Saturday, 31 March 2012

A Short Skirt In Saskatoon!

Isn't it odd how your memory works?
Things that may have happened some twenty or more years ago can seem like only months ago, where something that happened only two or three years back seem like another lifetime?
Defining moments in your life are locked in a an almost crystal clear perspective, a whole day from your deep dark past can be remembered in detail, whole conversations stored verbatim in your brain.
I would like to relate to you now such a defining day in my life.

It was back in 1999, I was - at least in my mind's eye - a mature eighteen year old embarking on my final year at a private co-ed high school. The school was ridiculously strict in many ways, we did not only have a dress code, but we had an official and much hated uniform!
For us it was charcoal grey pleated knee length skirts, a blue pullover for the lower grades, a red one for the top two years, under which we had to wear a plain white shirt and school tie. Yes that's right, school ties for girls I mean how old fashioned is that?
Footwear was flat black shoes, and white socks, no pantihose for us not even in the bitter cold winters. During the hot summer months we were however allowed the luxury of being able to remove our pullovers, as long as we were wearing suitable bras under our shirts, suitable meaning plain white so as not to over excite the boys!
Yes even our underwear fell into school policy, plain white or plain light blue panties were the only ones allowed according to our school handbook, though in fairness that was never really checked by the staff.
Also we had corporal punishment, not though the strap that the state schools used, we had the paddle an import from our neighbours to the south of us.
Apparently the state schools strap was given across the hands, can you imagine that? Having to stand there with your hand held out as some teacher whacked your palm with a leather belt? At our school it was so much more civilised, the paddle across the bottom, no having to look your punisher in the eye as it was being delivered. So much more civilised I thought, and I have to admit that I thought often on the subject.

So in this somewhat oppressive environment I for one reason or another became a bit of a rebel, well at least for one day anyway.
I can't really remember the details of my logic that day, I know my head was filled with ideas of "Girl Power" thanks to the Spice Girls, and I had only recently found a new heroine in Miss Britney Spears.
Some how or another, my "mature" brain had decided that flashing your underwear in a "schoolie" outfit was somehow empowering.
Going through my wardrobe on the Sunday afternoon I noticed one of my old school skirts, a one that I had outgrown a couple of years prior due to a sudden teen hight spurt. So I tried it on and it still fitted, well at least to a fashion, I could just get it fastened with a bit of dificulty its length however bordered upon the obscene, my bottom now filled it like it never did before pushing hard at the pleats at the rear. As I looked into my mirror twisting my head around I noticed that if I bent, even slightly the lower orbs of my butt came into view!
Could I dare wear it for school though?
Like the idiot that I was back then I decided that yes I could.

I also decided, that if I was going to be treating the boys to an eyeful they would want to see more than just our plain uniform panties - I was more than a little niave in the etiquette of "schoolie" get ups then - so I searched through my panties for something that would offer more of a treat.
I settled upon a pair of white red trimmed panties with a Ladybug motif, so off I snuck to school on the Monday morning, the lyrics of Hit Me Baby One More Time running through my head as I got on the bus.

To say I turned a few heads was a bit of an understatement, everyone was agog at my attire much to my pleasure.
It was my plans for lunchtime though that were foremost in my mind.
I somehow made it to lunch without being brought to book by any of the teachers, though I did get strange looks from all of them. To my surprise the worst looks, or should I say now on reflection, the most intent looks were from Miss Bolan our young History teacher.

Miss Bolan was the "cool teacher", I think all schools have one, fresh out of college and not really that much older than us. Young enough to still keep up with all the current music and trends. She was more like a buddy than a teacher, and her lessons were always fun to attend. So I was surprised that out of all the teachers it was her that seemed the most disturbed by my clothing, though she never said anything at the time, it was more in the looks that she kept giving me.

So lunchtime arrived, I quickly made my way down to the dining area and wolfed back my lunch and leaving my friends still sitting there I made my way to the school yard, to embark upon my master plan of accidental flashing.
One thing about living in the Paris Of The Prairies is that we have more than our share of high winds. High winds and short pleated skirts don't go together well, the pleats act as a sort aerofoil once hit by the slightest of breezes, so you can imagine the action a good gusty day would have.
So I strolled around the yard my eyes intent upon my imported Tamagotchi keyring, seemingly unaware of my constantly billowing skirt and the "accidental" exposing of my underwear. I walked around the yard for maybe ten minutes before I felt the tap upon my shoulder.

"Come with me, I think you know why," Miss Bolan told me, silently I followed the now stern faced young teacher back to her classroom.

Sitting at one of the desks at the front of her class, I watched as she quickly wrote out a note, all the time berating me for my deliberate exhibitionism, once the note was finished she put it in an envelope and said.

"Take this along to Coach Pasquale, he can deal with you as he sees fit!"

So there I ended up, sitting on one of the three stools outside of Coach Pasquale's office with other students walking by, all giving me knowing or questioning looks. Everyone knew that the only reason to be sitting there was to be waiting to recieve a paddling, my red pullover though would throw doubts into their minds, as seniors rarely got paddled, female seniors even rarer.
I really just wished that he would hurry up and arrive, so I could at least get into his office and out of view of my passing peers. Then I saw the door to the yard open, the black curly hair and the trademark blue tracksuit of Coach Pasquale came into view.
Now I was not so keen to be in the coach's office as I took in his short powerfully built stocky figure.

"Bonjour mademoiselle puis je vous aider?" the coach asked, a puzzled look upon his face.

"Hello sir, Miss Bolan sent me to see you and to give you this," I said standing up and handing him the envelope, making it clear that I was not going to be drawn into a conversation in French.

The coach nodded as he took the envelope from me, I could swear that I saw a look of joy cross his face as he read the contents of my sentencing note.

"So Miss Bolan seems to think that you skirt is not of regulation length," the coach said to me stating the blatantly obvious, "perhaps we should check if it is knee length?"

I looked at him in disbelief, it was plain to see that my skirt was no where near my knees.

"If you could just kneel down for me and we can see," he said his voice full of sarcasm.

"What" I said, shamed at the idea of being checked in such a way in the busy hall.

"Yes I believe so," he replied, looking at me like I was being overly awkward to a reasonable request.

Slowly I knelt down, wishing the floor would swallow me up. I noticed now that the passersby were now not passing by at all, but either slowing down or even just stopping completely to watch my humiliation. Perhaps I should not have been quite so quick to disregard his French greeting?

"It would appear that Miss Bolan was correct," the coach said as the hem hardly reached halfway down my upper thighs, "please stand and follow me,"

Just glad to be back on my feet and to get away from my increasing growing audience I followed him into his office.

"Well for your blatant disregard of our dress codes, you will receive three pops," he told me matter of factly, "for your deliberate lewd displaying of your underwear you will receive a further two pops,"

"What!" I asked, feeling the redness now draining rapidly from my face.

"The total is five pops mademoiselle, is math not one of your strong points?"

"What displaying.....what are you talking about.....OK I accidentally put on one of my old uniform skirts this morning.....but....."

"Miss Bolan followed you for quite some time before stopping you," he said, a slight smile now dancing across his smug face, "she noticed that you were deliberately allowing the wind to lift your skirt as you walked through the yard, walked through the yard on repeated occasions she has wrote here,"

I knew now that I was done for, five pops it was going to be, no amount of lying was going to change his mind. Still though five pops couldn't be that bad could it?
I did my best at a Gallic shrug as I let out a deep sigh signalling my defeat.

I looked on in silence as Coach Pasquale opened a drawer and pulled out a large red book, he quickly started writing information from Miss Bolan's note into the what I rightly took to be the Punishment Book.
Then putting the book to one side of his desk, he opened another drawer and withdrew the paddle.
To be honest it didn't look to bad, not half as scary as some that I have seen for sale in shops, though of course most of them were just for decorational talk pieces - see that's how niave I was back then! - it was just a plain whiteish wood blade about fourteen inches long and three inches or so wide with a short taped over handle.
Even though I had never had corporal punishment before, I thought to myself, "I can handle five pops from that no problem!"

Then the coach pointed at a metal tubular bar fastened to the wall at more or less calf hight, you know the sort of thing that old people use to help them in and out of the bath?

"If you could grab hold of the bar shoulders width apart for me please," the coach ordered me in the most politeful of tones, as if he was offering me an invitation to something nice, or that I would be doing him a great service.

As I bent forward I could feel my skirt making it's way up my bottom, I knew all to well the view that I would be giving him, when I got dressed this morning the idea of flashing to a middle aged vertically challenged sports fanatic was not that high on my agenda!
Then he asked me to move my feet a little further back and place them also shoulders width apart. Now my head was peering back between my legs, and I could see him take up his position behind me.

I waited for the first blow, but it didn't come?

"I'm sorry this is no good stand up again please," he said in the same pleasant tone, "your skirt is not covering your bottom," he added as I turned again to face him.

For a few moments of sheer relief I thought to myself, "he is going to postpone my punishment!"

"It is no good, your skirt is riding so high up your derriere that the paddle will land half on your skirts and half on your panties!"

I nod, waiting for him to dismiss me.

"You will have to take your skirt off, it is proving to be no more than a distraction!"

His tone of voice was controlled, almost matter of fact, it was as if he was merely pointing out the obvious. So with shaking fingers I undid the button and unzipped my skirt, I struggled to lower the garment over my hips self consciously aware that I was in real danger of pulling my panties down along with the skirt!
Finally the dark grey material fell to the floor, leaving me now feeling ridiculous standing there before him in my panties.

"I must say mademoiselle, for all your that your little panties look very pretty on you, I am fairly certain that they are not of the sort deemed appropriate in our uniform code," as he said that I could almost feel his eyes burning into my crotch.
For an insanely mad moment, I was sure he was going to ask me to remove them also, and oddly enough I would have complied if he had asked me to do so!

"Back over as before please," he said, a rather triumphant smile upon his face, "and we can get this over with!"

Again I bent over and grabbed the tubular rail, now all to aware of my hardly covered bottom pointing up at him, looking back through my legs I saw him move behind me, I closed my eyes and waited.

"Try to keep yourself in this position, any movement will result in extra pops, OK,"

"Yes sir!" I replied through now gritted teeth.

Then I felt it!
I was wrong, five pops were going to be a problem!
My eyes flew open, I still had another four of these to come!
The actual impact was harsh enough, but it was the four to five seconds after that really hurt, the heat seemed to build up and seep away from the paddle's original landing zone.
Then an odd thing happened, whether it was my just mind trying to displace itself from my current dilemma I don't know, as I looked back and up at the coach my eyes fixed upon his tracksuit bottoms. I reasoned with myself that having an eighteen year old bent before him her bottom offered up in such an obscene manner must be having a reaction upon him.
So as I was bent there, waiting for the second pop my eyes were searching for any signs of an erection in his loose fitting bottoms.

The second pop, brought me back down to earth, if not with a thud certainly with a whack!
As hard as I had tried not to I let out an audible gasp of pain at it's impact, thoughts of the coaches cock left my head completely as my mind was re-concentrated upon on my now truly burning butt!

Then with thought of how things could not get any worse - still three more to go - things did get worse.
There was a knock upon the office door, before Coach Pasquale could answer the door opened and in walked Miss Bolan.

"Ah good I have managed to catch her before she left you," she said in an all to cheerful voice for my liking. " I see you saw the need to remove her skirt?"

"As I explained to the young lady, it was impractical for her to keep it on," he then replied as if I was not even in the room. "we are nearly half way through here, only three more to go."

"Very good! I'll wait as I have a skirt here for her to wear the rest of the day," she said still in an almost sing-song mode. "a skirt of a more modest length."

Now tears were in my eyes, it was one thing the reality of getting paddled. It was another thing all together it being witnessed by the bitch that had condemned me to it.

The next three pops are more of a blur to my memory, they were basicaly just a blaze of pain accompanied by the humiliation of having the "Cool" teacher watching my reversion from a young adult to a crying little girl!

Once finished, Coach Pasquale left us in the office so that I could "make myself decent"!
Sobbing I put on the washed out dirty grey skirt that Miss Bolan handed me, then she sent me on my way back to classes with a couple of sound slaps on my now skirt covered bottom to help me on my way out of the office!

So that was it, my memory of a defining life moment, my first - but not my last - taste of CP.
Some how the things that happened that day shaped my adult life, fired up the submissive side in my sexuality, being sent by the pretty young teacher to be paddled altered my whole way of thinking.
Four years later I bumped into Miss Bolan in a club in town, we had a few drinks and obviously this day's events came up in conversation, but that is another story!

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