It was a crisp September morning, the first day of school, and unlike most of her friends, Jeannie really liked attending her parochial school --except that none of the kids on the block in public school ever had to have THEIR palms or backsides slapped for misbehavior. The new 8th-grader 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 makeup 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, Jeannie 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 UNDERPANTS! 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." Jeannie 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 Jeannie's little unshielded pussy. Jostling through the halls to lunch, Jeannie 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 battleaxe, 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. "Jeannie Davidson! Into the office, right now!" Not knowing what to expect, but fearing the worst, Jeannie allowed herself to be shephered into the austere administrative office. "You tart! You strumpet!" shouted the nun, shaking Jeannie hard by the shoulders. "You whoooore! Why are you not wearing your undergarments?" "Please don't talk to me like that, sister. I'm a good girl. I just ... forgot! Can you believe me!" The old nun had calmed only a little, remembering that she had taught Jeannie'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 Jeannie 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 panties 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 summond Jeannie to the front of his desk. "Jeannie," 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," Jeannie 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," Jeannie 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." "BBBBuuuutttt!" Jeannie 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 gotten any darker for Jeannie in that musty sunblocked 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 Jeannie begin bawling. "Ppppleasse, Father, nnnnottt the ssssssswwwiitcccchhhh!" "Yes, Jeannie," he said, seemingly with a chuckle. "You shall have to feel this because you are wearing no pppann ... 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 Jeannie's unmentionable rear smile was outlined. Father Delaney crossed to the left and raised the switch. SSSSSWWWIIIIIIITTTTCCCCCCHHHH! The first stroke landed across bothbuttocks. "AAAAAAAAAYIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEE!" Jeannie exploded. SSSSSWWWWWWIIIITCCCCCCHHHHH!!!!!! AAACCCHHHHAAAANNNNNGGGHHHHAWWWWYIIIOWWW! !! Father Delaney picked up the pace a bit. SSSSMACCCKK WWWWHIPPPPP, ssssssWWHIIIPPPP "Owwww! OWWWW! OWWWWW! My bottom! It hurts! It's on fire! "Like hellfire, little girl?" Sister Dana snickered. OWWWWWW!! BBBOOOOOHOOO!! WAAAAAAAAA!! Jeannie 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; Jeannie was still sobbing 15 minutes after the whipping had ended. As they walked into the house, Jeannie 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 Jeannie's pure heart. What will Daddy do when he finds 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 the Hindenburg rushed from Jeannie'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," Jeannie 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 Jeannie. "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." Jeannie 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?" "Yyyyesss, Uncle Teddy. Please don't do it hard. I'm still soooo 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, Teddy began softly. Jeannie 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. "Ohhhh!" she moaned. "Ohhhhh! Aaaahhhh!" 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 Jeannie's pretty red cheeks after each smack. Finally, he just rested it there and began gently rubbing. Jeannie, 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 Jeannie AND Uncle Teddy were a bit ashamed of themselves, and neither mentioned it again. From then on, Jeannie always remembered to put her panties on, although on dreamy autumn evenings, in bed alone, she often recalled the memorable day she forgot.