It was a crisp September morning, the first day of school, and unlike most of her friends, Emma really

liked attending convent school - except that none of the kids on the block in public school ever had to

have their palms or backsides slapped for misbehaviour.

The new 3rd year student was up early, ate a good breakfast, remembered to bring her new pencils and

notebooks and official-looking registration papers. She was quite the young lady, even though make-

up was not allowed at school. She pulled on her blue school jumper and adjusted the dark blue knee

socks, looked in the mirror and patted the red ribbon in here hair until it was just so.

Just as she walked up the steps of the Gothic edifice to God and girls' purity, Emma felt faint. She

couldn't believe what she had done in her excitement over the first day of school. It was the sudden

autumn breeze that blew off the lake that made her shudder in outright horror.

She had forgotten to put on her knickers!

What was she going to do? Too late to run home, and too embarrassing, because the boys had still

not gone off to school, not even Charlie to day care. Well, she thought, still in that other-world of terror

and shame, "I'll make the best of it."

Emma could not keep her mind on class, and especially not on the gossip about summer romances.

First period, she blushed inwardly every second. By second period, she was squirming in her hard

backed desk chair. By third period, everything was confused. She kept patting the jumper absent-

mindedly and shifting in her seat.

God was either very angry with her, or laughing up his billowy sleeve, because all that squirming

was arousing Emma's little unshielded pussy.

Jostling through the halls to lunch, Emma had tried to put her predicament out of mind, but suddenly

she tripped and fell face forward, skinning her knees. Horror of horrors!!! Her jumper had blossomed

up in back and her bare fanny was on display, though only for a millisecond. She quickly sprang to

her feet, prepared to burst into tears. But nobody apparently had seen. Except that old battle-axe, Sister

Dana.

After a few seconds of composing herself and marching on as if nothing had happened, she felt a

firm hand on her shoulder. "Emma Davidson! Into the office, right now!"

Not knowing what to expect, but fearing the worst, Emma allowed herself to be shepherded into the

austere administrative office.

"You tart! You strumpet!" shouted the nun, shaking Emma hard by the shoulders. "You whore! Why

are you not wearing your undergarments?"

"Please don't talk to me like that, sister. I'm a good girl. I just – I just forgot! Can you believe me!"

The old nun had calmed only a little, remembering that she had taught Emma's mother long ago

and had actually liked her. "I find this very hard to believe," she croaked, sounding a little like Agnes

Moorhead. "You are certainly aware of the dress code! Sweet Mary, this isn't even a dress code

violation!" she spluttered. "Come with me to the rectory, young lady, and we'll straighten this out."

Missing lunch was bad enough, but Emma knew all too well what might happen when she was

ushered into Father Delaney's office. It was there, only two years ago, that she had to climb onto a

stool and bend over his desk for a mortifying panty-paddling. What would happen now ? There

WERE no knickers to spank!"

Sister Dana conferred quietly with the father, who had the odd habit of giving the girls a piece of

candy before their spankings. After a few minutes, Father Delaney summoned Emma to the front of

his desk.

"Emma," he began, as Barry Fitzgerald. "You are a bright girl. You are a good student. And except

for that one time two years ago, you have stayed out of trouble. But THIS!! THIS!! You come to

school as if you were a streetwalker? Shame on you!"

He continued, stroking his chin and absently patting himself below the belt: "You have violated every

standard of decency, every law of the Church. Worse, you have violated the dress code by your act of

forgetfulness, if that's what it really was."

"Please, Father," Emma pleaded. "I just forgot!"

"We are going to have to set an example so that you remember important things, like your

undergarments," Sister Dana interjected. "It is a darn shame that the parish will not allow us to

administer corporal punishment on the bare skin, as the Holy Bible admonishes us to do."

"Oh, thank you, Sister. Thank you, Father," Emma gushed.

"Don't thank me too soon, young lady," the old priest retorted. "Bend over the desk. I don't think you

need the footstool anymore."

"B-b-but!" Emma protested, her sense of logic now as twisted as the old nun's forefinger.

"You shall be spanked over your dress," she announced in triumph at the solution the two children of

the Church had agreed on.

"Bend over and Sister Dana will hold your jumper tight around your legs so that you may feel the

rod of correction," Father Delaney said, moving to the front of the oak desk.

It couldn't have got any darker for Emma in that musty sun blocked room-filled with books, religious

tracts and (in a secret drawer some magazines that all priests must look at sometimes).

The Father had pulled from beneath the desk a long willow switch, the sight of which made Emma

begin bawling. "Please, Father, n-n-not the switch!"

"Yes, Emma," he said, seemingly with a chuckle. "You shall have to feel this because you are wearing

no - you know what you're not wearing."

With that, Sister Dana bent low, sitting on the stool to the poor girl's right and tugged the jumper so

tight Emma's unmentionable rear smile was outlined. Father Delaney crossed to the left and raised

the switch.

Switch! The first stroke landed across both buttocks. "Oow!" Emma exploded.

Switch!

“Oow!”

Father Delaney picked up the pace a bit.

Smack! Whip! S-s-s-w-w-whip!

"Oww! OWW! OWW! My bottom! It hurts! It's on fire!

"Like hellfire, little girl?" Sister Dana snickered.

Emma got four more excruciating licks with the switch before she was sent home. The sister had called

home, but no one was there except for Uncle Teddy, who had been visiting.

It seemed an eternity before cuddly Uncle Teddy arrived to take her home. No words were spoken;

Emma was still sobbing 15 minutes after the whipping had ended.

As they walked into the house, Emma burst into paroxysms of sobs. "I'm so ashamed, Uncle Teddy.

I'm so STUPID!" she cried. "I'll never live this down."

A new terror struck Emma's pure heart. What would Daddy do when he found out? Uncle Teddy

could read her mind. "Don't worry, dear. I know Father Delaney quite well, and he assured me that

he would not say a word if you took your punishment well - and he thinks you did."

A sigh so deep it could have resurrected an extra-large balloon rushed from Emma's lungs. Relief.

"However," Uncle Teddy continued. "I was pretty embarrassed myself, and if I were your dad, I'd give

it to you plenty good."

"Oh, thank you for not saying anything," Emma said, a bit uncomfortable at her uncle's last

statement.

"In fact," he said, after a brief pause, "for shaming me, I think I will give you a spanking. A little

spanking just to show you I, too, care about you."

"WHAT?" screamed Emma. "Not another one!!"

"I won't hurt you badly, perhaps not at all," Uncle Teddy cooed. “Compared to what you went

through at the hands of those two old wretches, it won't be bad at all. Come over here."

Emma did as she was told, still stunned; still sore; still mildly aroused by the breezes of fate that

whispered up her dress.

Her uncle guided her to Dad's chair - the awful spanking chair - and gently placed her over his lap.

"Are you ready, now, dear?"

"Y-y-ess, Uncle Teddy. Please don't do it hard. I'm still so sore."

"I can see that," he said, slipping her jumper up over her flaming bottom to her waist. "I shan't be too

severe."

Then the second spanking of the school year began.

Spank, Spank, Spank, Spank, Spank, and Teddy began softly.

Emma did not protest much, uttering only a few muffled cries.

Spank, smack, smack, smack, spank, spank.

By now, his naughty niece was feeling it, and she began to cry steadily, but softly. Her instinct took

over, and she began wiggling away from his hand. As she did so, the jumper still scrunched beneath

her to protect some of her modesty, began rubbing against the downy hair that had sprouted only

two years earlier.

"Ohh!" she moaned. "Ohh! Oow!" It was a wickedly strange throaty wail that emanated from deep in

her soul, a reaction to both the rapid spanking she knew she was getting and the mounting climax

she had not fully known of before.

At last, Uncle Teddy slowed down, allowing his hard right hand to linger on each of Emma's pretty

red cheeks after each smack. Finally, he just rested it there and began gently rubbing.

Emma, not knowing how to control her hormones, began crying again, even though the spanking

had stopped. Then she began moaning; then panting. When it was over, both Emma and Uncle

Teddy were a bit ashamed of themselves, and neither mentioned it again.

From then on, Emma always remembered to put her knickers on, although on dreamy autumn

evenings, in bed alone, she often recalled the memorable day she forgot.