This short story is an entry in the 2001 Soc.Sexuality.Spanking Summer Short Story Contest and 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
Category: Child
Mija recently wrote: "Fictional child spanking stories and real life childhood memories are welcome on SSS." The following actually happened but it did not happen to me. A gal can still dream, though.
Missing Miss Alberto
By
Angie B. <angieheart@hotmail.com>
I had many favorite teachers in school -- a few harmless crushes and one great love. She was Kate Alberto. And I was one very confused girl.
Miss Alberto taught mathematics in the snooty school I attended. And, I'm guessing because of middle-class origins, she was not amused by our over-privileged antics.
On our first day in Miss Alberto's class, she brandished her paddle and said she was not afraid to use it. This was the 1940's; a paddle was issued to every teacher upon joining the faculty. By the tenth grade, though, most did not need to remind us of its existence. At that age there were few classroom paddlings, anyway -- discipline was handled with a stinging rebuke or, for serious infractions, a referral to the headmistress.
But Miss Alberto differed in her approach. In the second week a girl whispered an ill-advised joke about spinsters just loud enough to be overheard; thereafter we watched in shock as the paddle was applied to the seat of the poor thing's tartan skirt. When she rose to face us we gasped at her puffy, red face, streaked with tears.
There were no more jokes told in Miss Alberto's class that year. But there were more paddlings, sometimes twice in the same week. And I was beginning to think of Miss Alberto a lot.
I needed an excuse to be around her, so I asked if I could come to her apartment every Sunday for "tutoring." Soon I was whiling away afternoons at her table, solving equations. I would beam with pride when she complimented me, and when I made mistakes she was tease me good-naturedly, promising she'd take me "over her knee" if I didn't shape up. I must have blushed furiously because she always said she was only joking.
Later, before drifting off to sleep, I would imagine the scene of being disciplined by Miss Alberto. I had not been paddled since I was eleven, and at sixteen I knew how to safely avoid it. (Somehow, my spoiled classmates had not figured this out. Their bottoms paid dearly.)
But the image of being spanked by my "crush" -- especially over her knee, maybe even on the seat of my panties -- was thrilling. I fell asleep to it many times, and I understand now that I was using it to arouse myself. I started blushing just being around her, which she must have found charming.
I began making mistakes on purpose, just to hear Miss Alberto promise a spanking, but she didn't carry out the threat. I never experienced the excitement of going across her lap in the privacy of her apartment, and I couldn't bring myself to be naughty enough in class to have her give me a real paddling. I always envied the girls who caught it, though.
I never told her how I truly felt, and I suppose she never guessed, for if she had, she'd have punished me for sure. And now I find myself wishing she'd found out.
The End
© Copyright Summer, 2001
Reviews
LAR <lds627(at)home(dot)com>
I believe this story will speak to many people.