Another firm whack continues as he silently warms my backside. More whacks follow until I am nearly in tears, my panties not providing much of a shiel... against the paddle. I hear him going through the lamp stand and the familiar sound of him testing the scissors to make sure they haven't rusted. “Do you want to keep these panties?” I shake my head no. These were a gag gift from my sister and I've been trying to think of a way to get rid of them for weeks. How he knew that I'll never know but I. One of them must have been able to read the word alcohol on the label. I was upset, but I wasn't devastated. I prowled around the kitchen looking for something, anything that might help me get a grip. In the far corner of the same closet I found a cardboard box of old food stuffs.Most schools don't offer cooking classes anymore, but Mammoth H.S. was as slow to change as it's mascot. The stuff I discovered must have been collected over the years, things that normally wouldn't go bad. Baking. More

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