The Note Home Ch. 01

[All characters in this story are 18 years old or older. Readers offended by descriptions of bodily functions should not read further.]

Once more, with love to Megs

The worst thing about everything that was happening was that I was an 18-year-old high school girl but my English teacher still sent notes home to my mother. I had asked Miss Steele why she still insisted on doing that and she responded, "Allison, so long as you behave like a younger girl and act up in class, I will treat you as I would a middle-schooler and send behavior reports home."

That day, she caught me passing a note to my best friend Jana and told me in a loud voice in front of the whole class that I would get a U in Conduct for the day and she was writing a note home to my mother. Nobody laughed, which at least was a blessing, because they all knew it could happen to them. Miss Steele was probably only in her late 20s, ten years older than we in her class were, but she affected an older style, with her crisp white blouses, auburn hair worn in a bun, and dark grey flannel skirts, worn with seamed hose and smart pumps.

I knew for sure that she would also telephone my mother, just in case I had any idea of trying to forget to deliver the horrible note. I already was preparing myself mentally for the humiliating scene which would follow, and the worse one tomorrow when my classmates would grin and ask me how my evening at home had gone.

My mother was quite active in parent groups at the high school, so she had met Miss Steele. The English teacher had mentioned to her that she had found it very effective to send notes home when students misbehaved. My mother said she remembered that from her own school days and smiled as she said it wasn't a pleasant memory, but she conceded that it had succeeded in making her behave better in class. She urged Miss Steele to send a note home with me whenever the teacher felt I had not behaved as I should.

There was of course a ritual connected with the note home, as there seemed to be with everything Miss Steele did. You had to come back to her classroom at the end of the day and wait there with any other unfortunates who were in the same position you were. The attractive teacher would sit behind her desk and you could see her writing with her fountain pen on her special pink stationery—all very feminine.

The contents, however, would result when read by your mother in your backside being bared for a particularly humiliating spanking. The worst of it was that Miss Steele did not show you the note before she very ceremoniously sealed it. My mother also did not show it to me nor did she read it. This led me to wonder incredibly hard what the English teacher had said that riled my mother so much when it came time for her to discipline me at home for what the note reported.

I was walking home with Jana when she asked me why I didn't try to unseal the note and read it before I got home.

"Jana," I said with a cry, "Mom will absolutely destroy my bottom if she finds I've opened the note."

As she persisted I reached into my bag and pulled out the small pink envelope with my mother's name written on it in a graceful hand. This miserable little note would cause me such pain.

I managed to unseal the flap so I could re-seal it and carefully extracted the note. Jana and I were both creaming in our panties, I was sure (about her because she usually confessed it to me), as I began to open the note and read it aloud:

"My Dear Margaret,

"I am so sorry to be forced to advise you that Allison has again been misbehaving in class. I caught her today passing notes, which is something I told her was a naughty habit that normally ceased after middle school. I would not presume to suggest how you deal with this, but if it were my decision, some young lady's panties would be taken down for a good bare-bottom spanking and perhaps some added discipline in your discretion.

"Regretfully, "/s/ Linda

"Linda Steele (Miss)"

I shuddered as I carefully re-folded the note and re-inserted it in the pink envelope and even more carefully attempted to re-seal it so it looked untouched. I had done a pretty good job, or so I thought.

Jana was no longer teasing me and she bid me good night as she turned off toward her home and told me she hoped my rear end didn't burn too much.

***

I should have realized the moment I walked in the door that my mother would be ready for me. Our modern age meant that even a young teacher who loved traditions as much as Miss Steele did would alert her conspirators, like my mother, by the advanced mechanism of e-mail.

"Allison," my mother called, "come here. I need to speak with you."

She was sitting in her favorite arm chair as I strode into the living room. I could see she had been alerted because she was wearing a severe outfit: white sleeveless blouse, black skirt, seamed hose, and pumps.

"I understand you got into a bit of trouble with Miss Steele," she said calmly.

"Yes, mom," I replied, knowing it made no sense to deny anything. "Here's her note. Of course, all I did was pass a note to Jana."

"You know, young lady," my mother intoned, "that Miss Steele doesn't put up with that kind of naughtiness. I'm really surprised at you doing that there, and you all of 18 years old now."

I cringed because I knew what was happening next.

"Go to your room and put on your punishment outfit," my mother said. "Then return here and we'll deal with this little situation."

"Aw, please, Mom," I made one last effort to forestall this supremely humiliating treatment. "Not that again. I'm too old for that."

"Nonsense," she said firmly. "You go put that on and be quick about it or there will be extras."

I went to my room, opened the closet and took down the horrible pink dress, the one with the tutu-like skirt that puffed up and was so short that my panties would be on display, from the shelf. As was required, I took off my regular undies and put on the awful little girl ones, the ones with the ducks on them, and they were so tight, too, they pressed right into my coochie.

Then I had to put on the pink leggings that only came up to my knees and put my hair in pigtails. Lastly, I put on the shameful childish MaryJanes and buckled the little straps.

"My, my," my mother cooed when she saw me, "you look all of 13 years old, Allison." She loved it when I was made to dress up so childishly, and it was even worse because I was denied permission to keep my bra on underneath the awful pink dress.

She tapped her fingers on her lap and I knew it was time to get across her lap for the inevitable. She flipped up my little skirt, the tutu-like part of the dress, and carefully took down the miserably tight panties. Now my large exposed rear was on full display.

I knew that worse could happen now...and it did. Mom put her fingers on my anal opening and I felt the glycerin suppository slide into my rear channel. This of course was even more humiliating because by the time she was through with me, I would need to go in the worst way.

"That is to get all the naughtiness out of you, Allison," she said, using her favorite expressions. Then she started spanking me as if I were still a 10-year-old, which is how I felt.

You may think a spanking is no big deal but my mother has a hard hand and loves to keep slapping my poor bum cheeks until they get rosy and then fiery red. I lost track of the number—fortunately, this wasn't a time when she made me keep count—and then I even lost my voice and couldn't yell any more.

Finally it ended but she told me to stand up and go bend over the end of the couch. Then the doorbell rang.

This had never happened before. None other than Miss Steele walked in, seeing my bare red ass bent over the couch!

"Ah, Margaret," she said with a nasty light tone to her voice, "I see you have begun to punish the naughty girl already. Thank you so much for inviting me to witness the proceedings. Allison, I hope this makes you think twice about misbehaving the way you seem to enjoy doing in my class."

Now I was really embarrassed. Miss Steele was seeing what she lacked the authority to do and I worried that my mother would let her punish me here.

And then that was just what happened. Mom handed Miss Steele the thin cane that Mom used so effectively and said, "Linda, perhaps you would like to give this naughty girl a few strokes with my cane to smarten her up a bit."

Miss Steele proceeded to cane me like an expert. She fired stinger after stinger across my red bottom, at the top, middle, and bottom of the bottom and criss-cross, which hurts the most, of course. I could tell she was loving it but from my view all I could see bent over was her dark seamed stockings, which made her seem older than her late 20s.

Finally, it ended. Mom thanked Miss Steele and said I could stand up and pull up my panties.

I hesitated but not for long. Pulling up the little girl panties hurt like holy hell. They were tight anyway and the spanking had not only made my backside horridly sore but also made it tender and expanded it. I grimaced.

Then I had a really really terrible feeling. That feeling that you get when you need to go. Like big-time: doing Number Two.

I couldn't waste time. "Mom," I said, with a face as red as my bottom, "I...you know...I need to be excused now."

"Linda," my mother explained to the now-fascinated English teacher, "I usually administer a suppository before a naughty girl's spanking so this is the result."

"Allison," she intoned, "you know what I require now. Go get the wooden child's potty, which you will use her in front of Miss Steele."

I cringed but left to get it before I had an accident in the little panties.

Miss Steele was grinning at my mother and assuring her she wouldn't be offended by witnessing my use of the potty in front of her. The miserable bitch probably loved every second of it.

I came back with the potty and my mother motioned to me to take down my pants and sit on it. I now felt about four years old.

It didn't take long for me to emit some embarrassing bowel sounds and then I did my business in the potty. I asked permission to wipe and my mother beckoned me to come over to her, using her forefinger.

This meant that she would take some toilet tissue she had there and as I bent in front of her and held my bottom cheeks apart, she ceremoniously wiped my anal opening and deposited the soiled tissue in a plastic bag.

Finally this humiliation ended and I was told to thank Miss Steele for disciplining me so well.

I managed to get the words out and Miss Steele condescendingly told me she was sure that I would improve my behavior after this imposition.

"Well, if she doesn't, Linda," my mother responded, "all you need to do is send me another note home."