The One Room Schoolhouse Part 1

Here’s a story I wrote a few years back. This one takes us to rural West Virginia in the year 1900 and chronicles a budding romance between a new schoolteacher and a deputy sheriff, and yes, there will be spankings in case you wondered.


Theodore Clifford, school board president for the 1950-51 school year, cleared his throat. He was unused to speaking before such a large assembly.

“Now for our presentation. I’d like for our Hannah to please come up here.”

The woman who rose to approach the podium was elderly, but she carried herself with all the sprightliness of a young girl. Her hair had been blonde once, and she still cut a lithesome figure. She had been quite a beauty in her youth, and even now at age 73 she had retained that remarkable grace that beautiful women have, at any age.
The assembled family, friends, parents and officials applauded vigorously.

“Hannah,” intoned Theodore, “For your many years of devoted service teaching the children of Slatyfork, West Virginia, we present you with this painting that we hope you will treasure.”

Clifford, to deafening applause, moved toward a covered picture resting on an easel. He unveiled the painting. As she beheld it, her eyes misted over with emotion. It was the old one room schoolhouse. The painting had captured the schoolhouse in winter. It was just as she had recalled. The structure itself was rough hewn, a log cabin. It sat beside a creek at the end of the road just at the outskirts of the small town of Slatyfork in the Appalachians. A flagpole sporting the American flag was out front. The artist had added an eagle in flight over the creek, a nice touch. It was just as she remembered it, as a young girl, on her very first teaching assignment. The old schoolhouse was gone now— in favor of a much more modern facility. But this was the way it had been, fifty years ago in the fall of 1900. She’d been just twenty three then. So many memories….


Hannah Bainbridge was quite fed up. Bobby Whitaker was acting up again. He was 12 years old and a bully; that was plain to see. He had tested her from the very beginning, and now things were coming to a head. After dipping Cornelia Jones’ pigtails in the inkwell, he had taken to pushing her down at recess, too. Just as he did with the smaller boys. Nothing seemed to work to get him to behave. She had spoken with his mother, but it was obvious that mother was part of the problem. She doted on the boy and refused to impose discipline. Hannah knew she had to do something or she would lose control of her classroom. The other children were watching, to see how she handled the willfully disobedient Bobby. Cornelia was in tears. She had to act.

She had the authority to administer corporal punishment. There was a stout hickory stick that had been thoughtfully provided by the town fathers who had hired her just last August. It rested in pegs at the front of the room for all to see. So far, she had not used it because she thought it too cruel. It was more like a cudgel. No, what she needed to do was to embarrass him, bring him down a notch, shame him in front of his peers.

In her experience, the best way to administer corporal punishment was with the birch rod. Her own mother had advocated its use, to her painful recollection. It stung, but did not leave bruises like that stick surely would. And, she mused, his pants would have to come down. That would do it. A smart application of the birch to his naughty bottom would have him squealing and knock him down a peg or two. So she stood Bobby in the corner, put a monitor in charge and went outside to cut some switches. A half dozen switches, green, whippy and peeled should do it, she reckoned. She wrapped the end with twine. Excited whispers greeted her as she strode back into the schoolhouse, homemade birch rod in hand. The children could sense something was about to happen.

“Bobby Whitaker, come here!” she said imperiously.

Bobby turned around. He wiped the smirk off his face at the sight of the switches in Hannah’s hand. Slowly he approached her desk.

“Face the desk and lower your trousers, young man.”

His face turned white. “B-but, ma’am. My trousers? Our other teacher Mr. Crane never….”

“I’m not Mr. Crane, Bobby Whitaker, and I want you over that desk— trousers down, sir.”

Bobby actually shook, Hannah noted. Good. A little fear was good. Slowly he undid his belt and slipped his pants down. Underneath he wore long johns. It was cold outside. Conveniently, the long johns had a back “trap door”. Bobby squealed in alarm as he felt Hannah’s fingers undo the buttons. His hands shot back.

“Keep your hands out of the way, Bobby Whitaker. Grip the front of the desk.”

The children giggled as Bobby’s bare buttocks were rudely exposed. Hannah turned and quieted them with her best no nonsense stare. There was an expectant hush in the classroom as Hannah raised the birch.!23frdsdd

Swish…thwick! The birch struck and Bobby jumped. Hannah put her hand on his back, holding him down, and proceeded to deal out a full dozen sharp swishes with the birch rod. Bobby cried and shifted from foot to foot. His bottom cheeks flexed and bounced. He squealed in distress. Like a girl, thought Hannah. Let him live that down. She plied the birch vigorously just as she recalled her mother had done with her when she’d been naughty. When she felt he’d been properly chastised she let him up to replace his pants. She made him return to his seat. He squirmed in discomfort the rest of the day. Hannah was satisfied. Not one child as much as sneezed after that display.


The repercussions were not long in coming. Mildred Whitaker was outraged that Miss Bainbridge had actually bared her son’s posterior in full view of the class and had whipped him. She lodged a formal protest with the mayor and the city council. Hannah had been hired right out of teacher’s college by the town of Slatyfork to serve as schoolmistress for the departing Caleb Crane. The interviews had gone well and the town was excited to have a fresh face with the latest in modern schooling to teach their young to read, write and figure. But, many of the parents were frankly aghast at what she had done to Bobby. She learned later, when the allegations had built a head of steam, that it wasn’t so much the whipping—children were expected to be punished at school from time to time—it was the fact that she had bared his person for the infliction of the punishment. She was summoned to appear at a meeting with the mayor, the town council, assorted parents who served as an ad hoc school board and, Mildred Whitaker. Also present was Tom Larkin, a county deputy sheriff and unofficial constable for Slatyfork. Tom was a carpenter as well and performed some custodial duties at the schoolhouse.

First they heard Mildred. Of course, by this time, everyone in town knew the story. Mildred was loud and overbearing, as usual, and full of self righteousness. She complained that her precious Bobby was now the object of ridicule because of the incident. Then they heard Hannah. As patiently and as calmly as she could, she explained why she had punished Bobby in that way. She hadn’t wanted to use the stick, she said, it was too cruel.

“Well, stripping the pants off my Bobby was humiliating, you….you…” sputtered Mildred. They got Mildred quieted down and let Hannah finish. The mayor said, “You do know that our charter does not allow clothing to be removed in these circumstances, don’t you Miss Bainbridge?” No she didn’t know that, she said.

They asked her to step into the next room while they deliberated. Quite a few of the board were very angry with Hannah Bainbridge. They did not expect their children to be humiliated in that fashion. There was a motion to terminate her employment. Several other parents agreed.

Jed Collins, the mayor, thought this would be a mistake. It had been hard enough attracting a young woman like Hannah Bainbridge. Most wanted no part of life in a remote mountain town.

“It was just a mistake in judgment,” said Jed. “She knows better now and won’t do it again.” Several parents also saw the practical problem of finding someone new in the middle of winter. Mildred sensed opinion turning against her.

“Then if she stays, she should be punished.” Mildred was adamant, and what Mildred wanted she usually got.

“What do you have in mind?” asked Collins.

“She should get the same as what she gave my Bobby. That would teach her a good lesson.” Mildred’s pugnacious frown was a challenge to all who would oppose her.

“You are suggesting that this young woman take a …whipping?” Jed Collins was nonplussed at this.

Mildred stood firm. “That’s right. There had to be some kind of reprimand and it makes sense that she should get a bit of her own medicine.”
A majority of those present, it seemed, agreed with Mildred.  Hannah was, after all, very young and it hadn’t been that long since she herself had been subject to parental correction. The proposal was unusual, to say the least, but, in a way, imminently fair. A vote was taken after some debate, and it was agreed. She could stay or go, but if she stayed, she would be punished publicly right here, right now, in front of the assembled parents.

“Who would do it?” ventured Edna Smith, one of the parents. “I don’t want my husband putting a pretty girl like her across his knee.”

Mildred solved the problem. “Tom Larkin is our unmarried man here. He should give this girl the licking she’s got coming. After all he is our deputy sheriff.”

Tom’s eyebrows rose at that. Secretly he had not wanted them to fire Hannah Bainbridge. She was very pretty and Tom had been interested since her arrival. They had spoken from time to time because he did repairs on the school building, but around such a fetching young woman Tom felt tongue-tied.

“If she agrees to this and if I have to, I guess I will give her the licking,” said Tom, a bit reluctantly. There goes any hope of her liking me, he thought. But he was the deputy and duty called.

So they called her in and told her of their decision. She could either pack her bags right now and go back to Virginia, or she could accept a lesson in discipline. The mayor assured her that it would be kept secret, only those present would witness the chastisement, and after that the matter would be closed. And he added that Deputy Larkin would be doing the honors.

“I know it seems like a kind of rough justice, Miss Bainbridge, but if you accept this reprimand in the form of a good hiding from our Deputy here, we’ll put this little incident behind us.”

Hannah gulped and flushed from head to toe. Goodness! A spanking in front of all these people? She surely did not want to be fired, the thought of dismissal was unthinkable. But could she face the humiliation of being publicly spanked? And by Tom Larkin? She had definitely noticed the tall, rangy deputy and had wondered how she could get to know him better. She’d spoken to him several times at the schoolhouse, but he had seemed shy and rather formal. Then she realized, to her chagrin, that if she allowed him this sort of intimacy, he’d definitely notice her. She wanted to stay and if this was what it took to make amends, so be it.

“I am sorry, all of you, and Mrs. Whitaker. I will accept this …reprimand if it means I may continue as your schoolmistress.” There, she had said it.

Now she had to face the music. Someone brought out a sturdy armless chair. Tom Larkin sat down and rolled up his right sleeve. Hannah watched anxiously. He motioned for Hannah to approach his right side. He figured he’d spank her just like a misbehaving child. Hannah gulped. This was so embarrassing. Over his lap she went. Her feet came off the floor and she had to grasp a chair rung for support. She gritted her teeth as Tom raised her skirts in back to expose the target area. He had raised his hand to deliver the first smack when Mildred said, “Wait. Her drawers should come down. That is the point of this. She should get it the same as my Bobby.”

Hannah had to wait like that while they discussed the state of her drawers; but in the end, all were in agreement. The drawers would have to come down. Hannah blushed anew when she felt Tom Larkin’s fingers in the waistband of her drawers. He peeled them down, exposing her bare bottom for all to see. Her feelings of acute embarrassment, however, were interrupted by the sting of the first smack of the deputy’s capable palm. It had landed forcefully on her left bottom cheek. Another crisp smack fell on her right cheek. Both smacks stung and Hannah realized she was in for an ordeal.

Then Deputy Larkin settled into a methodical spanking of Hannah’s bare bottom. The spanks smarted and Hannah could not help squirming. No one said anything, so for the next several minutes the only sounds in the room were the crisp smacking sounds of Tom’s palm meeting Hannah’s bare bottom cheeks. Those watching seemed transfixed by the sight of the lovely woman writhing over the handsome deputy’s knee, the rounded globes of her bare behind rippling and bouncing with each spank.

Tom Larkin could hardly believe it. Here he was giving a spanking to the bare bottom of the lovely young school teacher. And a shapely bottom it was, too. He was becoming painfully aroused. He hoped no one noticed.10342505_202570896766367_1875820809663093071_n

Hannah’s bottom was really stinging as her jouncy globes absorbed the meaty smacks of Deputy Larkin’s hand. But she also sensed something else was happening. Something unexpected. She was humiliated beyond belief, and the spanking stung atrociously, but something was happening with her body. She was becoming wantonly aroused. She couldn’t help it, but the longer the spanking went on, the more she felt her womanly parts becoming moist. And, she found herself rubbing herself on the deputy’s knee. She was like a cat in heat. The heat from the spanking was causing it. Her rump was sizzling hot from the repeated smacks of his hard palm. She was grinding with her pelvis as slap after slap impacted her bare bottom. And what was that she felt in his lap under her?

Tom could sense something too. Something was building to a climax in this woman. He’d laid on a pretty smart tanning. Her bottom was a bright red now and she was becoming more vocal, trying to choke back sobs. He decided to give her ten more good ones and end it. On the sixth smack she tensed up and threw her head back, all the while writhing wantonly on the deputy’s lap. He finished with four rapid smacks applied to alternate cheeks. Then he stopped and she went limp.

Climax. A climax, that’s what that was, she realized. Oh, please don’t let them notice. And it was about that time that the deputy had stopped. Tom lifted her up gently and whispered, “I’m sorry Miss Bainbridge.” She just nodded. She’d have to figure out what this all meant.

The meeting broke up. Everyone went home. Thereafter everyone tried to pretend it had never happened. “Forgiven and forgotten,” Betty Varny told Hannah at the general store one day. “Over and done with. We all move on.” After that Hannah felt better about it. Everyone did keep their promise to keep silent. But that didn’t quell her emotional state when she thought about Tom Larkin. She thought about him a lot, and those thoughts generally included a healthy jolt of womanly desire. So it was quite the startle when he showed up at the schoolhouse one day after the children had gone home.

He was carrying flowers and a flat object. Nervously he cleared his throat. “I’d like to make amends, Miss Bainbridge, I…”

“You were just doing your duty, deputy,” said Hannah, brushing her hair aside. Why was she weak in the knees?

“I brought you these flowers. I know it’s not much after the…ah, what happened, but…” He was stammering around.

“It’s all right.” Hannah was recovering her poise.

“And, here, I made something for you. I heard what you said about that hickory stick, how it’s too severe—-and I agree with you there so, here…” And he handed her what looked like a butter paddle. “It’s a maple paddle. I made it. It packs a wallop even through wool britches. It’ll sting a might, but no lasting harm.”

Hannah took the paddle and turned it over in her hand. She hadn’t had to resort to that kind of punishment after the Bobby Whitaker incident, but maybe the sight of this hanging on a nail in the front of the classroom might scare a few into better behavior. Then she had a wicked impish impulse. But it might tell her what kind of man this was.

“I see. Have you ever felt something like this, Mr. Larkin?”

“Oh, yes ma’am. You can believe it. My ma, she had a butter paddle and she…”

She didn’t let him finish. “I appreciate your gesture. Let’s try it out, shall we?” Hannah could see Tom was confused, so she said, “I mean on you, Deputy.” Then she gave him her sweetest smile.

The girl had spunk, thought Tom. He smiled and shook his head. Serves me right. Well, maybe this would restore a little balance. Make her feel better. Then he had an idea.

“I’ll gladly take my licks and let you try it out on me, Miss Bainbridge,” he said, “on the condition that you accompany me to the Christmas dance at the Grange hall on Saturday.”

Hannah said “yes,” and that is how Tom Larkin ended up bent over the desk to take a few good licks with the maple paddle that he’d made with his own hands. She stood to his side and lined up the paddle. Taking aim she laid a good half dozen licks right on that taut behind of his. The loud whaps! echoed off the walls as she applied the paddle. She noted a bit of satisfaction at his sharp inhalation of breath during last couple of smacks.

“We’re not quite even, Deputy, but that was a good start,” she said, as she watched him rise from the desk, rubbing his buttocks. He’d grinned as he stood, and thanked her for the “demonstration,” and that was a relief to Hannah. It meant he was a big enough man to be a good sport about it.

For a girl she packs a wallop, he mused later. But she’d agreed to go to the dance with him and that was all that had mattered.



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