Chapter 6

I was mortified but quickly went up to the front and stood before Ms. Collins when it was my turn to be spanked as part of the demonstration. We all had to taste the paddle. It made sense, but the butterflies in my tummy disagreed loudly.

“I assume you have been spanked before, Brittany?” the Coordinator looked at me as if she assumed I was rather experienced. She was so much younger than me, but I felt intimidated by her confidence.

“No, never,” I said. “I mean, maybe when I was little, but I don’t recall,” I confessed.

“Well, there is a first time for everything. Brittany, do you consent to be spanked as part of the Program in order to ascertain your pain tolerance and introduce you to expectations?”

“Yes, of course,” I said.

“This is a practice demonstration, but I expect to be addressed as Ma’am when performing discipline, even by you,” she told me to take this seriously. “You WERE Ms. Garner out in the office, but while you are in the Program, you are just Brittany to me until a pet name is chosen. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Ma’am,” I answered nervously.

“Good, assume the position you saw the other girls take. Try to grab your ankles,” she said. She called it the “Full Spanking” position.

I tried really hard. I had never been around many topless women and I was coming to understand that I had much larger breasts than most other women. The big problem for me was that when I bent over, I could barely get my hands below my knees. I stuck my ass out. I heard a few giggles and assumed that I was still gaping. I knew I was also aroused, and it was very likely that I was dripping wet.

“That’s fine. That’s more of an ‘old fashioned’, but you will get there, Brittany,” Jen rubbed my ass like she was warming it up and sizing up her target. “I am curious what you are going to look like when you shave some of that thick hair,” Jen said as she brought down the paddle on my rear end.

I would describe the first hit of the paddle with one word, “wap,” because that is what it felt like. It felt like a “wap”. It sounded like a “wap,” and I felt the force of it, but nothing that would make me scream.

“One,” I counted. I did that through the first five swats with the paddle just fine. Jen switched to the riding crop, which was a little different. She pointed out that each spanking implement has a different texture and feel and that over panties it feels entirely different as well.

I don’t know if she did it with the other girls, but I felt the tip of her crop brush against my pussy lips, and it tickled. I smiled with anticipation. She was explaining the importance of rhythm and lining up the shot correctly.

She told the Trainers that their “time was up,” and they had to stop seeking relief before she began my next swats. I tried to imagine masturbating while watching get spanked, and I couldn’t do it.

Her first slice of the riding crop hit my pussy and wrapped around my pussy lips, even though it was lined up in my ass crack. I yelped, and everyone laughed as I counted frantically.

“Is that uncomfortable?” Jen asked, and when I lied and said that it wasn’t, she asked if she could continue.

“Yes, of course,” I offered. It stung, but it wasn’t impossible. I was fine. I just wasn’t prepared for the fact that the crop could hit my tender pussy.

I yelped again when the crop revisited the same spot.

“These are not the hardest I can go, Brittany. Are you truly okay?”

“Yes, I am fine.”

“Breathe at the impact. Do you enjoy making a noise when you get swatted?”

“No, am I not permitted to make noises?”

Everyone laughed. Jen told me that most students cry out when they are being spanked. “We just haven’t found the tolerance spot for Crystal and Ingrid yet. Your responses are perfectly normal, Brittany. I just want to make sure that we are communicating. I don’t want you signing up if this level of discomfort is intolerable.”

That was reassuring. I heard Crystal yell out some encouragement. “She’s a tough old broad like me. Give her all you got, Ms. Collins. Brittany can take it! She’s just being coy!”

I smiled and stifled the desire to coo or yelp and counted the remainder of the croppings out. Then, without being told, I sat on my bottom in the “diaper” position by sitting on my butt and holding my ankles apart like the other Breeders had after their butts were spanked. I leaned back and used my elbows to help hold myself up.

(((PICTURE WILL GO HERE)))

“Legs spread wider even though I am going to spank your tits first, understand?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Good, now Brittany. You won’t get disciplined frequently as long as you behave. However, as part of some demonstrations, it may be that you will have your tits spanked. I am assuming those are implants. Are there any medical concerns about breaking or leakage of the implant?”

“These are natural,” I said as I touched my tits instinctively.

I heard derisive laughter from some of the others watching. Karen coughed into her hand and said “Bullshit” as she did. It didn’t hide the word, and it was an obvious attempt at levity.

“It’s perfectly okay If you have had implants, Brittany. I had my breasts augmented, and it wasn’t a problem to breastfeed,” Jen indicated her own perfect tits. “I just need to know because your medical file doesn’t show it. That doesn’t mean you didn’t get them done somewhere. We will find out and if you lied on your application, it can be grounds to remove you. I’ll ask you one more time?” she said and repeated the question.

“No concerns and my tits are natural,” I was confused. I had fairly large tits, but they had a sag to them. They didn’t stick straight out. I couldn’t imagine anyone getting tits like mine surgically implanted. There was certainly no reason to be jealous of them as far as I was concerned. I have had these tits since I was a teenager, and they felt like nothing special to me. I never flashed them off, though, so I was having a hard time believing I was somehow special or unusual because of my boobs.

Jen said that many women opt for a natural look surgically and complimented my breasts. “I am glad you are in the Program, Brittany. It’s important to show a diverse range of body types, and you certainly represent a fraction of women who are naturally endowed with big boobs.” Then she hit my tits with her riding crop. I giggled, and as I did, my nipples grew hard. There was no pain at all. The whipping sensation of the crop felt pleasurable.

“And you have NEVER been spanked?” Jen also seemed to think I was pulling her leg.

“I got married out of high school, and my husband and I aren’t into any of that kind of stuff,” I admitted.

“It’s true, Brittany is a square,” Julie smiled.

Jen finished giving me five croppings on each boob, and I was hardly any worse for wear. Then it came time for Ms. Collins to spank my pussy with her hand. After I consented, I closed my eyes and imagined that it was Jim doing it to me.

The coordinator’s hand was soft and didn’t feel like Jim’s hand at all. The slap was a nice, hard thumping that left a little sting. I heard Jen explain that she was twisting her hand at impact and adding some torque. My voice was a little shaky by the fourth one, but it was not the pain or the sensation. It was just being touched by someone other than my husband that really made me wobbly.

Jen finished me off with the riding crop to the pussy. There was nothing sexual about it, and there was nothing intimate or tender about the feel of the riding crop on my clit. I yelped and jumped a little the first time she hit me with it, and I almost forgot to count.

Jen told me that forgetting to count can lead to starting over or not counting that one. “It depends on how frequently you do that and how serious you are,” she warned as she continued spanking my pussy, I was a little frazzled but no worse for the wear by the end.

I didn’t feel it at first, but light tingles started to dance around my buttocks as the nerves sent signals to my ass to mute the pain. The same tingles started in my pussy a few moments later, and I felt quite satisfied as I squatted back in my place to watch the other women get spanked. I couldn’t help my southern smile coming out to cover my embarrassment. It probably looked like I was happy they were getting the same medicine I had to endure.

Jen applied the same treatment to Thelma, Ingrid, Karen, and Darla. They were stoic, and in some cases, they seemed amused by the treatment. James looked more concerned about his sister than Thelma did. She was a tough little cookie and obviously had been spanked before.

Ingrid giggled through most of her spanking. I got the impression that was her way of dealing with the pain. She had to stop a few times and start over because she lost count. Even though this was a demonstration Jen would not tolerate sloppy behavior.

Jen told us we could have five minutes of relief while she taught the Trainers how to spank. I wasn’t sure if that meant I could stand up or sit down on the bench. I saw Thelma promptly put a finger in her pussy while squatting.

“Does that mean we can stand?”

“Yes, if you want to, Brittany. Unless you are told otherwise, you should feel free to be creative with how you get yourself off,” Jen answered my question and assumed I understood.

“Uh, erm?” I raised my hand as I asked a second question. “Do we have to masturbate? Or can we just stand up and walk around?”

The others chuckled, but Jen didn’t. I had yet to process that “relief” was entirely a euphemism for masturbation in this context.

“This is new for Brittany,” Jen encouraged the others not to laugh at my question. Ms. Collins explained that most teachers offer a “relief” period for students in the Program in the first minutes of class. “Most students have watched someone else masturbate to completion. It isn’t going to shock anyone if you do it appropriately, Brittany.”

I could see on everyone else’s faces this was something that they already knew.

“When the Program first started years ago, horny boys were jerking off sometimes DURING class because they were either embarrassed by their erection or they were just horny, so they started constantly touching themselves. The relief policies were instituted because teenage boys who go all day with a hard-on eventually become frustrated and unruly. It’s perfectly natural to masturbate. Everyone does it. I am sure you do as well?”

I nodded that I did, but I was still completely embarrassed to admit it to anyone else. I had been raised not to talk about masturbation openly to others (even my husband).

“Okay, so you won’t get many opportunities during the day to give yourself relief when you are in the Program. You should take advantage of those opportunities when offered. Your Trainer will require you to masturbate as part of their responsibilities but when it’s optional like this, you are free to sit quietly. You are free to walk around if you do not disrupt anyone else or make them uncomfortable. Okay?”

I nodded, but now I felt stupid. I couldn’t very well start masturbating after I asked if I didn’t have to do it. I would have felt even dumber for having done that. Instead, I walked around and tried not to watch as Karen, Thelma, Ingrid, Crystal, and Darla went to town on themselves, pulling, tugging, and masturbating.

Each of the women did it differently. Karen was very quiet and sensual, almost meditative. Crystal was loud, and I could smell her pussy juices from 10 feet away as she made “Frigga-Frigga-Frigga” noises and moved her hand like she was churning butter.

It was strangely educational to see that everyone masturbated so differently. Julie frowned at me, so I started masturbating along with everyone else. I did it delicately and no one seemed to care or notice. Jen and the other Trainers were not really even watching us. Ms. Collins was talking to them about something else.

We were told to stop abruptly and summoned over to where Jen and the Trainers were standing. My daughter held a riding crop menacingly in her hand, and absent-mindedly struck her palm with it as if anticipating using it on me.

“Five minutes is not enough time to teach the fine art of spanking, but we’ve gone over critical safety tips like not striking the kidneys or eyes and how to put a wicked spin on this crop,” Jen demonstrated by slashing the air. “I think we are ready for some hands-on demonstration so the Trainers can get some practice. You have been spanked once by me. I want to give you an opportunity now that the endorphins have kicked in and you have had a chance to assess the spanking you just received. Does anyone have a problem being a training dummy and getting spanked on the tits, bottom of feet, ass, pussy, back and tummy?”

No one left or expressed any concerns.

Julie directed me to get over her knee. I balked because I was quite a bit heavier than my daughter, but she insisted. I felt silly trying to drape my big butt across my daughter’s lap. My tits hung down into my face as she began swatting my ass with the riding crop. I tried to count, but Julie was going so fast that I couldn’t keep up.

“Julie, pace yourself. It’s not a race to see who can spank the fastest. Swing with precision and don’t get sloppy. Fewer more precise swats will do more than many sloppy ones! Each stroke can be impactful. Use the swats to influence behavior and reinforce consequences for their mistakes. Make sure you hear counting and give your mother time to breathe,” the coordinator advised before continuing on her rounds to observe each Trainer in action.

“Yes, Ma’am,” Julie replied, and she started giving me much harder strikes at a slower pace. A lot of times, she struck my asshole, but about 60% of the time, the crop slashed my right ass cheek. Jen once again interrupted to tell her to spread it out. “Once you’ve given about thirty, change body parts or positions,” she said to the group.

Julie told me to stand up and put my hands behind my head. She started to spank my tits with her riding crop. I felt nothing but counted.

“Are you okay with this, Mom? I mean, Brittany?” my sister giggled a little as she watched my big tits sway back and forth.

“Yes, are you?”

“I want you to call me Ma’am when I am disciplining you, as you would your coordinator,” Julie decided in a formal manner and then said she was fine with it. She turned to Jen and asked, “This really isn’t doing much to my mother. Can I strike harder?”

“No, this is an introduction. We’ll adjust pain tolerance as we progress, but there is no reason to push boundaries on day one. Just switch to other body parts if you are satisfied that your mother’s breasts won’t be an issue.”

My daughter wanted me to lie on my back on a wooden bench. she started slicing into the very tender part of my feet in the center with the riding crop. I had calluses on the balls of my feet and my heels, but the center was very sensitive. I yelped and counted while calling her Ma’am occasionally. Julie seemed pleased to find a weak spot, and she gave me thirty across each foot before stopping. She rarely said anything as she administered the spanking.

“Okay, Trainers. Five minutes more, and then we move on,” Jen announced to the group as she walked around us in a circle, offering guidance. I felt like five minutes of being spanked would be an eternity.