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Getting Fried

By Sugarbabe, a 44 Year Old Female Viewer from West Virginia .

I went to school during the 70s, and paddlings were common place. I witnessed many kids get paddled sometimes right in front of the whole class.

When I was in Junior high school, (7th and 8th grade) it became a rite of passage so to speak. I'll explain.

I went to a small school in southern Ohio. We had 180 students in my graduating class. In Junior high, all 4 grade schools merge into one school for 7th and 8th grades. 9 - 12 went to high school. The same kids in my class during 7th grade were all kept together for 8th grade, and there were 7 different classes. 7-1, 7-2, 7-3 etc. same for the 8th grade.

That year we had a couple of female teachers who could "bust an ass". At least according to accounts of a couple fellas who experienced it first hand (or first ass) and of course, the sound of the swats. Y'know...you can tell by the crispness of the clap and the echo it has in an empty hallway. We called it getting "fried". I don't know exactly how it all got started...maybe the boys dared us or something I'm unclear on this point, but the whole class ( except for a couple of "geeks" who were in NO Way going along with such foolishness) agreed that by the end of the year, we would all "get fried."

Various students took their turns as the year progressed. Some were planned and some occurred through the natural course of things. Each time we all watched and listened, to see how each student boy or girl was able to "handle it." As we tried to get up our nerve, we tried to choose which teacher we would risk facing the wrath on our backsides from. We could choose any teacher we wanted, but those students who chose teachers notoriously "weak" in the paddling arena were belittled and called "chicken." So we all wanted one of the "good" teachers but not one who was too good. A bunch or the girls decided if we would all go together, surely it won't be as hard. So we chose one of the "best" of the two women teachers. Mrs. Winfield, the art teacher.

We had art class right after lunch and as we had no cafeteria, we either went to the little grocery store next to the school or to the concession stand for our lunch. This led to much gum chewing and led to Mrs. Winfield's gum rule. The rule was that anyone caught with gum was assigned a 500 word theme. If not completed by the next day, the student had a choice of two licks or a 750 word theme. If the 750 word theme wasn't completed, it was an automatic 3 licks. We all passed around the gum and I guess 6 or 7 of us were assigned 500 word themes including my best friend Alice and myself.

The next morning, as agreed, no one had done their themes EXCEPT for Alice, who had decided she'd wait till I went first. Of course, we all chose the 750 word themes so as not to risk appearing to cocky and get an extra hard paddling just to serve us right. The third morning arrived and as expected, no one had written their themes. As the morning progressed, we giggled about our fates but we began to feel a little uneasy about our decision.

Alice and I always stuck close together and today was no different. Lunch came and went and we proceeded to Mrs. Winfield's art class. She teased me along the way by humming funeral music and we giggled as we proceeded to class. Imagine my horror to discover that every one of the other girls had spent the morning furiously scribbling their themes so by the beginning of class they all had their themes to turn in. "NO!!! I am the ONLY ONE!!" I thought. This seemed to fill Alice with glee and she kept up the teasing all through class.

My stomach had begun to flip-flop as anxiety set in when I thought about the fate about to befall me. As time neared to the end of class, I began to think, "maybe she has forgotten." No such luck.

Mrs. Winfield opened the drawer of her desk and took out her paddle. It was about 15 inches long and about 5 inches wide. I guess it was about inch thick. A nice paddle as paddles go. It was made of a light colored wood and was smooth with no tape or anything wrapped around it like some of the other teacher's paddles I had seen. It was rather intimidating, I must say.

Mrs. Winfield said, "Lillian, follow me please," and walked out into the hall. Even though Mrs. Winfield used her normal, calm voice, it was lower and more somber and had a serious tone to it. The fact she chose to call me "Lillian" rather than "Lilly" also reflected the severity of what was about to happen. My stomach did a big FLIP-FLOP at those words. I quietly walked out into the hall while Mrs. Winfield stepped into the class next door and asked Mrs. Meadows to be her witness.

Next came a standard set of questions. Mrs. Winfield said, "Lillian, do you understand you are going to be paddled?" "Do you understand what you are being paddled for?" Please state to Mrs. Meadows why you are being paddled." Is there any medical reason why you cannot accept such a punishment?" "Have you been paddled by any other teacher today?"

Even in 1975 there were "safeguards" in place to protect students from "severe and excessive" punishments, but mostly to protect the teacher from a lawsuit. We were all familiar with these questions from grilling those classmates who had "gone before" about every detail.

With no more formalities, Mrs. Winfield instructed me through the process of preparing myself for punishment. "Lillian, turn around please." "Spread your legs apart." "Bend over." "A little lower please." I felt the paddle touch me as though she was taking aim. A shiver ran from my tailbone all the way up my spine and my stomach did another flip-flop. "Spread your legs a little more and bend lower." Grab your ankles tightly." I did as I was told, then I felt the paddle touch me once more. "Now Lillian, she said, lift your head and look straight ahead." "Hold tight to your ankles and do not stand up until I say so."

The silence in this moment "before" was deafening and seemed to last forever." Then it came. SMAAACK! The paddle hit its mark with a resounding clap." I both heard it and felt it together. The burning heat of that paddle making contact with my plump, round bottom was soo sharp, and I heard myself gasp. My mind raced with thoughts. "Oh my God...Oh my God...I don't know if I can take two more." Then the sound of that paddle finding my behind again resounded through the halls.

The sting of the second swing was even hotter." All the air rushed out of my lungs and I made another gasping sound. I wanted to cry or to scream, but I did neither. I was on fire! When that third swat cracked against my tail, the sharp searing sting was too much for me. I lost control. No longer able to remain in the position, I stood straight up and grabbed my poor, paddled hiney.

The second I jumped out of the position, I heard Mrs. Winfield say, "One more Lillian." My mind was still clouded from the hot fire emanating from my bottom, but I had the where with all to know it was over for me, or so I thought. I heard it again, "one more, bend over for it." "Uh uuuh!” “I was only supposed to get three licks, I begged." "I told you not to get up until you were told, so you have earned yourself one more" "Reposition yourself."

I did as I was told and turned around, spread my legs and bent over." "Bend over a little more Lillian." "I want this one to count, but I don't want to hurt you," she said. "Grab those ankles and hold tight." Don't rise until you are told or there will be another," she warned.

Mrs. Winfield did not hesitate. "POP!" The sting of that paddle against my already reddened behind was so intense I again jerked up and grabbed my smoking behind and rubbed like crazy. I knew what was coming though and I heard the words." "Alright Lillian, one more."

"WHAT?" I pretended not to understand. "Lillian," she said calmly and softly, but with authority. "Bend over and grab those ankles." I tried to plead, "But Mrs. Winfield...It's not fair!" "You have just earned yourself one more Lillian, you can keep arguing or you can do as you are instructed." I decided not to argue any more lest I make it even worse. I resumed the position, spreading my legs far apart and bending deep this time. I wrapped my hands firmly around my ankles, determined not to cry as I prepared to take the punishment.

As I stood there in the hallway, bent over, holding my ankles, my mind raced. "IT'S NOT FAIR!" I pouted to myself. "I am warning you Lillian, prepare to take these last 2 and do not rise." "Do you understand?" I mumbled that I did and she wasted no time in cracking that paddle against me again. The burning sting encompassed me and I made a grunt, but I held on to my ankles and stayed bent over for one more. I heard her say, "Good, now take this last one and don't rise and it will be all over." "SMACK!"

Hell couldn't have been any hotter! I once again jumped up and grabbed myself, fiercely rubbing my behind which must have been glowing red with the heat coming from it. I was dumbfounded at the attack I had just experienced and the realization that I had again been unable to take it without moving took a minute to sink in. I knew I couldn't take anymore without totally losing all composure, possibly peeing all over myself.

Mrs. Meadows and Mrs. Winfield whispered for a moment then Mrs. Winfield said, "You have a choice." You can bend over and receive one more right now, or you can wait till tomorrow and take two more. "Tomorrow," was all I could mumble without bursting into tears. I hadn't cried at all yet. The experience was so overwhelming, tears hadn't even come, but they were on their way. "Very well," she said. "Two licks tomorrow, it's a date." "Back to your seat." "As if I can sit down," I thought to myself.

I did have a small bit of luck that day. The bell for the next class rang as I made my way back to my classroom. Alice was waiting there with my books. Grinning, she said, "SIX!" "You got six?" "Why six?" "Man, they were 6 good ones too." "You can't fry chicken like you just got fried." Was she ever right.

My behind was hot and stinging. We had study hall next, so I told her I was skipping out." She followed me and we sneaked out under the bleachers of the football stadium. I lit a cigarette and began to laugh. As I laughed, hot tears streamed down my cheeks. I told her all about my ordeal and she told me about what was going on in class as the thunderous claps of my punishment resounded through the halls. She rolled on the ground laughing as I explained about having to take two more the next day.

We decided to look at the damage and headed off to the ladies room. My butt still felt the sting of the paddling and was hot to the touch. I was afraid to look as I took down my jeans and panties, but there were no real bruises. My whole butt was beet red like a big paddle shaped hickey. You could feel welts along the paddle imprint left on my butt, and the heat...it was still soo hot to touch. I wet some paper towels and held them against my burning cheeks. The cool of the wet towel felt sooo good. Later, I would swear steam came off when I put the towel against myself.