Her left hand pressed firmly into the small of my back and she smacked that slipper into the centre of my bottom so hard I thought the top of my head was going to fly off. I gripped the desk with all my might and tried as if my life depended on it not to cry out from that first swat.
Eight more swats were firmly delivered – the maximum a teacher was allowed to give. Eight more times that paddle exploded across my oh so tender and very bottom. Eight more times, I gritted my teeth and latched onto the desk for dear life. Eight more times I tried to fight back tears. Fortunately for me, I failed miserably. By the third swat, tears were streaming down my face and by the fifth, I was crying freely.