Chapter 3

Carolyn stalked back down the hall, paddle swinging widely by her side, buttocks feeling positively enormous. They'd always been too big in her opinion, but now they felt gigantic. Iris had always reassured her they were just the right size, just the right shape, but if Iris could feel how big her buttocks felt now, she'd be shocked. They hurt too, but it wasn't anything like the shocked pain she'd felt during her period of disciplinary instruction. It was a smarting pain, like a very severe case of sun burn, a pain she couldn't forget about, following along behind her and making her very much aware of that big, bulging area of her body that was so thinly protected by one layer of nylon, some yellow ruffles, and a thin, blue cotton skirt. She paused outside her classroom to tenderly feel of it, to reassure herself that it hadn't truly grown in magnitude, and her gently probing hands weren't all that reassuring, her carefully exploring hand seemed to be encountering a bottom that was indeed bigger, rounder, more attracting to the male animal whom she'd avoided ever since Spike Thompson, the true shame of her life.

The boys were whooping it up inside, and they slowed down only a little when she entered the room, ostentatiously swinging the big paddle. She faced them from the front of the classroom like a Marine Drill Instructor, crossing her legs, looking grim, leaning back against her desk before she thought and flinching visibly but very briefly when the edge of it bit into her punished bottom.

She gestured with the paddle over her shoulder. "Who did that?"

Again all the hands were raised, and now Carolyn's lips twisted into a smirk, and she said, "Okay, you all get a taste of this paddle.

Who'll be first?"

The hands stayed up, the grins stayed on their monkey faces, and after a moment's pause, she cleared her throat and said, "We have more important things to do than paddling. We have learning to attend to and I simply can't take the time to punish all of you for something only one of you did. Now, which will it be?" she asked, looking around the room for the biggest boy, finding him, being taken aback by his hulking shoulders, his thick chest, and most of all by the sulking, surly grin on his slightly bearded face. Her eyes roved on, fixed on a redheaded boy with a truly ape-like grin, a little imp with mischief written all over his face.

"You." She pointed with the paddle. "What's your name?"

"You can call me Rusty, teach," he said, and basked in the others' laughter.

"Very well, Rusty," she said, easing her bottom off the desk edge with well-concealed relief. "Get up here and take the punishment for the whole class."

He rose at once and walked cockily up the aisle, tossing his head and still grinning as whistles and catcalls followed him. Up on the elevated platform where her desk stood, he looked Carolyn straight in the eye as he began to unbuckle his jeans. He had to look up for this. She realized then just how small he was, just how young and vulnerable, and her heart went out to him, though of course she couldn't show that.

"It won't be necessary to drop your p-pants," she coldly said. "Just turn around and bend over, grab your asshole and ... I mean your ankles!" she said, but it was too late, they were all laughing at her again, even the little redhaired boy who was about to be paddled.

"I won't stand for this!" she shouted, grabbed him by the hair of his head, turned him and bent him over, and applied the paddle to the seat of his pants with all her strength.

She was furious, enraged, like a thing gone mad as she whacked him over and over, putting all her weight behind each of the heavy blows. She drove him up against her desk with the blows, followed after him swinging with all her might. Her hair came out of the bun to obscure her vision, swinging wildly about her, but still she kept pouring the punishment on. When she tried to sweep her hair back out of the way, the armpit of her dress ripped, and even that didn't deter her. She connected solidly with every blow, resoundingly, and it seemed to diminish the pain in her bottom, seemed to wash away her recent humiliation with each loud SWAT of the wonderfully effective paddle.

Punishment for the boy, therapy for her discipline for the entire class. They were silent now, or at least she thought they were, for it was hard to hear anything over the sound of the paddle's hangings and her own heavy pantings. She felt a seam opening on the side of her dress and still she swung on, knowing she had to make this a good paddling, knowing it wasn't hurting him much through his pants, despite his flinching and twistings. She started to tire and renewed herself by imagining the boy was Spike Thompson, and gained such strength that she soon had him crying out for mercy. A dozen more good, hard swats and she quit, dripping with perspiration, flushed with success, dismissed him to his desk and went to take her chair, trembling with sweet exhaustion.

It hurt to sit down, but she was too happily tired to care. Her bottom felt good in comparison with the boy's. She even reveled in the warmly glowing pain there, wriggling her hot softness against the hard wooden seat as she opened the text book at random and told them to read to themselves from the page. She was in a state of blissful contentment until she recalled the drawing still on the blackboard behind her, whereupon she wearily rose, maintaining a stiff back somehow, and went to wipe it away with her sleeve.

She made the penises blur and slowly vanish, along with the hideous caricature of herself. She didn't care that her fanny was switching and jiggling with her efforts, didn't mind that it was all swollen and more protuberant than ever as she worked, for she had to get rid of that shameful drawing, had to destroy all the dirty things that were attacking her. She scrubbed and scrubbed at the board, while behind her the class buzzed with whispers, but quietly, cautiously now, undoubtedly extending their sympathy to the boy who had suffered for all of them. She was sweating harder than ever when the drawing was at last unrecognizable to her, but still she could see herself being attacked by hard penises in her mind's eye as she took her seat, stern of countenance but soft and warm of body.. If it hadn't been for the presence of the class, she felt she could sleep for a week. As it was, she had a long day ahead of her--but she didn't yet know just how long it was to be ...