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In the soc.sexual.spanking news group Courtney set a traditional return to school assignment for us – write an essay on how I spent my summer vacation.  Well, here is one fictional account and as you can expect involves spanking of teens but I can not tell you any more than that and it is formatted like a school assignment.  If such a subject is offensive, uninteresting or if you are a minor (i.e., child) please leave now.

This work is copyright by the author and commercial use is prohibited without permission.  Personal/private copies are permitted only if complete including the copyright notice.

The author would appreciate your comments – pro and con, including constructive criticism, and suggestions.


Visiting My Grandparents for the Summer (1/2)

By

YLeeCoyote@juno.com

* * * * * * * * * *

Teacher: Mr. Jorrisen
Class: English 5-3
 

Student's Name: RODD, Lee
Date: September 17, 2002
Assignment: Essay #1 – "What I did on my Summer Vacation"


Visiting My Grandparents for the Summer
By
Lee Rodd

After just one look at my report card at the end of June, I knew how, well, at least where, I was going to spend by summer vacation.  My parents had explained it all for the last couple of months.  It would be with my grandparents at their place near Lake Beaver on the edge of Little Green Mountain National Forest.  The lake for swimming, fishing and boating.  The forest to go hiking and camping in.  And that is all there is to do because they don't have a dish or even cable.  Just a terrible local station that can not even join PBS.  And the phone is still a party line so no Internet either.  Nice and primitive.  OK, so no MTV for me just the lake and forest and the stars – the real ones in the clear sky.© YLeeCoyote

"Great fun." you say.

"NO WAY!"  You see my grandparents are teachers and run a very strict summer school for lazy goof-offs like me who mess up in school.  So with an F glaring bright scarlet and a D in with the C's I was guaranteed a choice spot in rural Vermont without transportation to the local wonders.

The Sylvan Summer School is on an old farm.  My grandparents live in the farm house and the dozen students in the barn loft with the class rooms downstairs.  They left some of the old horse stalls for use as study cubicles.  The only stuff we have are two pairs of gray shorts and matching rugby shirts with the SSS logo, towels and a couple of toiletry items.  Plus school stuff.  The first day we were lectured thoroughly on "our" objectives and that excluded everything but our studies.  We were also given our schedules.  Up with the rooster (a real crowing cock), some exercise and breakfast and then morning classes.  A brief exercise period before lunch and then more classes.  Dinner and homework/study time until lights out.

No, I did not leave out anything.  No underwear or socks or shoes.  Nothing like watches or radios or CDs either.  And so it did not matter that the shorts, er, the gray short shorts with elastic waists did not have any pockets because all we had to carry were our books and pencils.  And we did not need shoes since we were not going anywhere except to the grassy field behind the barn for exercise.

The twelve of us were each taking three of five subjects so that we got individual attention in the very small classes.  That part, I soon would discovered, was actually very nice especially when compared to the thirty plus we had in regular school.

The first day was checking in, just getting to know each other and learning the rules.  The next day things got started in earnest and we learnt about CP.  Yes, not only was the place strict but my grandparents had some old fashioned ideas about how to keep kids focused and on the straight and narrow.  They had a TAWSE.  At least it was not a cane like in Singapore.

Never heard of one?  None of us did and I can assure you that we would have preferred to leave it that way.  Here what the dictionary says: "British: a leather strap slit into strips at the end and used especially for disciplining children."  The ones they had were over a foot long not counting the wooden handle and two and half inches wide.  The tawse was introduced to us and passed around.  We all tried it (as directed) on one hand.  It was clear that it would not be fun when used in earnest and repeatedly on our naked posteriors.

I did not see what happened to make Pat the very first victim less than an hour later.  Everyone was called together to watch Pat get it.  Grandma told Pat to "drop 'em, bend over and grab the bar".  She then gave Pat four cuts with the tawse.  I watched, my mouth agape, as the leather strap flew through the air and connected with the initially white butt fearfully waiting.  Pat yelled at the first contact.  The white flesh turned pink.  The second stroke only partially overlaid the first.  Another WHACK and another yell.  Now there was a pink stripe with red strip down the middle.  The third and fourth cuts did the same leaving Pat's bottom quite red.  Actually Pat had four red cheeks two of which were wet with tears.  Obviously, this hurt.

I also noticed how Pat's most secret hole was exposed to the rest of us in a most undignified fashion (as well as everything else that is normally private).  Grandma ordered Pat to dress and everyone back to work.  We all obeyed silently and immediately.  Of course, we were all thinking about what had just happened.

It was not until Friday afternoon before anyone messed up again.  This time it was me!  It was not my fault – really it was not – but grandpa was not interested in explanations.  In fact my attempts to discuss things just earned (that's the word he used) me an extra stroke.  I shut up declining to try for two extra.

It was only seconds before my shorts were off, I was bent over griping the bar and waiting in fear for my first tawsing before my classmates.  I wondered if, no – how often my father had been in this position long ago when he was a boy.  Even though my tail was still untouched, I could feel my face turning red as a realized that everyone could see my butt hole and other stuff just like we had all seen Pat's a few days earlier.  This was definitely different from showering with the others or even sacking out nude for my classmates were dressed while I was naked and on display.

WHACK!

I was slapped out of my reverie as the tawse made its first contact with my butt.  I was too surprised to yell but emitted a grunt of some sort.  I gripped the bar tightly not wanting to move.  Gramps had warned of extras for that.  I did not have to wait long for the next one.

WHACK!

or the third,

WHACK!

for they come rapidly.  They were also hard (at least my naive bottom thought so) making it difficult to not notice any.  Then the fourth

WHACK!

and the last.

WHACK!

which left my ass feeling like it was on fire.  And if Pat's butt was any indication it was fire engine red as well.  I carefully pulled up my shorts and sat down very gently on my seat.  I knew that I was going to pay careful attention from now on for this was an experience I did not want to repeat.

The weekend was a bit different.  We did not have classes but were strongly advised to study for Monday's tests although we were allowed to play.  Without shoes and transport there wasn't anyway to go elsewhere.

On Monday came the promised tests.  They were all short – fifteen minutes – but KILLERS!  After supper we learnt that my grandparents had a very twisted sense of humor.  We all assembled and learnt that a low grade meant a sore butt.  The rule very simple – you got a cut with the tawse from each student who did at least ten points higher on the test.  To be sure that we delivered real cuts, if Grandpa or ma did not think you gave an honest stroke, they gave you three to show you what it should be like.  As an added inducement to do well, a failing grade earned three from Gramps plus everything else doubled.

After dinner the torture was to commence.  Sam was the lucky one who was at the bottom of all three of his classes.  Sam's penalty was six plus four plus four for a total of fourteen for the three classes.  Sam stripped and grabbed the bar.  I don't recall who was first but it was a loud crack and Sam yelped as the stripe formed across the exposed butt.  One by one the eight of us had our turn at Sam's butt.  We knew that my grands would carry out their threat so none of us gave whimpy cuts.

Sam was crying by the halfway point when I took the tawse in hand.  As I stepped into position a strange feeling of power engulfed me (never mind that in a few minutes I would be bent over with my bare rump waiting).  For the nonce (got that word in the English class) the tawse was my friend.  And knowing that I would get three if I was too easy, I brought back my arm and let Sam have the first of the two I was to give.

WHACK!

Sam howled.  Then the second one.

WHACK!

Sam was imitating a banshee (or at what I though one would be like).  I took a perverse pleasure in the suffering of my fellow student as I saw the now red target.  As I stepped by I could feel the heat radiating from it.

As I watched the others I had a definite tingling in my crotch.  By the end Sam was bawling.

One by one we each got our cuts.  I was doing pretty well.  The tingling in my crotch suddenly stopped as I dropped my shorts and I gripped the bar.  I was due five cuts.  The first two were not that bad but the last two were.  Tracy did not like me and took advantage of this opportunity.  Rather than letting the tawse hit both checks with the tails on the checks, Tracy managed to get the end of the tails in my crack and on my hole.  Unfortunately most effectively.  I, without shame, admit to howling.  Tracy (I was told) was obviously suppressing a laugh.

Then Grandpa called Tracy for breaking the rules.  Although the cut was not below the cheek/thigh line it was not across both cheeks.  The punishment for this was five cuts by the victim.

Tracy was quickly in position and stepped into position.  I was mad and I swung hard putting my entire weight behind the blows intent on revenge.

WHACK!  WHACK!  WHACK!  WHACK!  WHACK!

I would have loved to get between those cheeks as happened to me but I didn't dare so I did the next best thing – I put the five cuts all in the same place.  By the time I was finished there was a bright crimson stripe across Tracy's butt.

I was still due a couple but Tracy got them instead much to my delight.  And I had the fun giving those that Tracy would have.

That night I made sure to express my appreciation to Tracy for all the extra fun I had thanks to that one touch of the tip of the tawse.  Tracy appreciated that and we became friends.

Of course, after that I really worked hard to get good grades.  In fact everyone worked harder after that for the same reason.  In fact, we were so successful that no one got tawsed the rest of the week.

This went on for the rest of the summer.  Regrettably I can not talk about the fun we had after lights out in a school essay.

The End

Want to learn more about the fun they had?  Go to the sequel

© Copyright A.I.L., September 23, 2002

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