The One Room Schoolhouse

posted with permission
by Rollin, http://www.disciplinarytales.blogspot.com”

Theodore Clifford, school board president for the 1950-51 school year, cleared his throat. He was unused to speaking before such a large assembly.

“Now for our presentation. I’d like for our Hannah to please come up here.”

The woman who rose to approach the podium was elderly, but she carried herself with all the sprightliness of a young girl. Her hair had been blonde once, and she still cut a lithesome figure. She had been quite a beauty in her youth, and even now at age 73 she had retained that remarkable grace that beautiful women have, at any age.
The assembled family, friends, parents and officials applauded vigorously.

“Hannah,” intoned Theodore, “For your many years of devoted service teaching the children of Slatyfork, West Virginia, we present you with this painting that we hope you will treasure.”

Clifford, to deafening applause, moved toward a covered picture resting on an easel. He unveiled the painting. As she beheld it, her eyes misted over with emotion. It was the old one room schoolhouse. The painting had captured the schoolhouse in winter. It was just as she had recalled. The structure itself was rough hewn, a log cabin. It sat beside a creek at the end of the road just at the outskirts of the small town of Slatyfork in the Appalachians. A flagpole sporting the American flag was out front. The artist had added an eagle in flight over the creek, a nice touch. It was just as she remembered it, as a young girl, on her very first teaching assignment. The old schoolhouse was gone now— in favor of a much more modern facility. But this was the way it had been, fifty years ago in the fall of 1900. She’d been just twenty three then. So many memories….

************************************************************

Hannah Bainbridge was quite fed up. Bobby Whitaker was acting up again. He was 12 years old and a bully; that was plain to see. He had tested her from the very beginning, and now things were coming to a head. After dipping Cornelia Jones’ pigtails in the inkwell, he had taken to pushing her down at recess, too. Just as he did with the smaller boys. Nothing seemed to work to get him to behave. She had spoken with his mother, but it was obvious that mother was part of the problem. She doted on the boy and refused to impose discipline. Hannah knew she had to do something or she would lose control of her classroom. The other children were watching, to see how she handled the willfully disobedient Bobby. Cornelia was in tears. She had to act.

She had the authority to administer corporal punishment. There was a stout hickory stick that had been thoughtfully provided by the town fathers who had hired her just last August. It rested in pegs at the front of the room for all to see. So far she had not used it. She thought it too cruel. It was more like a cudgel. No, what she needed to do was to embarrass him, bring him down a notch, shame him in front of his peers.

In her experience, the best way to administer corporal punishment was with the birch rod. Her own mother had advocated its use, to her painful recollection. It stung, but did not leave bruises like that stick surely would. And, she mused, his pants would have to come down. That would do it. A smart application of the birch to his naughty bottom would have him squealing and knock him down a peg or two. So she stood Bobby in the corner, put a monitor in charge and went outside to cut some switches. A half dozen switches, green, whippy and peeled should do it, she reckoned. She wrapped the end with twine. Excited whispers greeted her as she strode back into the schoolhouse, homemade birch rod in hand. The children could sense something was about to happen.

“Bobby Whitaker, come here!” she said imperiously.

Bobby turned around. He wiped the smirk off his face at the sight of the switches in Hannah’s hand. Slowly he approached her desk.

“Face the desk and lower your trousers, young man.”

His face turned white. “B-but, ma’am. My trousers? Our other teacher Mr. Crane never….”

“I’m not Mr. Crane, Bobby Whitaker, and I want you over that desk— trousers down, sir.”

Bobby actually shook, Hannah noted. Good. A little fear was good. Slowly he undid his belt and slipped his pants down. Underneath he wore long johns. It was cold outside. Conveniently, the long johns had a back “trap door”. Bobby squealed in alarm as he felt Hannah’s fingers undo the buttons. His hands shot back.

“Keep your hands out of the way, Bobby Whitaker. Grip the front of the desk.”

The children giggled as Bobby’s bare buttocks were rudely exposed. Hannah turned and quieted them with her best no nonsense stare. There was an expectant hush in the classroom as Hannah raised the birch.

Swish…thwick! The birch struck and Bobby jumped. Hannah put her hand on his back, holding him down, and proceeded to deal out a full dozen sharp swishes with the birch rod. Bobby cried and shifted from foot to foot. His bottom cheeks flexed and bounced. He squealed in distress. Like a girl, thought Hannah. Let him live that down. She plied the birch vigorously just as she recalled her mother had done with her when she’d been naughty. When she felt he’d been properly chastised she let him up to replace his pants. She made him return to his seat. He squirmed in discomfort the rest of the day. Hannah was satisfied. Not one child as much as sneezed after that display.

********************************************************

The repercussions were not long in coming. Mildred Whitaker was outraged that Miss Bainbridge had actually bared her son’s posterior in full view of the class and had whipped him. She lodged a formal protest with the mayor and the city council. Hannah had been hired right out of teacher’s college by the town of Slatyfork to serve as schoolmistress for the departing Caleb Crane. The interviews had gone well and the town was excited to have a fresh face with the latest in modern schooling to teach their young to read, write and figure. But, many of the parents were frankly aghast at what she had done to Bobby. She learned later, when the allegations had built a head of steam, that it wasn’t so much the whipping—children were expected to be punished at school from time to time—it was the fact that she had bared his person for the infliction of the punishment. She was summoned to appear at a meeting with the mayor, the town council, assorted parents who served as an ad hoc school board and, Mildred Whitaker. Also present was Tom Larkin, a county deputy sheriff and unofficial constable for Slatyfork. Tom was a carpenter as well and performed some custodial duties at the schoolhouse.

First they heard Mildred. Of course, by this time, everyone in town knew the story. Mildred was loud and overbearing, as usual, and full of self righteousness. She complained that her precious Bobby was now the object of ridicule because of the incident. Then they heard Hannah. As patiently and as calmly as she could, she explained why she had punished Bobby in that way. She hadn’t wanted to use the stick, she said, it was too cruel.

“Well, stripping the pants off my Bobby was humiliating, you….you…” sputtered Mildred. They got Mildred quieted down and let Hannah finish. The mayor said, “You do know that our charter does not allow clothing to be removed in these circumstances, don’t you Miss Bainbridge?” No she didn’t know that, she said.

They asked her to step into the next room while they deliberated. Quite a few of the board were very angry with Hannah Bainbridge. They did not expect their children to be humiliated in that fashion. There was a motion to terminate her employment. Several other parents agreed.

Jed Collins, the mayor, thought this would be a mistake. It had been hard enough attracting a young woman like Hannah Bainbridge. Most wanted no part of life in a remote mountain town.

“It was just a mistake in judgment,” said Jed. “She knows better now and won’t do it again.” Several parents also saw the practical problem of finding someone new in the middle of winter. Mildred sensed opinion turning against her.

“Then if she stays, she should be punished.” Mildred was adamant, and what Mildred wanted she usually got.

“What do you have in mind?” asked Collins.

“She should get the same as what she gave my Bobby. That would teach her a good lesson.” Mildred’s pugnacious frown was a challenge to all who would oppose her.

“You are suggesting that this young woman take a …whipping?” Jed Collins was nonplussed at this.

Mildred stood firm. “That’s right. There had to be some kind of reprimand and it makes sense that she should get a bit of her own medicine.”
A majority of those present, it seemed, agreed with Mildred. Hannah was, after all, very young and it hadn’t been that long since she herself had been subject to parental correction. The proposal was unusual, to say the least, but, in a way, imminently fair. A vote was taken after some debate, and it was agreed. She could stay or go, but if she stayed, she would be punished publicly right here, right now, in front of the assembled parents.

“Who would do it?” ventured Edna Smith, one of the parents. “I don’t want my husband putting a pretty girl like her across his knee.”

Mildred solved the problem. “Tom Larkin is our unmarried man here. He should give this girl the licking she’s got coming. After all he is our deputy sheriff.”

Tom’s eyebrows rose at that. Secretly he had not wanted them to fire Hannah Bainbridge. She was very pretty and Tom had been interested since her arrival. They had spoken from time to time because he did repairs on the school building, but around such a fetching young woman Tom felt tongue-tied.

“If she agrees to this and if I have to, I guess I will give her the licking,” said Tom, a bit reluctantly. There goes any hope of her liking me, he thought. But he was the deputy and duty called.

So they called her in and told her of their decision. She could either pack her bags right now and go back to Virginia, or she could accept a lesson in discipline. The mayor assured her that it would be kept secret, only those present would witness the chastisement, and after that the matter would be closed. And he added that Deputy Larkin would be doing the honors.

“I know it seems like a kind of rough justice, Miss Bainbridge, but if you accept this reprimand in the form of a good hiding from our Deputy here, we’ll put this little incident behind us.”

Hannah gulped and flushed from head to toe. Goodness! A spanking in front of all these people? She surely did not want to be fired, the thought of dismissal was unthinkable. But could she face the humiliation of being publicly spanked? And by Tom Larkin? She had definitely noticed the tall, rangy deputy and had wondered how she could get to know him better. She’d spoken to him several times at the schoolhouse, but he had seemed shy and rather formal. Then she realized, to her chagrin, that if she allowed him this sort of intimacy, he’d definitely notice her. She wanted to stay and if this was what it took to make amends, so be it.

“I am sorry, all of you, and Mrs. Whitaker. I will accept this …reprimand if it means I may continue as your schoolmistress.” There, she had said it.

Now she had to face the music. Someone brought out a sturdy armless chair. Tom Larkin sat down and rolled up his right sleeve. Hannah watched anxiously. He motioned for Hannah to approach his right side. He figured he’d spank her just like a misbehaving child. Hannah gulped. This was so embarrassing. Over his lap she went. Her feet came off the floor and she had to grasp a chair rung for support. She gritted her teeth as Tom raised her skirts in back to expose the target area. He had raised his hand to deliver the first smack when Mildred said, “Wait. Her drawers should come down. That is the point of this. She should get it the same as my Bobby.”

Hannah had to wait like that while they discussed the state of her drawers; but in the end, all were in agreement. The drawers would have to come down. Hannah blushed anew when she felt Tom Larkin’s fingers in the waistband of her drawers. He peeled them down, exposing her bare bottom for all to see. Her feelings of acute embarrassment, however, were interrupted by the sting of the first smack of the deputy’s capable palm. It had landed forcefully on her left bottom cheek. Another crisp smack fell on her right cheek. Both smacks stung and Hannah realized she was in for an ordeal.

Then Deputy Larkin settled into a methodical spanking of Hannah’s bare bottom. The spanks smarted and Hannah could not help squirming. No one said anything, so for the next several minutes the only sounds in the room were the crisp smacking sounds of Tom’s palm meeting Hannah’s bare bottom cheeks. Those watching seemed transfixed by the sight of the lovely woman writhing over the handsome deputy’s knee, the rounded globes of her bare behind rippling and bouncing with each spank.

Tom Larkin could hardly believe it. Here he was giving a spanking to the bare bottom of the lovely young school teacher. And a shapely bottom it was, too. He was becoming painfully aroused. He hoped no one noticed.

Hannah’s bottom was really stinging as her jouncy globes absorbed the meaty smacks of Deputy Larkin’s hand. But she also sensed something else was happening. Something unexpected. She was humiliated beyond belief, and the spanking stung atrociously, but something was happening with her body. She was becoming wantonly aroused. She couldn’t help it, but the longer the spanking went on, the more she felt her womanly parts becoming moist. And, she found herself rubbing herself on the deputy’s knee. She was like a cat in heat. The heat from the spanking was causing it. Her rump was sizzling hot from the repeated smacks of his hard palm. She was grinding with her pelvis as slap after slap impacted her bare bottom. And what was that she felt in his lap under her?

Tom could sense something too. Something was building to a climax in this woman. He’d laid on a pretty smart tanning. Her bottom was a bright red now and she was becoming more vocal, trying to choke back sobs. He decided to give her ten more good ones and end it. On the sixth smack she tensed up and threw her head back, all the while writhing wantonly on the deputy’s lap. He finished with four rapid smacks applied to alternate cheeks. Then he stopped and she went limp.

Climax. A climax, that’s what that was, she realized. Oh, please don’t let them notice. And it was about that time that the deputy had stopped. Tom lifted her up gently and whispered, “I’m sorry Miss Bainbridge.” She just nodded. She’d have to figure out what this all meant.

The meeting broke up. Everyone went home. Thereafter everyone tried to pretend it had never happened. “Forgiven and forgotten,” Betty Varny told Hannah at the general store one day. “Over and done with. We all move on.” After that Hannah felt better about it. Everyone did keep their promise to keep silent. But that didn’t quell her emotional state when she thought about Tom Larkin. She thought about him a lot, and those thoughts generally included a healthy jolt of womanly desire. So it was quite the startle when he showed up at the schoolhouse one day after the children had gone home.

He was carrying flowers and a flat object. Nervously he cleared his throat. “I’d like to make amends, Miss Bainbridge, I…”

“You were just doing your duty, deputy,” said Hannah, brushing her hair aside. Why was she weak in the knees?

“I brought you these flowers. I know it’s not much after the…ah, what happened, but…” He was stammering around.

“It’s all right.” Hannah was recovering her poise.

“And, here, I made something for you. I heard what you said about that hickory stick, how it’s too severe—-and I agree with you there so, here…” And he handed her what looked like a butter paddle. “It’s a maple paddle. I made it. It packs a wallop even through wool britches. It’ll sting a might, but no lasting harm.”

Hannah took the paddle and turned it over in her hand. She hadn’t had to resort to that kind of punishment after the Bobby Whitaker incident, but maybe the sight of this hanging on a nail in the front of the classroom might scare a few into better behavior. Then she had a wicked impish impulse. But it might tell her what kind of man this was.

“I see. Have you ever felt something like this, Mr. Larkin?”

“Oh, yes ma’am. You can believe it. My ma, she had a butter paddle and she…”

She didn’t let him finish. “I appreciate your gesture. Let’s try it out, shall we?” Hannah could see Tom was confused, so she said, “I mean on you, Deputy.” Then she gave him her sweetest smile.

The girl had spunk, thought Tom. He smiled and shook his head. Serves me right. Well, maybe this would restore a little balance. Make her feel better. Then he had an idea.

“I’ll gladly take my licks and let you try it out on me, Miss Bainbridge,” he said, “on the condition that you accompany me to the Christmas dance at the Grange hall on Saturday.”

Hannah said “yes,” and that is how Tom Larkin ended up bent over the desk to take a few good licks with the maple paddle that he’d made with his own hands. She stood to his side and lined up the paddle. Taking aim she laid a good half dozen licks right on that taut behind of his. The loud whaps! echoed off the walls as she applied the paddle. She noted a bit of satisfaction at his sharp inhalation of breath during last couple of smacks.

“We’re not quite even, Deputy, but that was a good start,” she said, as she watched him rise from the desk, rubbing his buttocks. He’d grinned as he stood, and thanked her for the “demonstration,” and that was a relief to Hannah. It meant he was a big enough man to be a good sport about it.

For a girl she packs a wallop, he mused later. But she’d agreed to go to the dance with him and that was all that had mattered.

The Christmas dance had been a turning point. Hannah’s feelings for the rugged deputy had intensified. He was charming and self deprecating—and a perfect gentleman, notwithstanding their earlier encounter. He took to coming by in the morning to build a fire in the pot bellied stove that sat in the corner of the schoolhouse, so that it would be warm inside when she got there. And it gave them a few minutes of conversation before the children arrived. The residents of Slatyfork noted the blooming romance between the handsome deputy and the pretty schoolmarm.

Just before Christmas there was a bazaar. Folks from all over the county brought homemade items. It was held in the city hall. Unfortunately the weather picked that time to turn quite nasty. All day snow had threatened and by late afternoon it was snowing hard and the wind was picking up. An hour later it was a full blown blizzard. Tom was there and cautioned people not to go out alone. “In a blizzard like this you can get lost ten yards from your own house,” he said. Parties were organized to guide people home who lived nearby. For the rest, they would have to wait it out.

Hannah had arrived with some things made by the children at the school, and was chatting with some ladies looking over her display when she noticed Tom across the room. He was smiling, talking intently to a pair of young women she’d never seen before. Then she saw him slip his arm around one, pull her to him and peck her on the cheek. The woman laughed. Hannah flushed with anger. Who were these women? Were they some secret that Tom had kept from her? Jealousy boiled over. That two timer! She could not get the image out of her mind of Tom’s hand around that woman’s waist.

Without thinking she grabbed her coat and stormed out. She just needed to walk, to get away from the hall. She walked right out into the blizzard, ignoring the biting cold. There was only one thing on her mind. She should just go. All his talk. He wants someone else. She hadn’t noticed that she could not see very well where she was going. She became disoriented. The dark was closing in now, and she stopped to take stock of her situation. It was a whiteout. Where was she? She had a moment of panic and did the one thing she should not have done. She ran.

Back at the hall, Tom searched for Hannah. Her table was unattended. He asked one of the other ladies, “Where is she?”

Jill Nedly, whose table of holiday pies was next to Hannah’s told him, “She walked out, Deputy. She saw you with those two women and I think she was a mite upset. She just stormed out. She looked angry.”

Tom ran his hand through his hair. Damnation! It was a blizzard out there. He grabbed his coat. Fortunately it had only been a matter of minutes. Her tracks through the snow were still visible. But he didn’t understand. She was heading up the road toward the schoolhouse. He followed as fast as he could.
But he could see next to nothing. Still, he stuck to the side of the road and plowed toward the schoolhouse. He shouted, but the wind was in his face.

He was about to go back and get help when he heard a faint cry of “Help!” in the distance. It came from off the road, toward the creek. Tom crashed through the brush toward the creek. Through the blinding snow he somehow saw her. She had fallen through the ice and could not get out. Scrambling down the creek’s bank, he held onto a tree with one hand and reached for her with the other. “Here,” he yelled, “take my hand.” She grabbed it and he was able to pull her to safety.

But she was wet and freezing after falling into the creek. He was too far from town. But the schoolhouse was dead ahead. He could make a fire. With her teeth chattering uncontrollably, he carried her through the snow. He was afraid she’d go into shock, and knew he had to get her warm. When they made it to the school house he bundled her inside. There was a room in the back with a cot and blankets. She had to get out of the wet clothes.

“Get out of your clothes. Everything. Wrap up in this. I’ll build a fire.” He handed her the blanket. She couldn’t speak but she nodded, shivering.
He got the fire in the pot bellied stove going, and brought her out of the back room. They stood in front of the fire and he vigorously rubbed her as she stood wrapped in the blanket. Finally her body warmed and she stopped shivering.

“What were you doing out there?” Tom demanded after they had settled down to sit in front of the fire.

She directed a sharp look his way. “I saw you. Don’t deny it. You kissed that woman.” She pouted and faced away.

Tom gave her a puzzled look. “Woman? You mean my first cousin Dorothy Larkin… or her sister Maude?”

Hannah turned back around. “Y-your first cousins?”

“Yes,” he said evenly, “from Durbin. Visiting my folks for the holidays.”
Tom frowned. “You mean to tell me you flounced out into this blizzard, after I’d warned everyone about the danger, because you saw me give my cousin a hug and kiss?” Hannah didn’t answer. “That’s what you did, isn’t it?” He was getting angry now.

“I, I didn’t know she was your first cousin,” Hannah protested feebly. Oh my, he was angry. And she’d been very foolish.

Tom stood over her with his hands on his hips. “You are the woman I care about, the one I want to spend the rest of my life with, and you put yourself in jeopardy because you get jealous and don’t even ask me about it?”

Wait, what was that he had said? Spend the rest of his life…? She almost didn’t hear the next part because her head was spinning.

“I should put you over my knee right now and spank some sense into that pretty bottom of yours. Maybe the last time wasn’t enough.”

The spanking threat got her attention. She beheld Tom standing, hands on his hips, glaring at her. She’d been warm all wrapped in the blanket, but now a cold chill shot up from the base of her spine. At the same time she blushed. The memory of that previous spanking raised goose bumps as she felt a sudden surge of arousal.

“Yes, I think that’s exactly what I’ll do,” said Tom. Before she could react or protest, he stood Hannah up, yanked the blanket off and cast it aside. Underneath she was stark naked. Tom didn’t care. He grabbed her by the waist, sat back down, and put her right across his knees.

Hannah finally found her voice. “Stop! Tom, let me go!” She kicked her legs and tried to squirm off his lap. Tom held her firmly. God, but she was beautiful. He watched her gorgeous bottom cheeks clench and relax as she wriggled. The sight was so intoxicating he almost forgot what he had meant to do. Gathering his resolve, he raised his arm.

Smack! Smack! Smack! Tom brought his palm down applying a quick volley of firm spanks to Hannah’s nude bottom. Tom observed her cheeks rippling with the impact. Hannah squealed in protest at both the indignity of her position and the sudden sting. But Tom was just getting started. He set out applying a brisk spanking to Hannah’s quivering behind. Settling into a steady tempo, he applied a crisp smack to her pert globes every couple of seconds.

Hannah was stunned at this sudden turn of events, and felt mortified to be held down naked over Tom’s knee. At the same time she felt a wicked thrill to be manhandled in this fashion by the man she had desired for some time. Her body began to react to the spanking the same as it had at the city council meeting some months back. She felt shameless, writhing, over Tom’s knee like some tavern wench.

The methodical smacking continued and what had begun as a mild sting was beginning to burn. She realized that Tom really meant to teach her a lesson. The heat being generated in her seat was causing her to yelp and thrash around, uncontrollably seeking some relief from Tom’s relentless spanking palm. Her rear globes were becoming red, like ripening tomatoes and her vocalizations became increasingly shrill. Still Tom wasn’t through. He meant to demonstrate in no uncertain terms the folly of putting herself at risk.

Smack! Smack! “I never want to see you take a chance like that again, Hannah Bainbridge! Do you understand? You mean everything to me!” Smack! Crack! The sharp smacks rang out in the confines of the empty schoolhouse as the naked Hannah wriggled in vain to escape his punishing hand.

Smack! Smack! “You could have frozen out there.” He emphasized this last point with a volley of searing spanks that made her fanny sizzle.

“Ow! Ow! Tom, I’m sorry! Please stop. It burns so!” She kicked and flailed.

“I’m sorry, Hannah, but this is because I love you.” Tom applied another dozen hearty spanks to her now bright red bottom.

“Aieee!” squalled Hannah. It stung atrociously. But what had he said? He loved her? She was approaching that point again. Half of her wanted the spanking to stop and the other half was wishing for it to continue, reaching for that climactic goal. She unconsciously began to raise her bottom in time with the descent of his hand. Then it happened again. She arched her back, bowing it in reverse. Her body shook in a shuddering climax.

Tom had continued to spank, noticing her body’s movements and wondering what it meant. When she arched her back, he saw that something was happening. He gave her a few more smacks then stopped. She’d had enough. She slumped across his lap sobbing softly. He took her in his arms, and sitting her up on his lap, kissed her tears. He just held her like that for several moments trying to gather the courage to say the thing that he felt.

“I’m sorry, but the fact is, I love you Hannah, and I’d die if anything happened to you.” Then he brushed her hair away from her face and looked squarely into her eyes. He took a deep breath. “Hannah, I want to marry you.”

What? Marry me? Hannah’s heart soared. To Tom’s surprise she flung her arms around him and kissed him passionately. “Yes. Yes. I will marry you,” she said.

After that, they could not contain themselves. Their love was consummated right there in the one room schoolhouse. They brought the cot out and set it in front of the stove. Then they made love until dawn. Neither Tom nor Hannah were very experienced, but that didn’t stop them from exploring each other’s bodies and renewing their passion over and over again.

By morning the blizzard had stopped. Hannah’s clothes had dried. They were able to walk arm in arm back to town. They were married a month later.

*******************************************************
posted with permission
by Rollin, http://www.disciplinarytales.blogspot.com”

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s