The Guest Speaker
1998, Paris Annette Morreau
All rights reserved.  This story, or parts thereof,
may not be reproduced in any form without permission
                                                  
********************************************************

The 6th grade class filed into the auditorium to hear a
special guest speaker.  The students didn't care who it was or
what he or she had to say.  They were getting out of class and
that's all that mattered.  Danny made sure he walked in right
behind the blond, ringlet-curled Marcy, ensuring that he would be
able to sit right next to her.  The chairs were really too small
for the older kids, but Danny was glad of that.  It meant that
when he sat next to Marcy, their arms would be touching.  And she
was wearing a sleeveless dress today.  A pretty, pale yellow,
short sleeveless dress with a white organza sash in the back,
tied snugly at her waist and finished with a huge bow.  Her white
patent leather shoes were new, Danny could tell, and her anklet
socks were ruffled in the same white organza as the sash on her
dress.

They walked right up to the first row of chairs and sat down
in the exact middle of that row.  Danny couldn't help but notice
that Marcy jumped and winced a little bit when she sat down. 

     "What's the matter, Marcy?" he whispered, his mouth close to
her little ear, her warm skin the fragrance of summer.

     Marcy shook her head and shrugged.

     "Come on.  Tell me," Danny urged.

     Marcy blushed, and looked down, her pale white skin coloring
her pretty face a deep red.

     "Marcyyy," Danny sang, nudging her. 

     "Mommy spanked me," Marcy rushed the words.

     "Why?" Danny asked, immediately folding his hands in his lap
and squeezing his legs together.  "Why did she spank you?"

     "Because..." Marcy hesitated.

     Danny nudged her with his shoulder.

     "Mommy and I went to church yesterday," Marcy began, "and
afterwards I told her I wanted to help the Sunday school teacher
put the chairs away and clean up after the little kids.  And she
said okay and told me she was proud of me for being such a 'good
little helper.'  After she left, I walked toward the Sunday
school room and met Desiree.  She had told her mother the same
thing, but really, we were going to go to a movie. It's the one
that's playing now.  You know, the one with all the kissing."
Marcy glanced at Danny and blushed. 

     "That one?" Danny asked, shocked.  "There's supposed to be
naked people in that movie, he whispered.  "Did you go?  Did you
get in?  Did you see it?"

     Marcy nodded.  "We snuck in through the exit just when the
theater got dark.  No one saw us.  We kind of hunched down in the
front row and watched the movie."

     "So?" Danny urged.  "Did they..., were they...., did you
see...?"

     Marcy nodded, and blushed again, looking at her hands folded
in her lap. 

     "Well?  Tell me!" Danny insisted.

     "There was a man and a woman," Marcy began to explain,
turning her head towards Danny, but not looking at him.  "And he
was mad at her.  He pushed her up against a wall.  I think she
was going to try to hit him, or something, because he grabbed her
hands and held them against the wall and she couldn't move."
Marcy frowned.  "Well, she didn't really try to move.  Anyway,
then I guess he wasn't mad anymore, because he kissed her.  I
think he kissed her."

     "What do you mean, you think he kissed her?" Danny asked,
clearly frustrated.  "Either he did or he didn't.  What did he
do?"

     "Well, he opened his mouth really wide and pushed it against
the woman's mouth.  And her mouth was open, too.  And then they
touched tongues.  It was weird," Marcy shook her head.  "But I
think that's the way people in movies kiss," she said assuredly.

     "Wow!" Danny breathed.  "Then what happened?"

     Marcy, her confidence gone, blushed deeply red.  "He pulled
her blouse and her, you know, right off her.  And she was bare.
And he kissed her right on them.  Right on the tips,"  Marcy
stared at her hands, as though more interested in the white of
her knuckles than in the story she was telling.  It was so warm
in the auditorium, she thought.  She wished there was a breeze to
cool her face.  "And then he lifted her skirt and she was wearing
really small, little panties.  And you could see through them."
Marcy whispered, barely audible.  "Then the man knelt down in
front of her, but I don't know what he was doing, because I could
only see her face.  And her eyes were closed and her mouth was
open and she was making sounds like,... like, kind of like the
monster does in a movie when he can't talk.  You know?" Marcy
turned to Danny.

     "You mean, like a moan?" Danny asked.

     "Yeah! Yes, like that."

     Danny thought for a moment.  "Was he hurting her?"

     Marcy shrugged.  "I don't know.  She didn't scream.  He
wasn't holding onto her anymore.  I guess she could have gotten
away."

     "Hmm," Danny mused.  "So what happened after the movie?  How
did your mother find out?"

     "Mommy ran into the Sunday school teacher at the grocery
store.  When I got home, she asked me how the clean up went and I
must have been a big help and what did the teacher say to me and
questions like that.  And I told her that the teacher thanked me
and asked me if I would come back next week and help her again."
Marcy sighed.

     "Oh noooo!" Danny closed his eyes, imagining what the
consequences would be if he had done that.

     "Then she got angry and told me what happened at the grocery
store and that she knew I wasn't helping the teacher," Marcy
offered without prodding.  "She asked me what I had been doing
and that I'd better not lie about it because she would find out."
Marcy glanced at Danny, raised her eyebrows and shrugged.  "So, I
told her I went to a movie.  She wanted to know which movie and I
told her." Marcy shook her head.  "And then she just got mad.
She told me that she was going to turn me over her knee, pull my
panties down and spank my bare little, white bottom until it was
red and burning like fire."

     Danny stared at Marcy and began to breathe rapidly. 

     "She told me she was going to spank me for going to a movie
on a Sunday.  She was going to spank me for going to see that
movie. She said she was going to spank me for lying."

     Danny stared at his friend, his mouth open, unable to speak.
He could not imagine what he would have done or said if he'd been
caught doing what his friend had done.

     Marcy continued her story.  "When I was over her knee and my
dress was up and she was pulling my panties down, she asked me
how I'd managed to get in to the theater to begin with.  So I had
to tell her I'd snuck in.  She said that was stealing and she was
going to spank me for that, too."

     Danny closed his eyes and clamped his teeth together.  He
"saw" Marcy's perfect little plump bottom, bare and vulnerable
over her mommy's knees, her dress pulled way up.  He saw her
mother's big hand spanking Marcy's tender skin, her bottom
wiggling and jiggling.  The heat in the large auditorium was
stifling and Danny began to pray for a cool breeze.

     "And she did," Marcy continued, now wanting to tell the
whole, awful story. "She spanked me and spanked me and spanked me
until I thought my bottom was on fire.  It was so hot!  And she
spanked me at the tops of my legs, too.  She spanked so
hard." Marcy shook her head, her bottom still sore from the
attention it had received.

     Danny leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, his head in
his hands. Hands on Marcy's bottom, he thought.  Hands spanking,
soothing, gliding all over Marcy's pudgy little bottom.  Marcy's
soft, warm, round cheeks under his hand.  His hand spanking
lightly, spanking sharply, stroking, touching her silky, plump
bottom. 

     "Danny?  Danny, are you okay?" Marcy asked, shaking his
shoulder.  "Do you want me to call Miss Appleby?"

     "No!" Danny nearly shouted.  He sat up and put his head
back.  "No.  I'm okay," he said, his breath ragged.  "I'm fine.
Tell me what happened next."

     "After mommy spanked me with her hand, she brought out the
hairbrush and spanked me with that.  Have you ever been spanked
with a hairbrush?" she asked Danny.

     Danny shook his head, rivulets of sweat running down his
face.

     "It burns," Marcy explained.  "Like a sunburn, but worse.
Mommy spanked me with that thing until I thought she would never
stop.  And then she spanked me some more.  I kicked and screamed
and cried.  I even kicked my shoes off.  I jumped and bucked like
I was in a rodeo.  My bottom was just flying everywhere.  It hurt
and burned so much!  In fact, it's still a little warm." Marcy
shook her head again and looked at Danny. "Are you sure you're
all right?

     Danny nodded and tried to swallow.  "Did she put some lotion
or cream on you afterwards?" he asked.

     "She..." Marcy began.  "Uh oh, the assembly is starting.
I'll tell you later."

     Just as well, thought Danny.  If he envisioned soft, thick,
white, cool cream being smoothed all over Marcy's hot, red,
chubby little bottom, he would surely faint, perhaps even die,
from the pleasure of it.

     The principal stood at the podium and began to introduce a
special guest speaker.  A woman, the principal said, who knows
the meaning of 'family values'.  A loving mother who understands
that affection and discipline go hand in hand.  Someone who
believes that a good spanking is every bit as important as a
great big hug.  Our guest today is known simply as "Dr. Kelly."

     Danny jumped in his chair and looked at the stage just in
time to see his stepmother, Kelly, strolling toward the podium.
She wore a blue silk close-fitting shift that skimmed her legs at
mid thigh,with a matching, unstructured jacket that was almost as
long as the dress.  Her stockings were flesh toned and so sheer
that at first Danny thought her legs were bare.  Her pumps, the
same color as her dress, were 3" high; the usual for Kelly. 

     Oh no, Danny thought.  A minute ago he was halfway to heaven
and now, oh no, oh, please, Kelly, Mommy, please don't tell them
anything.  Don't let them know.

     "Isn't that your mom?" Marcy whispered to Danny.

     Danny closed his eyes and nodded while he prayed.

     "Hi boys and girls," Kelly greeted the students.  "Hi,
baby," she greeted, looking at Danny in the first row.  "That's
my little boy," she pointed to her son.  "The cute, dark haired
one sitting next to the pretty blond girl.  Leave it to my
Darling Danny to sit next to the prettiest girl," Kelly teased. 

     Danny blushed from head to toe.  He would rather be spanked
than to have to sit through a lecture on discipline given by his
mother.  He would never live it down, either.  Every kid in
school would tease him about it.

     "How many here like to get spanked?" Kelly asked.  "Raise
your hands." she looked around the auditorium.  "No one?" 

     The students looked around wondering if there was anyone,
even a smart alec, who would raise his hand. 

     "What if I were to tell you that parents don't like to
give spankings any more than you like to get them?" Kelly asked.

     The students murmured their doubts and whispered their
certainty that their parents loved to spank.

     "It's true.  Believe it or not," Kelly nodded.  "No parent
wants to spank his or her child.  So, why do they?" she wanted to
know.  "Any ideas?"

     The kids looked at each other, shrugged, shook their heads.

     "Maybe they're just mean, terrible, awful people," Kelly
suggested.  "No?"  Kelly confirmed the students' disagreement.
"Well, let's try this.  You're three years old.  Mommy and daddy
have told you not to run into the street.  They've explained that
cars come down the street very fast and that the car could run
right into you before it had time to stop, or you had time to get
out of the way.  You go into the street anyway.  You think that
you can run faster than the car.  Mommy or daddy gets you out of
the street and scolds you.  Maybe you get a 'time out'.  The next
day, maybe even the same day, you run into the street again.
Mommy or daddy rescues you again.  Another scolding.  Another
time out.  Maybe this time you are sent to your room for a while.
And you have lots of time to think about how much fun it is to
run into the street."

The students nodded, and laughed quietly. 
    
     "Now imagine that you got your little bottom spanked for
running into the street.  And that while mommy or daddy was
spanking you, you were told that the spanking didn't hurt as much
as a car striking you.  And that if you ran into the street
again, you'd get spanked with a paddle."

     The students became quiet and nodded to one another,
acknowledging their common experience.

     "You might not think it was so much fun to run into the
street," Kelly advised.  "I'm a child psychologist.  I work with
parents and their children on lots of different problems.  The
most common problem, however, is lack of discipline.  Children
misbehave, parents don't discipline, or don't know how to
discipline.  The children get hurt, they get into trouble.  Every
time, I recommend spankings, consistent spankings, for naughty
behavior.  I suppose that many of you think that you're too old
to be spanked.  That spankings are fine for three year olds.  For
children who aren't yet in school."  Kelly looked around the room
at the students nodding their agreement.

     "Well, let me ask you this.  You're 12 years old and you
want to go skateboarding.  One of your friends has built a sort
of ramp and you'd like to skate on it and fly off the end and
onto the street.  It's a dead-end street.  There's no traffic to
worry about.  Sound familiar?  Your parents will not allow you to
use the ramp.  It's dangerous.  You could get hurt.  You think
about how much fun it would be to skate the ramp and fly into the
air on your skateboard.  You think about what your parents will
do to you when they find out you disobeyed them.  And you know
they will find out."

     The students glanced furtively around the room.  This had
happened just a few weeks ago.

     "You think about being grounded; about not being allowed to
do anything for a week or two.  You think about extra chores you
may have to do.  And you decide that your parents have never been
able to keep you on restriction for more than three days.  And
you realize that you only have to do extra chores for a day
before beginning to whine about the unfairness of it and you do a
bad job and your parents give up.  And then you decide it's worth
it.  You can deal with a few extra chores for a day or two."

     Many of the students looked at the floor.  Others smirked,
having done exactly what Kelly had described.

     "So you go skateboarding.  If, however, you knew that you
were going to get spanked, perhaps a bare bottomed spanking over
mommy or daddy's knees, first by hand and maybe finished with a
hairbrush or a paddle or a strap, well, maybe you would decide
that skating off a ramp constructed by one of your friends was
not such a great idea."

     Several of the older boys squirmed in their chairs.

     "Your friend, Jason, thought it would be fun.  He wasn't
worried about being spanked.  He wasn't worried about being
grounded, either.  He flew off the end of that ramp and wound up
in the hospital with a broken arm, a broken leg and a cracked
skull and, at least for the time being, he doesn't even know his
own name," Kelly finished.

     The entire student body knew this story.  Jason was a wild
child and he had always gotten away with everything, which was
why he had instigated much of the trouble other kids, including
girls, had gotten into.

     "I have a 14-year old daughter and a 12-year old son," Kelly
continued.  And when either of them is naughty, their daddy or I
spank them.  Right on their bare bottoms, over our knees.  Right,
baby?"  Kelly looked at Danny, who blushed in a hot wave over his
entire body.  "I spanked my little boy just last week for eating
candy instead of his dinner.  His tummy was upset because of
that.  And a spanking is not all he got."

     Danny looked at the floor and gave a sidelong glance at
Marcy, praying that she did not know to what Kelly was referring.

     "My Danny was not one of the skateboarders.  In fact, no boy
or girl who gets consistent spankings for being naughty skated on
that ramp.  A skateboard accident hurts more than a spanking.
Ask Jason.  Your parents don't want you to get hurt.  And they
want you to grow up to be honest, responsible, good people.  And
that takes discipline, lots of it, as well as affection and
encouragement.  I've sent a notice home to each of your parents
informing them of this talk today and encouraging them to spank
each of you when you are naughty.  I've also advised them to give
"reminder" spankings, just a little sting on your bare bottoms,
to let you know what is in store for you if you misbehave.  Just
so that you know that I practice what I preach, when I bring my
Danny home today, I'm going to turn him over my knee, bare his
bottom and give him a little reminder."

     Everyone in the room looked at the red-faced Danny, who
stared at his stepmother with tears in his eyes. 

     "I know you're embarrassed, baby, but, believe me, many of
the kids in this auditorium today will be getting their little
bottoms spanked, too.  You can ask them about it tomorrow," Kelly
told her teary son.

     The assembly over, students bumped into Danny, pushing him
as much as they dared to with teachers all around. 

     "We're all going to get it now, thanks to your mom, Danny,"
seemed to be the general consensus. 

     "It's not my fault," Danny protested.

     "Leave him alone," Marcy insisted, pushing some of the boys
back.  "You all deserve a good spanking, anyway."

     Danny looked at her and smiled in gratitude.  Marcy smiled
back and shrugged. 

     "I don't think mommy will spank me again today.  I still
remember yesterday's pretty well.  And she spanks me pretty
'consistently'," Marcy giggled.

     Back in the classroom, Danny saw Kelly talking to Miss
Appleby.  They glanced at him and Kelly smiled.  She reached out
her arm to him and drew him into a big hug.  He pressed his face
into her soft hair, inhaling the scent of a garden after a Spring
rain.  Kelly kissed him with her soft, pale pink lips.

     "It will just be a little spanking, Danny darling," Kelly
whispered.

     "No," Danny whispered back.  "You spanked me last week and
I've been good since then.  I don't need another spanking," he
insisted.

     "I'm the mommy and I am the one who gets to decide what you
do or do not need,"  Kelly explained, rocking her son while she
held him.

     "No," Danny protested.

     "Well, I see that we aren't even going to wait until we get
home.  I'm going to have to spank you right now.  Right here in
this classroom.  In front of all of your friends."

     "No!" Danny shouted, trying to pull away.  Kelly held him
tightly.

     "Honey?  I'll need your chair," Kelly advised Miss Appleby.

     Miss Appleby pushed the chair out from behind her desk and
placed it in front of the class.  Kelly addressed the students.

     "I told you I spank my little boy when he is naughty.  And
now you're going to see that I mean what I say.  I told Danny I
was going to give him a 'reminder' spanking when we got home and
he told me I wasn't going to do any such thing.  Yes, I am."

     Kelly sat down in Miss Appleby's big, oak chair.  She
unsnapped and unzipped Danny's jeans and pulled them down.  She
turned her weeping son over her knees and pulled down his white
cotton briefs.  The entire class was silent and frozen in their
desks.

     "I was just going to give you a lightly stinging reminder,
baby, but, since you were naughty, I'm going to spank you the way
I usually do," Kelly informed Danny, whose tears spilled onto the
floor.

     Kelly began her unique lazy-style spanking, landing lightly
prickling bites on the middle of Danny's round, white, soft
bottom.  Danny immediately burst into tears and began kicking.

     Spank! Spank! Spank!

     "Danny always makes a big fuss right away, even when I'm not
spanking him very hard," Kelly explained to the class, as she
spanked back and forth across her stepson's chubby bottom.  "Are
you going to be a good boy for mommy?" Kelly asked while she
spanked.

     "Yes! Danny cried.  He never said no in response to that
question.  He couldn't think of a kid who would say 'no, I'm
going to continue being naughty.'  While Kelly spanked up and
down his bottom, he wondered, between cries, why parents asked
such stupid questions.

     Using the flat of her palm, Kelly spanked her small hand
down to Danny's sweet spot, that place where thigh met cheek.
Danny kicked his legs harder and yowled.

     "I want you to obey mommy.  Do you understand?" Kelly asked.

     "Yessss!  I'll obeyyyy!" Danny promised through sobs, his
bottom stinging all over, that tender flesh at the tops of his
thighs actually burning now.

     Spank! Spank! Spank! Kelly spanked back up and over her
stepson's fleshy arch.

     Kelly brought her hand down over and over, though not nearly
has hard as it looked and not as harshly as she had spanked
Danny when he'd been naughtier than today.  Her son's bottom was
now red from her stinging attention and still she spanked, once
again back and forth across each plump cheek.  No one in the room
dared make a sound.

     "It's very important, boys and girls," Kelly addressed the
class to receive a good, sharp spanking all over your bare bottom
so that you'll think twice before disobeying mommy or daddy
again."

     "Mommyyyy, stoooop!" Danny shrieked.

     "Just a few more hard spanks, baby," Kelly said calmly and
spanked Danny's burning bottom with five more hard swats. "There.
All done."  Kelly rested her hand on her son's bare bottom.  "Who
knows what's best for you, baby?" Kelly asked.

     "You do," Danny cried.

     "That's a good boy."  Kelly pulled up her son's briefs and
helped him stand.  She pulled up his jeans, zipped and snapped
them.  She sat his sore bottom down on her lap, held him and
rocked him.

     "This is the other side of discipline, boys and girls."
Kelly explained.  "I always hold my little boy and rock him and
hug him after a spanking.  I want him to know that I love him and
that the spanking was to teach him to behave.  I hope all of your
parents cuddle you after a spanking.  I hope they cuddle you even
if you don't need a spanking.  I snuggle with my baby every day."

     Danny, snuggling close to Kelly's chest, secure and loved in
her arms, did not even blush.