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The Note Home Ch. 01
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"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.

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