Mrs. Kraft ignored me, and the paddle started slapping my buns harder and faster. She would hit the same spot over and over, hurting more each time, then start a new spot.
I sobbed and begged. I told them I would be the best girl ever. I would do anything-ANYTHING!
I remembered Dr. Cornell’s warning somehow, and clutched the carpet; though I was desperate to reach back and protect my poor burning seat from any more pain.
Then it was over. The room seemed suddenly very quiet, except for the kid that kept going “Hoo! hoo! hoo!” all alone with her misery.
The paddle waved in front of my face. “Kiss it.” I puckered up, smelling warm leather and that damn oil. “Thank me.”
“Thank you.” My voice was full of gravel.
The paddle fell again, many times, hard.
“Let’s try that again,” said Mrs.
