a more successful student, so I expect to see
the results in your school grades as well as in what you do
here with me. Finally, as I'm sure you'll understand, I'll be
making periodic reports to your mom and dad on your
progress.
"In case there's any question in your mind, I have
discussed everything I've just told you with your parents
and they're in full agreement and will support me all the
way. I believe you know that your continued participation in
school sports is dependent upon the success you achieve
with me and in your class work, but if you have any doubts
about anything I've just told you, I encourage you to take it
up with your parents right away, because when you come
back on Thursday you need to be fully committed to the
program. Do you have any questions?"
"No, Miss Casey..." She smiled at the 'Miss'. "... I
don't."
"Good. Now, on Thursday, I want you to bring with you
a five hundred word essay on what you've learned today. I'll
see you at three, on the dot!" she said as she arose from her
chair. I got up, too, and followed her upstairs and through
the house.
 At the front door, she put her hands on my shoulders
and, looking me right in the eyes, she smiled warmly and
said, "Tom, I believe that you're a bright boy and I'm
confident, with the right attitude and the right effort, that
you're going to do very well this year."
Then she gave me another hug, opened the door and,
with a firm swat of her right hand to my butt, sent me on my
way.

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 2. Tom Gets Paddled

My next session with Casey went very smoothly.

Inspired, I like to believe, as much by her parting words to
me on Monday as by the paddling she gave me, I went right
to work that night on the assigned essay. On Thursday
afternoon, I made sure I arrived ten minutes early for my
session.
Casey commented on my early arrival and I told her
that I was making up for having been ten minutes late on
Monday. She smiled and squeezed my shoulder as she said,
"I appreciate the gesture, Tom."
As soon as we were settled in the classroom, I
presented my essay and watched nervously for the next ten
minutes as Casey read and re-read the paper. When she was
finished reading, she slapped it down emphatically on the
table top and, without a word to me, popped up from her
chair and strode quickly to her desk. My jaw dropped and I
could almost feel my blood run cold!
As she opened the desk drawer, she looked up at me
and said, "Tom, that essay has earned you..." She suddenly
stopped in mid sentence as she caught the look on my face
and asked, "Tom, what's the matter? You look like you've
just seen a ghost!"
Staring back at her I could only sputter in reply,
"You're not going to paddle me again, are you? Was it that
bad? Please, can I do it over?"
For just a moment, she had a look of puzzlement on
her face. Then, realizing that I was making an association
between her movement to the desk today and the same
action on Monday, when she had first brought out the
paddle, she suddenly started laughing.
 Quickly returning to my side, she put her arm around
me and pulled me close. Suddenly, my face was pressed
against her breasts and she planted a kiss on the top of my
head. Releasing me with a laugh she said, "Oh Tom, I'm so
sorry. I must have given you an awful scare. I wasn't getting
the paddle; I was getting this."
With that she held up a small gold plastic loving cup
that was set on a black plastic base. The whole thing
couldn't have been more than six inches high and looked
like it must have cost all of a buck ninety-eight.
"Your essay is outstanding, Tom, and this is your
award." Putting the 'trophy' in my hand, she sat down again
and explained. "I know it's just a cheap little bit of plastic
but it's the symbolism that's important. You've heard of the
'carrot and stick' approach to discipline?" I nodded. "You're
already familiar with the stick; this represents the carrot. I
went to some length on Monday to explain the things that
would cause you to be punished. But when you do
outstanding work, it will be recognized. You'll get one of
these. As I said, it's just a bit of plastic, but I hope you'll see
its underlying significance as an acknowledgement of your
accomplishment and I hope that I'll have reason to give you
many more of them."
After a very good tutoring session, I took my award
and left. I felt kind of funny about bringing it home but my
mom made a really big deal out of it. She got one of those
peel and stick labels and wrote the date and the reason on it
and pasted it to the bottom of the trophy. Then she put it in
my room. From that day on, she did that for each one I got.

---oOo---

For a few weeks, I had a string of good sessions then, I

blew it. The long and the short of it was that a couple of my
buddies and I were fooling around in Mrs. Bain's class and
she gave us a detention.
"Mrs. Bain," I pleaded, "I have a tutoring session at
3pm. If I'm late, Casey will..." I managed to stop just before
blurting out what I was afraid Casey would do.
"Yes, Thomas," Mrs. Bain said with an arched eyebrow.
"Casey will what?"
"She'll be very upset, ma'am."
"You should have thought of that before misbehaving
in my class," she responded with finality. I knew
immediately that Mrs. Bain was well aware of what Casey
would probably do and that she was all too pleased to see
me in such a pickle.
Right after school, I called the Corrigan's house and
left a short message on their answering machine to say that
I would be late. As soon as detention ended, I took off like a
bat out of hell. I ran all the way directly to Casey's house
(thanks to all my athletic activities, I was actually able to do
that) arriving out of breath and dripping in perspiration, and
twenty minutes late.
Casey answered the door bell, took one look at me
and said, "You'd better go home and shower. Come back as
soon as you can and then we'll talk."
Showered and freshly dressed, I was back in twenty-
five minutes. As soon as we were down in the classroom,
Casey asked for my explanation. Hoping against hope that
she would excuse my tardiness, I poured out my story. No
such luck!
"So, what you're telling me, Tom, is that you were late
for our session because you misbehaved at school and got
yourself sent to detention. Do you really think that I'm going
to accept that as a legitimate excuse?"
"No," I sighed. "I guess not."
 "You guess right," she agreed.
I just looked at her bleakly and waited for the
inevitable.
"I assume you remember the penalty for tardiness; a
paddle swat for each minute you're late. That means you're
in for a pretty hot time, young man. So, I'm going to give
you a choice. You can wait until we're finished or, if you
don't want it hanging over your head throughout the
session, you can take your paddling first. I'm going upstairs
to make a phone call. Let me know what you decide when I
get back."
She was back almost before I knew it and asked what I
had decided. I told her,
"Now, please, Miss Casey."
"Okay then, move the chair and bend over the table
just as you did the last time," she directed as she went to
her desk to get the paddle.
I had moved the chair but was still standing when she
came back and I made one last effort to get her to
reconsider or at least to reduce the punishment.
"Please Miss Casey, does it have to be twenty? I didn't
mean to be late and I did call, just as you asked," I said,
trying to appear as contrite as possible.
"As we have already discussed, it was your own
misbehavior in school that caused you to be late. That
means that you and you alone are at fault. But, you did
have the courtesy to call, I'll grant you that." After a
moment of silence that raised my hopes, she went on,
"Okay, now you get to make another decision. I'll cut the
penalty to ten but you'll have to drop your jeans and take
the swats on your boxers."
I stared at her dumbfounded. What kind of choice is
that, I thought?
 "Well, I'm waiting," she prompted, a note of
impatience in her voice.
"I'll take the ten," I mumbled, not able to look at her
directly.
"I didn't hear you, Tom."
"I'll take the ten," I repeated in a louder voice.
"Very well, let's get on with it. We still have a lesson to
cover. Drop your jeans and assume the position."
As I obeyed her command, for some absurd reason,
the age old advice of mothers to children everywhere
flashed across my mind: 'Always wear clean underwear just
in case you're ever in an accident'. Well, this was no
accident but at least I was wearing clean boxers.
Taking a deep breath, I bent across the table, all too
conscious of the vulnerability of my poorly protected
backside.
Pressing the paddle against my butt and pushing
down on my waist with her other hand, Casey reminded me
to stay in position and to keep my hands on the edge of the
table. No sooner had I acknowledged her directions then she
lifted the paddle and a moment later ...
SWAT!
The first stroke landed!
I thought that I had remembered the pain from the
last time but, whether it was because of a poor memory or
from the diminished protection or a combination of the two,
that first searing impact came as one hell of a shock! I
hadn't half remembered what that paddle could do!
Swats two and three had me gasping; four drew a yelp
and five a full voiced "Oww!"
Fighting back my tears, I shook, foot-stamped and
yelped my way through six and seven but on the eighth
fierce strike of that solid wooden paddle, I broke down and
wound up howling and crying the rest of the way to the end.
As I lay sobbing across the table top, I watched
through moisture-blurred eyes as Casey returned the paddle
to its hiding place in her desk. A moment later, she was
back beside me and I felt her peeling down the waistband of
my boxers as she said, "Let's check the damage." Then
came the shock of her cold hands pressing against my butt
cheeks as she announced her assessment, "Red and pretty
warm, but you'll live."
After easing my boxers back into position she grasped
my arm and helped me to stand up. Turning me to face her,
she put her arms around me and hugging me closely said, "I
know how much it hurts but it's all over now. Why don't you
run up to the bathroom and take a few minutes to pull
yourself together."
Then, with a last little squeeze, she started to pull up
my jeans but when she saw me wincing she stopped and
asked, "Too tight?"
When I nodded yes, she changed course and pushed
them down again. Stooping down in front of me, she
removed my shoes and then the jeans saying, "This way, at
least, you won't risk tripping and breaking your neck on the
stairs."
When I started to protest she shushed me and said,
"There's no one else at home and I've already seen you so
don't worry about it. Oh, one more thing, though I really
shouldn't tell you this I suppose, but I don't want you fussing
over a sore butt for the next hour. In the medicine cabinet
you'll find a tube of Arnica Gel. Spread some on your butt, it
will help to relieve the pain and reduce the swelling. You'll
find it easier to put your jeans back on after it's had a
chance to work."
 I took her advice and it did help. We spent about an
hour reviewing my homework. For most of that time, I chose
either to stand or to kneel on the seat of the chair. When
Casey had pronounced herself satisfied with the work, she
said, "Tom, I need to talk to you before you go. Why don't
you see if you can sit down?"
Somewhat to my surprise, I found that I could do that
fairly easily.
"Tom, do you think I treated you unfairly today?"
"No, I guess not," I grudgingly conceded.
"Good, because what you need to remember is that
these tutoring sessions are designed to help you become a
better student. That doesn't just mean higher grades,
though that's a very big part of it. It also means
improvements in behavior and attitude. So, as I have
arranged with your parents, whenever I find out that you
have been misbehaving at school, you can expect to be
punished."
"I understand, Casey, and I'm really sorry that I
messed up today."
"Okay, I believe you and I accept your apology. Now
let's end on a positive note Even though we've been
working together for only a few weeks, I can see signs of
definite progress. I know if you keep working at it you're
going to do well this year. Just don't let yourself become
distracted."
"I won't Casey."
"That's the idea," she said giving me a smile. "Now
put your jeans back on, and scram! I've got a lesson to
prepare for tomorrow."
As I was pulling my jeans on I said to her, "By the way,
thanks for telling me about the Arnica Gel. I think it helped."
"You're welcome and it does. Believe me, I know!"
 I was halfway home before I got to wondering just how
come Casey knew so much about that Arnica stuff.

OceanofPDF.com
 3. The PTA Meeting

After that second paddling, I made sure to stay on

Casey's good side as much as possible but, as most
fourteen year old boys could attest, it's hard to keep
completely out of trouble week in and week out. So I hope
no one will be surprised to hear that I didn't.
It was the first PTA meeting of the year that led me
into harm's way this time. The Parent Teachers Association,
or PTA for short, was conceived as a way to get parents to
be more involved with what their kids do in school.
Periodically, they would have meetings so the parents could
go to the school and talk with their children's teachers. As
any schoolboy would tell you, no good can come of that!
The first PTA meeting of the school year was
diabolically scheduled for the Wednesday evening after
report cards came out. I don't know how things worked in
other schools but at my high school, these meetings were
highly organized. About two weeks before the meeting date,
all of the subject matter teachers who wanted to meet with
a parent would send their lists to the various home room
teachers. They, in turn, would transfer those names onto
notice sheets which would be sent home to the parents, to
be returned with their signature(s).
When the signed notice sheets had been returned, the
teachers knew which parents they would be meeting and
the parents knew which teachers were expecting them.
Parents were free to add a teacher's name to the list if they
chose. From the kid's point of view, it was pretty important
to know which teachers' names were on the notices so that
you could start preparing your defense.
 My classmate and sometime partner in crime, Billy
Martin, had an older brother, Bob, who was a junior and he
filled us in on all this. When the notices came out, we went
to Billy's house, right after school, and with Bob's help, we
steamed open the envelopes. As soon as I saw Mrs. Bain's
name on my notice, I just knew I had a problem. As far as I
was concerned, she had gotten me paddled once and I
wasn't going to give her a second chance if I could help it.
In response to my expressions of concern, Bob had a
great idea. His suggestion was for me to wait until I was
alone in the house, then find a cancelled check from an old
bank statement, put the check under the notice so that the
signature on the check lined up with the place on the form
where a parent was supposed to sign and then trace the
signature. That done, all I had to do was to put an 'X' in the
box next to the line 'I (We) will be unable to attend', return
the form to my home room teacher, and my troubles would
be over.
This was a perfect plan. I was able to carry it out that
very afternoon and I returned the notice to Mrs. Anderson,
my home room teacher, the next day. Two days later, my
parents told my sister and me that they were about to
embark on another one of their lecture tours. As it turned
out, they would be leaving a couple of days before the PTA
meeting which, of course, they still knew nothing about.
That gave me a bit of worry at first but then I figured it
would work right in. If anyone at school asked why they
weren't coming I could truthfully say they were out of town
on a lecture trip.
Now, leaving aside the long term considerations, such
as what I was going to do when the next meeting notice
came out, and the one after that and so on, I also had
overlooked some very important issues of immediate
concern. I forgot that my tutor, Casey, was in regular
contact with both my teachers and my parents and, it
turned out, she knew about the PTA meeting.
Unbeknownst to me, when Casey learned about the
lecture trip, she suggested that my parents write a letter
delegating her to attend in their place. They thought that
was a great idea. Maybe assuming that Casey would tell me,
my folks never mentioned it before they left. Maybe
assuming that mom and dad had told me about the
arrangement, Casey never mentioned the arrangement
until, at the end of our session on Monday, she said, "That's
it for today, Tom. On Thursday, in addition to our regular
work, we'll set aside a little time to talk about my
discussions with your teachers at the PTA meeting
Wednesday night."
I nearly had a heart attack! I was trapped. I went
home in a state of near panic. Then, as the night wore on, I
managed to calm down as I convinced myself that it might
still be okay. After all, I reasoned, my mom and dad were out
of town and so no one should see anything amiss with the
forged notice saying that they wouldn't be there. Since
there was no place on the notice for my parents to have
appointed Casey as their stand in, no one at school should
be suspicious about the letter that they had written. To my
adolescent mind, at least, it was all perfectly reasonable.
When Casey got to the meeting, she gave my home
room teacher the letter, of course. Mrs. Anderson thanked
her and said she would keep it in the file, with the signed
notice. Casey immediately asked, "What notice?" and my
grand scheme quickly unraveled from there. After talking
with my subject matter teachers, she had another
discussion with Mrs. Anderson regarding what to do about
my shenanigans. I would learn the outcome of that
conversation the next day.
 On Thursday afternoon, I reported to Casey's house
with time to spare. I was really nervous but, as the session
went along and everything seemed normal, I gradually
relaxed. Then, at the very end, just as I was thinking that I
was going to get away unscathed, she lowered the boom.
"Tom, before we finish up, I want to go over my
discussions with your teachers at the PTA meeting last
night."
"Oh sure, Casey. I remember we were going to do
that," I answered offhandedly.
"You'll be glad to hear that most of your teachers have
taken note of your progress and are pleased with what
they've seen. I hope you realize, though, that this is not a
sign that you can sit back and relax for the rest of the year."
"I know, Casey, and I promise that I won't do that.
Besides, I know that you wouldn't let me even if I wanted
to."
"You're absolutely right about that!" she said
emphatically. "There was, I'm sorry to say, one sour note,
however."
"Mrs. Bain!" I exclaimed. "I knew it. That woman hates
me!"
"No, it wasn't Mrs. Bain and she doesn't hate you. In
fact, she commented very positively on the development of
your creative writing skills. She thinks you show great
promise in that regard."
I immediately thought of all the time Casey had spent
working with me in that area as I wrote essay after essay,
and especially how each one seemed a little easier as I got
more practice.
"Well, which teacher was it?" I asked, genuinely
mystified.
 Placing two pieces of paper on the table in front of me
she just said, "Mrs. Anderson."
"Mrs. Anderson, but ..."
Then I looked at the papers. One was the notice on
which I had forged dad's signature. The other was the letter
with his genuine signature. It was obvious that they were
not the same. I was doomed! As I looked up at Casey, the
guilt written across my face was all the evidence she
needed.
Sitting back in her chair, she shook her head and
asked, "Why, Tom?"
I could see that there was no point in lying so I told
her the whole story. As I recited my confession, I could
detect an occasional twinkle in her eyes and, sure that she
found at least some cause for amusement in the whole
thing, I dared to hope I might get off with just a lecture.
No such luck!
"Tom, Mrs. Anderson is very disappointed in you. Her
first reaction was to write a letter to your parents and give it
to me to deliver. What do you suppose their reaction would
be?"
"They'd be pretty angry, for sure."
"How do you suppose that they would punish you?"
Swallowing hard, I replied, "Well, though they haven't
done it in quite a while, if anything would be likely to earn
me a spanking, this would probably do it."
"And do you think you deserve a spanking for this
childish trick?" she asked, pressing me further.
"Yeah, I guess I do," I answered, realizing that I was
being backed into a corner.
"I think so too, and so does Mrs. Anderson."
 The only thing I could think of just then is that I would
have to wait more than two weeks for my parents to get
home, knowing all that time how angry they would be and
how bad a spanking I would get. Dad might even use his
belt!
Casey asked me what I was thinking about and when I
told her she said, "Well, in that case, I may have some good
news for you."
"What good news?" I asked, like the proverbial
drowning man grasping at a straw.
"I told Mrs. Anderson that I didn't believe it was a
good idea to keep you waiting for so long. I told her I
thought you were basically a good kid who's just lacking in
maturity and I suggested it would be rather cruel to leave
you dreading your punishment for so long. She agreed on
both counts so you're going to be punished now and, if you
cooperate fully, that will be the end of it."
"You mean my parents won't have to know?" I asked
hopefully.
"Not this time, but if you ever pull a stunt like that
again ..."
"Oh I won't Casey, I swear!"
"See that you don't!"
Then, the obvious question hit me. "Is Mrs. Anderson
going to do it?"
"No, it's against school rules."
"Then who ... oh no, not my sister!"
"No, not Mary Ann either. When I told Mrs. Anderson
about the authority that I have from your parents and the
two paddlings I've already given you, she agreed to leave it
in my hands."
"Are you going to paddle me again?"
 "Is that how your parents punish you?"
"No, when I was younger, they spanked me by hand.
Later on, as I got older, Mom would use a hair brush and a
couple of times, Dad strapped me."
"When your mother spanked you, was it over her
knee?"
"Yes."
"Did she take your pants down?"
"Yes."
"And your shorts?"
"Yes," I replied, dropping my head to try to hide my
blush.
"Okay then, for your silly childish attempt to deceive
your teachers, your parents and me, I'll take a page from
your mother's book. You're going to get an over the knee,
bare bottom spanking!"
As I watched, Casey got up from the table and pulled
out one of the armless chairs. She placed it in the middle of
the classroom and then went to her desk. From one of the
drawers, she retrieved a large, flat-backed, wooden
hairbrush. Returning to the chair she sat down and called
me over to stand in front of her. Handing me the hairbrush,
she said, "Hold this for me a moment while I get your pants
down."
I took the brush from her, holding it reluctantly, as if it
might bite me. She reached for my belt buckle and, pulling
me a little closer between her legs, she unfastened the belt,
popped the hook on the waistband and unzipped my
trousers. Grabbing them at the waist, on either side of my
hips, she stripped them right down to my ankles.
As she tugged on my elbow, I shuffled around to her
right. She took the hairbrush and tucked it behind her on
the chair. Then, with a tug on my upper arm and a push on
my back, she tipped me over her lap. I reached out with
both hands, first to brace myself on the far side edge of the
chair and then, as I sank lower across her knees, one hand
after the other went to the floor.
Casey always dressed professionally for my tutoring
sessions. Today she was wearing a neat, white, long-sleeved
blouse and a fashionably short navy blue skirt with what I
presumed to be nearly sheer pantyhose beneath the skirt.
So, when I finally came to rest across her lap I was partly on
her skirt and partly on her legs.
Wasting no time, she pushed my shirt up in back and,
grasping the waistband of my plaid boxers, she said, "Lift up
for me, Tom, so I can take down your shorts."
Thankful that she couldn't see my face, I forced
myself to obey her humiliating command. If I thought that
was bad, what came next was even worse. You see, in spite
of the impending pain of the forthcoming spanking, my
teenage hormones had begun reacting to the highly
charged situation.
I was bottom up over the lap of a beautiful young
woman, only a few years older than me, on whom I had a
huge crush and who was now in the process of stripping me
of my shorts. I was mortified and excited all at once and the
excited part of me was about to increase my mortification
tenfold when, as she was pulling down my shorts they got
stuck on my rigid penis!
Encountering this resistance, Casey said, "Oops, looks
like they're stuck. Lift up a little more, please."
With another tug, my shorts now resting safely around
my knees, she said, "Okay, Tom, you can settle back down
now."
Wrapping her left hand around my waist and palming
my bare butt with her right, she advised me that, "We've
really said all that needs to be said. You know why you're
here and you've agreed that you deserve this spanking. So,
I see no need for any further lecture or discussion. I'm just
going to concentrate on spanking you. I'll be starting with
my hand but I'll be finishing with the hairbrush. Needless to
say, you are not to interfere or try to get off my lap until I
tell you to. Is that clear, young man?"
"Yes, Miss Casey."
"Good. Here we go."
At that, she began to spank me. She was very
methodical, working her way up and down and back and
forth, covering every inch of spankable bottom flesh she
could find. At first, it wasn't bad and, lulled into a false
sense of security, I was grateful to have escaped the
paddle. But, as anyone who has been bare-bottom hand-
spanked can tell you, it's not just the force of the spanks, it's
also the repetition that finally gets to you.
As time went on and the relentless impacts of Casey's
surprisingly strong hand mounted through the dozens and,
I'm certain, into the hundreds, the ever-rising sting on the
surfaces of my nether cheeks had me gritting my teeth and
clenching my hands together in front of me to keep me from
breaking my promise not to interfere with the spanking.
Suddenly, it stopped and I found myself sighing with
relief. Casey's right palm was now roaming around my
fiercely smarting backside as she appraised the damage she
had done so far.
"Nice and red and quite warm, too," was her verdict.
"Oh Lord, Miss Casey, please, my butt is so hot and
sore, isn't that enough? Can't you let me off now, please?"
"No, it is not enough and I have no intention of letting
you off. You are going to get the full treatment I have
planned for you, and once I go to work with the hairbrush
you'll really see what a hot sore bottom is all about!"
 Then using both hands to swivel my hips, she pulled
her right leg out from under me and wrapped it over the
backs of both of mine. Finally, she shifted me further over
her left leg and tightened the clamping force of her right.
Then, tapping the back of the brush against my spank-
reddened cheeks, she spoke as she taped the brush against
my bottom.
"Give me your right hand, Tom. I don't doubt your
good intentions not to interfere, but when …" Tap! "… my
hair-brush…" Tap! "… starts to light a fire…" Tap! Tap! Tap!
"… on this fine, firm butt…" Tap! Tap! Tap! "… you may not
be able to help yourself and I don't want to risk hitting your
knuckles. It's your bottom that's meant to absorb the
punishment."
When I had obeyed her order, she grasped my wrist in
a strong grip and pinned my arm to my back. My bare butt
was now angled up in a most vulnerable fashion and I found
that I really had almost no wiggle room. I was completely
under her control and I knew that I wasn't going anywhere
until she let me.
Then it began! Just like with the hand spanks,
methodically and relentlessly she worked that brush all over
my defenseless bare bottom. The pain was astounding and,
in no time at all, the temperature in my butt went soaring. I
had managed to control myself fairly well during the hand
spanking, but there was no hope of that now. I was howling
and crying by the time she reached a dozen, and after that I
lost count. It seemed to go on forever, but Casey told me
later that she had stopped at three dozen.
When the final smack of the hairbrush had landed, she
let go of my right arm and with one hand on my waist and
the other on my right thigh, she held me in place until I had
pretty well cried myself out. Helping me to my feet, she
eased me onto her lap, 'eased' being the critical word here.
 For the next few minutes, she rocked me and
comforted me until I had regained a measure of self control.
The she said, "Tom, your punishment is over and the matter
is closed. Only you and I, and to a lesser extent Mrs.
Anderson, know anything about it. You kept your end of the
bargain by cooperating in your punishment and we'll keep
ours, so this will remain among the three of us. Though you
may not feel that way right now, Mrs. Anderson did you a
big favor. Not only has she promised not to tell your parents,
but she also agreed not to report this incident to the
Principal. It would be a good idea if you were to thank her
the next time you see her."
Even though I was still focused largely on the pain in
my still-burning butt, I realized that Casey was right and I
promised I would do that.
"Okay, time to get dressed. Stand up and I'll pull your
shorts up for you."
I did, and she did and she was even kind enough to lift
the waistband around my pain-soaked butt as oppose to
dragging it across. Fortunately, I was wearing loose fitting
slacks instead of tight jeans and I was able to replace my
pants without too much trouble. Then it was off to the
bathroom for a much needed face wash.
As I was about to head for the stairs, Casey gave me a
warm forgiving hug and whispered in a gentle voice, "You'll
find the Arnica Gel in the usual place, Tom."
I managed to say, "Thank you Miss Casey," before I
had to turn away as the tears started to well up in my eyes
once more. After cleaning myself up and doctoring my sore
butt with the Arnica Gel, I found Casey in the kitchen. She
walked me to the door and it was then I suddenly realized
that, except for my semi-coherent cries of, "I'm sorry"
shouted out during the spanking itself, I hadn't apologized
to Casey.
 At the door, I started to do that but instead of a formal
apology, somewhat to my surprise, what came out was a
sheepish, "Thank you, Casey."
"For the spanking?" she asked with a smile.
"Well, yeah, for that too, kind of, I guess, but mostly
for getting me out of a bad mess."
"You're welcome, Tom. You're a good boy at heart. You
made a mistake, as all boys your age do from time to time.
As long as you've learned from it, it's not all bad."
She gave me another hug and, like the first time, with
one last swat to the seat of my pants, she propelled me out
the door.
It wasn't until I was walking into my own house that
the joke of it all finally hit me. Mrs. Bain hadn't put her name
on the notice because she wanted to rat me out to my
parents. She was going to say good things about me.
Sore bottom and all, I couldn't help myself, and much
to my sister's surprise, I just burst out laughing.

OceanofPDF.com
 4. Talking with Casey

The weekend gave me plenty of time to reflect on

things. With my parents gone for another two weeks, with
Casey and her folks away looking at prospective colleges,
and my sister busy with her social life for the better part of
each day, there was little to distract me as I replayed the
events of Thursday afternoon again and again.
Given the dynamics of the situation and my heavy
schoolboy crush on Casey, it was easy, at first, for me to
romanticize the whole episode.
Then I came back to cold reality … that spanking
really hurt. It hurt, near as I could remember, every bit as
much as when Mom spanked me with her hairbrush. And I
cried! I cried like a little boy! No fourteen year old guy wants
to be thought of as a little boy, certainly not by a girl only a
few years older. Talk about embarrassing!
Then there was the whole bonehead stunt that got me
into that situation in the first place. I should have known
better. Nearly every time I listen to Billy Martin and his
brother Bob, something goes wrong and I get into trouble. I
really needed to learn to say no to him as I'll be a lot better
off in the long run.
And what about Mrs. Anderson? She knew that Casey
spanked me. I wondered how much Casey told her about the
details. Now I had to apologize to her on Monday. She
probably thought I was a stupid little kid, too. She'd
probably never trust me again.
What a mess! What a freaking mess!

---oOo---
 As the weekend wore on, I gradually relaxed and
stopped worrying about the past and concentrated on
preparing for Monday. So, it was something of a letdown
when I got home from school to find a message from Mrs.
Corrigan on our answering machine. Casey had a cold and
my tutoring session was cancelled. Now I had to wait until
Thursday.
When I told my sister, her offhand response, "Too bad,
maybe you should send her a card; she's always been very
nice to you," struck me as a great idea. I biked over to the
Hallmark store and found the 'Get Well' cards section. There
was an enormous selection but most of them seemed better
suited for someone who was in the hospital. Finally I found a
humorous card that seemed okay. I stopped on the way
home and slipped it through her mail slot. Then I spent the
next three days worrying if the card was such a good idea;
after all, she just had a cold.
On Thursday, I got to Casey's house just as Mrs.
Corrigan was leaving.
"Hello Thomas, it's nice to see you. How are your
mother and father?"
"They're fine, Professor Corrigan. They're away on a
lecture tour right now."
"Well be sure to give them my best when you talk to
them."
"I will, ma'am."
"Go right on in. Casey's in the classroom."
"Yes ma'am, thank you."
"You're welcome, oh, and it was very nice of you to
send Casey that card. She was delighted to get it."
Just as Mrs. Corrigan said, Casey was in the classroom.
She was sitting at the table holding my card when I came in.
When she saw me, she jumped up and gave me a big hug
saying, "Tom, thank you so much for the card. It was very
sweet of you. Of my four students, you were the only one to
send me a card."
Then I got a kiss on the cheek followed by another
hug. When she finally stood back, smiling radiantly, she
said, "I knew I was right about you. You're going to be a fine
young man."
Geez, I thought, all that from one little card. Go figure.
What I actually said was, "You're welcome, Casey. I'm glad
you liked it but it was actually Mary Ann's idea."
"Did she buy the card for you?"
"No, I bought it myself after she suggested it would be
a nice thing to do."
"Well, it's honest of you to say so but, in my book,
suggesting is one thing, doing is another. You get the credit
for that."
The hugging and kissing done, Casey headed for the
classroom door, telling me to relax until she got back. In less
than five minutes, she returned with fresh hot popcorn and
cold sodas. This was really unexpected because she had
always been very strict about her 'no eating' rule during our
sessions.
"No formal session today, Tom. Let's just sit and talk."
For a few moments, we just sat and munched on the
popcorn and I was beginning to wonder if I was supposed to
start the conversation. Finally, Casey spoke.
"I think we should talk about last week. First, though, I
want to know if you've spoken to Mrs. Anderson."
"Yes, I did. First thing on Monday, I apologized to her
and told her that I knew I had done a dumb thing."
"How did she respond?"
 "She was very nice about it. She accepted my apology
and said the same thing you did, that she thought I was
basically a good kid who had made a mistake and then, like
you did, she hugged me and then she said she hoped that
you hadn't punished me too severely."
"What did you say to that?"
"I told her no worse than I deserved."
"Do you really believe that?"
"Yes," I admitted. "I really do, Casey. I was really
stupid."
"Tom, your honesty is refreshing, but I have to correct
you on one thing. What you did was stupid but you are not a
stupid boy, and I don't ever want to hear you say that about
yourself. Do you understand?"
"Yes ma'am," I responded a little sheepishly.
"Don't worry, Tom, I'm not angry. I just don't want you
thinking of yourself as stupid. You're not and I'm in a very
good position to know."
"Okay, Casey."
"Now, here's what I want to talk to about. After you
left last Thursday, I thought of many things that I wished I
had said to you before I let you go. Most importantly, I
wanted to be sure that you understood why I punished you
the way I did."
"I think I know," I said interrupting her. "It's because I
was dishonest."
"Exactly!" she exclaimed with a note of satisfaction in
her voice. "When you're dishonest, it not only reflects badly
on your parents but it also causes people to lose confidence
in you and distrust you. And when that happens, life can
become very difficult. Do you understand what I'm telling
you?"
 "Yes, I do."
"That's good."
"Casey, may I ask you something?"
"Of course; what is it?"
"Well, it's just that I don't intend to keep getting in
trouble, but sometimes it just seems to happen before I
realize it, you know, like fooling around in Mrs. Bain's class
or showing up late for my session with you or forging my
dad's signature, things like that. Later on, I can see that I
was stupid but by then, it's too late."
"Tom, one more time," she said with a firm voice,
"you're not stupid. You're fourteen. Like most fourteen year
olds, you lack impulse control. You sometimes act before
you think. Don't worry, it's not permanent, you'll outgrow it.
Until you do, your parents and, as long as I'm your tutor, I,
will be on hand to show you the error of your ways."
"I guess that means more spankings."
"Very likely. In fact, I would say that you can count on
it because from time to time, you're probably going to need
a tune up."
"What do you mean by a 'tune up'?"
"That's my father's term for it. As he sees it,
teenagers need extra guidance. They can go along just fine
for a while and then, almost without warning, they hit a bad
stretch. He likens it to an automobile engine that will start to
run roughly after so many miles and it needs a tune up to
get it running smoothly again. So, he and my mother
adopted this policy of 'tune up' spankings whenever they
saw things were not running as smoothly as they should. My
mother feels that teenage boys in particular benefit from
them, and judging from what I've witnessed with my own
two brothers, I tend to agree with her. That means that
while I'm your tutor, whenever you start 'running rough', I'll
be giving you 'tune up' spankings."
"How often will that be?"
"There's no set schedule, just whenever I think it's
needed. How do you feel about that?"
"I don't know, Casey. For you to just decide that you
want to give me a spanking, well, it really doesn't seem fair.
If I've actually done something wrong, that's one thing but
..."
"First of all, have I ever been unfair to you?"
"Well, no but ..."
"That's right, and I have no intention of starting now.
What's more, when it comes time for your first 'tune up', I'll
ask you if you need it and I'll bet you five dollars that you'll
agree that you do. Deal?"
"Will a 'tune up' be like last Thursday?"
"Not entirely. Usually, I will take you over my knee and
bare your backside but, since a 'tune up' is meant to be
more of a reminder rather than actual punishment, I won't
spank you as hard as I did on Thursday. Just enough so that
when I'm done, the heat and sting in your butt will serve
notice that if you don't get your act together, a far more
unpleasant spanking will soon follow. Does that answer your
question?"
"Yeah, I think so."
"Then we have a deal?" she asked, extending her right
hand.
"Okay, it's a deal," I agreed, and we shook on it.
After spending a little time silently eating popcorn and
drinking the sodas, Casey said, "Is there anything that you'd
like to talk about, Tom? This is as good a time as any and,
just like last Thursday, it will be strictly between us."
 "Well ..." I began tentatively, "I was thinking about last
Thursday and now with what you said today, I was
wondering, that is, you sure seem to know a lot about
spanking."
"That's because I've had a lot of experience."
"You've spanked your other students?"
"All except the first one."
"Why not?"
"Because it was my first tutoring job and I didn't fully
appreciate how much of a discipline problem I was going to
have with that little brat! That was my mistake. After that, I
made sure that I had the same understanding with all the
parents that I have with yours and it's worked out well."
I mulled that over for a bit then, mustering up my
courage, I asked, "Do your parents spank you?"
"They have, as I suggested earlier, but not in a long
while."
"When was the last time?"
"When I was your age, fourteen," she said matter-of-
factly.
"What did you do?"
"I cried, just like you."
"No, I mean what did you do to get spanked?"
"Let's just say that I unwisely questioned my mother's
intelligence, and leave it at that," she said with a laugh.
After some more popcorn and some more soda, I went
on with my litany of questions.
"How long have you been tutoring?"
"A little over three years now."
"Have all your students been boys?"
"No; it's about half and half."
 "Do the boys or the girls get more spankings?"
"I haven't actually kept track, but I would say that the
boys seem to get spanked more often than the girls."
"Who was the oldest kid that you spanked?"
"You are. Up until now, all my students have been
junior high school kids. You're the oldest and the biggest, so
far. The next oldest was a twelve year old boy in the
seventh grade at the time."
"Oh."
"Are you embarrassed that you're the oldest student
I've spanked?"
"Well, kind of, but it's more like, if you had spanked
other boys my age, I was hoping you could tell me if any of
them, well, you know ..."
Now thoroughly tongue tied and refaced, I couldn't
find a way to frame the question I wanted to ask. In the
awkward silence, we sat there looking at one another for a
moment before Casey came to my rescue. Speaking softly,
she said, "Oh, I see where you're going. You're wondering
about having had an erection when I took down your shorts,
aren't you?"
Still blushing furiously, I nodded and said, "Is that
normal?"
Casey smiled and said, "In some cases, yes."
"Really?"
"Yes, really," she said confidently. "I know that you
have a crush on me ..."
"Did Mary Ann tell you that?" I blurted out.
"No, Tom; she didn't. She didn't have to; I can see that
for myself. And it's not unusual for boys your age to feel that
way about older girls and even women. My brother,
remember now, this is all in confidence, just between us, my
older brother had a big crush on one of his high school
teachers a few years back. It lasted until he met his first real
girl friend his own age. I expect it will be the same for you.
"But getting back to your question; that spanking was
a very intimate situation and, given your feelings for me,
your age and the ease with which a teenage boy's
hormones can be stimulated, it's not at all surprising that
you got excited."
"So you weren't mad at me?"
"Mad at you for something that you really couldn't
control? Certainly not! Is that what you're worried about?"
"I was afraid that you might have thought I was weird
or something," I replied, greatly relieved to know otherwise.
"I promise you, Tom," Casey said very earnestly, "I do
not think you are weird. You're a perfectly normal fourteen
year old boy who has needed a little extra help with his
school work and with some life lessons, as well. And on that
subject, let me tell you that you need to learn to be more
selective in your choice of associates. If you keep hanging
around with Billy Martin and others of his ilk you're likely to
wind up with a permanently red butt! Do you understand
me, young man?"
She was pretending to be stern as she waved her
finger at me, but the smile on her face definitely took the
bite out of her words.
"Yes ma'am; I do," I said grinning back at her while
pretending to rub my butt.
"Good! Now I have things to do, so unless you have
any more questions, it's time to call it a day."
Telling her I didn't, I helped her gather up the empty
soda cans and popcorn bowls and followed her upstairs.
After dumping everything in the kitchen sink, she walked me
to the door where she thanked me again for the get well
card. Taking advantage of the moment, I asked. "Does that
mean I get another hug?"
It did, along with the now customary swat on my butt
to send me happily on my way.

OceanofPDF.com
 5. My First Tune Up

My conversation with Casey gave me a lot to think

about. For the first time, I was beginning to understand that
Casey wasn't just an academic tutor. In my case at least,
she was also what we might now call a life coach. She was
also a very good friend. Even when she was punishing me,
she was my friend.
That didn't mean that I wasn't embarrassed about
being spanked by her; I certainly was. But she never
berated me or belittled me and she never humiliated me in
front of others, before, during or after a spanking. My
parents knew in a general way, of course, but she wasn't
even telling them all the details. But she was getting results.
When my second report card came out in early
January, the evidence was plain for all to see. Where before
I had a history of steady C's with only an occasion B, I was
now getting mostly A's and a few B's. Not a C anywhere.
Needless to say, that did wonders for my self confidence.
Right after that report came out, and Casey had
analyzed it carefully, we had another discussion. The one
subject where I was not showing as much progress, getting
only borderline B's, was Math. Casey told me that she knew
I was working on it but didn't think that she was being as
helpful to me as she had been in my other subjects,
admitting that Math was not her strongest suit.
Then she surprised me by saying, "You need another
tutor, Tom."
"But I like you," I blurted out in protest.
"Don't worry, I'm not going anywhere. This would be
an additional tutor to help you with your Math skills…
someone who's stronger in that area than I am."
"Oh, well that's okay, then," I said with relief. "Who is
it?"
"Her name is Amelia Aldridge, Amy for short. She's at
U-Prep, like me. Her parents are on the University faculty.
Her father is a Medical Doctor. He's Chief of Surgery at
University Medical center and also a Professor at the
Medical School. Her mother is a Professor of Mathematics.
They're from England. They moved here about eighteen
months ago."
"Is Amy in your class?" I asked Casey.
"No, she's a freshman, just a couple of months older
than you, but she's taking math courses above grade level
at U-Prep. She takes after her mother, apparently."
"Won't that be kind of weird, being tutored by another
freshman?"
"It needn't be. Her teachers inform me that she is very
good and I can tell you she's very nice as well. So, what do
you say? Shall we give it a try?"
"Well if you think it's a good idea, I'm willing."
"I do and I'm sure it will work out fine. Just remember
that even though Amy is closer to your age she's still your
tutor and she will have the same authority as I do. Are we
clear on that?"
"Sure Casey," I replied, without really giving it any
thought.
And that's where things stood for a while as Casey
worked out the details with Amy and her parents. Meantime,
we were well into January. With the holidays long behind us
and the winter seemingly stretching on forever, it's a time of
year when New Year's resolutions are forgotten and
boredom can set in. It's also a time of year when your
engine can start to run rough.
 I finally realized that I was losing focus when, in the
space of a few days, I got a C in a History Quiz that I didn't
study for and I got a detention, fortunately on a Tuesday,
from my very patient French teacher for repeatedly failing to
pay attention in class.
As I sat in detention that afternoon, I thought about
what Casey had said about 'tune up' spankings and I knew it
was only a matter of time. The way I figured, I had two
choices: either wait until Casey got the reports about the
Quiz and the detention, or tell her myself, which was really
no choice at all when you got right down to it.
Come Thursday, I put a fresh five dollar bill inside the
cover of my text book and made sure that I got to Casey's
house a good fifteen minutes early. That was another thing:
the last few sessions I had dashed in at 3:01 or 3:02pm,
making a lame excuse each time. Casey had let it go
without comment, mostly because everything else had been
going so well, I suppose.
When she answered the door she said it was nice to
see me back on schedule again and led me down to the
classroom. As we sat down, I took the five dollar bill out of
the book and put it on the table.
"What's that for?" she asked with a smile. "It's not my
birthday."
"It's because I'm about to lose my bet with you," I
answered.
Seeing the puzzled look on her face, I realized she had
forgotten that part of our big discussion last November and I
had to refresh her memory about how she had bet me five
dollars that I would agree with her the first time she would
tell me that I needed a 'tune up'. Then I told her about what
had been happening in school and said that I knew she
would find out sooner or later and I preferred it was sooner.
 "I see," she said with a small smile when I had finished
my confession, "and I suppose that you're hoping that you'll
win some points by telling me yourself instead of waiting for
me to get the reports from your teachers."
"Yeah, something like that, I guess."
Then she asked the question, "Tom, do you think you
need a 'tune up'?"
Swallowing hard, I replied, "Yes, Miss Casey, I'm afraid
so."
"Well, Tom, I am impressed with the way you've
handled this. I will take that into consideration but it won't
get you completely off the hook, though. I promised you a
'tune up' spanking when you needed one and I'm a woman
of my word. As we both agree that's what's needed then
that's what you shall have. The only question is, right away
or at the end of the session?"
It was a simple question and I knew even before it was
asked what my answer would be. Now that it was decided, I
wanted to get it over with and not spend the next two hours
worrying about it. Ever since that day, I've often thought
about the far-reaching consequences of that simple question
and answer.
"Right now, please, Miss Casey."
Nodding her agreement, Casey stood up and pushed
her chair back a few feet from the table. When she was
seated again, she crooked her finger and beckoned me to
stand in front of her. When I had complied, she unbuckled
my belt, unhooked and unzipped my trousers and pushed
them to the floor.
Then, reaching up under my shirt, she inserted her
fingers into the waistband of my boxers and giving me a
little smile, pulled those down to my ankles as well,
remarking, "This should eliminate any 'complications' like
we had during your last spanking."
I could feel the flush rise on my face as she said that
but, as that was not all that was rising, I knew she was right.
Moments later, I was across her lap and she was
turning up my shirt tail. Resting one hand on my waist and
the other on my bare butt, she said, "Tom, as you yourself
have pretty much accounted for the reasons for this 'tune
up' spanking, I don't really see any need for another lecture,
do you?"
"No, Miss Casey," I replied.
"Very well, then."
Just as methodically as the last time, she began to
spank me, moving her palm from right to left as she worked
her way from the top of my butt crack right down to the
base of my bottom where my cheeks met my thighs. Each
spank partly overlapped the one before it so that by the
time she had reached the end of the first circuit of my butt,
nearly each spot of bottom flesh had been spanked at least
twice.
Pausing for a moment, she ran her hand over the
surfaces of both cheeks, giving each a little squeeze in the
process, then she began another round, this time with
firmer spanks.
I wasn't counting and I don't think she was either, but
by the time she had completed the second go round, I was
sure that I had received at least two dozen very stinging
hand spanks. It was hardly unbearable, but I was certainly
aware that I was being spanked.
After a repetition of the rubbing and the squeezing,
she commented, "Now that your bottom has been properly
prepared, it's time to start making the point."
 The spanks that followed were decidedly harder and I
could feel the sting and the heat rising significantly all
across my bottom. This time she spanked far longer and I
found myself gritting my teeth to save myself the
embarrassment of crying out in pain. Just when I thought I
was going to lose that struggle, she finally stopped.
In my position over Casey's lap, I was facing away
from the door so the first notice that I had acquired an
audience came when I heard her voice. Even in my distress,
it instantly registered on my mind as the sweetest voice I
had ever heard.
"Oh, I'm ever so sorry. I've arrived early and caught
you at a bad time. I'll just pop back in a bit," said the unseen
angel in the most delightful English tones.
"Oh my gosh, Amy, I'd completely forgotten that you
were coming today!"
Tapping my hot stinging bottom, she continued, "Tom,
it's Amy, your new math tutor. Amy, this is Tom, the student
I was telling you about. I suppose I should apologize to both
of you. This is most definitely not how I planned to introduce
the two of you!"
I was simultaneously embarrassed with my
predicament and fascinated with that enchanting voice and
I could not have uttered a coherent phrase if my life
depended on it.
Then the angelic voice spoke again. "Not to worry. I'll
wait up in the lounge until you call."
"That'll be fine. We won't keep you waiting long. Do
me a favor before you go and bring me the hairbrush from
the top right desk drawer, would you please? I'll need it to
finish up."
The angel, suddenly my guardian angel, replied with a
plea on my behalf. "Oh Casey, not the brush! His poor
bottom looks awfully red and sore. Surely he's been
punished enough for whatever he's done."
I felt Casey shifting her position as if to take a better
look at her handiwork as she replied to Amy, "This isn't a
punishment spanking … this is just a 'tune up'."
"A tune up?" asked Amy, clearly puzzled.
Then Casey launched into a detailed explanation of
the concept of tune up spankings, all the while continuing to
rub my stinging butt, which actually felt pretty good, but
under the circumstances, I would have been much happier
to forego the massage in favor of being able to get my
shorts and trousers back on.
As Casey droned on with her explanation, I had no
choice but to wait patiently until she got around to finishing
the spanking which couldn't come soon enough for my liking
but, on the other hand, when it did, I would then have to
face my new tutor. Maybe it would be best if I could just die
on the spot! Then Casey's hand stopped rubbing and started
lightly spanking again and that brought my attention back
to what she was saying, "... and Tom forthrightly agreed that
it was time for his first 'tune up' which, I've no doubt, he
very much wishes I'd finish up. Right Tom?"
She punctuated the question with a couple of sharp
spanks and I quickly responded, "Yes please, Miss Casey."
Then addressing Amy, Casey said, "So, as you can see
you'll be doing us both a favor if you'll bring the hairbrush
from the desk. Don't worry, I'm only going to give him a
dozen just to drive the point home."
"Very well, as you seem to have it all sorted out
between you..."
As you might expect, from my vantage point, I had a
somewhat restricted view of things so all I was able to see
was a pair of shapely, skirted legs crossing the room to my
left as Amy went to the desk and retrieved the hairbrush.
After taking it from the drawer, she walked directly toward
us and her feet came to a stop literally right under my nose.
When she had given the brush to Casey, she knelt
down right where she stood and, with her gentle hands on
either side of my head she tilted my face up toward hers.
She was beautiful and smiling sweetly at me as she said,
"Tom, I shall leave now, as I promised but, if you prefer, I
can stay and give you some moral support, as I often do for
my younger brother when he's over Mummy's knee waiting
for the hairbrush finale to one of his spankings. Would you
like that?"
Would I like that? What a question! Ask a drowning
man if he'd like you to throw him a rope, why don't you!
"That you, Miss Amy, that would be very nice of you," I
answered politely.
Whereupon, she adjusted her position so that her
lower legs were folded under her and her face was now
down level with mine. She lifted my hands from the floor
and guided my arms over her shoulders and around her
neck and draped her own over my shoulders and back.
Pressing her soft sweet cheek to mine she said to Casey,
"Tom and I are ready now."
In her usual methodical fashion, Casey proceeded to
spread a dozen crisp smacks of the wooden hairbrush all
around my bare butt. Though they seemed a fair bit harder
than I thought I should expect for a 'tune up', I knew that I
would still make it through okay but that didn't stop me
from holding tightly to my 'angel' for the duration.
"And there's twelve," Casey announced after the last,
extra smart whack of the hairbrush had left its stinging
impression on my bare bottom. Simultaneously, I got an
extra tight squeeze from Amy who then rose to comply with
Casey's request that she return the hairbrush to the desk.
 As she did so, Casey released me from my extended
sojourn over her lap and I started to replace my clothing
only to have Amy say, "Let me check the damage, Tom."
So I bent over the table while Amy made her visual
and tactile inspection, after which she commented, "You
have quite a warm red bum. If that's what you get for a
'tune up', I should not like to be in your shoes when Casey
takes you to task for a serious offense."
"I already have," said Casey "and he came through
just fine, but if you're so concerned about the state of his
butt, you'll find a jar of Arnica Gel in the medicine cabinet in
the bathroom at the top of the stairs. Be my guest," she
concluded with a good natured laugh.
"Stay just as you are Tom, I shan't be a moment!"
As she dashed off, I turned to look at Casey who was
just smiling and shaking her head. Before I had a chance to
say anything, Amy was back with the gel and I was treated
to its beneficial effects courtesy of her soft, gentle hands.
When Amy finally replaced the cover on the jar, Casey
said with feigned exasperation, "If you two are finished
making a mountain out of a molehill, perhaps Tom could
make himself decent, then I will properly introduce you to
one another."
As soon as I had finished buckling my belt, Casey did
so and as I extended my hand to Amy, she giggled saying,
"Oh Tom, I think we're well beyond a mere handshake."
Thereupon, she wrapped her arms around me in a warm hug
and whispered in my ear, "This is a day I shan't soon
forget!"
Then Casey became the tutor again and ushered us to
the table so we could sit and talk. To state the obvious, Amy
would be my math tutor. We would meet once every other
week but I could call her if I needed to request additional
assistance.
 Then Casey left us alone for a while and Amy looked
over my math text book and discussed my class work to
that point of the school year. She finished by giving me a
few suggestions about things I should review and said that
we would meet again on Tuesday for a real tutorial. Between
now and then she marked some problems in the book for
me to work on.
Just then, Casey returned and Amy gave her a quick
summary of what we had done and the plans going forward.
Then, reassuring me that we would have a full two hours
together on Tuesday, Amy apologized for having to run off
as she had to be at the dentist in a half hour.
Casey said that was not a problem and then, turning
to me, suggested, "Tom, why don't you walk Amy to the
door and then come back for the rest your session?"
I did so, of course, and at the door, Amy stopped and
with a very serious look on her beautiful face said to me,
"Tom, I can safely say that this is the most unusual
introduction I've ever had to any young man." As I felt the
warmth of a blush rise to my face, with a sincere smile she
added, "And I promise no one shall ever hear a word of it
from me." She was halfway out the door when she shot me
her parting line, "But if anyone should ask, you may tell
them I said that you have a very cute bum!"

---oOo---

Back in the classroom, Casey and I did the best we

could for the next half hour to accomplish some meaningful
work, but she could easily tell that my head was not really in
it. At about 4:45pm, she suggested that we call it a day.
As we closed up the books Casey looked at me and
said earnestly, "Tom, I'm really sorry about this afternoon.
It's my fault entirely, but I hope you know that I would never
do that to you deliberately. When we got into our discussion,
I completely forgot that Amy would be coming by to meet
you."
"Yeah Casey, I know that. Besides, she was early so
it's at least partly her fault, too."
That got me a hug from Casey who said, "Tom, you're
really being very good about this. I'm not sure I would do as
well if it had happened to me."
After a brief pause, she then asked the obvious
question, "So, what do you think of Amy?"
"She seems just as nice as you said, and she sure is
good at math. Even in a half hour, she was able to give me
some pointers."
"Oh that is good to hear," Casey replied with a note of
relief in her voice. "After all that happened today, it would
have been a shame if you felt too self conscious to work
with her."
"Yeah, well as far as that goes, I'm sure that she
probably just thinks of me as a kid like her little brother," I
said with a note of resignation in my voice as I thought
again of how really pretty she was.
With a sudden laugh Casey said, "Tom, Tom, you really
do have a lot to learn about girls, if that's what you think!"

OceanofPDF.com
 6. Valentine's Day

Practically from day one my primary tutor, Casey

Corrigan, constantly promoted the idea that my new math
tutor, Amy Aldridge, had an interest in me over and above
the standard tutor/student relationship. I told her I was sure
that she was imagining it but, quite truthfully, I had fallen in
love with Amy's voice before I had ever even seen her face.
Considering the embarrassing way (for me at least) we had
met, I just couldn't bring myself to believe that Amy would
ever see me as anything but a naughty little boy, like her
younger brother.
Finally, Casey's frustration with my denials drove her
to action. She insisted that we conduct a few tests to prove
or disprove her thesis. First, Casey pointed out that when
she and I were working together she was always seated at
the head of the table and I was at a ninety degree angle to
her on the adjacent side, but that when Amy was working
with me she always sat right next to me.
I said that was just because it was where she had sat
for our fist discussion when Casey was in her usual seat. In
my opinion, I said, Amy was following protocol and leaving
the 'head of the table' seat for Casey.
Casey insisted otherwise and said, "Tom, for your next
session with Amy, remove the chair next to you so that she
can't sit there, and see what happens."
Just to humor her, I went along. After Amy had left,
Casey said, "See, I was right. She brought the chair back
and sat right next to you, as always."
"Okay, but that doesn't prove anything. She probably
just finds it easier to teach me when we're looking at the
book together."
 "Oh, Tom!" she said with a strong note of
exasperation.
Then she asked me if I had ever called Amy.
"No," I answered.
"She gave you her number and told you to call her
any time, right?"
"Yes, but that was just if I needed her help with my
math work."
"Yeah, right!"
So now I had to conduct another experiment, as Casey
insisted that I phone Amy and tell her that I was just calling
to say how much I appreciated her working with me and
how much it was helping me.
"Don't ask any questions about math. Just tell her
what I said and see what happens."
Next day, of course, I had to report back to Casey.
"What did she say?" Casey prodded me.
"She thanked me for my thoughtfulness and said I
should call any time, even if I just wanted to talk."
"See! What did I tell you?"
"See what? She was just being friendly. She thinks of
me like her little brother. She even said so at the end of my
'tune up' spanking. God, that was so embarrassing!"
Casey just made that exasperated sound again. Then
she said, "Tom, Valentine's Day is right around the corner."
Fishing into her purse, she pulled out a bill and handed it to
me saying, "Here's your five dollars back. Put it towards a
card and a box of chocolates for Amy. Do not, under any
circumstances whatsoever bring anything for me unless you
want to find yourself back across my knee! Give her the
card and the candy when you're here together on
Valentine's Day."
 "But what if she laughs at me?" I asked.
"If she laughs at you, I'll go over your knee. That's
how sure I am!"
On Casey's advice, I went to the Godiva store at the
mall. At those prices, all I could afford was a small box, and I
bought the one the sales girl suggested. The Hallmark store
was even harder. Most of the cards were so dramatic,
talking about 'undying love' and things like that. I finally
found one that seemed right and bought it.
On Valentine's Day, Casey insisted that I show her the
card and the candy. She pronounced the candy 'perfect' and
the card 'not half bad' then asked me how I was going to
sign it.
I answered, "Your friend, Tom," and she rolled her eyes
saying, "Six months of creative writing practice and that's
the best you can do?"
In spite of the way I felt about Amy, I just couldn't
bring myself to use the 'L' word, so, after having ideas like
'sincerely', 'warmly' and 'fondly' all rejected with snorts of
derision by Casey who said that I had to use words that
showed my real feelings, I finally settled on 'with great
affection'. Casey declared that phrase to be acceptable and
I wrote it on the card.
"Tom, the card and candy should be a surprise, so
keep them out of sight until the end of the lesson. Here,
hide them in my desk."
Of course, when I opened the drawer, the first things I
saw were the paddle and the hairbrush! I quickly found a
different drawer. Just in time, too, because I had no sooner
gotten back to my chair when Amy arrived. Casey had
moved the other chair again and when Amy put it back and
sat next to me, Casey gave me an 'I told you so' look as she
went to her desk.
 Throughout the lesson, I was a bundle of nerves and
found it hard to concentrate. The result was one careless
mistake after another. Finally, Amy just closed the book and
said, "Well, this is pointless! I don't know where your mind is
today but it's certainly not on Math. Keep this up and I'll
have to ask Casey to give you another 'tune up' spanking!"
Oh, this is going well, I thought to myself, and then
Casey came to the rescue.
"Don't be too hard on him, Amy. After all, he has been
doing well; you told me that yourself. Anyone can have an
off day once in a while."
"I suppose," Amy responded, her features softening.
"We'll put it down to that and call it a day."
As she rose from her chair and the time for me to act
was at hand, I sat there suddenly paralyzed with fear.
Once again, Casey intervened, saying, "Tom, isn't
there something you wanted to do?"
"Oh yeah, right," I half stammered as I finally found
my voice.
While Amy watched with puzzlement and Casey with
amusement, I retrieved the card and candy from the desk
and, hardly daring to meet her gaze, gave them to Amy with
a semi-audible mumbling of the traditional, "Happy
Valentine's Day, Amy."
Looking over my shoulder at Casey, Amy said, "Oh
right, now I understand."
Looking back at me, she took the gifts, and putting
the candy on the table said, "Well done, Tom. Godiva is my
absolute favorite chocolate."
She was quiet for a moment as she read the card.
Then she put that on the table, too. Next thing I know, she's
kissing me on the cheek. That's followed by a hug and, with
her cheek against mine she whispered, "That was ever so
sweet of you, Tom, thank you. The chocolates won't last
long, but I'll keep your card forever."
Then, almost before I could manage to say, "You're
welcome," with another quick kiss on my cheek, she
grabbed the candy, the card and her coat and practically
ran from the room.
More than a little perplexed, I turned to Casey, asking,
"Why did she run out like that?"
"Probably because she was about to cry," Casey
responded casually.
"Why? Did I do something wrong?"
"Quite the contrary, I would say."
"Then why..."
"Oh Tom," she began as she gave me the kind of look
that I was slowly beginning to understand meant 'boys can
be so dense, at times', we really do need to talk!"

OceanofPDF.com
 7. A Very Bad Day

The thirty days from mid-February to mid-March

seemed to go by in a blur. My tutoring program continued,
of course, and my grades continued to improve as well. By
now, my parents and Casey were talking openly of my
prospects for transferring to University Prep in my
sophomore year. That would mean, of course, not only
would I be going to a much better school but I would be
going to school with Amy.
Things had begun to move on that front as well,
thanks in no small part to Casey's patient tutelage. You may
recall that on Valentine's Day, right after Amy's sudden
departure, Casey sat me down and gave me an impromptu
lesson on understanding female emotions. Now, admittedly,
that's a subject that no man ever fully masters, but as
always, Casey had a way of explaining things that was very
helpful.
When, in answer to her question, I told her what Amy
had whispered in my ear just before she left, Casey said,
"Tom, surely by now you can read the tea leaves without
any help from me."
"Yeah, you were right, but what do I do now?"
"Well, here's a thought. Your parents haven't met Amy.
Why don't you invite her over for dinner so that they'll have
a chance to meet her? I'm sure that they'll like her and then,
with their approval, you can take the next step and ask Amy
to go to a movie with you."
"You mean like a date?"
"Exactly."
"But I'm only fourteen."
 "Almost fifteen, and you're not asking her to marry
you. After all, it's just a movie. It could even be in the
afternoon, if your parents and hers would be more
comfortable with that."
As usual, Casey knew what she was talking about and
my mom was very happy to invite Amy for dinner. Of
course, she did the usual parent thing and spoke to Amy's
mom first. They were already acquainted as they were both
on the faculty at the University. As the day approached, I
was a little nervous and I figured that I would get a lot of
ribbing from my sister Mary Ann, but she was actually very
nice about it, which helped a lot.
I was just working up my courage to take that next
step when I got myself into a real bad jam at school, or
more precisely, at the middle school I had attended up until
this year.
The high school and the middle school were near one
another, separated by the athletic fields which they shared.
My customary route home from high school took me across
those fields and right past my old school.
As I said at the outset, up until Casey had become my
tutor, I had a well deserved reputation as an indifferent
student and a chronic underachiever. Casey, with her
patience and encouragement, not to mention her paddle
and hairbrush, had rapidly changed all that, but my former
principal didn't know that, of course. His memories of me
were, shall we say, less than positive, which certainly played
a major role in what was about to transpire.
It was a Thursday in mid-March and I was on my way
home to change clothes before reporting to Casey's house
for my regularly scheduled lesson. This Thursday, Amy
would be there as well. Special emphasis was being given to
bringing my math skills up to a level that would ensure my
acceptance into U-Prep in the fall, so now two out of every
three tutoring sessions were being devoted to that subject.
As I crossed the baseball field and came around the
backstop behind home plate I saw a group of boys. There
were three large boys and one small one. It took only a
moment to see that the bigger boys were ganging up on the
smaller one. Apparently, they hadn't noticed me, and as I
was approaching them, the biggest bully knocked the
smallest boy to the ground and jumped on him.
Simultaneously, the other two started kicking the boy on the
ground.
Now I wasn't exactly the biggest or strongest fourteen
year old, but I had taken boxing lessons and I figured I
should do something; I mean, three against one wasn't
cricket, as Amy would have said. So I waded into the group
and pulled the big boy off of the fellow on the ground. He
came up swinging wildly, and I caught him with a solid jab
that put him back on his butt.
As I turned to face the other two, I saw Mr. LeBlanc,
the Principal, coming on the run, so I was content to just
keep those two boys at arm's length until he got there to
take charge. Recognizing me, his first words, were, "Farrell,
what's the meaning of this?"
Before I could answer, the three bullies, led by Billy
Cunningham, the biggest kid, who was now back on his feet,
launched a chorus of accusations against me. To hear them
tell it, I had started the whole thing and attacked them for
no reason.
"Is that right, Farrell?" Mr. LeBlanc demanded.
"No sir!" I replied hotly. "I saw these three beating up
a smaller kid and I came over to stop it."
"What small kid?" he asked.
 It was only then that I discovered that their victim had
disappeared.
Next thing I know, we're all in Mr. LeBlanc's office and
he's making phone calls to the mothers of the three bullies
and then to my principal asking them all to come to his
office. When he asked me, I told him that my parents were
away on vacation during the University's spring break and
wouldn't be back until the weekend, so I tried to call my
sister but she wasn't at home.
By now, my principal, Mr. McCarthy, had arrived and
had been given the gist of the situation. At his suggestion, I
called Casey and when I told her what was happening she
said she would come right over. While we were waiting for
her, the boys' mothers started to arrive and when Mrs.
Cunningham, Billy's mother, saw the bruise I had given him
with my jab, she literally started screaming at me.
All hell broke loose then, and it took the two principals
several minutes to get things calmed down. In the process,
they had hustled me into the Vice Principal's office which is
where Mr. McCarthy and I were waiting when Casey hurried
in with Amy close behind her. Mr. McCarthy already knew
Casey, of course, and her relationship with me. She
introduced Amy and then asked him what was going on.
Mr. McCarthy explained that I was being accused of
assaulting the three boys and that their mothers were in Mr.
LeBlanc's office raising a huge fuss. When he had finished,
Casey immediately replied, "That makes no sense at all.
Those boys are lying, of course!"
Before my principal could answer, Amy vehemently
added, "She's right! Tom would never do such a thing!"
Looking back over these past fifteen years, I can say
without a doubt that those two simple statements of faith
and confidence have meant more to me than all the other
accolades that I have won since. They also helped make it
possible for me to get through the next half hour.
Mr. McCarthy said, "I'm inclined to agree, but it's three
against one and there are apparently no other witnesses."
Turning to me, Casey said, "Now tell us, from start to
finish, what really happened, Tom."
So I went through the whole thing, and just as I
finished, Mr. LeBlanc came in. Mr. McCarthy introduced
Casey and Amy and explained who they were. From the
moment he started talking, it was clear that Mr. LeBlanc
didn't believe me and that his primary concern was
mollifying the irate mothers who were sitting in his office.
"They want me to call the police!" he practically
shouted at the end.
Mr. McCarthy asked his fellow principal to give him a
few minutes to talk to me. When Mr. LeBlanc had left the
office he asked me if there was any way to get in touch with
my parents.
"They're on a cruise in the Caribbean. Mary Ann knows
how to contact them, but she's not home, and even if she
were, it could take hours to reach them on the ship."
"Then it looks as if we're going to have to work
through this on our own, especially since Mr. LeBlanc can't
seem to calm those mothers down. As I see it, our
immediate concern is to keep the police out of it. I'm sure
that Mr. LeBlanc would agree with me on that. No principal
wants to have to call in the police to deal with trouble in his
school, but we probably can't expect much more help from
him than that. The ultimate objective must be to make sure
that Tom gets through this without any long term adverse
consequences. Maybe I can convince them that a week's
suspension and two weeks detention after that would be a
suitable punishment."
 "But those boys are lying! I didn't do what they say I
did!" I protested loudly.
"Calm down, son," my principal said. "I believe you,
but I don't like the 'lynch mob' mentality in the other office
and I'm trying to get you out of this the best way I can. My
way will give us a chance to find the other child, or maybe
even another witness, after which, I can lift the suspension
and the detention and expunge them from your record."
"What if we can't find the other child or a witness?"
Casey asked. "I know you're trying to help, but a suspension
could have long term consequences for Tom. As you may
know, Tom's mother is a professor at the university and she
was hoping to see Tom transfer to U-Prep as a stepping
stone to his eventual admission to the university. That's one
of the reasons I was hired as his tutor.
"If Tom has serious adverse disciplinary information in
his file, I worry that it could hurt his chances for the transfer
and that would, in fact, have long term consequences. The
only fair thing here is to take the time to do a more
thorough investigation before Tom is subjected to any
punishment at all, especially for something that you and I
believe he didn't do."
"You're absolutely right, Casey," my principal replied.
"The fly in the ointment, however, is the group over in the
next office. If those parents don't agree, and they think that
I'm just trying to protect my own student, they may well go
to the police on their own."
"Will you at least try to reason with them?" Casey
asked.
"Absolutely," he said. "Wait here."
He wasn't gone long when we could hear an uproar
from Mr. LeBlanc's office. Clearly his suggestion had not
been well received. It was quite a while after that when he
finally returned, looking very glum.
 "They wouldn't go for it, I take it," Casey offered.
"No, I barely got the words out of my mouth before
they all started shouting."
"We heard. What happened after that?"
"Well, they weren't very happy with the suspension
idea either, but I think they can be talked out of calling the
police, with one big condition, which I don't like and I'm sure
Tom won't like."
"What's that?" I asked.
"Well, in the middle of the argument, Mr. Leblanc, who
otherwise hasn't been very much help, and Tom, I'm afraid
to say, either doesn't believe you or is unwilling to say
otherwise in front of those angry mothers, remarked that he
could remember a time when things like this were handled
within the school with the principal's paddle.
"That seemed to strike a spark as one of the mothers
said that she agreed. She said that problems were resolved
quickly that way and the culprit got the punishment he
deserved and avoided a police record. That got the others
talking and after a few minutes they agreed that they would
be satisfied with that."
Well good for them, I thought, but I sure as heck
wasn't very happy about the idea of being paddled for
something I hadn't done.
Obviously reading the expression on my face, Mr.
McCarthy said to me, "I knew you wouldn't like that idea,
Tom, and I don't blame you, but at this point we're forced
into a choice of the lesser of two evils, the police or the
paddle. Even then, there are a couple of complications.
"Such as ...?" asked Casey.
"Well, first off, no one connected with the school is
authorized to administer such a punishment. Second, I don't
think we could even find a paddle; it's been so long since
corporal punishment was last used. Third, it would have to
be witnessed by everyone in the other room. They all want
their pound of flesh, it seems."
Even before I could react, Casey was pulling Amy and
me aside, saying to Mr. McCarthy, "Please bear with us for a
moment."
Getting his silent nod, she took us over to the corner
for a private discussion.
"This is so unfair!" I said to them.
"Life is unfair, Tom," she said, not without sympathy,
"but we have to deal with it. The choices we have are the
police or corporal punishment. I don't mean to be unfeeling,
Tom, but it's really a no-brainer. Plain and simple, we can't
allow you to be arrested!"
Looking at the anguished expression on her face, I
realized that she was right and I agreed. We broke our little
huddle and I told Mr. McCarthy that I would accept a
paddling.
"I hate to say it, Tom, but, under the circumstances, I
think you've made the best choice."
Then Casey spoke up. "We have a few conditions of
our own. First, everyone one involved signs an agreement
that this will be the end of the matter and that there will be
strict confidentiality. No one else can be told except Tom's
parents. I don't want those little creeps blabbing this all
around town!"
"That makes sense," said my principal. I think Mr.
LeBlanc will support that. We still have the question of who
does the paddling, supposing we can even find one. Amy
will call Tom's house again to see if his sister is home. Even
if she isn't, I have that authority from his parents as part of
my tutoring agreement with them. It also covers dealing
with school disciplinary problems. As for a paddle, I can run
home and get one; shouldn't take more than fifteen or
twenty minutes."
"That won't work," said Principal McCarthy. "One of the
mothers is a nurse and her shift starts in a little over an
hour. She'll have to go home and change into her uniform
before she reports. It's now or never."
Looking at me, Casey said, "Give me your belt, Tom."
It was a typical belt for a pair of jeans, being a little
over 1/8" thick, a little less that 1-1/2" wide and, in my case,
a size 34. I took it off and handed it to Casey who passed it
to Mr. McCarthy saying, "Please show them this."
When he came back, he had signed copies of the
agreement and another condition.
"They'll accept the belt as long as he takes it on the
bare bottom," he said, looking directly at me.
Aware that I really had no choice, I nodded yes.
"I guess that's it then," he said.
As we started to leave the office, I saw Casey whisper
something to Amy, who nodded her agreement, and then
we entered Mr. LeBlanc's office. His desk was angled in the
far left corner. He was standing behind it. The three boys
and their mothers were arrayed along the right hand wall,
some sitting and some standing. I was marched up to Mr.
LeBlanc's desk where he asked if I had anything to say.
After hesitating for a moment, I responded, "I'm very
sorry that all of this has happened and I'm ready to accept
the punishment."
With a glance over my shoulder at the others, he said,
"Very well, as we are all in agreement, we'll let Miss
Corrigan proceed."
Casey stepped forward, my belt in her right hand and,
as Mr. Leblanc walked over to stand with the others, she
said quietly, "Tom, please prepare yourself and then bend
across Mr. LeBlanc's desk."
Someone had placed a small seat cushion on the edge
of the desk so I wouldn't be lying directly against the hard
wood edge. When I was in position, she said to me, "Tom,
you know that you must not leave your position until I tell
you that the punishment is over. If you do, it will mean an
extra stroke with the strap each time. Do you understand?"
"Yes ma'am," I replied.
"Very well. The agreement calls for twelve strokes. Are
you ready?"
"Yes ma'am."
There was a long pause that I didn't understand and
then, instead of the first stroke, I heard Casey say, "Just to
be on the safe side, we'll take an added precaution. Amy,
please go around to the other side of the desk and hold
Tom's arms so that he doesn't try to reach back."
Obviously anticipating this request, Amy was there in
a flash, leaning over me and pressing down on my upper
arms. Before I had a chance to react, she shushed me and
whispered, "Casey and I thought this might help you." And
then I realized what Casey must have said to her as we were
leaving the other office.
Then I felt Casey lightly slapping the belt against my
butt. I could tell from the sound and the feel of it that she
had doubled it over. There was a brief pause during which
you could have heard a pin drop. Suddenly, I felt Amy's
hands tighten around my arms and a split second later ...
WHACK!
The strap landed squarely atop the fullest part of my
out-thrust bare bottom. I had told myself that Casey would
have no choice but to deliver a real punishment strapping
and I thought that I was ready, but I was wrong. That first
lash of the strap was a stunner. I felt myself jerk
involuntarily against Amy's restraining hands, and I clamped
my mouth on my arm to stifle the sound of my groan.
All this time, I could hear Amy's voice in my ear. I
couldn't tell you if my life depended on it what she was
saying, but just hearing her was a comfort. Then I felt the
telltale squeeze of her hands once again. Knowing what it
portended, this time I was better prepared when ...
THWACK!
The second searing lash of the strap burnt its way
across my bottom flesh. I felt my hips bounce over the
cushion in response to the blow, but told myself that I had
taken it better than the first one. Again, I managed to keep
from crying out and, again, I was grateful for the soothing
sound of Amy's sweet voice in my ear.
And so it went through the third, the fourth, the fifth,
and the sixth strokes of the strap. By now, my butt was on
fire and I could feel the tears falling from my eyes onto the
desk top. So far, I had managed to avoid giving them the
satisfaction of hearing me scream like a baby, but I was
afraid that it was only a matter of time.
After the sixth stroke, I gradually became aware of a
much longer pause and then I could hear a whispered but
animated discussion going on behind me. A few moments
later, Principal McCarthy was bending over and speaking to
me.
"Tom, I'm very sorry about this, but I'm afraid that
your admirable display of fortitude has caused some of the
witnesses to believe that you aren't being adequately
punished. The three mothers are demanding that the last
six strokes be divided among them." There was a pause
before he went on. "That's not all of it, I'm afraid. Instead of
the belt, they insist on using a pointer."
 He was talking about the long, round wooden stick
with a rubber tip that teachers used to direct their students'
attention to particular items on the blackboard or posted up
on the classroom walls. I don't think there's a kid anywhere
in the country who hasn't felt a chill at the sound one of
those things makes when a teacher whacks on the top of
her desk to command the attention of an unruly class.
"It's not what we agreed on, Tom, and it's certainly not
fair, but they won't relent."
He was right; it was unfair and it made me angry as
hell. Ironically, I think that my anger helped me; that and
the fact that Casey now joined Amy in hovering over me.
Later, when we were safely home, Casey said that when she
saw the smarmy looks on those women, she wanted to call
them all bitches to their faces, but knowing I would pay the
price for it, she bit her tongue.
Still, she was very worried for me as she had seen
them whispering among themselves and she gave way to
Mrs. Wayne with great reluctance and concern. As each one
of them made some nasty remark before taking their
swings, it was clear that this was now a matter of
vengeance. That was reinforced by the first stroke; it was
delivered with a full arm swing squarely on the junction
between my butt cheeks and thighs.
That first stroke made the six with the belt seem
insignificant. The pain was hideous and I nearly chewed
through the thick wad of paper that Amy had surreptitiously
wedged between my teeth. Principal McCarthy protested
strenuously, but Mrs. Wayne coolly said that it was not too
late to call the police. Then she lashed me a second time
with even more force, and my knees buckled. If it hadn't
been for Amy and Casey's grip on my arms, I would
probably have fallen to the floor.
 I know I was groaning audibly in pain as I awaited the
second mother's turn. Apparently she wasn't as strong as
Mrs. Wayne, but her aim was perfect and I got two more
right on top of the first strokes. My whole body was now
trembling with the pain and I could barely think straight, but
one thing penetrated the fog in my brain. It was Amy
repeating the mantra, "Almost done, Tom, almost done."
The third mother, Mrs. Cunningham, went right for the
same spot and she was easily a match, strength wise, for
the first. She let me know that she was the mother of the
ring leader, Billy, the boy I had put on the ground with my
quick jab. Maybe she thought to intimidate me, but her
revelation had just the opposite effect as it focused my mind
on that very satisfying moment when I had decked her bully
son for his abuse of that much smaller boy. That helped give
me the strength to ride out the last two.
Apparently she was ready to swing yet again when Mr.
McCarthy forcibly took the pointer from her, saying, "That's
the full twelve and no man ever took them better. Mr.
LeBlanc, I think we're done here, wouldn't you agree?"
"Not so fast," said Mrs. Cunningham. "I want him to
apologize to my boy first."
"I distinctly heard an apology from Tom to everyone
before the beating. What about you ladies?" Mr. McCarthy
concluded with a hard look at the other two mothers.
"Yes, he's right, Ginny," one of them answered
nervously. "Let's go, I can't be late for my shift at the
hospital." As she walked past us she added, "Please take
him right home and put some ice and antiseptic cream on
those welts just as soon as you can. Give him some
Ibuprofen, too."
"Is that your professional advice, Mrs. Smith?" Mr.
McCarthy asked acerbically.
 "Yes ... I'm sorry," she said in a low voice as she
hurried from the office. The others quickly followed her.
As soon as the door was closed, my principal, assisted
by Amy and Casey, helped me to stand. While Casey was oh
so carefully getting my shorts and jeans back in place,
which caused me to wince in pain (damn those tight jeans,
anyway), Amy brought a wet towel from Mr. LeBlanc's
private lavatory and washed my face with it.
Mr. McCarthy stayed behind to talk with Mr. LeBlanc as
Casey and Amy walked me out to Casey's car. I had to ride
lying face down on the back seat as I literally could not sit.
By the time we got to my house, it seemed as if my whole
bottom was throbbing with pain.
Casey and Amy ushered me inside, just as my sister
was getting home from play practice. We went directly to
my bedroom where Mary Ann got the Cliff Notes version of
the afternoon's events as Casey was carefully taking off my
jeans and shorts. At this point, I was beyond
embarrassment, and was just happy to lie face down on my
bed. That's when the three girls got a good look at my
ravaged rear end.
Mary Ann screamed, "Oh my God!"
Amy said, "I'm going to get my father!"
Casey calmly said, "Mary Ann, please bring some ice
and first aid cream - a glass of water and some Ibuprofen,
too."
"Looks kind of bad, huh," I said to Casey when we
were alone.
"Yes, Tom, it does. You have welts and blisters. I think
Amy's right to get her father."
"Yeah, probably," I agreed. It sure hurts like hell."
"Tom, I need to call my folks to tell them where I am.
Will you be okay alone for a minute?"
 "I'll be fine."
"Good. I won't be long. Mary Ann should be along in a
minute with the ice."
Pausing for a second at the door, she added, "I'm so
sorry I couldn't save you from this."
She was gone before I could say that it was better
than being arrested. I thought I heard a loud sob as she
went down the hall.

OceanofPDF.com
 8. The Aftermath

The aftermath of my very bad day began to unfold

with surprising swiftness. Even as I was lying face down in
my bed with my sister applying ice to my badly bruised butt,
things were happening, in some cases with amazing
swiftness. I'll try to keep them in order, as best I can.
The first development was Amy's return with her
father in tow. He was an MD on the University Medical
School faculty. We were expecting them but they also had
her younger brother, Trevor, Jr. along with them. It turned
out that he was the mysterious little kid who had
disappeared after I had pulled Billy Cunningham off him.
Amy had rushed home to get her father to come
examine me and had overheard Trevor telling his mother of
his problem at school that day. Amy asked where and when
and upon hearing his answers, insisted that he come back
with her and Dr. Aldridge. Though he was still wearing his
dirty clothes and I certainly was not at my best, we
recognized one another immediately.
Dr. Aldridge sat down on the side of my bed and
began a professional assessment of the bruises on my butt.
Young Trevor was somewhat less reserved in his reaction as
he exclaimed, "Crikey, look at his bum. That's bloody awful!"
"Language, Trevor," cautioned Dr. Aldridge, as
continued his examination. "He got these bruises because
he helped you. The least you can do is to say thank you to
Mr. Farrell."
"Yes, father," the eleven year old boy responded
contritely and then turning to me added, "Thank you for
helping me this afternoon, Mr. Farrell. I'm sorry about what
happened to you. I hope it wasn't my fault."
 "You're welcome, Trevor. Don't worry, it certainly
wasn't your fault and please call me Tom."
"Why don't we have Trevor wait down in the lounge,"
suggested Dr. Aldridge as he concluded his examination.
Though it really didn't matter much to me at that
point, as it seemed that most of the people in town had
already seen my butt by that time, my sister took the boy
out as his father had asked.
Then Dr. Aldridge reported the results of his
examination.
"Tom, you've been through the wringer. You have a
number of contusions and lacerations, and one rather bad
contusion that I suspect will rupture if you roll over in bed
during the night. If that happens, it will certainly be very
painful and it could become infected, so I suggest we lance
it now and then I'll apply some Bacitracin and dress the
wounds; it will be much safer that way."
"If that's what you think is best, then go ahead,
Doctor."
"Do you concur, Miss Farrell?" he asked my sister. I
guess since technically I was a minor and she was eighteen,
he needed her approval.
My sister gave it and Dr. Aldridge started fishing
around in his bag. He asked my sister if we had any sterile
bandages and she went to get them. Then he said to me,
"I'll numb the area with Lidocaine first, then will lance the
blister and let it drain. Finally, we'll finish up with the
Bacitracin and the sterile gauze. When I'm done, I'll leave
you a couple of codeine pills. Take one at bed time so the
pain won't keep you awake."
While he was talking, he was applying the Lidocaine. I
could feel little pinpricks from the needle. It must have
worked because I didn't notice it when he lanced the blister,
but I got a good idea of what it looked liked from the
expressions on the faces of the others in the room.
Just about then, Casey said, "I ought to call Mr.
McCarthy and let him know about Trevor. He'll probably
want to speak to him."
"No need," came the Principal's voice from my
bedroom door. "I'm already here."
Trevor had apparently answered his knock at the front
door and brought him upstairs.
"And I've already met young Trevor as well. I would
have arrived sooner but I had to go back to Mr. Leblanc's
office to speak with another witness."
He went on to explain that a girl on her way to soccer
practice had seen the three boys abusing Trevor and had
told Mr. LeBlanc, who went to see what was going on.
Meantime, the girl had gone to soccer practice. It was about
three hours later, after practice, when the girl stopped by
the principal's office to ask if Trevor was all right. Mr.
LeBlanc was gone, but his secretary, who had typed up the
agreement regarding my punishment, was still there.
That lady, well aware of everything that had
happened, realized that the girl had witnessed the start of
the fight and immediately called Mr. McCarthy at his office
in the high school. He came right over and spoke with the
girl, whose name was Linda. As soon as he had gotten her
story, he came to check on me and was glad to find a doctor
in attendance.
Hearing all this, Casey went ballistic. "That old bastard
knew about Linda all along and deliberately kept it from us.
Why that's, that's-"
"Malfeasance," Mr. McCarthy said, completing the
sentence for her.
 "I had no idea that Mr. LeBlanc hated me so much. I
wasn't all that bad when I was in middle school, was I?" I
asked, looking at my sister.
"No you weren't, Tom. This has more to do with mom
and dad. He's jealous of their success as authors. He's a no
talent hack himself who has tried unsuccessfully to get his
manuscripts published. As a favor, Dad sent a couple of
them in to his editor who rejected them out of hand, and
LeBlanc somehow got the idea that Dad had sabotaged him.
It was all nonsense, of course, but there was no reasoning
with him."
"How do you know all this?" asked Mr. McCarthy.
"I overheard an argument between them when
LeBlanc showed up here one day last year."
"So what do we do about it now?" Casey asked.
"I'd like to know the answer to that myself,"
commented Dr. Aldridge. "Trevor has had a very bad time of
it all year from several boys at that school, and our
complaints to Mr. LeBlanc have fallen on deaf ears. It was
one excuse after another from that man as to why he
couldn't put a stop to it. Do let me know if I can help in this,
won't you, Mr. McCarthy."
"I will indeed, Doctor. I'll be back to talk with your
parents on Sunday, Tom. Between now and then, there's one
more person I want to see. For now, I'll leave you in Dr.
Aldridge's capable hands." Pausing at the door, he added,
"And Tom, I'm very sorry that this has happened to you."
"Thank you, Mr. McCarthy. I know that you tried your
best to help."
With a last nod in my direction, he was gone.
Shortly thereafter, Dr. Aldridge departed and Trevor
along with him. Amy was allowed to remain when Mary Ann
assured her father that she was welcome to have supper
with us, as was Casey.
While Casey and my sister busied themselves in the
kitchen, Amy stayed with me. I still couldn't stand to have
anything touching my butt so I was lying face down with my
partially bandaged bare bottom fully exposed. By now, my
shirt and undershirt had become uncomfortably bunched
and twisted on me and I wanted them off but found it
difficult to do it alone.
Amy came to my rescue, again. While I supported
myself on extended arms, she reached in front of me and
unbuttoned my shirt. Then I was able to lie down again
while she removed it. After that, she pulled my tee shirt off
over my head. That made me more comfortable.
I thanked Amy for bringing her father and then I told
her, "This day hasn't turned out the way I planned."
"I should think not," she agreed.
"Yeah, today was the day that I was going to finally
get up the nerve to ask if you would like to go to a movie
with me on Saturday. I guess that will have to wait a while
until I can sit down again."
She carefully sat next to me on the edge of the bed
and gently started to rub my back as she said, "Don't worry,
Tom. My answer will be yes, whenever you're ready."
If Dr. Aldridge had been using his stethoscope to
check my heart just then, he would have heard it skip a
beat.
"I also had something planned for today, Tom," she
said, reaching for her pocketbook. "This was the day I
planned to give you this," she said handing me a fancy
envelope with my name on it.
Opening the envelope, I extracted an engraved
invitation card to the University Prep Spring Formal.
 "It's an annual event," she explained, "and the
students can invite anyone they want."
"I can't believe that some guy at U-Prep hasn't already
asked you to go with him."
"Oh, several have, but I told them all the same thing;
that I already made plans to attend with my boyfriend, and
Tom, to be clear, that's you, because you are going to be my
boyfriend. I've made my mind up about that! Another thing
I've made my mind up on is that, whatever it takes, you are
going to U-Prep with me next year. I want this cute little
bum of yours close by where I can keep an eye on it. I'll not
have other girls poaching on my patch!"
The least damaged portion of said bum got a gentle
but clearly proprietary squeeze at that pronouncement.
"Now, before anyone comes back ..." So saying, she
bent down and, taking my head in her hands and carefully
twisting my face in her direction, kissed me full on the lips.
"Thank you for what you did for my little brother. Casey
certainly knew what she was talking about when she told
me that you were a fine young man."
"Did somebody mention my name?" asked Casey from
the doorway where she stood holding a tray. Walking over to
the bed, she set the tray down on the lamp table and
handed me a couple of pills and a glass of water, explaining,
"Dr. Aldridge said to give you two more Ibuprofen to help
with the pain and swelling. He also wants you to keep ice on
your bottom for a while. May I enlist your aid with that?" she
asked Amy with a knowing smile as she handed her the ice
pack.
When dinner time came, the best I could do was to
partly roll up on my right side. It was nearly impossible to
feed myself in that position, so my newly official girlfriend
patiently spoon fed me my dinner before joining Casey and
Mary Ann in the dining room for their own meal.
 After watching television for a while, I took the
codeine pill that Dr. Aldridge left for me. Not long after, well-
fed and well-cosseted by the TLC of three of the four most
important women in my life, I fell asleep.

---oOo---

Friday brought a string of visitors. Dr. Aldridge turned

up twice, which was probably overkill but I suspect the
result of Amy's demands. My sister stayed home from
school to keep watch on me as did Casey who, it turned out
had stayed all night, sleeping on the chair in my bedroom.
Amy came by right after school and stayed to feed me
dinner again. I tried telling her that I could manage that for
myself but she was adamant.
Mr. McCarthy stopped in to check on me and to report
on his private conversation with Mrs. Smith, the mother of
the third boy who had ganged up on Trevor. She had come
to his office to say that she had confronted her son at home
and that he had finally confessed to the truth of the whole
affair.

---oOo---

On Saturday, I was almost never alone. Amy was there

all day and even insisted on doing some math tutoring. She
was clearly serious about making sure that I got into U-Prep.
Likewise, Casey was around a lot and, of course, Mary Ann.
Around noon, while Amy was helping my sister make
lunch, I finally got to talk with Casey privately. First she took
note of my invitation to the Formal and I admitted that I was
worried about it because I wasn't much of a dancer. She, of
course, had already been to three of the Formals and knew
the score.
"Leave it to me," she said with a little smile, "I'll be
happy to include dancing lessons in your tutoring program
and I'll fill you in on everything else you need to know, with
no extra charge!"
It was the first time I seen a smile on her face since
Thursday. It didn't last long as she quickly turned serious
again.
"Tom, I can't find the words to properly tell you how
sorry I am for what happened. Your parents put their trust in
me and when you most needed me, I was unable to help
you. I was totally inadequate and I can't imagine what
they'll think of me when they get home and find out what's
happened."
Even though I was now 'officially' Amy's boyfriend,
Casey was my first 'love' and I felt awfully bad for her just
then. Fortunately my good memory and my innate fourteen
year old's tendency to make wise cracks came to my aid.
"You're not inadequate," I said with a sly smile. "You're
eighteen! Don't worry, it's not permanent. You'll outgrow it!"
She did not miss the reference and I was rewarded
with a real full smile this time as she said, "So now the
student becomes the tutor … touché!"
"Heck Casey, if Mr. McCarthy couldn't help me, no one
could."
"Ah, yet more wisdom from my student. I guess I must
be doing something right!"
Then she leaned over and enveloped me in a hug.
Don't tell Amy I said this, but I've always felt something
special in each one of Casey's hugs. This one was extra
special!
 I must have been napping when my parents got
home. Lying in bed all day tends to make you want to sleep.
I was sure that it would have been just fine to be up and
about for a bit but my three 'babysitters' wouldn't hear of it.
I even had to sneak in bathroom trips if I wanted any
privacy.
At any rate, I was awakened from my nap by my
mother's gentle shake to find the both my parents standing
by the bed with the other three peering around them.
Mother insisted on checking my butt and was, of course,
horrified at what she saw.
"Look at those ugly welts and bruises, Bob! Look what
they've done to my baby!"
That brought a chorus of giggles from the onlookers as
I blushed and moaned, "Aw geez, Mom!"
My father simply said, "Honorable scars, from what
we've been told."
When Casey and Amy got around to changing the
dressings later that day, rather to my mother's shock, I
might add, the old ones were dry and so I was able to
convince mom that I should be allowed up. Come dinner
time, I was able to sit on a couple of soft pillows and eat at
the table with the 'grownups', though Casey and Amy
seemed a little miffed at that.

---oOo---

Sunday afternoon brought another visit from Mr.

McCarthy, accompanied by the Superintendent of Schools
who filled my parents in on their plans for Monday. Mr.
McCarthy looked in on me before he left and told me not to
come to school until I was sure I was going to be
comfortable.
 Casey and Amy came, too, and stayed most of the
day.

---oOo---

Monday was crunch day. All of the parties involved

were summoned to a meeting in the Superintendent's office.
I was the only one not in attendance. The City Attorney was
also there along with attorneys representing my parents and
the Aldridges.
The upshot was that the three boys were expelled
from school. Mr. LeBlanc was suspended without pay
pending action by the School Committee. The
Superintendent made it clear that he would be
recommending that LeBlanc be fired. The City Attorney
advised Mr. LeBlanc to prepare himself for a criminal
investigation. The attorneys for my parents and the
Aldridges advised the parents of the three boys to expect
civil suits.
I was glad to hear that Mr. McCarthy escaped without
censure. The Superintendent recognized that Mr. McCarthy
really had no authority in Mr. LeBlanc's school. Under the
circumstances, it was felt that he had done all that he could
to help me.
Contrary to Casey's fears, my parents did not hold her
responsible and certainly did not feel that she had been
'totally inadequate'. They understood and agreed with her
and Mr. McCarthy's concern to keep me from being arrested
and charged with assault and battery. Given what was
known at the time, my father said he wasn't sure that he
could have come up with any other solution.
Later on, I learned that the Cunninghams and the
Waynes moved out of town. The third woman, Mrs. Smith,
the nurse who was also a single mother, was the only one to
come to see me and to apologize. She said that her son
would long rue the day that his lies contributed to my unjust
punishment. I have no doubt that she meant it.

---oOo---

As for me, I carried my 'honorable scars' for a while.

Amy insisted on checking on them every day until it was
embarrassingly obvious that this was now just an excuse for
her to get her hands on my 'cute butt'. Two weeks later, we
had our movie date and I got more than a few kisses in the
darkened theater.
Bottom line, if you'll pardon the obvious pun, I got one
hell of a beating and the most beautiful girlfriend of any boy
in town. I figured I came out all right.

OceanofPDF.com
 9. Success and Happiness

Turns out I'm a fast healer and I was back in school in

less than a week. It was almost three weeks before the last
vestiges of my 'honorable scars' had faded completely away
and I was able to resume gym and other athletic activities
that would necessitate the use of the school's common
showers.
Tutoring went on as usual with Amy and Casey, and
my romance with Amy seemed to be going well. My only
concern on that score was the upcoming Spring Formal at U-
Prep, which was not just a dance but also included a
banquet.
We tend to eat informally at my house so Casey not
only taught me how to dance, but tutored me in the rules of
etiquette for formal dinners and other such occasions. We
kept this a secret between us.
The night of the Formal, my father performed
chauffeur duties. My mother insisted on coming along, and
bringing a camera. As we arrived at the Aldridges and I
walked up to the door, all turned out in my rented tuxedo, I
had butterflies in my stomach. Amy answered the bell, of
course, and looked so beautiful in her gown that I almost
couldn't talk.
Once inside and after I managed to pin on the corsage
without drawing blood, hers or mine, Mom went a little
overboard with the camera, happily abetted by Mrs.
Aldridge while my father and Dr. Aldridge waited patiently.
Finally we were on our way. The Formal was at a swanky
hotel downtown and it was quite a show.
The details don't matter. The important thing was that
Casey's lessons and instructions were right on and I
acquitted myself very well both at the dinner table and on
the dance floor. Amy was very pleased and told me later
that many of her girl friends were more than a little curious
about me. That would come back to haunt me, in an
unexpected way, later on.
The night, which I had once anticipated with some
concern, flew by as I discovered for the first time the joy of
holding a lovely young girl in my arms as we danced
together. When we got back to Amy's, my parents remained
discreetly in the car as I walked her to her door and kissed
her good night. It was a long sweet kiss that I will always
remember with special fondness.
After the Formal, the days seemed to rush by as we
approached the end of the school year. One day, early in
May, my mother asked me about my upcoming fifteenth
birthday.
"Are you getting too grown up for birthday parties?"
she wanted to know.
I hadn't thought much about it so I didn't know what
to say. My sister, Mary Ann, filled the void.
"I think a perhaps small party would be right, just as
long as it includes Amy."
And so it was; a perfectly conventional birthday party
with cake, ice cream and presents. Alas, I had outgrown the
clowns and the pony rides. The weather was nice and I
walked Amy home afterward. At her door, just before kissing
me good night, she said, "Your birthday celebration is not
quite finished. We have something special in mind for
Monday."
I knew that she was referring to my next scheduled
tutoring session at Casey's but that was all she would say.
After school on Monday, I hurried home to change
and, intrigued by Amy's cryptic hint of the night before, I got
to Casey's well before my three o'clock appointment. Mrs.
Corrigan let me in as she was on her way out, and with a
funny little laugh wished me a belated happy birthday as
she sent me down to the classroom.
I found Casey and Amy waiting for me. On the table
was another small birthday cake and a couple of boxes all
wrapped up in birthday party paper. Amy explained that
since Casey couldn't be at last night's party they had
decided to have another one today. So we did the whole bit
… the cake, candles, ice cream, and singing 'Happy
Birthday' all over again.
Then it was time for the presents. Inside the large box
was a blue blazer bearing the U-Prep school crest, standard
attire for all male students. At their insistence, I put it on,
though with some misgivings.
"Isn't this a little premature?" I asked.
"No," Casey answered. "Your mom, my mom,
Professor Aldridge (Amy's mom) and I have talked to the
Head Master. Based on your record to date at the high
school, you've been conditionally accepted to the
sophomore class in the fall. All you have to do is maintain
your grades through the end of the year and make a good
showing in your final exams. Since Amy and I will be
watching you like hawks from now 'til then, I don't see
anything to worry about!"
"Congratulations, Tom!" Amy shouted enthusiastically
as she threw her arms around my neck and kissed me
ardently. "We're going to be school mates!"
Looking over Amy's shoulder, I saw Casey literally
beaming at us.
Why not? I thought. She was right about everything,
and if she could make a good student out of me she could
do it with anyone.
 With one final squeeze, Amy took me by the hand and
led me back to the table, saying, "Now you have to open
your other present."
Something about the way they were behaving put me
on my guard. So, picking up the box, I gave it a tentative
shake and hearing movement inside I asked the obvious
question.
"What's in here?"
"You'll have to open it to find out," I was informed.
So, I did, slowly and carefully. Inside, I found a paddle
and a hairbrush. Looking up from the box at the two
grinning girls I asked, "What are these for?"
"For your birthday spanking, of course," Amy replied.
"Both?"
"No, you get to choose," Amy explained. "You can ask
Casey to give you fifteen with the paddle as you bend over
the table or you can ask her to take you over her knee for
fifteen of the hairbrush, on each cheek; bare bottom in
either case, of course."
As I stared back at them, temporarily speechless,
Casey added, "There is a third choice, but there was no way
we could wrap it."
"What's that?" I asked suspiciously.
"You can choose fifteen minutes of hand spanking
over Amy's lap!"
"In your birthday suit!" Amy added daringly.
I looked from one to the other and answered, "No
offense, Casey, but I already know what you can do with the
paddle and the hairbrush. I choose Amy!"
My girlfriend literally jumped with glee as she clapped
her hands together. Bowing out gracefully, Casey said she
would use the time to clean up. As she gathered up the
leftover cake and the other ruins of the party, Amy took
charge. Plunking a chair in the middle of the room, she sat
down and commanded, "Tom, over here, now and get
naked!"
Laughing loudly, Casey left us alone, saying as she
went, "Good luck, Tom!"
Hoping that I hadn't gotten myself in over my head, I
stood where Amy had directed and started to undress.
When I was down to just my boxer shorts, she stopped me,
saying, "I'll take care of those, birthday boy!"
Inserting her finger into the waist band, she pulled me
closer and then, using both hands, slowly drew the boxers
down. My hormones went into overdrive and there was no
hiding the effect her little tease was having on me. She
must have liked what she saw because she kept me
standing there for quite a while before having me step out
of my shorts.
With a light touch on my elbow, she guided me around
to her right and told me to take my place over her lap. As I
settled into place, I became aware for the first time that her
legs were bare under her skirt and my erection was in direct
contact with the soft, warm skin of her lovely thighs. Telling
me that she wanted to make the most of her fifteen
minutes, she started right in with a series of playful spanks,
accompanied by teasing banter.
"You know, Tom, you really do have a cute young
schoolboy bottom. It's the part of you that I saw first, if you
remember. It's really fun to spank it. I shall have to find
many occasions to do this besides birthdays!"
Then she would spank on in silence for a little while
before adding some more commentary.
"While I have you here and I've got your full attention
- I do have your full attention, I hope," she teased, spanking
a little harder.
 "Oh yes Amy," I answered. "I'm all ears, except for the
part you're spanking!"
"Don't be impertinent, young man!" she said as she
reeled of a half dozen real zingers.
"No ma'am! Sorry ma'am," I answered quickly and she
kindly reverted to gentler applications of her palm to my
naked bottom.
"As I was saying, while I have your full attention, I
want to discuss your flirting with all those other girls at the
Formal."
"But I didn't flirt with any girls," I protested earnestly.
My denial of guilt only brought me another half dozen
zingers and another question.
"Then why were so many of them so interested in
you?"
"I don't know… maybe because I clean up nice," I said
hopefully.
Amy laughed and said that she would accept that, but
she kept on spanking of course as she thought of something
else she wanted to 'discuss' with me. This time it was
academics.
"I want you to know that I expect you to live up to
your full academic potential, and I will be keeping an eye on
you. Just as you do now with Casey, you will show me all
your school reports and they had better measure up! Do you
understand?"
More zingers landed in spite of my urgent, "Yes Amy!"
My birthday spanking went on like that; playful
spanks, a serious topic punctuated by the six zingers, my
earnest assurances and then more playful spanks.
At one point, Casey came back and sat down opposite
us to observe the proceedings.
 "How's it going?" she asked, and I knew she wasn't
talking to me.
"Just fine," my girlfriend answered. "You were right, I
do have his full attention. While you're here, is there
anything you want to address?"
"Just this - remember, Tom, that success in life
requires your best effort, all the time."
SPANK! SPANK! SPANK! SPANK! SPANK! SPANK!
Of course I got the zingers followed by a question.
"Got that, Tom?" Amy asked.
Casey laughed and commented, "Nice technique. I
may use that myself some time."
"Be my guest," my generous girlfriend replied.
"I'll leave you to get on with your good work," said
Casey as she rose from her chair.
"How am I doing on my fifteen minutes?" Amy asked.
"Beats me," Casey answered. "I thought that you were
keeping track."
"Oh well, I'll just have to 'guesstimate'. Do me a favor
and pass me the hairbrush before you leave."
That got my attention. "Hey, wait a minute! You said I
had a choice. I chose this."
"Yes Tom, but I'm just going to give you a little taste of
what to expect if I ever have cause to give you a real
spanking." Taking the brush from Casey, she set about doing
that very thing, with my tutor looking on in approval.
Amy spent the last minute of my 'birthday spanking'
plying the hairbrush all around my upturned bare bottom.
When she had finished, she began to rub my now
stinging bottom with both hands. Casey took her leave
again, saying that she had more things to do upstairs.
Another minute of Amy's soft hands caressing my bottom
was all it took to restore my erection and then saying that
she had one more present for me, Amy told me to stand up
and close my eyes.
When she told me to open them again, I saw my
newest present decorated with nothing but a big pink bow
on the top of her head.
"This is what you'll get when you're a good boy!" was
her only comment.
The school year raced to a close and I pulled A's in all
my finals, even Math.
For the last time, I took my report card straight to
Casey, my tutor and my dear friend. She seemed not the
least bit surprised at the grades as we sat in her 'classroom'
for the final time.
"I am so proud of you, Tom! I never doubted that this
day would come. You'll do fine at U-Prep. Keep working on
your writing. I've passed some of your papers along to
Amy's mother; she was quite impressed and said that you
have real talent. She'll work with you, if you want her to.
Don't pass up that opportunity!"
"Casey, I'm really going to miss having you as my
tutor. I don't know how to thank you for all you've done for
me."
"Tom, you don't need me any more and there's
another young boy, a seventh grader, whom I think I can
help. As for thanking me, just keep making me proud of you
so I can use you as an example of the success of my tutorial
methods!" she said with a laugh.
We sat there in silence for a moment, neither one of
us quite ready to break the bond. Then, with a twinkle in her
eye Casey said, "It's been a long time since your 'tune up'.
Do you think you'll make it through the summer all right?"
 "Hard to say," I said, smiling back at her. "I'm running
pretty smoothly right now so maybe just a little
'preventative maintenance' would see me through."
Retrieving her paddle from the desk drawer, she said,
"Please bend over the table, Tom."
Dropping my trousers and shorts, I assumed the
position and waited while Casey declared, "A dozen should
do it, don't you agree?"
"Yes Miss Casey."
They were twelve of the best paddle swats that I ever
got, exactly modulated to provide a nice sting and a warm
memory. Not a word was spoken as I replaced my clothing
and Casey walked me to the door. There, I got a kiss, a hug
and, in a husky whisper, "Remember I love you, Tom. You
were my best student ever."
"And I love you too, Casey. You were my best teacher
ever."
When I turned to walk out the door, as she had so
often done before, Casey sent me on my way with a smart
swat of her palm to the seat of my pants. I didn't look back
and I had to wipe tears from my eyes all the way home.

---oOo---

Back in the here and now, in my home office, I hit the

print button on the computer and got up to pour myself a
fresh cup of coffee. I sat at the patio table munching on a
couple of biscuits and enjoying nature's beauty as I drank
the coffee. Once again, I lost track of the time as the warm
May evening drew its shades around me.
"Well, Tom, it seems you've had quite a stroll down
memory lane for yourself."
 It was the voice I had fallen in love with fifteen years
ago and I felt the same delight now as when I first heard it.
"Hi, Amy. I didn't know you were home."
"I have been for a while. I thought you were in the
office when I heard the printer so I checked there first. When
I saw what was printing I started reading and I had to finish
it."
"What did you think?" I asked anxiously.
"I think you've got it just about right."
"I'm glad to hear that. When you left this morning and
I started to think back, I found that I had to really struggle to
remember some of the details. So I wanted to get the story
down on paper before I lost any of it."
"Probably a good idea," Amy affirmed.
"Are you okay with it?"
"Of course, my love. Why wouldn't I be?"
"Well, some wives might be jealous of the things I
wrote about Casey."
"Ah, but I was there, if you remember, and I know that
you've always had a special love for Casey, but I also know
that you're 'in love' with me. And after all, if it weren't for
Casey, we wouldn't have each other, now would we? We
both owe her a lot."
As she said that, she wrapped her arms around me
and I reached behind me to hug her back.
"You know, Tom, there will be a ceremony when they
present the award. We should go. We haven't been home in
years. We can see our folks and they can see their
grandson. It's not that far. We can drive it in a few hours,"
she said with growing enthusiasm.
"We'll do it!"
 "Good, I'll check the date and organize things with our
parents."
"We should send a card or something in the
meantime," I suggested.
"Flowers and a card - already seen to."
"What would I ever do without you, Amy?"
"I shudder to think," she said, making a face. "Now
about this manuscript … with a little more work, it could
make a great story … not for your regular publisher, of
course."
"I'd have to change all the names."
"And publish it under a pseudonym," Amy added.
"Something to think about, I suppose."
"But not until you finish your current project. You're
only as good as your next book, love, and Pulitzer Prize
notwithstanding, your editor is getting impatient, if today's
email is anything to go by!"
"Yes, she is getting a bit cranky."
"Well, that will keep until tomorrow. Now it's time for
dinner. 'TC' (short for Thomas Casey) is having a sleep over
at Billy's and I've planned an early night. You seem to be
running a bit rough right now and I would say that you're
due for a tune up. After that," she said with a twinkle in her
eye, "there'll be time enough for a more positive form of
motivation."
There are worse ways to spend an evening, I thought
as I followed Amy into the house.
I am a very happy man, thanks in no small measure to
the love and support I got at a critical time in my life from
Casey Corrigan, my tutor.
OceanofPDF.com
 Other Titles from LSF Publications

For a full selection of femdom titles see:

http://femdom.lsfpublications.com/

The Governess Search by Austin Carr

Having spent most of her adult life as a governess,
Elizabeth Rodham is discharged from her position as her
charges have grown too old to require her services, and in
her early thirties she now faces a future of poverty and
insecurity ... until the arrival of an unexpected letter from a
Mr. Kenworthy. It transpires that Elizabeth's former employer
has recommended her for a position dealing with the ward
of Mr. Kenworthy.

Mr. Kenworthy turns out to be a very wealthy man

with a large estate (Shadowplains) in Norfolk; he is a
charming and handsome young gentleman ... but it isn't
long before Elizabeth discovers exactly what he is looking
for in his search for a governess, for he has an appetite for
receiving corporal punishment, and who better to deal with
him than she? Other arrangements are made for Mr
Kenworthy's ward, and Elizabeth is appointed Housekeeper
of Shadowplains, a position she fulfils admirably, though not
without jealousy when various well-bred young women
come calling, hoping to be chosen as the future bride of Mr.
Kenworthy.

But a very close bond develops between the new

housekeeper and her employer, and they become lovers.
Elizabeth is usually the one dispensing discipline in the
relationship, but on one occasion when she oversteps the
mark, Mr Kenworthy takes her to task by giving her a well-
deserved spanking. Normality resumes, but things are
happening behind the scenes, and Elizabeth is faced with a
significant decision which will affect her whole way of life...

The Bad Boy Story Book 3 by Lucy Appleby

This anthology of femdom tales will be enjoyed by
anyone interested in being disciplined by a dominant
woman. The women disciplinarians in these stories stand for
no nonsense as they inflict good old-fashioned spankings to
deserving male bottoms.

Flowers for the Wife: Ted is in trouble with his wife

Betty for failing to fix the dripping tap. On the pretext of
nipping out to the hardware store, he instead sneaks off to
the pub to watch the football. Several hours later he decides
to buy a bunch of flowers to sweeten Betty up.
Unfortunately for Ted, Betty decides corrective measures are
called for ... it's roast rump for dinner!

The Pleasure of Punishment: At the age of 42,

George lives at home with his mother, but circumstances
change when he goes jogging in the woods one night and
witnesses a coven of naked female witches. He is stripped
and switched, and one of the women takes a very special
interest in him ... his life changes drastically from that point
on.

Michael and the Shrink: Michael can't believe his

luck when he finally discovers the cure for his spanking
obsession - hypnotherapy. His therapist can't believe her
luck either as she discovers how easily he falls under
hypnosis! Are her intentions honourable? Absolutely not!
Michael isn't the only one obsessed with spanking.

A Piece of Silver ... and a Damn Good Thrashing:

John the blacksmith journeys beyond the woods, where it is
rumoured a powerful wizard lives. He hopes the wizard can
make Mary the seamstress fall in love with him. Much to his
surprise, John discovers instead a beautiful woman with
incredible abilities to punish and seduce. A special piece of
silver helps transport him back and forth to her house - that
is, until it is stolen...

Hilary's Hairbrush: Hilary has reached the end of

her tether with her lazy husband John. When he fails to pick
her up from the supermarket, she gets the bus home, and
finds a large wooden hairbrush wedged between the seats.
It seems the perfect thing to help motivate her husband,
and she puts it to very good use on his bottom.

The Cherry Cake Incident: Gilbert Bryce is second

footman at Grantham Hall. He has seen the cook discipline
other staff members and longs to attract her attention, and
although she is plain as a pikestaff, he lusts after her. When
a slice of cherry cake goes missing, he gets the chance to
experience her strap and cane for himself.

Gerald and the Ringmistress: Gerald hates his dull

job in the bank, but compensates by having an exciting
online relationship with the beautiful, dominant and
supremely kinky Josephine. One evening he is given a free
ticket to the circus, but when he attends, he finds it is no
ordinary circus. The ringmistress hosts a special
performance for her all-male audience - who all get soundly
spanked, caned and plugged, and prance around like circus
ponies.
 Read the Small Print: Billy is almost flat broke. He
acts on impulse after reading his horoscope and spends his
remaining money on a cruise where he attempts to get
himself a rich wife. He succeeds, and subsequently signs a
marriage contract, but gets far more than he bargained for
... including a very sore bottom.

Bare Bottomed in the Park: Tommy goes to a party,

gets blind drunk, and ends up sleeping on a park bench. But
the next morning a woman vicar tells him off for having a
pee in the bushes. She goes on to chastise him further, with
a bare bottom spanking.

Making Amends: When Jake moves from London

back to what was the family home in the country, he
encounters an old flame, Eva, who he walked out on fifteen
years previously. Eva has her own ideas how Jake can make
amends, and with the help of her hairbrush she asserts her
dominance. Yet still Jake returns for more...

The Disciplining of Danny by Charles

Pangbourne
Handsome 23-year-old Danny Fuller funds his studies
by working as a bartender where he is ideally placed to pick
up women and indulge in transient superficial relationships
with them. Things change forever, though, when he meets
the wealthy and very attractive Nicole, a woman with a no-
nonsense attitude who likes to be in control.

Once they start dating, Danny soon finds himself over

her knee for a spanking when he fails to measure up to her
expectations, but Nicole also likes to dominate in the
bedroom, spanking him for both fun and foreplay. She also
introduces Danny to two of her equally dominant female
friends and he gets spanked by them too.

Danny is surprised to discover that he is very much

turned on by being spanked and dominated by the beautiful
Nicole and enjoys being a willing participant in a female led
relationship. Over time, their feelings deepen for each other
and they fall in love and, after Nicole invites Danny to live
with her, he is hopeful that marriage may soon be on the
cards.

First, though, Nicole wants to help make Danny a

better man and to fulfil his potential and, despite a few
mishaps along the way, things seem to be going well when
a foolish deception appears to have ruined everything. Is
this the end for the couple or can Danny turn things around?

Women who Spank Men: Volume 16

This volume in the Women who Spank Men series
contains another diverse collection of domestic femdom
spanking tales:

Aunt Edith by Stephen de Medici: When Stephen's

formidable Aunt Edith pays him a visit, he is horrified to
discover that he had accidentally sent her a Christmas card
with a nude photo of himself being caned by his wife. He is
soon made to regret his error when his wife and aunt
collaborate to punish him with a hairbrush and a whippy
nylon cane.

The Boyfriend by Nigel Wolstenholm: Hoping to find

a dominant woman to meet his particular needs, Timothy
puts a carefully worded advert on the internet. Eventually,
he gets the reply he was hoping for and, after a brief
exchange of emails, he goes to his date's house for dinner.
Later that eveening, his bottom bared and his wrists
restrained, he is subjected to a vigorous hairbrush
spanking...

The Best Employment Option by Ryan Rowland:

Having moved back to her hometown, 24-year-old Tricia is in
need of a job. When she visits Ken, a prospective employer,
he offers her a position but then puts his arm round her
waist and pats her bottom! Incensed, Tricia spanks him with
his own belt, which she finds quite a turn-on. It appears,
however, that what Ken really needs is an assertive, no-
nonsense female who will put him in his place via maternal-
style corporal punishment.

Anatomy of a Switching by Rick Onolanke: When

Vicky discovers that her boyfriend has visited a strip bar and
lied about it to her, she gives him a choice: accept that their
relationship is over, or take a switching from her.

Birthday Blues by Michael Sharpe: On his 18th

birthday, Roger's friend Jen persuades him to break the
school rules and go to the pub at lunchtime. Unfortunately,
his visit is discovered and he is summoned to see the
Headmistress who offers him two options: he can either be
suspended or accept a spanking from Mrs Durham, the
rather attractive school secretary.

He Left Porn on Mom's Computer by Louis

Woodley: When 18-year-old Franklin's laptop is away for
repair, he uses his mother's computer to view porn sites,
but fails to cover his tracks. When his mother discovers
what he has done she sends him upstairs to await her and
the belt.
 The Piano Lesson by J Wackford Colton: After a hard
day at work, Jonathan attends his weekly piano lesson with
Susan, a rather strict piano teacher. While waiting, he
believes that he can hear the distinctive sounds of a bottom
being spanked, and later, when he fails to play his scales
correctly, he is bent over the piano stool for a dose of the
cane... or at least that's how it appears...

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