Mr. Berger’s peaceful, relaxed mood, after the thrilling experience of paddling Emily’s bare bottom in the hallway would fade away soon.
Emily sat back and watched peacefully as it did. Her bottom was a bit itchy and bruised for a couple of days, but it didn’t bother her much.
The phrase “till you can’t sit down” was always an exaggeration, though the thought of it made her a bit satisfied and tingly.
As Emily thought about her plan, she wondered about herself. Was she evil? Was what she planned some act of pure, selfishness? Was it revenge? Was she just covering her sexual desire to get spanked with “noble intentions?”
Emily knew one thing for sure. She hated Mr. Berger.
Mr. Berger was only pleasurable in fantasy life, and in the intense masturbatory sessions she put herself through after witnessing, or once finally experiencing his craft of corporal punishment.
But in reality, beyond her drive to orgasm, she hated him.
Mr. Berger was a bully. He screamed at kids for no reason other than he felt like it. He walked around like a despot or dictator. He treated the students like they were dirt. He never offered any understanding or thought into managing his classroom, simply deciding that the answer to every error or mistake was a firm beating.
The worst part was, he enjoyed giving the beatings. Emily and Mr. Berger were cut from the same cloth. They both had come to “love the rod” or to love the “English Vice.”
As Emily looked at herself in the mirror one afternoon, she questioned her morality and her intentions like never before. She hated Mr. Berger, and was thrilled as the prospect of toppling this giant bully.
But at the same time, she loved him. She loved the thought of getting spanked for being naughty. She loved discipline. She loved order and centrality. She loved violence and adrenaline.
She may hate Mr. Berger, but in a way, she was just like him.
A philosopher had once said “A soul must be filled with chaos to give birth to a dancing star”, or something like that.
Emily looked at herself in the mirror. She was a dancing star. She was filled with chaos. The dance was a celebration, revenge, and so much, all wrapped up into one artistic ritual.
She was empowering himself, by allowing him, in her own way, to come down hard on her, belittle her, abuse her, and fall hard in the process.
* * * *
The next day, a week after she had met the paddle, Emily returned to Mr. Berger’s class, and Mr. Berger was back to his old self.
“Books out now!” He thundered. “I want each of you to have your books on page 175 by the time I count to ten or I’ll light your rear ends on fire! I mean it!”
He thundered these words with anger.
“The other teachers let you brat just slack off, chew gum, talk back, WELL I DON’T! In this class you kids follow my rules. No matter what!”
Mr. Berger realized his rant was giving his would be victims a little bit longer to turn their to pages. The students, fearing his huge “Board of Education” were flipping through pages in panic, not listening to his threatening words.
Mr. Berger paused for a moment, and instead of counting to ten just counted down from five.
“FIVE, FOUR, THREE, TWO, ONE.” He roared.
Often when teachers or parents threatened students to do something by the time they counted down, it was idol threat meant to reinforce the need for an action to be done. Not now.
After his NASA style countdown ended, Mr. Berger shouted: “Put your hands on your heads, each of you!”
Each student, sitting at their desk places their hands on the top of their heads.
Mr. Berger then picked up his instrument of correction. He placed it over his shoulder like a marching soldier carries a rifle, and walked up and down each isle.
He looked at each of the text books sitting open, in front of the terrified students, who silently had their hands clasped to their scalps.
In the second row he found his first victim: “Bob, FRONT OF THE CLASS! NOW!” He roared.
He found two more victims in the back row, Jenny and Emma. All three student had not had their books open to page 175, and sitting in front of their clasping heads was a book on the wrong page.
Emily, luckily, and not by intention, had her book opened to the right page.
Bill, a kind of nerdy guy with glasses and button up shirt, stood with Emma and Jenny, two kind of overweight girls who sat in the back of the class and were friends.
Their classmates looked up at them with fear and empathy and Mr. Berger completed his inspect of the rest of the textbooks.
“I said to have the books open.” Mr. Berger said in a relaxed voice. “I’m going to give you each one swat.”
“Just for our books…” Emma wined in fear.
“SHUT UP!” Screamed Mr. Berger at the top his lungs.
His voice returned to its natural calm: “Being prepared for class is clearly a school rule. It is in the student handbook numerous places. If your books aren’t opened the proper page, you are not prepared. I’m going to give you each a good whack!”
Emma’s friend Jenny, stand next to her in the row of three, chose this opportunity to speak “Shouldn’t we go out in the hall?”
“NO! NO! NO!” Shouted Mr. Berger. “Did I tell you to go out in the hall?”
It was a rhetorical question and he expected no answer.
“I don’t have to paddle you out in the hall. I can paddle your butts in front of the class. I can paddle your butts in the hallway. I could paddle in the gym at an assembly. I can paddle you for any reason. I run this class, YOU DON’T! This board is justice! I’m going to light up some bottoms today, and I expect to be obeyed!”
Mr. Berger was his usual self today. Firey, angry, and intense with anger. He almost ran to the front of the class.
“All three of you, grab the desk in the first row. Stick your butts out as far as you can. It gonna be one whack, but its gonna be a good one!” He yelled.
Each of the students gulped, together, and then placed their palms on the first row of desks.
Mr. Berger, gripping his paddle, pulled it over his shoulder like a baseball bat.
The boy was first.
The students watched the boy clench his face together to prevent crying.
Then were two, hot teenage girl butts. Both of them a little meaty, but still fun for Mr. Berger.
He pulled back and swung with all his might.
Emma screamed after the boom resided. She stood up and watched her Jenny receive another.
Both of the girls stood up, sobbing, and rubbing their bottoms.
“Sit down!” Said Mr. Berger. “That shows you all how much I care about you, and take your education seriously.”
Bill sat down looking stone faced and angry.
Jenny and Emma ran to the back of class sobbing, and rubbing their bottoms.
“Don’t touch your bottoms in front of other people.” Mr. Berger said. “It’s not becoming of a lady.”
He said these words with calm, almost joking tone. This was all a game to him.
Emily watched as well, figuring that after school, step three would commence.
* * * *
After class, the last period of the day, the students skipped off home. Most of them whispering to each other about how much they hated Mr. Berger for three undeserving swats he had given out.
But Emily stayed behind. She waited until the sounds of the hall had cleared.
She sat at her desk stairing at Mr. Berger, who looked up at her.
“Schools over Emily.” Said Mr. Berger in a calm voice. “Its time to go home.”
“I was hoping I could talk to Mr. Berger.”
Mr. Berger looked up. This was a unique occurrence. No student had ever stayed to talk to him in his eleven years as a teacher.
“I heard that you are someone I can talk to about faith and god and stuff.” Said Emily, doing her best to feign ignorance and “blonde ditz” vocabulary.
“Yes.” Said Mr. Berger, who found religion to be one of his favorite topics, aside from sports and spanking kids bottoms. “What’s on your mind Emily? I’d love to help you on your journey with our creator.”
Mr. Berger’s voice did its best to sound calm. He had used the phrase “journey with our creator” in the hopes he was sound deep and prophetic.
“Well, that paddling you gave me really woke me up.” She said.
“Really?” Said Mr. Berger.
“Yeah.” She said. “My Mom and Dad haven’t spanked me since I was like nine years old. But when you sent me out into the hallway, I realized that I really needed it. That’s why I bared my bottom. I knew I needed to feel it. That’s the way I’ve always gotten it before…”
“Well, Emily, its okay to forget your assignment once. The heat on posterior is just a way of helping you remember to obey the rules and follow God’s law.” Said Mr. Berger, doing his best to make his vocabulary and intelligent sounding as possible.
“Mr. Berger, its not just forgetting homework…” She said. “Sometimes, I think about things… things I shouldn’t think about… stuff that I know Jesus doesn’t like…”
Mr. Berger looked stern. “Like what?”
Emily knew just what to answer with “you know… boys…”
“Lust is wrong…” Said Mr. Berger. “But sex is something your husband…”
“I know its wrong…” She blurted out in feigned panic. “But I do it anyway. I’m being defiant. I need to get punished. Really punished. Harder than ever before.”
Mr. Berger started to see that this could be going in ways he might be enjoy. But then he spoke:
“Well, I’m sure your father would take his belt to you…”
“No, Mr. Berger. They don’t believe in spanking anymore. My mom read some dumb parenting book when I was nine, and they don’t spank me anymore. I just get grounded…. When I’m grounded all I do is sit in my room, and think about boys from school and what they might look like without their pants and…”
Mr. Berger cut her off abruptly “Stop! I get the picture.” He said firmly. “You need a spanking young lady. Those are not acceptable thoughts for a girl like you to have, or for anybody. Come up here.”
Emily walked over to his desk. She didn’t have to pull her pants and panties down for him this time. He did it for her.
He pulled her pants down, and soon his arm was come down on her like fire. SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!
Mr. Berger made his hand sting like a hornet each time it came down, as he gleefully turned her bottom bright red.
Emily cried and sobbed as the punishment went on.
“You must behave yourself! You will not be a brat! This is what you need! A good (smack!) hard (smack) spankings!”
It ended, and soon Emily was sitting on Mr. Berger lap, like a toddler on the lap of a Macy’s Santa Clause.
“I’m sorry Mr. Berger… I’m so sorry…” She cried.
“It’s okay Emily, my dear.” He said. “That’s why God wanted kids to get spanked. Its to help you learn. Jesus will forgive you.”
Beneath her, she could feel that Mr. Berger was enjoying this for non-religious reasons as well.
Emily knew that this “after school special” had opened some of the last doors for her. She could now sink her teeth in, and devour her prey.