Chapter 1

Pious but Lustful Young Women

That wasn’t the first time I had been corrected in that way. It had happened during my two years at an all-girls Catholic high school. I was there only during my junior and senior years.

It was an institution called the St. Engatia Academy. She was one of those virgin Martyrs so beloved by the Church. Supposedly she was flogged to death in AD 303, which I think is certainly not an inspirational tale for young ladies.

If you’ve ever been in an all-female religious school, you know that the students of such places are all “boy crazy” – obsessed with sex, in other words. You can practically smell the estrogen inside the building. The amount of masturbation that those chicks indulged in shocked even me.

I hated the whole setup, and I was glad to go to a “normal” public college. Anyway, it was at St. Engatia’s that I found out about another experience that is usually kept hidden from outsiders.

The nuns who ran it when I was there, in 1972 and 1973, were very traditionalist in their attitudes. They maintained a special paddling room where naughty students were bent over a bench and smacked with wooden implements on their bare backsides. I was called in there at least four times.

During my first-ever session, two of us misbehaving sixteen-year-old girls were to get punished on that day. The other chick was a tall, slender but very nervous young lady named Jennifer. She was there because of her poor grades in math, which I wasn’t that great at either.

In contrast, I put on a show of indifference even though I was scared too. My offense was my big mouth, which often got me into trouble when I couldn’t keep it closed. I had been enrolled for only two months when I had been unable to get a term paper submitted on time.

Instead of apologizing for my error, I got snippy when asked about it in class. Being rude was my fallback position on a lot of matters, and it earned me my first trip to the paddle room.

We two miscreants had to lift up our paid skirts, lower our regulation white kickers to our ankles, and bend way over a bench to present our behinds for the spanking. Those nasty but God-fearing ladies (I suspect many were lesbians) wielded paddles with holes drilled in them.

(Frankly, I think some of the students seduced each other too in their desperation to get sexual action.)

Anyway, Jenny and I were to each get fourteen strokes, delivered in two batches of seven on our tender rears. (I guess they weren’t familiar with the English tradition of “twelve of the best.”)

My poor companion was crying as she bent over and she got her first set of swats. As the first one cracked against her pale body, she yelped and stood up, grabbing her ass. The nun was rather patient about it all. “Jenny, stay in position. Hold on to that wooden bar at the back of the bench.”

Jenny complained, “Sister Evangelista, couldn’t we at least get this on the seat of our panties?”

“Sorry, dearie, it always has to be on the bare bottom. Besides, the thin cotton of those drawers won’t give you any real protection.” I thought that one of those metal contraptions that medieval knights wore would be the perfect outfit for those paddlings.

Jenny did as she was told, and took the rest of her sentence pretty well even though she was in tears through the entire event.

Then it was my turn for some swats. Already, I had developed a negative reputation among the staff. “Nora, I’m not surprised to see you here.”

“Really? Why is that?”

“I think you know that your attitude here so far has been deplorable.”

I held on tight as the paddle landed on me, and I yelped too. I couldn’t control my voice and a sound like “ugh!” came out each time I was hit. It felt worse than I had expected; I knew that my behind would be well-bruised when it was over.

The ordeal was certainly painful and humiliating to endure, but I also discovered how kinky I really was. As Jenny and I were standing against the wall in “corner time,” holding our skirts up, I could feel the heat radiating from my displayed backside.

Yet I also felt a delicious sensation in my pussy. Fluid was leaking out of me, and I hoped the nun wouldn’t see it running down my thigh. Those religious ladies were mean but not dumb. She would know it was a sign of my sexual arousal. Fortunately, she took mercy on me (I guess) and said nothing about my embarrassing state.

As soon as we were dismissed I went to a stall in a ladies’ room. I was sore enough that I had to masturbate while standing with one foot propped up on the bowl. My trusty hairbrush handle gave me two very satisfying orgasms. Thus my kinkiness was thoroughly confirmed that day.

Later, I looked at myself in my full-length mirror at home. Each of my butt cheeks had a vivid purplish-red circular mark on it. It would be a while before I could sit down comfortably.

Servicing Naughty Guys

I witnessed that kind of sexuality during my stint later as a part-time hooker. That was when I had a number of male clients who engaged my services as a dominatrix. I later read a description of how that functions as a motivator for male desires.

“It is a truth universally accepted that most young males have had at least one teacher or aunt crush as they sexually mature. This desire to please and serve an attractive woman who commands and must be obeyed is a universal sexual fantasy for men. Sensual domination or role play as being a naïve guy introduced to sexual pleasure is often the first motivator that lures men to a dominatrix. Common practices include spanking or other types of corporal punishment common in schools and homes.”

That was in a book about psychology. Yep, it’s all true, and I saw it during my own time as an ad hoc dominatrix. Guys would yell and beg for mercy, but if they didn’t use the safe phrase (which they rarely did) they would get the full beating. Usually, their erect cocks gave away their true feelings.

So what is the psychology behind the female version of that kink in my personal experience? (It’s almost too common to call it a fetish.)

Well, that may be harder to explain. I did read elsewhere that a spanking makes blood rush to one’s backside, and thus one’s genitals too. Men will often get erections, while women will get the pussy tingles that I first felt while being disciplined by that nun. I’ve heard that either gender might have an orgasm during such events, but I never saw it or experienced it myself.

Burger Chef

I suppose I’m actually rather insecure, but I cover that with bravado and an overall smart-ass attitude. I felt particularly unsettled in my first-ever legitimate job at a Burger Chef fast food branch near my home. I had made that promise to my uncle and I started there in early July 1974. Most of the time I worked behind the counter, but sometimes I was in the kitchen too.