It was now late November of 1958. This was the year I began to suspect something was odd about the way Bishop M conducted the spanking sessions, but due to the times, my young age, and the atmosphere of being in a isolated religious cult, I did not realize that he was getting his kinks from spanking us. He just made us do strange things, as will be noted in this story and the next few.
In our school, we went to school from 8:00 am to 3:00 pm Monday through Friday. Most of the time, we had to wear uniforms that consisted of the following:
Boys: Dark blue slacks with a white dress shirt, black socks and black loafer shoes.
Girls: Blue/Black/White plaid skirt with a white blouse and white ankle dress socks with black shoes that had one strap that you buckled.
Today was different in that we were having our pictures taken for the school. So today we got to wear our dresses we wore for Sunday’s services. Mine was a medium blue with a yellow bow. Cathy’s was red and white checkered with a red bow.
It was just after lunch period, around 12:15 pm or so, and my friend, Cathy, sixth grader, Sandi, and I were told to go to Bishop Montgomery’s office.
I looked at Cathy and Sandi and asked: “What did we do now?”
“I have no idea,” replied Sandi. “But I bet we’re getting a spanking.”
Cathy sighed in a disgusted tone, but realized there was nothing she could do to change his mind, if that is what he had planned.
The door was partly opened so I just pushed it further and went on in. Sandi was right behind me and Cathy trailed a few feet behind. Once inside, Bishop M looked up at us, got up and went and locked the door, which always meant we were getting it.
Then in his growly voice he said: “You three girls are here for three different reasons. There are more besides you, but I am quite busy and can only do so much at a time.”
Poor guy is so overworked!
“Sandi, you are here because you got a ten on your first semester exam. It was obvious from some of your smart-alec answers, that you both neither tried nor even cared.”
His voice then went from a loud tone to almost a yell as he continued.
“After my discussion with you last month, when you were in trouble again, you promised me you would straighten up and buckle down. You didn’t, and in fact you did worse, so now you will get the correction you deserve. You must learn to respect those who God has placed in authority if you have any chance of getting past the heavenly guards.”
“Dear, I know you’re angry, but don’t be too hard on her,” requested Mrs M to her husband from her office nearby.
“No pupil of mine will act like this in my school. She needs to learn some respect for authority, and she’s going to be one sorry little girl by the time I’m through with her,” her husband coarsely replied.
12-year-old flaming red haired Sandi looked up at him with her sad blue eyes and acknowledged her error by bowing her head. In an incensed tone, Bishop M began to explain the reason me being here.
“Rachel, I was talking to Sister G (the cafeteria lady) and she told me she overheard you tell another classmate that the brownies looked like dog crap. That is unacceptable conversation here at this school. And you, young lady,” he said, pointing at Cathy, “laughed when she told you that, which shows your approval of the comment.”
Cathy’s face then displayed a look that can only be described as: “I can’t win for losing,” look.
I felt bad for her because her only crime was that she laughed at what I had said. It seemed like he made any excuse in order to spank us, even though they were not too painful.
Then Bishop M did something that, for years, really puzzled me. He told us to follow his instructions exactly as told, and if we didn’t we would get more swats.
“First, remove your dresses and place them on my desk,” he said, as he came behind us to unbutton the first few buttons in the back.
’How weird,’ I thought. ‘Why do we have to do this for a spanking?’
But I didn’t want to rock the boat, so I slowly slid my dress over my head and placed it where I had been directed. Cathy and Sandi did the same.
Once all three of us had completed the task, he instructed us to place our hands on top of our heads and then showed us by doing it himself. We were standing there in our shoes, socks and panties and nothing more. He looked at us for a moment and then went to the back wall and grabbed one of the familiar metal framed wood chairs and placed it in the middle of the empty area.
“O.K,. Sandi. You’re first,” he gruffed.
I usually expected the principal’s lectures to drone on for a bit, but this time he cut to the chase. He bluntly stated: “We will not tolerate this type of laziness and deception, young lady. You’ve got 35 swats coming. Now pull down your panties, bend over the chair and grab the lower rung.”
Young Sandi was visibly shaken by this news, and tears immediately began to stream down her face, which was weird, because she usually seemed to ‘like’ being spanked, like I did. She then began to plead by apologizing.
“Quiet!” Bishop M interrupted, not in the mood for feeble excuses. “Do what you’re told; you’re only making this worse for yourself. Get those panties down now, girl, and bend over!”
Fear of this impending punishment really started to take hold of Sandi as she began to pull her white cotton panties down to her knees. She then bent over the back of the chair and grabbed the lower rung below the seat, presenting her pale, but well rounded derrière to the principal for punishment. Sandi began to whimper a bit as she waited for the first smack of the paddle. Her wait was not long as the principal wasted no time in beginning to teach her a lesson.
He tapped the paddle a few times in preparation, and then swung it back a bit before striking her bare buttocks seven times in a medium-paced succession, about two seconds apart.
The pain from these light strokes was not too much, but for some reason Sandi was making a big deal, and she let go of the rung and straightened up a bit. Sandi had felt the wooden paddle before many times before, so why was she acting like this?
“Bend back over, please!” ordered Bishop M, and his left hand pushed her back into position. “The next time you straighten up like that, you’ll be getting extra.”
Sandi replied: “Yes sir,” and presented her rear end for more. I then noticed how her pert breasts would jiggle a bit on each swat.
During the next seven swats, she continued to plead.
“Please, Bishop M! It stings, it stings! I’m sorry! Don’t give me anymore, please, PLEASE!” She shifted her legs a bit causing her panties to fall on top her black dress shoes.
Ignoring her appeal, Bishop M resumed the spanking by landing a harder stroke on Sandi’s buttocks. The cry of pain that Sandi was displaying was really shocking me. She had never done this. Her bright red pigtails swung to the beat of the paddle.
Much to Sandi’s dismay, the paddle continued its assault on her reddening backside at an intense pace once again. The fourth set of ten came her way.
During the pause for the last set, Sandi again attempted to beg the principal for mercy. In between her cries, the young girl asked: “Please, PLEASE, stop Bishop M, no more, please!!!!”
While her current verbal manners were impeccable, the request went unheard. Bishop M continued the paddling of the child’s already well- punished, exposed bottom.
“Your bottom is nice and pink, Sandi. Don’t you think it’s better to do better in school rather than goofing off and having to get your bottom spanked? I am not going to hesitate to spank you again, so you better shape up, little girl!
“All right, stand up and pull up your panties,” ordered Bishop M.
Sandi does as she is told. As she stands up, the punishment is evident on her radiantly pink, aching bottom, and the shape of the paddle is imprinted on the cheeks of her butt.
Then he points at a red book bag as she still tries to regain her composure.
He stated, “You’re going to need this, Sandi. You’re grounded until the next report cards come out. That means no TV and no playing with your friends until I can see you are changing your attitude. Now go and stand by Rachel and put your hands back on your of your head.”
Then he pointed at me. “Rachel, you are next, my dear,” he said as he pointed to me and then the chair.
I approached the chair, pulled down my panties and bent over and grabbed the rung. I hate the way the chair back jabs into my navel area. I then feel his rough left hand on the middle of my back, followed by a few paddle rubs. He then says I am to get 30 swats for my comment. I normally had my hair in pigtails, but since today was picture day, I had curled it a bit and used hair berets to keep it out of my face.
I inhaled deeply in anticipation of the first stinging smack of the paddle, my naked buttocks trembling softly. The paddle rose and fell on its target at about the same pace as he did with Sandi, with each stroke sending a fresh explosion of pain. Why is it the first swat always seemed to catch me so by surprise? How could I have expected anything else?
He placed his hand again in the small of my back, tapped the paddle against my punished pink bottom. I breathed in deeply, tensing as the next set arrived. My head jerked up a bit and I let out a small cry, but in reality it was not something I hated. The sting just kept getting more and more intense as the swats found their target. I’m sure in his mind he thought the sting was a-mean-old-rotten-you-sure-are-gonna-be-sorry-by-the-time-I-get-done-with-ya-kinda-nasty-sting.
He paused again before the final set of ten. I heard the rush of air and felt the paddle smack into my rear. He was pressing rather tightly on my back and I couldn’t move much at all. As he smacked me with my final ten, he commented that I should respect both the food provided from God and the ones who prepared it. He kept me in position for a minute or so as he blabbered on, and then let me up and instructed me to stand by Sandi with my hands on my head.
As I approached Sandi, I noticed her eyes were still wet and a few tear tracks were on her cheeks. Then he called for Cathy.
“Cathy, you will get 30 as well. Laughing at a disrespectful comment is just as bad as saying it. Bend over please.”
Cathy assumed the position, but did not pull down her panties. Bishop M did not seem to notice as he delivered the first set of ten. After giving her ten strokes with the paddle over her panties, he ordered her to get up and pull her panties down. Crying, she stood up and quickly pulled her panties down to the middle of her thighs and again assumed the position.
I was surprised that he did not give her extra for leaving them up, as he often did. Then came set number two. As hard as the previous spanks were, the newly applied spanks to the bare skin really stung the crying girl as she tried in vain to escape the wooden whacker. She twisted and turned a bit, causing her blond pigtails to dance, but the paddle kept on smacking down on her rounded bottom.
As Bishop M scolded, he continued to spank, and Cathy’s crying soon changed to outright sobbing as she seemed to barely be able to stand the punishing blows. Just before the last few swats landed, her panties fell to the floor on top of her shiny black Mary Jane shoes. He kept her in position for a moment as he checked out his ‘work’, and then instructed her to join Sandi and me.
Once she was standing by us, he stated how he hated to spank us, but our actions and Gods commandments required it. Then he told us to dress, wash our faces and return to class. As we walked down the hall, my mind was asking questions of which I had no answer.
Why did we have to take off our dresses to get spanked? Why didn’t he just pull up the hem and pull our panties down? If we were supposed to be naked, why didn’t we take off everything?
What a weird day!