Growing up I secretly longed for spankings, the build up of heat, the sharp sound, the way my pale buttocks would turn rosy ted, the throbbing pain sitting on my freshly spanked bottom caused.

In middle school I broke the rules hoping to be sent to the principal's office. A large imposing black man he believed in paddling to teach. I'd enter his office trembling with anticipation, his 2 foot long wooden paddle hung on a nail behind his desk. He'd talk to me, going over my misdeeds, before calmly standing and pulling the paddle off the nail.

"Hips against the desk edge and bend over." He'd direct. I could feel my plaid skirt brush the back of my thighs as I got into position. The crotch of my panties getting moister and moister. I tried to push my pussy out so it was in the line of fire.

"When will you learn?" He'd ask before taking his first swing. I'd tense as I heard the paddle cutting through the air and yelp as it landed. I usually received 5-10 swats. A few catching my pussy as well as my upturned bottom. My nipples pressed against the desk the desk hardening. The crotch of my panties becoming soaking wet. Tears rolling down my face from the thrilling sensation of pain.

"Clean up and get back to class." He'd order returning the paddle to the nail.

I'd bolt for girl's bathroom, lock myself in a stall, lift my skirt and dart a hand into my panties. 2-3 fingers buried in my pussy my thumb rubbing my clit I'd soon be leaning against the wall clinching my mouth shut against loud moans of pleasure, as my pussy throbbed, my knees weakened and I came.

Hands and face washed I'd return to class, wincing a little as I sat in my hard plastic chair, secretly in my head wishing the bell would ring so I could run home to masterbate with large phallic veggies while replaying the memory.