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Meg donovan
Paddling Booth 3
Sun May 22, 2011 17:40
69.121.96.23

The back of Mom's skirt, which was already pulled up a good bit by her bent over position, crept ever further up the backs of her thighs from the constant swatting of her rear end. Everyone could see what was happening and kids started angling the swats upward to accentuate the effect. Before long the hem of her skirt was across the middle of her butt and the lower part of her white panties were in open view, as well as the seam of her sheer pantyhose and the much-reddened skin below them. People in the crowd were laughing and pointing, several were taking pictures.

That was when Hallie Burton, captain of the girl's softball team, stepped up to the booth. She didn't plunk down the extra buck although the wink she gave me told me that she knew what the deal was. I had to admire her; she was going to do it on her own. And do it she did! I was beginning to believe it wasn't possible to ring that bell without my clandestine assistance but she damn sure did it. Hallie strutted over to the paddle like a rooster and took it off the hook with pride. I heard Mom groan in expectation as Hallie wound up and swung the paddle. WHACK! It landed right on target and sent the hem of my mom's skirt flying up to land on the small of her back. The crowd applauded while Hallie took a little bow. I even joined in, I couldn't help it, that swat had been a work of art.

Mom lay across the booth muttering "ow, ow, ow," and twisting her butt around for awhile, a butt that was now covered only by a little pair of shiny white panties, until she seemed to notice that something was wrong, She looked back over her shoulder and gasped when she saw her exposed undies. "Danny!" she shrieked. "Pull my dress back down!"

"Sorry, Mom," I said, trying to stop laughing. "That would be interference. It would be bad for business." I noticed Mom's shoes, kicked loose in mid whack, also lying nearby.

After that the show really got under way. More and more kids were paying the extra buck. Bobby and the Finnegans went back through several times, as did a lot of the other kids. The paddle swung again and again and Mom's panty covered butt bounced and jiggled under the blows. Mom didn't tease the kids anymore, they taunted her now, bragging about how they were going to spank her or how they had or how they were going to again. Some of them made a big show with theatrical windups and cries of, "It's a line drive!" or "Here's one right up the middle!"

The crowd of adults cheered every swat. They laughed at Mom's ever-louder yelps of pain, calling her a "big baby" and a "brat" who deserved what she was getting. Every now and than one would yell, "Hey Darlene, that was my kid there!" They all seemed to have cameras and a few had video cameras. My mother's paddling would be a favorite slide show and home movie feature at barbeques and beer parties all over Ozymandias County for years to come and I could tell by the way she tried to hide her bright red face behind her tangled hair that she knew it too.

A guy from the local paper showed up and started taking pictures. After getting a few shots of her beet-red behind in the little white panties that failed to completely cover it he moved to the front of the booth and said, "OK, Mrs. Deeter, give us a big smile." Mom flattened herself on the top of the booth with her face down and wouldn't look up.

Just then Hallie Burton came up to the plate again. "I'll make her look up," she promised. Hallie threw and rung the bell, without my help again. Once she got hold of the paddle she took up her best batter's stance and gave in all she had. The paddle landed with a deafening KA-POW! Mom's high heels shot up in back and her head and shoulders did the same in front, leaving her weight on her hips and elbows. The newsman's camera flashed in time to catch my mother's face, surrounded by flying brown hair, her eyes clamped tightly shut and her mouth open in a perfect O. That would have been enough to guarantee a front-page photo but, unbeknownst to anyone, while Mom was flattened out on the top of the booth she had managed to snag the neckline of her dress on an exposed nail. When she jerked up the front of her dress ripped completely open, exposing her little white lace bra to the whole county.

The kids standing in line laughed so hard that some of them nearly fell over. A man in the crowd yelled, "Nice tits, Darlene!" A woman added, "Yeah, for a 12 year old!" I thought that was uncalled for, like I said before, her boobs aren't all that big but their still nicely shaped. Mom stayed in place for a few seconds with a 'deer in the headlights' look on her face. Her eyes were wide open now and the realization of what had just happened spread across her features. She slowly lowered herself back down and looked like she was trying to burrow into the wood. Her heels were still up in the air, her knees bent and her ankles crossed. I know her butt had to be as hot as a stove by then; she wiggled around some and made little whimpering sounds that everyone thought were pretty funny. I guess I should have felt sorrier for her than I did, but I didn't.

Mom probably thought that things were about as bad as they could get right then, but she was wrong. At the head of the line was none other than Biff Buford, the school bully. He motioned me over and I hesitantly complied. "I wasn't gonna come to this stupid carnival," he said, "till I heard what was goin' on. Now I'm gonna throw this ball and that bell is gonna ring. Is that clear?"

"Uh, sure thing, Biff," I replied. It was obvious that he knew the whole setup but had no intention of paying the extra buck. At least he did pitch in the dollar for the school. Biff threw the ball pretty straight but it wasn't quite dead on. The bell rang anyway, of course, as I stomped the hidden lever --three times. Dad always told me to suck up to the school bully whenever I can because it's good practice for dealing with bosses.

DING-DING-DING the bell rang out. "What!" Mom objected. "That's not possible!"

Biff shook his finger right in front of her face and said with an evil grin, "You are so gonna get it." Mom tried to bite his finger but he jerked it back then grabbed her nose between his thumb and forefinger and gave it a wicked twist.

"Ow-ow-ow," Mom complained in a nasal whine. She put her feet back on the ground and tried to pull back but Biff had too tight a grip. Everybody laughed as my mom twisted and whined but couldn't escape the 12-year-old bully who was tweaking her nose. With all eyes on Mom's face, no one else noticed Biff's Mom slip behind the action and approach Mom from the rear. And, rear is the operative word here. Biff's Mom grabbed the waistband of Mom's pantihose, causing Mom's eyes to really pop open wide. "My pantihose!" Mom wailed, just as Biff's Mom depantihosed her in a twinkling of an eye. "But, but" Mom sputtered. And Biff's Mom said "Butt is exactly right!", as she reared back and tossed Mom's balled up pantyhose deep into the crowd, causing even more laughter. It didn't last long though; Biff was in a hurry to get to work. He let go of Mom's nose, which was now as red as her cheeks (both sets) and stepped around to the back of the booth. He didn't stop to pick up the paddle, which struck me as odd until he stood behind Mom and grabbed the waistband of her panties with both hands. I knew from painful experience what was coming next.

The kids all started chanting, "Wedgie! Wedgie!" In a quick, jerking motion Biff hauled the waistband of my mom's panties up to the small of her back. The seat of those panties disappeared into the crack of her ass leaving her tomato-red buns totally exposed. She yelped and jerked her head upward, exposing her bared bra to the crowd again. Biff walked calmly over and picked the paddle off of its hook.

The crowd cheered. Mom shot me an accusatory look over her shoulder. I shrugged my shoulders like, hey, what can I do? Biff took the paddle in both hands and gave it a powerful swing. Mom squealed, "AI! AI! YIEE!" as Biff gave her three good hard ones, one right after the other. The crowd broke into wild applause. Mom twisted her bare butt around and moaned, "Oh my God."

During the rest of the afternoon my hapless mother had her bare bottom paddled by just about every kid at the carnival. She stomped and kicked and wriggled around like a worm on a frying pan. Mascara was running down her face and she was flashing her white lace bra to the whole crowd. The crowd loved it, the kids had the time of their lives and the school made a shitload of cash. Besides which, yours truly was a local hero and made a bundle on the side. Like I said before, it was a win-win situation, for everybody but Mom.

But all good things must come to an end, and so it was with the Paddling Booth. Principal Armstrong, who'd been watching all afternoon -- jumping up and squealing like a girl whenever Mom got paddled, came over and announced the sad news that it was time to end the carnival. There was a disappointed "Awww," from everyone but Mom who muttered, "Thank you, thank you, thank you."

Bobby Lee undid the Velcro wrist-straps while I got the money squared away; the money for the school, which I gave to Mr. Armstrong, and loot I had collected for my self, which went into my backpack. Mom stood up slowly, letting her dress fall back into place and gingerly rubbing her bruised behind with both hands. I could see by the way she was twisting around that she had just realized that her panties were still tightly wedged into the crack of her ass but there was no way she was going to lift her dress back up to try and pull them out. Then she said, "Oh shit!" and grabbed the front of her dress with one hand to cover her bra.

She told Bobby to get her purse out from under booth. He did so and held it while she rustled around in it with one hand, still holding the front of her dress together with the other. All the while she was muttering in a sarcastic tone, "Why don't you help out at the carnival, Mom? It'll be fun, and it'll make lots of money for the school. Oh, yeah! That was fun alright!"

"It did make lots of money," I helpfully suggested.

She shot me a look that would have fried a bug at thirty paces then shouted, "Aha! I knew I had one of these," and pulled a safety pin out of her purse. She quickly pinned her dress together then started to reach back to rub her butt some more but, eying the still watching crowd, pulled herself up into a dignified stance and said, "Come on, mister genius, we're going home."

"Wait!" Bobby shouted. "You can't go yet. They're going to give the award for the best exhibit. You've got to win!"

"Come on, Mom," I whined.

"Oh, all right," she sighed. "Let's get it over with."

Principal Armstrong was sitting on a stool on a little wooden dais. When he saw us coming he stood up and announced, "There he is, folks! The winner of the Best Exhibit Ribbon, Danny Deeter!" Everyone cheered while I went up to get my ribbon. As soon as he handed it to me the principal said, "And how about a hand for Danny's mom, Darlene Deeter!" There was thunderous applause and Mom looked pretty embarrassed. "Come on up here, Mrs. Deeter," Mr. Armstrong added.

Mom was shaking her head and saying, "No, no, no," but people started pushing her forward. She held back and someone gave her an open-handed slap on the behind that made her jump and squeal. She was looking around to see who'd swatted her when she got smacked again. That one motivated her to move. She trotted forward, picking up several resounding spanks along the way, and hopped up onto the dais.

The principal reached up to put his arm around her shoulders, he was about six inches shorter than her, and announced, "What a trooper!" The crowd cheered, Mom just stood there rubbing her butt with both hands and dancing back and forth from one foot to the other. Her hair and make-up were a mess, the front of her dress was held together with a safety pin and she was wincing in such a comical way that everyone burst out laughing, including Principal Armstrong and yours truly.

Everyone cheered so loudly for her that Mom managed a half-hearted smile but then one of the kids yelled, "Hey, Mr. Armstrong should paddle her! He's the principal!"

"Yeah," another added, "That's his job!"

"I'd give ten dollars to see that!" a man shouted.

"I'd give twenty!" a woman countered.

From there on a bidding war commenced and it was soon clear that the school could make a tidy sum if Principal Armstrong paddled my mom. She was backing up and looking pretty nervous when the Mr. Armstrong turned to her and said, "It is for a good cause Mrs. Deeter. Not that I really want to do it but..," But it was plain from the sweat on his face and the bulge in his pants that he wanted to more than he wanted to take his next breath.

The school secretary stepped onto dais and handed Mr. Armstrong the official school paddle, a wicked-looking instrument of gleaming hardwood with holes drilled along its length. Those holes could raise blisters and invariably produced an effect that the kids all knew as 'waffle-butt'.

"I think ten is the customary number," the secretary said.

"Actually that's the maximum," the principal corrected.

"I think it's called for, don't you?" the secretary replied.

"Oh no!" Mom defiantly objected. "I don't think so!" Before anyone could react she turned and leapt off the dais into the crowd.

"But Mrs. Deeter," Mr. Armstrong called. "What about the children?"

That wasn't enough to get Mom to stop but it did give a sense of purpose to the crowd. Before they'd only been motivated by a craving for entertainment. Now, with one simple question, Principal Armstrong had turned it into a righteous cause. No way would they allow her to skip out in so cowardly a way on 'the children'.

A woman grabbed her by the back of her dress and shouted, "You get back here!" Mom pressed on ahead, the dress, already torn in front, came off her with a loud RRRRIP! She lost her purse in the process but made no effort to recover it. Instead she broke into a headlong sprint clad only in her bra and panties (still wedged up the crack of her black and blue butt).

Another woman took hold of the back of he bra and spun her around so that she was facing the dais. The bra was the kind that snaps in front and it came off in the woman's hand, leaving my mom running, bent over with both arms wrapped around her bare boobs, straight back toward the inevitable. She still seemed to think that she was headed for safety until she tripped over the side of the dais and did a belly-flop onto it. Two men from the crowd leapt onto the dais and helpfully took one of her arms each to pick her up. Another man jumped up behind them and took hold of her ankles and lifted them as well. The three of them carried her that way to where Principal Armstrong sat on his stool, paddle in hand, shit-eating grin on face, and deposited her over his lap. As she landed, her bare breasts bounced beautifully, and no one could miss how perkily erect her nipples had become.

As soon as her arms were released Mom covered her bare boobs with them. There wasn't much else she could do lying belly down across Mr. Armstrong's thighs, pinned in place by his left arm on the small of her back. She looked over her shoulder just in time to see the paddle lifted high over the Principal's head. She tossed her hair and kicked petulantly while yelling, "No, no, no, OHH!"

The crowd chanted, "ONE!" as the paddle landed with a powerful CRACK! across my mom's purple butt. The first swat was followed immediately by a second and then a third. The crowd counted the smacks as they fell. The air was full of the sound polished wood against bare behind -- WHACK! SMACK! CRACK! KA-POW! -- the cheerful chanting of the crowd -- TWO! THREE! FOUR! FIVE! -- and my nearly naked, thoroughly humiliated and soundly spanked mom shrieking, "That's enough! OWW! Stop it! YIEE! No more! OOO! I'm warning you! AIEE!" Of course threats from a woman in her position were hardly to be taken seriously.

Principal Armstrong's face was beet red, covered with sweat and wearing

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  • Paddling Booth 2Meg donovan, Sun May 22 17:39
    For everybody but Mom that is, she was about to spend the entire afternoon having her rear end paddled by a horde of junior-high kids in front of the whole school, including the faculty and most of... more
    • Paddling Booth 3 — Meg donovan, Sun May 22 17:40
      • Paddling Booth 4Meg donovan, Sun May 22 17:42
        Principal Armstrong's face was beet red, covered with sweat and wearing a grin that looked bigger than his head. Mom's bruised and blistered butt bounced like crazy as the paddle was applied to it... more
        • Paddling Booth 4 questionRead More, Sat Sep 10 18:06
          This has been a great story that pushed a couple of my buttons. I did have a couple of questions. Why did she make no attempt to cover her pussy, her panties were sold and she was totally naked. It a ... more
        • ThanksIndianOutlaw, Mon May 30 15:10
          Thanks for writing this story. Good Job. IO
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