From a guest contributor, the first in a series.
I am a spankophile. I have been since I was about sixteen. I probably was one before then, but became aware of it at age sixteen, when during a strapping at school, I realised that actually, I enjoyed the feeling.
Now I was beaten at school and often enough. It was unpleasant and I admit I cried through some of them. But then the deputy headmistress had this collection of rather formidable looking straps, and she laid them on hard. I never had a beating that didn’t result in marks to my bottom and some for several days. My first twelve stroke walloping left marks for ten days.
My first hiding was received aged twelve when I was sent down for repeated failure to do homework, three weeks into my first term in secondary school. Spanking is a bit like sex, you never forget the first time.
I had never experienced the formal ritual of facing a senior teacher for serious offences that resulted in equally serious discipline.
First of all preserving my modesty was supposed to be an issue - I really dont know why because there is nothing flattering about bending over a desk or the back of a chair, having your gymslip lifted and you bottom whacked, regardless of how it is covered. At my school this seemed to be an important issue. We all had lockers or carried our gym shorts with us in our bags, so on with the gym shorts it was and off with the blazer.
I got the mandatory lecture about rules and why they exist to maintain a civilised society, consequences and learning from these consequences etc. I was then told to bend over her desk (holding onto the far edge) and it was made clear I was getting four.
I was terrified and when the first one came down hard, I jumped up and started dancing around with hands on my bottom howling like a Zulu impi in mid attack. Soon enough I was told to resume the position and politely reminded that I should remain there until the procedure was complete. I resumed the position, even more terrified as my bottom had already started to glow from the single blow.
No sooner had the strap landed for the second time, was I up and dancing around this time tears streaming and me clutching my bottom in utter horror. I knew that girls would sometimes land extra for non submission, but I suspect that the deputy expected first timers not to cope too well with the experience. This said, it was clear that my performance was taking up precious time so she decided to call in a prefect that was outside in the hallway.
The prefect was instructed to stand on the other side of the desk and hold my arms down at the elbows, so as to keep me in position for the final two strokes.
I recall being unable to stand up, and taking the final two relatively rapidly, which I later learned was unusual for this depute's spanking style. By the time that I stood up, I was completely humiliated, shaken by the shock and my bottom was in real pain. After being allowed to compose myself, I exited her office to be met wide eyed by the next recipient.
It really didn’t make all that much difference because three months later I received my first twelve stroke strapping, having had at least two "minor" (between four and eight stroke) strappings in-between.
It was here that my complex relationship with the belt began.....