It was about two weeks since my last spanking from Bishop M. It was the latter part of November 1957 and I soon would be feeling the heat again. I remember the teachers were still talking about the recent launch of the Sputnik 2 that had a dog in it.
During lunch period, I was sitting with my fellow 4th grade Cathy and two third graders, Donna and Betty. We were talking about the events that led up to the assassination of our founder and first modern day prophet, J Smith.
Him and his brother, H, were killed on June 27 1844 because they were trying to destroy a newspaper which was critical of our prophet and his teachings. He was in a cell on the second floor of the jail when an angry anti- Mormon mob raided the place and shot and killed both H and J. J fell from the second floor and cried out to Lord and God as he tumbled to the ground.
Unlike most school days, we were not in uniform. Today, a Friday, was some holy Mormon day and we wore our Sunday dresses. Mine and Donna’s were yellow, Cathy’s was pink and Betty’s a light blue. We wore shiny black Mary Jane shoes and short thin white socks.
I looked at the three and said, “Let’s pretend we were there when J and H were killed. Cathy and I will be the shooters, and Donna will be J and Betty will be H.”
Cathy replied: “OK,” followed by a giggle, as did the other two.
Donna then acted like she was in the jail and was waving to the nearby people. Some of the other students who were seated nearby were confused by what Donna was doing. Suddenly, Cathy stood up and began acting like she was shooting her by pointing an imaginary rifle and making gun noises. As Donna was ‘hit’ she over-dramatized her death by kicking her legs, waving her arms around and saying, “I’m falling out of the jail’s window,” and fell to the floor and twitched a bit.
Betty also pretended to be shot and said: “You killed my brother, ahhhhh!” and also fell down and shook a bit until she ‘expired’.
Laughter erupted from the nearby students, which prompted me to also ‘shoot’ at Donna while I said, “This is just to make sure.”
Cathy also jumped into the foray and fired a couple of her own ‘shots’ at both girls.
Sister G, who was seated one table row away, stood up and yelled, “Stop it! Stop it this instance! This is not an incident to make light of! I want the four of you to come with me. And look at you two (Donna and Betty), you have gotten your dresses dirty.”
We tried to argue our way out, but it was to no avail. She finally told us all to shut up, and we began to follow her down the long hall to the Bishop’s office. I knew what was coming. For some reason, Sister G did not like spanking the kids, so she always gave that honor to Bishop M. Betty asked what was going to happen to us.
I replied, “I think we’ll get a spanking.”
“A spanking?” she retorted with a whimper. “I don’t want a spanking. I hate spankings!”
Then I realized that Bishop M spanked Betty five times in the past month, who had arrived here from another compound in Arizona about an year earlier. She was a bit rebellious and had paid for it with her young behind.
As we walked into his office, Sister G told us to sit on the bench on the left while she went to inform Bishop M of our transgression. She was quite exaggerated as she told the account, and as she told him what we had done she would point at one of us and then make some animated gestures with her hands.
Then he said, “Thank you, Sister G, I’ll take care of it.”
She nodded in agreement and gave us a mean look as she walked past us and out of the office.
He stood up from his chair, turned it around so the back of the chair was up against the desk, and then clasped his hands together, cracked his knuckles and sat back down. Looking to his right towards us, he began his speech by stating how disrespectful to our prophet we had been by making light of J’s and H’s death, and how, if this mentality was left unchecked, it would lead to us becoming enemies of God. He then told us our punishment was to be 60 swats each.
Then he did something really strange. He turned to the chalkboard and drew two vertical lines about 2 feet long and 4 inches apart. The left one was a straight line and the one on the right jutted out about halfway down for about 5 inches before again becoming parallel to the one on the left.
He pointed to the left line and said, “This is the front of your body, ok?”
We nodded in agreement, though we were still confused.
Then he pointed to the right one and pointed to the section that turned out in the middle and continued, “This is the backside of your body, and what is this part?” pointing at the jutting out part.”
“That’s your behind,” quipped Donna.
“Correct!” replied the Bishop. “And do you know why he made this part have so much more padding?”
“So, you can get a spanking and it won’t damage anything,” I answered.
“Correct again! And that is what is about to happen to you four girls. I will apply my hand to your derrieres until they become a repentant pink! Now, all of you, remove your dresses and lay them across the chairs right over there. Then come back to this line.” He pointed to a faded white line about 8 feet in length.”
We all followed his instructions and went up to him so he could unclasp the button at the top back of the dress. Then we pulled them over our heads and placed them on the chairs by the wall. Then we stood and lined the front of our black shoes against the white line.
“Put your hands on top of your head!”
There we were standing wearing only panties, socks and shoes.
He then motioned for Betty to come to him and said to keep her hands on top of her head. She was already whining, saying she was sorry and would never do it again, but he said it was too late for that.
“Please lower your panties and bend over and hold the chair legs,” he gruffed.
Her short blonde braids dangled as she shook her head. “No,” and again began saying she was sorry.
“I don’t care,” he replied. “Do as I say or you will get another 20.”
Again, she shook her head in defiance, to which he said in a louder voice: “Pull your panties down and bend over!”
Still delaying, Bishop M said: “Ok, I’ll do it and you get another 20 as I said!”
He grabbed the elastic band of her panties with both his hands and pulled them down to knee level, and then pushed her on to his lap where she made an ‘uhh’ sound as she landed. Then, with his left hand he placed it in the center of her back and with his right hand he rubbed her behind in small circles.
She said: “Oh! Your hands are cold!”
He replied that they soon would warm up and SWAT went his hand for the first time on her butt, and she let out a loud: “Owww, that hurts!” in the middle of her loud exhales and inhales.
Bishop M ignored the comment and delivered the next 14 swats, spaced about 4 seconds apart.
The rest of us were standing directly behind her butt, so I had a good view as his big tanned hand struck its pale target. As her derrière bounced into place after each swat, it became increasingly pinker. She also kicked her legs slightly.
During the 10 or 15 second gap before the second set, he told her to quit kicking her legs so much or she would get more.
She replied with a distressed: “Ok,” and he would answer with a: “Good girl.”
Then he gave her the next 15 swats and she continued to puncture her breathing with “ows,” but she did control her kicking as instructed. His huge hand completely covered her little bottom.
He only paused for 5 seconds or so before giving her the next 15 swats. Her reaction changed little during this set except she began coughing here and there. He did something I had never noticed before. As he rubbed his hand on her bottom in circles, he would squeeze the buns together a few times.
Then came the last set, and by now her small light-complexioned butt was quite pink. She stared to lift herself off his lap and I thought to myself: ‘I thought she was supposed to get an extra 20.”
The he said, “Oh yeah, you get an extra 20,” and pushed her back into place to deliver them at the same pace as before.
I almost wondered: ‘Did I say that out loud?’
After the last one, he helped her up and she reached down and pulled her panties up. He then grabbed her arm and said, “I hope this makes you think the next time.” Still crying, she nodded a ‘yes’ and he said: “Go back to the line and resume standing there with your hands on your head.”
She came and stood to my left, and then he called me. I immediately got up and went to his side.
“Pull down your panties, bend over and hold the legs, please.”
I reached for the hem and pulled them down to just above my knee, and bent over his knee. His slightly pushed on my back below the shoulder until I was lying across his lap. Then I felt his left hand shifting a bit and then he rested it just below my shoulder blades.
After a bit of tapping, I felt the first swat that sent that weird stinging sensation across my backside. I gripped the chair legs tightly and began my anticipation for the rest. As the next 15 were delivered, I would shift from looking straight down at the floor to looking under the chair at my dangling black-shoe clad feet bobbing on the other side.
During the first break of 15 seconds or so, he rested his hand on my bottom as he briefly coughed. He was rubbing my behind and then I felt that squeezing he had done on Betty. It didn’t hurt, but it was a weird sensation.
Then he said a barely audible: “Let’s continue on,” and then he delivered my next 15 swats. This set and the remainder were the ones I actually enjoyed the most because I was now used to the stinging and I could focus on the enjoyment. I was trying to shift a bit, but it was hard to do so, being held in place. I could feel my short brown pigtails swinging to the pattern of the swats.
He told me to be still, and when I relaxed a bit he gave me the coveted: “Good girl” comment.
During the third set of 15 swats, I felt his left hand on the small of my back press harder, probably in response to my shifting. One of the things I focused on for the first time was the sound of his hand smacking my bare bottom. It sounded different with my head under the chair than it did when I heard the others get it. They all had a similar ‘spat’ sound, but I noticed they would vary slightly in pitch frequency. I know, I was a weird child!
I hardly noticed the final break before the last 15 swats were being administered. Again, I was listening to the various pitches of the swats and all too soon it was over as he helped me up. I pulled up my undies and went and stood next to Betty, who was still sniffing.
Just as I got back to the line, he called for Cathy who let out a sigh as she
walked to Bishop M. Just as she approached him, she took her hands off her head and lowered her panties. She stood there for a moment, and then he pushed her over his lap. Once in position, he rubbed his hand back and forth a few times on her backside, and then he gave her the first 15 swats. She let out a yelp and then began uttering “eeees” and “ooohs” after each one and slightly kicking her feet a bit.
As the swats were distributed, I could see the top of her blond head bob up from time to time, and I could see her right hand shifting up and down on the chair leg. Her butt was soon pink, just like Betty’s, and I tried to see if could notice the pitch difference in the swats. I did, but it did not seem to fluctuate as much as mine did.
Then I noticed his butt squeezing again as he rubbed and patted her bottom. Then he said: “Last group,” and finally she was on her last set and her “eeees” and “ooohs were punctuated only by an occasional sniff. As she was helped up, she almost fell as she pulled up her panties, then she came and stood to my right.
Last, but not least, was Donna. She, like Cathy before, walked up to the Bishop with her hands still on her head and then readied herself without being instructed and without any scene. She seemed to have a slight smile that changed to surprised look as he pushed her over his lap. She was completely quiet until the 4th or 5th swat, when she broke into low tone utterances of “ouch” on each swat. Every now and then, she would change to a few “ows” and “ssss” sounds, but other than that she pretty much maintained the same composure throughout the spanking.
During the spanking, Bishop M’s composure changed little as he looked intently at the target area, seeming to like the image of her bottom compressing and bouncing back into shape as the swats struck. He would occasionally clear his throat or say “good girl” here and there, but that was about it.
After he was finished with her 60th swat, he rubbed and squeezed her little behind for about a minute as he told us to never make fun of our prophets and leaders again.
He then sent us back to our classroom where, upon entering, you knew that everyone knew you had just come from being spanked. I really did not care what anyone thought. I just knew that this spanking thing was becoming more and more enjoyable, and I had no clue as to why.