This autobiographical guest post was written by Courtney, who I've featured a few times in my work.
...
Heyo. Listen up, bitches and hos. I'm about to impart hard-earned wisdom.~
So, that's me today. It even has my name on it as proof.
Rewind, ohhh...I guess seven years-ish. This here was me in high school.
Some would say that my fashion sense got better since then. Others that it's just gotten more minimalistic. Anywho, if you check the APA, you'll see that full length jeans under a uniform skirt are a recognized symptom of low self esteem, anxiety, and just generally not dealing well with teenaged hormones. I didn't have many friends back then, and it makes sense, cause I don't think I'd have wanted to be friends with me either.
Anyway, my last year of high school brought some new things to think about. Like what the hell I was going to do afterward. Or what the world was even going to turn into when I'd start to, like, have choices in what I did in it. Or how hot our new principle was. I figure everyone else was wondering the first two things, but I know a lot of them were thinking the third one. Cause, like, I wasn't the only one staring.
I'm the only one doing it in the picture, but that's Leila's fault, not mine.~
From what I've been told, being unhappy makes you a total bitch in some circumstances. Like in homeroom. Or during lunch. Or during class. Or when you're asked about your homework not being in. So I've heard, at least. Getting back on topic, I got sent to the office kind of a lot in high school. Which kind of sucked. Buuuuuut, things were a little different my senior October. First paddling of the term - made it almost two whole months that time! - and first one from the new principle.
Couple things were different. First, I was completely fucking freaked out going in. Like, getting your ass paddled is bad enough. Having a crush on your principle is also pretty bad, at least if you're young and stupid and don't think you're attractive enough to make him commit a misdemeanor and lose his teaching cert even though you totally are. Getting paddled by the principle you're crushing on when you're convinced that you're a fat ugly cow thing? Rough collection of factors.
Thing is, when Friday rolled around, I could tell that's not what he thought, though he tried to stay business faced.
Not quite the reaction I used to get from the old lady who had his job before.
Also, she spanked like an old lady, being one and all. He...well, he was different. I'd heard stories about how much worse it was, but I really had no idea. He had me screaming in one lick, and dancing in three. And I can't dance, so you know he got me good. I like to think he gave it even harder to me than he did to most, despite his self control, but that might be giving myself too much credit too early on. I got five, and I didn't think it was possible a butt could have that much pain in it. Yeah, I was pretty dumb as a teen, I already admitted it.
Sooo, I slept on my stomach that night. After masturbating furiously, of course. By the night after, I'd learned to sleep on my back because that made it hurt more. Thing is, that didn't last forever. And when I saw him in the halls at school, I got hotter in the face than even before. And also, like, all tingly in the butt. And jumpy in the stomach. People say butterflies in the stomach, but for me it felt more like grasshoppers, because I'm special.
I wanted to see him get all flustered again. Buuut, I also didn't want to like, flunk out of high school and be a prostitute or whatever. I wanted to be a slut when I grew up, but not like, professionally, so graduating was important. I actually became a way better student, since there was someone I cared about impressing. But, I backtalked. I came late to classes that didn't dock us grade points for attendance. I lit cigarettes during lunch hour and just kinda stood around holding them until someone saw. Paddlings were a Friday thing at my school, so I usually waited until Wednesday or Thursday just to be efficient. Every other week the next month, starting as soon as my first bruises were gone. Then every week starting December. I spent my entire senior year of high school being in pain whenever I sat down.
I also learned that wearing a thong and nothing else under our skirts got us extras. So, every single Friday, that's what I wore. By the third week of March, I tried showing up to the office without doing anything wrong. Force of habit, he just took me in and paddled my ass till I screamed, and then a few more times after I was already screaming, no questions asked. He was also doing it harder than he started, I'm sure about that. And he was giving me more and more swats for smaller and smaller things. Including nothing. I only actually got sent to the office one more time that spring, but I got it just as bad every week.
Last day of the term was Tuesday. Graduation ceremony was Thursday the same week. I got my grades up to a B average, which was higher than they'd been before that year. That Friday, I was nervous. I know, right? Not something I've been very often since then. But, even though I knew it was a bad idea, and totally insane, I put my new and improved fashion sense to work and tried his address.
He answered the door. First time I ever saw him dressed casual. I just kinda stood there as he asked why I was there. I said "It's Friday." It was super awkward until grabbed me by the hair and dragged me inside.
I thought he'd given it to me before? He hadn't given me shit until that day in June.
He also took something from me, but I never missed it or anything. Really, he could keep it.
I told him I'd be back the next Friday. Or like. Every day. He wanted to agree with my prediction, but after struggling with himself for a while he said his wife would be pissed about that or something. What a bitch, right? How could he have even married someone like that?
Anywho, I didn't get any more spankings from him. But I got plenty of others that summer, since like, I wasn't too much of a pussy to ask for them from whoever. Started giving them too. Found out I was pretty good at that.
Soooooooo, what's the moral of all this? It has three morals, really. First, propriety is a lie and shame causes cancer, don't think about or feel either of them. Second, be the change you want to see in the world. Third, want the change you see in the world to be it filling up with fat-assed sluts. Follow the wisdom of Courtney's three rules, and you'll win the lottery or something.
Thank you for coming to my TED talk.~
