That what was so deliciously unfair about the chalk cross. Mr Plant entered the room and caught me laughing mischievously at my friend Donald. That's all! It was obviously my turn to be whacked. The teacher snapped: 'Out!". And I obediently walked to the front of the room. He placed one of his palms on my stomach and the other on my back. He then bent me forward to the required position. I heard him remove the chalk from the channel underneath the blackboard. He took a couple of paces; and then there was a jangling of keys as he unlocked the cupboard. I had now way of seeing whether he had taken put his long cane or the size 11 plimsoll. I felt the chalk tracing a big cross over the seat of my trousers. "Whack!" The sole of the slipper scorched the target area. On the other side of my trousers, my cock rose as proud as a submarine commander. ( That image was in my head.) *Whack" another joyous scorching on my seat; and the taste of toffee was in my mouth. I wanted more; but all the chalk had gone and that was the end. Mr Plant told me to go back to my desk. I wanted to rub my bottom as I went, but was too inhibited to do so. A delicious stinging thrill as I sat down on the hard wooden bench. Beautiful but all too brief. Some weeks later: my classmate Danny was spanked across Mr Plant's knee, for a very serious offence. Danny begged and struggled, and finally sobbed, as the slipper scorched his trousers seat an unmerciful 13 times. After the spanking over the chalk cross was still visible. I went home with Danny. His mother was peeling potatoes. He told his mother what had happened at school. His bottom was still bright red when she looked at it. But she laughed, tousled his hair, and simply said: "Oo! That must have stung!"

Yes Miss I send email and hope to get enough money soon to come and see you for real life spanking