Fantasy - New Student's Welcome Redux

"Miss Hanson's Classroom Rule #1: All spankings are bare, long & hard!"

I've been asked several times if I was going to "finish" the short fantasy piece I wrote here (check out the original post for the background and original art piece). While the original intent was for the reader to fill in the rest with their own imagination, it was requested enough that I decided to try and write a "part two", including the promised Welcome Paddling itself! Of course, I couldn't help but make some new art to go with this too... enjoy!

---

It's your first day at a new school. You don't know anybody there, so it's a bit scary.

That morning, you sit nervously in the middle row. Nobody talks to you, but you notice a few looking in your direction and then quickly looking away.

Your new uniform is uncomfortable, much more restrictive than the one at your laid-back previous school. The tie around the collar of your crisp white shirt threatens to strangle you, and you fidget and idly tug down the legs of your navy shorts, which seems too far short for your age, while pulling up your white woolen socks, which itch unpleasantly against your calves.

Despite the irritation of your uniform, you have done your best to look presentable; you want to make a good impression on your new teacher and classmates on your first day, and hope that things will go well.

The teacher arrives to the tune of sharply clicking high heels, and you're stunned at how attractive she is: tall with long blonde hair, breasts straining her dark sweater and shapely bare legs shown off by her knee-length cream skirt.

"Good morning, class," she says cheerfully.

"Good morning, Miss," you reply with the other students."

You swallow hard as your stunning new teacher looks squarely in your direction.

"I believe that today we have a new class member," she announces. "Would you kindly stand up and introduce yourself, young man?"

You obey, still rather nervous, stammering over your name and former school.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," your new teacher says, smiling as she turns to the blackboard behind her and writes your full name up on it in large letters.

"My name is Miss Hanson," she says. "I'll be your Form Teacher. I hope you will enjoy your time in my class, not to mention learning a thing or two." Miss Hanson's eyes sparkle like cut glass as she addresses you.

Blushing, you thank her and return to your seat, but Miss Hanson holds up a well-manicured hand.

"Uh-uh, young man! Not so fast. We haven't quite finished welcoming you yet, have we class?"

Around you, your new classmates stir awkwardly in palpable discomfort.

Grinning, Miss Hanson turns back to the board, chalk squeaking as she writes. When she moves away, you gasp in horror at the words now written beneath your name:

WELCOME PADDLING: 20 SWATS

A paddling?! Here? Now? For what? It's your first day at school! You haven't even been here long enough to get in trouble yet! While you'd heard rumors that the teachers here were allowed to paddle students at this school, you'd expected it was surely only when they misbehaved!

"It's a school tradition I'm afraid, young man," Miss Hanson explains, reading your expression, though her smirk belies her rueful tone. "Every new boy who joins my class after the first day of term gets a Welcome Paddling. Twenty good hard swats, on the bare bottom."

Your mind whirls. This is crazy! Surely she's joking? You glance around the classroom, but nobody is laughing.

Miss Hanson reaches under her desk and - to your wide-eyed horror - produces a large wooden spanking paddle. It looks formidable and heavy, its smooth surface glistening under the neon lights of the classroom as Miss Hanson turns and hefts it in her hands.

She smacks the paddle playfully against her palm, and the sharp crack makes you flinch and wince.

"Have you ever been paddled before?" she asks, one eyebrow raised in curiosity.

You shake your head, heart pounding in your chest. "N-no, Miss Hanson," you confess.

Miss Hanson smiles wickedly, eyes positively gleaming at the news. "Well, then this really is a special day for you, isn't it, young man? Your first day at your new school and your first ever bare-bottom paddling!"

Tears well in your eyes at the thought. You can't believe this is happening to you; as nervous as you were when you left home this morning, never in your worst nightmares did you imagine your first day of school starting like this! Paddled bare, in front of the class, and you haven't even done anything wrong!"

"Now, now... chin up, dear! Let's see a brave face!" Miss Hanson chides teasingly, noting your clear distress and brimming eyes. "Be a big brave boy and march up here to my desk, so I can give you your Welcome Paddling. Once that's over with, we can begin today's class."

Slowly, you rise. Your legs feel like jelly as you stumble past the rows of desks to the front of the classroom. The smiling Miss Hanson watches you the whole way...

"When you are finally standing in front of her desk, she waves the paddle towards your waist.

"Shorts down please, young man," she instructs. "It won't be a proper welcome if it's not on the bare."

"But... but Miss..." you gasp, blushing, eyes downcast shamefully at the toes of her shiny charcoal pumps.

"Oh, alright!" Miss Hanson chuckles. "I know you first-timers are sometimes shy and need help..."

With that, she places the paddle on her desk and reaches down to unfasten your school shorts, unsnapping and unzipping them and then sending them southward to form a puddle around your feet with a sharp tug.

"There we go!" she announces cheerfully.

Your back is to the class, but you feel totally exposed, sure that everyone is now staring at the seat of your white cotton school-issue underpants!

Walking around from behind her desk, Miss Hanson picks up the paddle again up close, it looks even bigger and more terrifying! and taps it against the desktop in front of you.

"Now, bend over the desk for me, young man," she instructs firmly. "Head down, bottom up. Knees straight, feet together. New or not, we're sticklers for proper positioning here at this school."

You obey, heartbeat now a pounding, deafening roar. As you lean forward against the cool, hard surface of the desk, you notice your hands are trembling.

"You might want to grab hold of the other side of the desk," Miss Hanson suggests casually. "Most first-timers seem to find that helps."

As you reach forward and tightly grip the far edge of the big desk, feeling your backside thrust out towards your watching new classmates, you feel a gentle scratch of fingernails as slender female fingers are hooked into the sides of your underpants.

"Oh no, Miss!" you squeal, unable to help yourself, as you realize the teacher's intent.

"Oh yes, my boy!" comes Miss Hanson's amused reply. You can feel, if not see, her smirk. "I told you: Welcome Paddlings - in fact all paddlings at this school - are always given on the bare bottom!"

With that, Miss Hanson peels your cotton school underpants down to your knees, causing a wave of gooseflesh to ripple across your quivering buttocks as they are bared to the cool air - and transfixed gazes - of the entire classroom.

"Oooh!" you gasp softly as something hard and cold is pressed against your naked, out-thrust cheeks. The paddle.

"Hold on tight now, boy!" Miss Hanson warns you. "Welcome paddling or not, if you jump up or move out of position, we start over. Do you understand, young man?"

You nod fearfully. A tear trickles down your cheek.

You've got twenty swats to come for your Welcome Paddling," Miss Hanson reminds you. "They're going to be good and hard, and I'm afraid they're going to really hurt. But like I said, it's a school tradition here."

Teasingly, Miss Hanson again taps the cool wooden paddle gently against your defenseless bare buttocks, then removes it again.

Your whole body tenses, wincing and screwing your eyes shut as you await what you know is coming...

"Ready, boy?" she asks, but doesn't wait for a reply. "Here it comes...!"

You whimper in terror as you hear her swing the huge paddle over her shoulder with a whoosh of air.

WHACKKKK!!!

"One!" announces Miss Hanson gleefully, as she slams the big wooden paddle against your virgin buttocks.

The pain is shockingly intense; an unfathomable explosion of searing heat immediately ignites across both your cheeks as they flatten and judder in response to the paddle's first powerful blow.

WHACKKKK!!!

"Two!"

Again the paddle crashes down across your bare backside, and another blast of hot, throbbing pain courses through your body.

You cry out loudly, knuckles whitening as you grip the far edge of the desk for dear life.

WHACKKKK!!!

"Three!"

The impact drives your hips against the desk as your bottom flattens under the paddle's unyielding strength.

WHACKKKK!!!

"Four!"

Tears spill freely down your face as you howl out your agony. Never in your life had you thought that anything could be as painful as this!

WHACKKKK!!!

"Five!"

Panic grips you amid the blazing torment raging across your hot, sore cheeks. The pain is too much! You can't take fifteen more of Miss Hanson's terrible blows! You just can't!

"Pleeeeeease!" you wail frantically. "No mooooore, Miss Hanson! Pleeeease!"

"Oh, there's plenty more to come yet I'm afraid, my boy!" Miss Hanson tells you with a smirk.

WHACKKKK!!!

"New boys get twenty swats as their welcome, and we're not even halfway close to that yet, young man!"

WHACKKKK!!! WHACKKKK!!!

Two fast swats land in rapid succession, completely knocking the breath out of you.

"That's eight, young man," Miss Hanson confirms.

Your poor bottom burns and throbs terribly, and you can only imagine what sorry state it looks like to the view of your new classmates.

WHACKKKK!!!

"Nine!"

"Ohhhhhh Miiissss!" you sob, taste buds awash with salt from your tears which are now pooling on the desktop beneath your flushed, anguished face.

WHACKKKK!!!

"And that's ten!" Miss Hanson announces triumphantly. "We're halfway done, young man. Buck up and be brave, my boy!"

WHACKKKK!!!

"Number eleven!"

You shriek as the paddle lands low, striking the under-curves of your cheeks and lifting you up on your toes as your buns bounce wildly.

WHACKKKK!!!

"Twelve!"

Your cries take on a higher pitch, as the repeated blows of the paddle mount up. No part of your bottom remains unspanked now, and the fresh swats now only serve to reignite previous hotspots of blazing pain wherever they land.

WHACKKKK!!!

"Lucky thirteen!" Miss Hanson calls. "Well, not so lucky for you, eh boy?"

"Please stoopppp!" You wail, having never felt less lucky in you entire life.

Miss Hanson ignores you, instead continuing her cheerful running commentary: "Oh oh! Here comes a great, big..."

WHACKKKK!!!

"... fourteen!"

"Ohhhh! Ohhh! Oooohhhhh!" you wail hysterically, the pain so intense that your grip slipping from the desk and only barely stopping yourself from reaching back to clutch your poor, super-sore buttocks.

"Mmm, that was a good one, wasn't it?" Miss Hanson chuckles.

You can only nod tearfully in agreement.

"Well, here's another to match it!"

WHACKKKK!!!

You roar as the paddle hammers down on your helpless cheeks again, your knees buckling. Only the support of Miss Hanson's big desk keeps you from collapsing to the floor in a sobbing heap.

WHACKKKK!!!

"And that's number sixteen!"

"No mooooooooore!" you bawl, twisting your head to try and make eye contact with your new teacher and beseech her for mercy. "Pleeeease, Miss Hanson! No more! I can't take any more! I really can't!"

"You'll take what I say you'll take, young man," Miss Hanson tells you, her voice steely and stern all of a sudden. "In this classroom, I'm the boss, and little boys like you do as they are told... or else!"

WHACKKKK!!!

"So unless you want to be kept after class and spanked every day for an entire week, young man, I suggest you take the rest of your Welcome Paddling without further fuss and nonsense! Understand?"

"Yuh-yes Miss Hanson!" you blubber contritely. "I'm suh-sorry, Miss!"

WHACKKKK!!!

Miss Hanson responds with a blisteringly hard swat right across the middle of your cheeks, making you screech piercingly in response.

"Only two more to go, young man," she tells you, voice pleasant and peppy again. "I'm afraid they're going to be extra hard ones, though, so I suggest you hold on tight!"

You want desperately to beg for mercy, horrified at the thought of even harder swats than she's been giving you already, but Miss Hanson's threat of regular spankings for a whole week frightens you enough to remain silent. Whimpering, you tighten your grip on the desk edge, grit your teeth and screw your eyes shut...

WHACKKKKKKKK!!!

True to her word, Miss Hanson does deliver the hardest paddle swat of all for number eighteen. The white-hot supernova it ignites is the most terrible agony you have ever known! Crushed beneath the paddle's force, your bottom flattens and bulges comically like an water balloon about to burst.

"Lucky last, my boy!" Miss Hanson calls, bringing the paddle back behind her shoulder for a mighty final blow. "Let's make it a big finish..."

"Nuuuhooooooooooo!" you wail helplessly.

WHACKKKKKKKK!!!

The big paddle whistles down in a powerful arc, landing with thunderous force against your battered, bruised bottom.

You scream in agony, your whole body rocked by the mighty blow with such force that the heavy desk squeaks forward several inches. The cracking kinetic force of that final swat makes your poor swollen buns judder and shake like a raspberry jelly for almost a full minute after the paddle is lifted away.

For several minutes, nothing is said. The class remain silent in hushed awe and likely terror at what they have just witnessed. The only sound in the room is your wracking, miserable sobs of anguish in wake of your first ever paddling, along with Miss Hanson's panting from the exertion of administering it.

"There!" she says finally. "All done! You can now consider yourself properly welcomed to my classroom, young man."

You just continue to cry, unable to speak or even move.

"Now, up you get, young man," your teacher instructs calmly. "Pull your undies and shorts back up, then kindly return to your seat. We have a lesson to begin."

Every muscle aches as you slowly rise to your feet. Your burning red bottom - surely deep crimson at least, you imagine - spasms with sharp lances of pain as you balance on shaky, weak legs.

Bending, you retrieve your underpants from around your ankles and haltingly tug them back up over your very sore backside which pulses hotly to your touch and feels swollen to twice its normal size! The clasp of tight cotton underpants around your aching cheeks is painful, but you certainly don't want to return to your seat half-naked! Bending once more, and again wincing with the pain, you slowly pull your shorts up as well, wincing and whimpering as you re-fasten them and enclose your bulging maroon buttocks in another confining layer of tight fabric.

"Now, back to your seat, young man," Miss Hanson commands.

As you slowly walk back down the aisle to your desk, still sniffling tearfully, you blush shamefully at noting everyone's eyes on you the whole way.

Miss Hanson pays particular interest as she watches you attempt to ease your oh-so-tender bottom down onto your hard chair, chuckling as you gasp and wince at the painful contact.

"I know it's no picnic sitting on a freshly paddled bottom, young man, but I want you back in your seat before I can start today's lesson."

Your bottom throbs against your chair as you fidget and squirm in your seat. The burning and stinging is intolerable, yet you know you must endure it for the rest of class... at least until you can reach a bathroom and see for yourself the sorry state of your poor backside and try to sooth it in a sink full of cold water.

"Really... a big boy your age and never paddled before in your life?" Miss Hanson tuts. "Well, we've certainly fixed that today, haven't we?"

"Y-yes Miss," you sniffle weakly, nodding and feeling like the sorriest, most miserable boy in the whole world.

"Cheer up, dear!" Miss Hanson laughs. "You are now officially welcomed to your new school. And that's the last paddling you will ever have to go through here..." she pauses, then smiles wickedly. "Until you break a rule or hand in an assignment late, of course, then that little bottom will be back over my desk for another walloping. And in that case, next time it'll be a hard one!"

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It was a lot of fun, so much in fact that it actually got me working on an "interactive" version that let the reader choose their own name and gender to be reflected in the story (since at least two of my request-makers were "naughty girls"!). This version would rely on a separate software program, but if there's call for it, I can always post the "girl student POV" version similar to the above here too, if any naughty ladies want to twist my arm... ;)

Also, below is a bonus "twenty swat" version of my original artwork to better fit this version of the story. The number of swats was reduced in part due to Aunty Andrea's suggestion, and partly for the sake of brevity in writing out the entire paddling experience.

"Twenty paddle swats on the bare is still one heck of a welcome, though!"

Oh, and expect a few new 'Miss Hanson' appearances over the next few days, too! I hope you like her as much as I do!