Mary stared back at the imposing nun with  mixture of fear and resentment.
 "Yes, Sister.  I heard you.  And I am sorry."  "Not quite as sorry as you
are going to be in a moment, when I am finished with your friend Miss
Moran!"  Sister Callista turned back to Cassie, who was standing at the
side of the chemistry teacher's desk.  "Are you ready, yet, young lady?"
she asked, striding to the blackboard.  "Yes, S'ter," Cassie replied, her
voice barely a whisper.  The plump redhead stood next to the desk, one
hand on it for support.  She looked perfectly normal, her hair caught up
in a navy blue headband and neatly brushed,  her thin, navy blue serge
jumper  immaculate, the white blouse perfectly ironed, the navy kneesocks
exactly to the bottoms of her knees,...perfectly normal until your eyes
came to rest on the tops of her navy blue loafers.  Her panties lay
there...flopping off the sides of her shoes in a vulgar heap.  Her white
nylon half-slip was lying on Sister's desk, neatly folded. Cassie's eyes
followed Sister Callista as she took the long pointer from the chalk tray
and brandished it. She waved the black rubber tip under Cassie's freckled
nose.

"I have seen a lot of stunts in my day, Miss Moran, don't think I haven't.
 But this one takes the cake.  Raspberry Fizzies in my Ehrlenmeyer flasks?
 Magnesium ribbon barbeques?  Don't you realize someone might have been
seriously burned?  Don't you? Speak up!!"  Cassie was paralyzed at the
realization that this was actually going to happen.  Everybody knew that
the Senior teachers and the Principal were allowed to employ corporal
punishment in "extreme" situations...everyone's parents had been asked to
sign release forms.  Everybody knew that it HAD happened.  Every now and
again a girl was called out of class and sent to "The Office", rejoining
her class during the following period, usually red-faced and weepy,
sitting gingerly. If it was one of the usual troublemakers, Janice Jacoby,
for example, or Dottie Peters, anyone who had a few minutes to spare after
class would crowd into the bathroom on that floor, because it was a sure
bet that the insolent and unbowed "rocker" would be in there, panties down
and skirt lifted, showing off her crimson bottom.

But Mary and Cassie?  They were class clowns, no doubt about it.  But they
were also good students, and good girls at heart, and no one ever *ever*
dreamed they would be about to "get it"...and from Callista's pointer,
worse yet.  The Principal, Mother Marguerite, used a wide wooden paddle.
It hurt like wildfire, they had heard, but nothing compared to the whippy
sting of the long wooden pointer.  Cassie started to cry.

"I'm sorry, S'ter, I didn't think, I mean, it's last day of term, and we
just wanted a little party, we didn't mean that anyone should get hurt, we
didn't think..." "Exactly right, Miss Moran, you didn't think.  But I have
just the remedy for that, don't you know.  Here it is, a simple formula: 
Bending a careless, disobedient girl over a desk and applying this (she
waved the pointer) to her rear end increases the blood flow to the brain
and helps her to THINK!!"  Callista was storming around, waving the
pointer, her long rosary clicking against her thigh with every step.  Mary
buried her face in her hands and cried along with Cassie.  She had never
been spanked at school, but she had been warned on a number of occasions
that if she ever was, she could expect double at home.  She knew there
would be notes to take home to be signed, and she knew that there would be
no signature on hers until mother had worn out her leather slipper on
Mary's bottom.  This was not the first time she wished she and Cassie had
not scored high enough on Placement to be put in Callista's honors
chemistry in their junior year.

Damn Paula Lucas anyway.  If she hadn't tried to pull her marshmallow off
the end of the glass stirrer while the goopy, runny confection was still
flaming, she wouldn't have burned her damn finger, and she wouldn't have
screamed, and startled Callista into scurrying out of the supply room
before they could hide everything.  It didn't take much to find out who
organized the Fizzies Party: Mary and Cassie had cheerfully owned up,
figuring at most they would get a small detention.  Mary shivered,
remembering the shocked silence when Callista told them, in front of
everyone, that they were to stay after class "to take a dozen each!"

The nun was leaning down from her nearly six foot height, to murmur close
to Cassie's ear.  "Now, young lady, YOU are about to learn to think.  Turn
around and face the desk."   Cassie started to cry audibly, but she obeyed
right away.  "Good, now smooth your uniform shirt down very tightly, pull
it against the backs of your legs, yes, that's right, and then gather the
sides of the skirt and pull them around toward the front.  Yes, so the
skirt is as tight and smooth as possible across your bottom, Miss Moran. 
Now bend over.  No, keep your hands pulling your skirt tight. Just bend
over from the waist and lay your head, your cheek, down on the desk. 
Correct!  We see you can at least follow simple directions."  Mary stared,
horrified.  With her slip off and her cotton panties down, the thin,
tightly stretched serge would offer no protection at all from the sting of
the pointer.  Cassie's face was turned toward Mary, where she sat in the
first row of desks, waiting her turn.  Mary tried to smile at her friend,
but knew it was a grimace instead.  Cassie closed her eyes as Callista
raised the pointer.

HsssssssTHWICK!!!!  Cassie screeched as the pointer slashed across the
fullest part of her upturned bottom, straightening up and letting go of
her uniform skirt to rub frantically at the worst sting she had ever felt.
 "No, S'ter, please no more!!" she sobbed, dancing from foot to foot. 
Callista had the nerve to crack a smile.  "Surely you jest, Miss Moran!  I
have barely begun." She took the crying girl by the shoulder and led her
back to the desk.  She spoke quietly.  "If, Miss Moran, you do not stay in
position, and if you do not keep your hands on your skirt, I will make it
my business to LIFT your skirt, and to ask Miss Gunderson to HOLD your
hands, and we will start again from one...do I make myself perfectly
clear?"  Cassie sucked her breath in, as the awful thought of being
spanked on her bare bottom by Sister Callista registered. She would never
survive the shame of that, never.  Not to mention the fact that her father
would do it all over again, and probably on the front lawn in front of God
and everybody.  "Yes, S'ter, I'll be good, S'ter," she choked, gathering
her skirt tightly again and bending over the desk, thrusting her stinging
bottom up and out for her spanking.

Mary had jumped up too at the rifle report of the first stroke, nearly
upsetting the desk at which she sat, and crying out as if she had been
struck.  She stood now, hands pressed to her mouth, as if to stifle
further exclamation.  
HssssssTHWICK!!! Another stroke...and, despite her best intentions, a
repeat performance from Cassie.  Mary's stomach turned as she watched her
friend screech and rub her bottom, shaking her head and repeating "I'm
sorry, I'm sorry, I can't..." over and over again.  "Very well, you were
warned.  I don't think either one of you has the intestinal fortitude to
take your punishment with grace and courage.  So I am going to see to it
that you at least take it with the least amount of trouble for me.  Miss
Gunderson...to the other end of the desk.  NOW, please!  And prepare
yourself in the same manner as your friend.  Hurry up! Panties all the way
down, young lady!"  Mary hurried, knowing delay would be disastrous.  She
stood, facing Cassie across the length of the teacher's desk, trembling. 
"Both of you, bend over. And stretch your hands out, yes, that's right,
and clasp each other's hands tightly.
There.  I am going to lift your skirts, girls, and you will each get six
on the bare."

Mary and Cassie looked at each other, horrified, but trapped.  Running
away would serve no purpose but to increase the severity of their
punishment, either at school, or at home, or--God forbid--at both places. 
They put their heads down, squeezing each other's hands, and cried.  "And
this time, if one of you breaks hold and gets out of position, BOTH of you
will have your panties paddled at the next full school assembly. 
Understood?"  This horror was too much to comprehend.   It had only
happened once in memory, and the disgraced girl had transferred away the
very next week and had not been seen since.  "Yes, S'ter," they said
together.

Callista took her sweet time about lifting each girl's skirt, rolling it
carefully up onto the small of her back, exposing the full, round, firm
bottoms of the teenagers.
Both girls blushed and groaned in an agony of embarrassment, clenching and
huddling their cheeks, trying to offer a smaller target.  "The strokes
will be given alternately, and remember what I said!  I shall start with
Miss Gunderson this time."
Mary gasped and shuddered as Callista laid  the cool pointer across her
bottom, as if gauging the target.  After what seemed like an hour, the nun
split the air with her backstroke...