Chapter 1: The First Stirrings

How can a somewhat timid high-school math teacher also be "Naughty Shayna'? Maybe the best way to explain it is by sharing my life story, at least the erotic part. This might also be a way for me to learn some things about myself that I may have not wanted to face. Call it cheap therapy.

The first time I can remember being sexually excited was also the one and only time I was spanked by my father. My dad is a great, sweet guy. Most of the time he is a marshmallow, but he does have a temper. Fortunately I have two older brothers who caught most of his anger when we were kids. He didn't lay a hand on me until I was 13. I don't know if it was because I was the baby in the family, or the only girl. You know how dads and their daughters can be... I was always his 'darling Shay', and I took advantage of that as much as I could. There were a lot of times when I was a real brat. I knew it, but I also knew that if I smiled at my dad and gave him a hug there was a lot I could get away with.

That worked, except for the one day when I pushed him too far. That day, I had lied to my mom about something, and she sent me to my room. That was her way of punishing us. When Dad got home he came into my room to find out what had happened. For some reason, instead of acting sorry and acting like his 'darling Shay', I lashed out at him. I don't actually remember what I said, but it set him off. A few seconds later I found myself lying face down on my bed while he was giving me my first real spanking. It didn't last long. Mom heard what was going on and came running in, yelling at him that I was too old for that kind of punishment, and they got into this big argument. Then I really felt bad, because they never argued and now they were fighting because of me.

Later that night after I got over being mad at myself for being such a stinker, and got over being embarrassed about being spanked by my Dad, I started to realize that in some ways I had enjoyed it. I began to wonder what it would have felt like if dad had actually taken me over his knee, like they did with kids in old movies... or if he had taken my pants down and spanked my bare bottom... or, what if it had been somebody else spanking me?

My parents had told me that when they went to school it was still acceptable for teachers to paddle their students, so I began to imagine what it would be like to be punished by one of my teachers. I had a history teacher that year that was only a couple years out of college, and that all the girls thought was cool... so he was the one in whose lap I could most easily picture myself. As I imagined him pushing my skirt up, pulling my panties down, and spanking my bare bottom, n my mind, my hand had wandered down to my pussy. I had just started playing with myself a few months before. So far, I had discovered that if I rubbed my pussy lips together, or slipped a finger into the top of my crack, it felt good. And if I did it long enough, it felt really good. I had not learned the words clitoris or orgasm yet, but I was doing a lot of experimenting.

So there I was, lying in my bed and playing with myself, but I was mystified that I was doing it while thinking about my teacher giving me a spanking. For the next couple of years the idea of being paddled became one of my common fantasies, not the only one by a long shot, but I did keep coming back to the idea. I didn't do anything more about those feelings until I was 15... but I'm getting ahead of myself.