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Caught! Discipline from both perspectives.

by Millard

Copyright on this story text belongs at all times to the original author only, whether stated explicitly in the text or not. The original date of posting to the MMSA was: 01 Feb 2006

It was a dare. Pure and simple, it was a dare. Billy Franklin was an honest, God fearing kid who never got into trouble. He was a good student, and was well liked by his teachers, and other students. The dare was simple. Sneak into Mr. Brewer's classroom, and change the grades for every boy on the boy's fourth grade basketball team. Billy wasn't stupid. He well knew that there were risks involved. Still, the thrill of the hunt took over, and he did it.

Billy was a blonde haired, blue eyed, normal build ten year old with a mischievious grin. Mr. Brewer was 38, a quiet man, small of stature, one who did not raise his voice often. He taught history, and quite obviously loved what he did. He was respected by the ten year olds in his care, even if they didn't express it. He was a good teacher.

Suffice it to say, even the best laid plans can go amiss. While Billy was in Mr. Brewer's classroom, four of his buddies were milling around in the hallway, standing watch, making certain nobody came by. They would whistle a warning if they saw somebody. After all, it was after school, and nobody should be around.
"Nobody", Mr. Brewer, had decided to go back to his classroom to pick up his reading glasses. He walked in and saw the boys standing near his door. When he called out "what do you guys want" they scattered like the wind, a wind that hadn't whistled. Thus Billy was caught red handed.

Mr. Brewer was livid. This occurred during the 1950's, when teachers were empowered to discipline, and did. Mr. Brewer was not one to spank, or paddle. Oh, an occasional boy was taken to the hallway and cracked once or twice. On an even rarer occasion, a girl was taken to the cloakroom and taken over his lap for a 'fatherly' spanking. These were rare, and didn't involve breaking and entering, and cheating. He walked to the boy, who was frozen at his desk, like a deer in the headlights. He lifted the boy up by the shoulders and shook him as he yelled the typical comments such as "why" and "how could you do this", all of which had no real answer. He finished with a sentence that would send chills down the boy's back. "If you want to be a big man, a thief, a cheat, then I'll show you what happens to big men." With that, he reached out and unfastened the boy's belt, unsnapped his jeans, and pulled down his zipper. The jeans fell to the floor and Bily stood in his small white jockey shorts as the only covering over his lower body. Mr. Brewer placed his hands at the waistband, and lowered the underpants. He didn't just rip them down, he lowered them slowly, increasing the boy's fear and embarassment, which became obvious as the undies cleared his little circumcised penis which popped out, standing stiff and tall, actually pointing upwards. The undies were pulled to the boy's ankles, and the jeans and undies removed from his feet. Naked below the waist except for his shoes and socks, he was turned, and placed in the time honored position, over the now seated man's lap.

Billy was frightened, so frightened that he thought he was going to wet himself. He had never seen Mr. Brewer this angry. When the man unfastened his belt, he could only say 'no'. He well knew that he was in for a spanking. The lowering of his jeans was embarassing enough, but when the man reached out and took hold of his underpants waistband, Billy's eyes bulged out. Worse, he felt his little manhood bulge out also. As his undies lowered, his face reddened. When the undies pulled down far enough, his little guy popped out, stiff as a board. He was mortified. The rest was a blur, until he found himself over the man's lap, looking down at the worn wooden flooring that schools all seemed to have. He had never studied flooring before, never having been this close to it. He could feel the air on his bare butt. He clenched his cheeks together, in the vain attempt to protect himself. He was terribly embarassed. This was, to the man, simply a necessary preliminary to the main event. To the boy, in some ways this was worse than the actual spanking. He was bare, his butt was on display, and he couldn't do a thing about it.

Mr. Brewer got right to his duty, raising his hand high, and cracking it down hard across Billy's right buttock cheek. A loud sharp "crack" sound filled the room. When he raised his hand, he saw a white imprint on the buttock, an imprint which quickly turned pink, then red. He then spanked again, harder this time, working his hand up and down the boy's buttocks, alternating from cheek to cheek, covering the area from his waist to his upper thighs, spanking over and over, harder and harder at a steady pace, not hurried. In truth, he was enjoying watching the boy's bottom. While he would never admit it, he was thinking back on his own spankings, when he found himself over his mother or father or uncle's lap. Billy's cries and pleadings fell on deaf ears. He spanked.

Billy felt the first spank, and tensed his body so much that he was almost horizontal across the man's lap. The subsequent spanks came hard and strong. He felt them, felt the sting, the burning, the pain. He cried. He sobbed. He begged, but the spanking continued, over and over, harder and harder. He found himself draping his body down, giving in, accepting what was coming as a dog might accept a bigger dog's bite. It went on and on. Through teary eyes he saw a small puddle of tears and snot on the floor. He tried to put his arm back to stop the spanking, but Mr. Brewer simply held it down. He couldn't move now, couldn't even squirm as he was spanked, over and over. Then it stopped. He was alive!

Mr. Brewer's hand was getting sore, but not as sore as Billy's butt, he assured himself. The boy's bottom was a dark red color, with some splotches of blue here and there which Mr. Brewer knew would become small bruises. To say that the boy had been spanked would be an understatement. He well knew, however that boys will be boys, and Billy would shrug this off to his cohorts, saying how it didn't hurt. He had a fix for that, as he wasn't finished, not by a long shot. He stood the boy up, watching as his hands flew to his burning butt, noting the snot and tears running down the boy's red face, noting that his little penis was now nothing more than a pink acorn atop the two walnuts that hung beneath. He could see in the boy's eyes that look. The look that said "I have won. You have given me your best, and I have won" He knew that Billy would prance out of the room bragging about how he had taken the spanking without even crying. He knew. He had been there.

Billy indeed was forming a plan in his mind. He would tell the other boys how Mr. Brewer had spanked him, but it didn't really hurt. He would tell how he had stood defiantly afterwards, the defeated teacher dismissing him when he couldn't 'break' him, or make him cry. He had a plan! His plan was smashed when the man lifted him up, his hands under his armpits, lifting him like a sack of potatos. He was shocked at the man's strength, but even more shocked when he found himself laid atop the teacher's big, heavy desk, on his back. Mr. Brewer then pushed his legs up and shoved them back as far as they would go, then pulled his hands and placed them in the hollows of his legs, telling him to not let go or they would start over..."from the beginning". Fear caused sweat to form on the boy's face as he looked through his legs toward the man. Mr. Brewer then pulled him forward, so that his little red (he could now see the lowest part of it) butt overhung the edge of the desk. His legs were pushed back even more, and spread out more. He was staring at his own penis, noting the underside of the head, his mind wondering why he hadn't looked this closely at it before. He was distracted enough that he didn't see the man take his belt off. It wasn't until the belt bit hard into his upper thighs that he knew he was in for a belt whipping. He screamed at the sudden pain, his hand moving to his thigh, where it was promptly strapped by the belt. He pulled his hand back, listening to the threats of what would happen if he tried that again. He was crying now, really crying. He could see the man's face as he raised the belt which then came down and hit him right on top of his butt hole.
Never had he felt anything like that, never had he screamed so loudly. It was the worst thing he had ever felt...and it was only the beginning.

Mr. Brewer looked down with satisfaction on the naked boy, picking his target, he strapped him in the most sensitive of spots, places which were before this only thoughts in his mind. The belt curved down and cracked into the boy's lowest buttock area, and then moved over, cracking against the widened opening, and up and down the cleft, cracking and snapping, leaving welts as it went. The boy's screaming only causing him to continue. He moved to the boy's left side, and gave strokes across the left buttock, strokes that only covered the left buttock, and ended in the cleft. The right side was visited and 'treated' to a similar series. Finally, he stopped. He looked down, amazed at the marks that he had given. At first, fearful that he had done too much, then calming, he was comforted by two things. First, the boy had deserved what he got, and second, he was certain he would never tell, never admit that he had been beaten so harshly. As an aside, he was also certain that Billy would never break and enter nor least for a while. He allowed him to cry on the desk, still in the same position. Later, when the boy was reduced to soft sobs, he gently placed the belt in the boy's crack and said "remember". He picked up the belt, put it on, and walked out of the room, leaving the door open.

Billy couldn't believe the pain from the belt. He heard screams, not knowing that they were his. Over and over he was beaten. When it ended, he didn't even know it. He continued to cry. When the man placed the belt "there", he cringed. Mr. Brewer said only one word "remember", and left. He lay quietly atop the desk, afraid to move, afraid that he couldn't move. He finally got up, the pain coming back to his butt as he moved. He cried out again. In due time, he dressed (carefully) and left the building. His friends were long gone, and he faced the painful trip home. His only prayer was that he wouldn't find his dad standing at the door holding the paddle in one hand, the phone in the other!

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