The First Sting-- A story

Ok-- I'm not a writer. I'm more known for my scientific brain than literary-- so bear that in mind. This story is loosely based on fact. A few details have been changed and, of course, names have been changed. But most of the story is true:

I still remember the first time that I realized that I enjoyed being paddled. As a child, I always hated the thought of being spanked, or paddled, or even worse-- switched. I remember, with tears in my eyes, going over to the peach tree in our back yard to break a switch off of the tree. And it was for that reason that it truly shocked me-- that first time I realized that pain can sometimes equal pleasure.

It was my Senior year of high school. I was a cheerleader back then-- slender, big blue eyes, long brown hair, always tanned and athletic. I was beautiful, and I knew it. As cheerleaders often do, I was dating one of the guys on the football team. For this story, we shall call him Chris.

It was a Friday, which means pep rally. Which also meant that I got to saunter around the school in my short little cheerleader uniform. Don't get me wrong, I was always an excellent student. Very well behaved, respectful, and considered one of the "most likely to succeed" of my class. But I also had fun "flaunting what I had". My uniform always drove Chris wild, which is ultimately what led to the events of that fateful day.

Chris and I both had our first class of the day out in one of the buildings behind the main school building, so he always parked in the limited parking area behind the school, rather than the large, main parking lot. Ironically, had he just parked with everyone else, it might not have happened.

Pep rallies were always held during our normal study hall time. Chris and I both had first lunch, so our lunch was always right after the pep rally. After the pep rally, Chris convinced me to sneak back to his car for a little fun. While I wasn't overly experienced, I wasn't a virgin, either. Chris and I had often snuck into his car during lunch, especially when I was in my cheerleading uniform. The short skirt made for easy access.

That day, we were in his car. I had just slipped off the bloomers that are often part of a cheerleader's uniform. Chris loved the naughtiness of just slipping my thong to the side, rather than taking it off-- so I had slid my thong over and had just mounted Chris's cock. I was sitting on his lap, with my back turned to him, holding on to the steering wheel as he pounded into me, the way that only an 18 year old horny male can. We didn't hear the knocking on the side window at first....

The door to his car flew open, and there stood Mr. Milson, the shop teacher. He had apparently walked back to the shop early so that he could set up before class, and correctly surmised the activities that were occuring in the rocking car. He looked us over--- told us to finish what we had started and then to report to the shop. We quickly scrambled to collect ourselves, tuck in, zip up, etc and we high tailed it to the shop.

His shop had an office and he had us wait for him outside the office, on the small bench that was built by his students. He came out, and called Chris into his office. For ten minutes I sat, straining trying to hear what was being said. But I heard nothing---- until out of the blue I heard a POP! Then another! And another! Chris was being paddled! After 8 pops, silence. Then five minutes later, Chris left Mr. Milson's office, walking gingerly past me, his tear stained face still evident. Mr. Milson had the reputation of being one of the more harsh "paddlers" in the school. Many of the female teachers would send the male students to him for discipline.

Mr. Milson then called me into the office. I sat down across from him, fearing the worst. He then offers me a choice-- a paddling or suspension. I had never been paddled at school. But then again, I was a cheerleader and a suspension would mean getting kicked off the squad the week before my Senior homecoming. I assumed that since so many female teachers sent their male students to him, that I would be paddled by a female teacher--- so I gulped and chose the paddling. Mr. Milson told me to wait in the office while he went to find a female teacher. I breathed a sign of relief-- my assumption was correct.

A few minutes later, Mr. Milson walks in with Ms. Stephenson. Mr. Milson then reaches into his drawer and pulls out my demise-- a lightweight paddle with holes bored into it. I knew enough about physics to know that the holes would prove more painful-- but I wasn't worried. After all, Ms. Stephenson was a very small lady and I had my bloomers on---- MY BLOOMERS! I had left them in Chris's car! My face paled as I realized that not only was I in a very short skirt, I also had nothing on underneath it except for a thong. Oh man! What had I done! I breathed in, hoping that Ms. Stephenson was not stronger than she looked.

Mr. Milson then told me to bend over the desk and grab the other end with my hands. I then watched as he walked around to where he was behind me. He must have saw the look of surprise on my face, as he was quick to explain that Ms. Stephenson was only there to verify that nothing improper took place between a male teacher and a female student. Oh no! Mr. Milson, notorious for making even the biggest guys cry, would be paddling my practically bare bottom!

I bent over the desk, trembling inside with fear. I grabbed the opposite side of the desk and felt the cool air of the room on my bottom. I blushed, knowing that Mr. Milson could see that I had forgotten my bloomers. I had hoped that perhaps he would realize my predicament and have mercy on me. No such luck---

POP! The first smack of the paddle cracked down on my bottom. I felt the instant fire light up my skin. The force of the blow pushed me forward and I felt the tears spring up in my eyes.

POP! The second smack of the paddle landed almost on top of the first. I swear I felt the flesh of my cheeks burn with the stinging wood. The tears rolled freely from my cheeks onto the desk below.

POP! POP! POP! My bottom was thoroughly on fire now and my tears became heaving sobs. As each swat rained down on my now very tender behind, I began to realize another sensation. It was that same sensation I had whenever Chris rubbed his thumb along my clit. Could it be?

POP! Yes! I found myself, while in extreme, searing pain--- getting turned on by the swats of the paddle. I felt the familiar wetness begin to grow in my panties, even as the tears ran down my face.

POP! POP! By the eighth and final blow, it was all I could do to not arch my back to meet the evil, pleasurable swats. I was almost disappointed to find that my punishment was over. My pussy was throbbing, pulsating almost in time with the throbbing pain in my bottom. I was excused from the office to go clean myself up and head back to class.

I walked, gingerly, to the girls bathroom. My face was a mess! I washed my tear stained face-- getting rid of the mascara that had ran everywhere. I then realized that the bathroom was empty. I quickly locked myself in a stall and fingered myself to an Earth shattering orgasm. I then collected myself and walked to my class. I sat, wincing with pain. The students gave me a sympathetic glance, having heard about the "incident" from others. I just gave a weak smile to others, but was beaming on the inside--- wondering what I could do to find myself in trouble again----

DL - I am shocked! That was an awesome story. BTW, do you still have the cheerleader uniform?!!?

Hummm..... and I thought I was just a bad girl in school, not leaving without at least 1 swat a day. Now that's a thought THAT never crossed my mind!! LoL

Kohana---

Its probably packed away somewhere, but I couldn't get into it now. I was about 110 pounds soaking wet back then. That was back in my 23 inch waist days

The worst part of this whole story was that, after I left his office-- he called my parents. So, once I got home, I got switched on top of my already tender backside. I'm STILL not a fan of the switch, or those horrid welts it leaves!!

DL, I almost came all over myself reading your story. omg, what a turn-on!!!! I hope to meet you sometime, bend you over my knee and spank you hard. Then take care of your needs like the gentleman I am.

Mmmmm.

The worst part about writing this story? Now I need a spanking something FIERCE!!

Great. Now the keyboard is sticky again.

Interesting story Ms. Love.

Yeah, those holes drilled in the wood make for a nasty impact. I had to make the pops or suspension choice once - but it was nowhere near as elegant and eloquent and experience as you had! Nice writing!

Yeah-- those holes do leave a nasty sting. The only difference between the version told and the TRUE version are the names and the fact that I did have the presence of mind to put my bloomers back on before heading in. I knew I was in trouble!!

DL "Jeez! What does it take for a girl to get a spanking around here!?!"

Okay, you've been a bad girl! Come to my office. You have a choice of being sent home or getting licks! If you choose corporal punishment, you'll have to bend over my desk.

And where is your office Sir?

Take I-20 about 350 miles west of you and you'll be close. It would be exciting for me if you took tour out here, come by my office and get your spanking. I might become your ATF. Seeing that red ass of yours after I've spanked you, the tears in your eyes, and that wet, soaking kitty achin' to be taken.

Hmmm. I may be able to make a detour on my way to Colorado in the near future.