Alex ignored several social calls that weekend. Partly because he had allowed his classwork to sneak up on him, and now had quite a bit of reading to do. Mostly because if he went to a party in his current state, people would be sure to ask him what he was carrying that cushion around for, and he would really rather not answer those questions. By Sunday night, he had gotten several Facebook messages asking what was up. He answered them cordially, explaining he was busy with school stuff.
In reality, he spent most of his “study time” staring blankly at the text, as thoughts of Jill, Diane, and his paddling predicament ran through his head. He hadn’t been able to sit down at all Friday evening after his encounter with Coach Johnston. By Sunday afternoon he was still tender, and there were some faint - but visible - round bruises on the undersides of his buttocks. Every time he felt them ache when he tried to sit down, or glimpsed his backside in the bathroom mirror, he was mentally brought back to Diane’s office, and reminded of her ultimatum. It made his blood boil with outrage, and his stomach churn with trepidation. He had tried to think a way out of this, but the truth was that, at least for the time being, there wasn’t much he could do that wouldn’t put his ass in even more danger than it was currently. He remembered the big paddle in Diane’s office, and shuddered. Beginning on Saturday, he had started following the coach’s diet and exercise instructions. Most of it was pretty common-sensical, and in all honesty was stuff he had promised himself to start doing six months ago. More vegetables and fish, less white bread, no candy or soft drinks, jog and visit the weight room each day. Her weightlifting regime was a slightly more intensive, scientifically backed version of the one he had already been trying, with emphasis on abs, pecs, and arm muscles. The biggest difference was that she had added three sets each of squats and lunges to his routine.
Come Sunday night, Alex opened Jill‘s Facebook page and stared at it. There was so much about Jill that defied Alex’s understanding. What did she mean when she said she liked him as a bottom? She wasn’t a sadistic bitch like Diane, that was for sure. In fact, outside of practice, she came across as the exact opposite. Alex still had trouble reconciling the paddle-wielding punisher from tryouts with the mild mannered - if unusually tall - Cupcake Girl. Her profile picture showed her making that bashful grin that made her face look even rounder and frecklier than it normally did. Every time he saw that smile, Alex felt something spark a little in his chest. So hard to describe his feelings. Diane had said that she had never been so enthusiastic with the paddle until he showed up. Did that mean that she liked him? Liked him liked him?
After some reluctance, he sent her a message. “Hey, how’s it going? Well, its about to go way the hell better, because I’ve decided to give the team one more shot. Johnston said to do a makeup session with you sometime this week. You free tomorrow after 6?”
It would have to be tomorrow. Even if the bruises on his ass weren’t completely healed by then, doing it any later in the week would mean he’d still be smarting for Thursday’s practice. Alex felt his stomach sink as he realized he would probably be bringing that stupid cushion to class almost every day this week. That night, as the previous two, Alex fell asleep reliving his suffering at Jill and Diane’s forceful hands. As time passed, the pain of the experiences played less and less of a part in his memory, and he began to focus more on the feeling of their soft legs under his body, and that nameless, pins-and-needles sensation that came from a pair of eyes watching one’s vulnerable body. Even the beating with Diane’s hairbrush had a sensual element, as his agonized struggles had ground him against her lap. Lying on his side in bed, he helplessly played his fingers up and down along his turgid shaft, wondering what was wrong with himself until he came. Then he wondered what was wrong with himself while he cleaned up.
The next morning, he read Jill’s response before leaving his room. “Awesome! Can you come to my room at 6:30? I‘m in Kafton Hall #302.” Alex rolled his eyes. Right. Today is Labor Day. There was no need to put it off until six. Now I have all day to look forward to this.
He replied that that would be just fine.
…
After ten hours of trying to study, trying to exercise, trying to socialize, and trying to do various other things to take his mind off what was to come, Alex changed into some fresh clothes and made his way to Kaftan Hall. He waited in front of room 302. There was a Spongebob Squarepants poster on the door, and a doormat with a big pink heart lying in front of it.
He inhaled deeply, closing his eyes and taking inventory of himself. He reminded himself that in all likelihood, Jill was going to usher him in, chat for a bit, give him the same treatment he had endured at their last practice, and then send him home. Painful and humiliating, but until he could figure out a way to defeat Diane that was unavoidable. What am I so afraid of? Spongebob seemed to be taunting him.
He rapped his knuckles against the door. There was a very quiet, very sickly pause. Then the door opened, and he smelled baking chocolate.
“Hey! Come on in!”
Jill was wearing a black halter-top and a pair of denim hotpants that left the vast majority of her long legs exposed. Alex was about to ask her if she was sure this was a good time (she wasn’t exactly dressed like he had expected), but she opened the door and ushered him inside.
“Hey. Nice place,” he followed her into the living room and looked around, “I‘m a real My Little Pony fan myself.”
“What? Oh…” Jill looked down and blushed as Alex gestured at the plush animal lying in the bedroom door. “Sorry, its kinda jumbled in here.”
Her room wasn’t terribly messy. Less organized than most girls’ rooms, perhaps, but definitely not as bad as Alex’s. He would be much more ashamed of the Storybell toy than the state of the room. But then, he wasn’t Jill.
“S‘alright,” Alex said as she showed him to a seat by the coffee table, “I guess you‘ve never been in a boys’ dorm.”
Jill looked at him as if trying to make sure she had heard right. Alex quickly realized the implications of what he had just said, meaning it was his turn to blush.
“At least…um…not one that was…um…messy.” God fucking damn it.
Jill giggled and shook her head. Alex decided he had best change the subject.
“Single room?”
“Nah, my roommate has choir practice. She doesn’t get back until ten.” Jill’s face suddenly lit up. “Ooh! Hang on!”
She swiveled around and darted into the kitchenette, leaving Alex with a view of her exposed back. When she turned back around, she was holding a baking tin.
“I made those brownies you told me about. Here, try one.”
He took one of the corner pieces. Mmm, fudge. Jill watched his reactions as he chewed. His hazel eyes narrowed as he savored the taste. She decided that little mustache he was starting to grow looked really cute when he ate.
“Wow. You put something extra in these.”
“Mmhmm.”
“What was it?”
“I’m not telling,” she said playfully, twiddling with her hair.
Alex gave her a mostly-joking glare of frustration. “Hey, I‘m the one who sent you this!”
“And I’m the one who baked them.”
He showed his disapproval by boycotting the rest of the brownies (it took all of his self control, and he just barely succeeded). After helping herself to a second one, Jill put them away. Alex’s eyes ventured in her direction when she bent over to slide them into the fridge. Tall as she was, she had to bend over quite far to do this, which meant her rather plump rear end was sticking straight out at him. Her denim short-shorts barely covered it.
“So,” she said after wiping the last couple of crumbs from her mouth, “have you got your uniform?”
Damn, here it came already. Alex tried to keep a poker face.
“It hasn‘t arrived yet. I was late getting my measurements in.”
“That’s okay,” she said as she sat on the couch across from him, “I forgot my paddle at the gym. We‘re going to have to sort of add-lib this.”
Alex raised an eyebrow. “Without your paddle?” He hoped that this meant she’d be sticking with her palm.
“There’s alternatives.”
That didn’t sound good.
Jill sat a little straighter on the coach. “If you’re ready, go ahead and strip down to your underwear. That should be close enough.”
Alex nodded. He had been expecting this. He unbuckled his belt and pulled down his slacks, stepping out of his sandals as he did so. He stood in front of Jill in his boxer-briefs, tan, moderately hairy legs on display.
“Alright!” Jill smiled gleefully. She patted her naked thigh a few times, making the skin ripple. “Come to mamma.”
Alex gave her a very deep, serious look, his brown eyes conveying a sense of deepest pain. “My mother died two months ago.”
“Oh…” Jill looked horrified. “Oh god,” she put her hand in front of her face, “I’m so sorry, pl-”
“Haha, gotcha.”
Jill stared at him in disbelief for a second, mouth hanging open. Then, jaw clenched in mock-fury, she jumped to her feet and grabbed Alex by the ear, startling him as she dragged him toward the couch.
“You little jerk!” She scolded, yanking him behind her halter-exposed back, “You are going to be so sorry for that!” Her angry voice was convincing enough, but Alex could see the mirth in her smile when she sat down on the couch and pulled him over her lap. The little jean things she was wearing today left much more thigh exposed than her uniform bottoms; pretty much everything under Alex was skin.
“You’re lucky I’m even giving you a warmup after that!”
“Nah, we both know its because you just love me that mu-OW!”
Jill got immediately into the spanking, thrusting her forearm roughly into his back and smacking him hard. His musculature immediately tensed up in response to her first couple of slaps; he had only been going to the gym for a week and a half, but already there was a taughtness to his stomach and chest that hadn’t existed before. Jill probably appreciated the sensation, but she certainly didn’t show it; as far as Alex was concerned, it was all pain.
“Ow! Hey, whatever happened t-AH!-to starting-OW!-light?”
“Your mother!” Jill growled as she delivered slap after stinging slap across the underside of his boxer-clad rear, hitting the same spot just under both buttocks with each smack. “Your poor, dead mother happened to it!”
Alex shuddered and gasped as her hand visited the undersides of both cheeks - hitting both with every single spank - until he was actually starting to squirm and vibrate his legs a little. She just kept smacking that same, sensitive spot, making that junction of buttocks and thighs feel like someone was focusing a magnifying glass onto it. Jill was already spanking full force, and they definitely were nowhere near thirty.
Finally, she stopped. Alex exhaled slowly, his lower butt feeling like it had had nettles pressed against it. Jill reduced the pressure on his back for a moment, letting him shift his weight a little over her thighs. This kind of spanking created a very different kind of pain. Alex decided that Jill was way, way too knowledgeable about her favorite sport.
“Okay,” she said, petting his back like a cat as she let her right hand rest, “now we’re going to start the warmup.”
Alex’s head snapped around. She was grinning in a cruel manner that one wouldn’t have thought her capable of.
“Wait, what???”
“You heard me,” she fingered a strand of her platinum hair as her smirk broadened, “that was for making me feel bad. We still have to do the makeup session, and that starts with a warmup.”
Alex was about to argue, but then remembered Diane’s warning about bruises. After last week’s hairbrush torture, Alex had to admit he was impressed by how minor the bruising had been, and that was almost certainly owed to the hand spanking she had given him first. What Jill had done so far only covered one small part of the area she was going to paddle, and he did not want the rest of it covered in bruises when he arrived at the gym this Thursday.
Jill smiled sweetly at him. Alex narrowed his eyes. Oh that sneaky, underhanded…
Growling, Alex laid himself back against the couch and didn’t look at Jill. He heard her chuckle victoriously before she adjusted him over her legs, pushing him forward a little more so that his butt was sticking higher up across her thigh.
“Ready,” she patted her hand against the fullest part of his round buttocks, tickling him a little, “set…”
Thirty slaps, fifteen across either cheek, followed in the same manner as last time. Since it was the two of them alone rather than in a gym full of other pairs, he had a much easier time concentrating on what was happening to him. She started a little harder than he remembered, her hand circling around his rump as it rose and fell with increasing speed. When she happened to smack toward the lower middle, where she had already spanked him, he hissed through his teeth and fidgeted. Quickly, the sharp burn was being spread across his ass, complimenting the preexisting pain and making his flesh more sensitive to the coming slaps. When the thirtieth cupped palm clapped against his left flank, he was just about ready to start yelping.
“Nice,” she said, resting a hand on his seat and gently squeezing one side after the other, “all warmed up. Get up!”
She gave him a few quick slaps, which made him hurry to his feet. Alex was about to put a hand to his rear, but a sharp look from Jill made him decide against it; apparently, she was going to follow all the rules. What bothered Alex even more, once he realized it, was the manner in which his boxer-briefs were being stretched tighter than they normally fit. Jill had to have noticed the large mass straining itself against his underwear, especially now that he was standing right in front of her. He considered trying to cover himself, but decided there was no way of doing that that wouldn’t be conspicuous.
“There‘s a spatula on my kitchen counter,” Jill informed him, her eyes for some reason not level with his, “can you get it?”
A spatula? What, is she going to paddle me with that? Alex chuckled at the thought; he couldn’t imagine that hurting too much. Well, I’m not about to complain. Jill watched him retreat into the kitchenette, bottom working under his underwear with each step. When he returned with the Teflon spatula, she took him back across her lap.
“Did Johnston tell you about timed paddling?” Jill asked as he tried to arrange himself in a position that minimized the conflict between his arousal and her legs.
“I‘m guessing you set a timer and hit me until it beeps?”
“Its not hitting. But yeah. First round was one minute.” He heard her fumbling with her iPhone. She then bent down to put it on the couch cushion in front of his head, mashing her chest into the back of his head as she did so.
“Oops, sorry about that! Anyway, press start when I tell you.”
She pressed the blade of the spatula against the meatiest part of his tush, bending the handle against his flesh. His muscles tensed up again.
“Keep your butt relaxed; it won’t hurt as much. Okay, ready…go!”
Alex was half a second late in hitting the button, and was already hearing the spatula whistle through the air by the time the countdown started.
SNAP!
Oh. Oh, that stung alright. Okay, maybe spatulas aren’t such a silly thing to…
SNAP!
Jill’s meaty arm lifted itself halfway to shoulder length, letting her wrist do most of the work as she whipped the long-handled kitchenware through the air, the flexible blade fanning her face as it whistled into Alex’s bum.
SNAP!
“Gaaah!” Alex followed his exclamation with a sharp intake of breath, a tremor passing up to his shoulders and neck and down to his ankles. Jill saw fit to put her left arm back in the pinning position as she increased the speed of the paddling. Soon, the snaps were falling almost every time the iPhone ticked off a second.
Alex hissed through his teeth and grimaced as each burning firecracker exploded against his underwear. It wasn’t as bad as the lexan paddle, and certainly nothing like the varnished blade of Diane’s wooden hairbrush, but what it lacked in force, it made up in snappiness. It was a very hot, very shallow sting, short-lived, but surprisingly intense.
SNAP!
SNAP!
SNAP!
Finally, just as Alex was about to lose his composure, the timer rang. Jill let him get up, and - with an approving nod of her head - gave him permission to rub. This he did, his back facing her.
“Hmm,” he heard her muse.
“Hmm?” He asked back, kneading his flesh. The sting was intense, but fortunately it was already starting to subside.
“The spatula is really light,” she explained, “I’m not sure this is really working.”
“Trust me, its working.”
Jill just shook her head. Alex’s reaction to her sixty second paddling was not up to her standard, and she knew it wasn’t for want of trying.
“Not really. I know you felt it a little, but its not the same as the paddle.”
She wore a musing expression for a second. Alex was about to reassure her that she was doing just fine as it was when she cut him off.
“Hey,” she said, “so, this might sound just a little weird, but maybe if you…took your underwear down…that could make up for it?”
Alex laughed and started to make a witty comeback, but then he met her eyes.
“You’re serious?”
She nodded, a little of her easy blush showing itself in her face. “The spatula just isn’t that strong. Diane’s going to want us used to more intensity for this week.”
Alex raised an eyebrow. “You’re serious.”
Jill blushed even redder and shrugged her exposed shoulders. “We’re both grown ups.”
There was a long, silent pause, as Jill sat on the couch and Alex stood in front of her, eyes locked carefully onto each others’. Jill looked a little nervous, as if she might have said something she shouldn’t. Alex looked like he was trying to solve a complex math equation.
Then, he - very slowly - approached her again. Hooking his fingers under the waistband of his boxer-briefs, he pulled them down toward his thighs. Jill watched him. Nerves began eating away at Alex as he, with increasing slowness, took down his underwear. Anxiety had punctured his arousal. By the time his underwear worked their way past his crotch, his penis was mostly flaccid; just swollen enough to hang an inch or so further out then it would limp. Alex didn’t know if this was a good thing or not; did he want to hide his arousal, or did he want to come across as the kind of person who was frequently erect? Which one was “right” in this situation? Alex had been naked (well, okay, mostly naked) in a woman’s presence before, but never in a fully clothed woman’s presence. This was different, and unnatural.
“Okay,” said Jill, “bend back over.”
Something about those words sent a tingle down his spine. He felt his dick start to expand again as he climbed back onto the couch and lowered his now half-naked body onto Jill. Her thighs were soft and warm against him. As Alex laid himself back across the couch, Jill set the timer again.
“Two minutes,” she said, “think you‘re ready?”
Alex shook his head. “I…I really don’t know.”
Jill nodded sympathetically, understanding what he meant by that and probably feeling the same way. Then she said “Let’s find out!” and picked the spatula back up.
Alex’s bottom was already somewhat pink, especially across the lower surfaces. Jill had already made up her mind, however, that she wanted it bright, shiny red. She gently rubbed the spatula against the pink part, where the curve of his buttocks was most prominent. He shivered again over her thighs.
The bite of the spatula on naked skin was a whole different kind of sting. It felt like it was catching his skin and trying to tear it away. Such a high, sharp sting, like a hornet.
“Ow!”
The spatula made its tell tall whistle, followed by another loud snap.
“OW!!!”
The blade left a most amusing red rectangle wherever it landed, patchworking Alex’s target with scarlet squares. Evening things out would be a challenge, but Jill had always been good at coloring within the lines. Alex’s legs were kicking a little, his body going from a subtle wriggle to a series of actual, involuntary jerks.
Whistle. Snap. Pain. Repeat.
“Don’t be such a baby!” Jill scolded playfully as she tried to hold him down, all the while getting as many smacks in as she could with the spatula without sacrificing force, “remember, I can penalize you for breaking position!”
Alex’s body kept jerking itself away from the fiery lash, its gyrations and bouncing grinding him obscenely into her legs. His fists clenched and unclenched. He started to raise his body, but she pushed it back down and held it while administering a quick series of extra hard smacks, making him howl. His dignity was crumbling. The stimulation of her supply thighs grinded into his crotch was growing.
Suddenly, the paddling stopped. Alex blinked his tearful eyes. There was still nearly a minute to go…
“Lift up,” jill commanded, smacking her palm against the side of his hip.
Unsure of what was going on, Alex did as he was told, lifting his waist above her legs. As he did so, he felt the head of his now throbbing cock slide across her thigh, standing straight down now that it had room.
“Back down!” She accompanied her words with an unkindly hard flick of the spatula, landing each half of the crimson rectangle on a different side of his crack.
“AAAAGH!!!” Alex quickly collapsed back onto his belly, and immediately felt Jill’s thighs close, like a pair of pincers, around his penis. He was about to comment on this when she tensed her thighs, tightening the vice and making him gasp.
“Just getting that out of the way,” she explained, “it was poking me.”
Whistle. Snap. “AAAH!!!”
His body cobra’d and jackknifed over her lap as she renewed the spanking at full strength. Alex was crushed between sensations. Burning agony when the spatula landed, muscular exertion when he jerked away from it, and then intense, sexual stimulation as that pulled his dick against her imprisoning thighs. She kept spanking him, bringing the spatula down more and more on his sit spots, which she had already thoroughly reddened with her hand. Alex raised and lowered his hips in symphony with the licks, so that he was thrusting in and out of her luscious thighs, his penis jabbing painfully into the sofa cushion with each push. He started breathing deeply, his yelps of pain interrupting a moan. His bottom was bouncing up and down as he fucked her lap, encouraging her to hit it harder, spatula colliding with it as it lifted to increase the force. Alex couldn’t believe it, but he felt like he was about to-
The timer rang, and Jill stopped. Alex straightened up, and - on a single impulse - they grabbed each other around the shoulders and kissed. Alex felt like he was floating over the pain as he somehow ignored it, focusing all of his awareness on Jill; her naked back under his hands, her hair falling around his neck, her lips and tongue as they fenced and sucked and pulled at his own. Jill grabbed at his shoulders, seeming to compliment their width and texture with her attention. Alex’s own hands ventured under the strap of her top, acquainting themselves with parts of her milky skin that he had long been wanting to touch. Alex didn’t have time to be anxious, or uncertain, or to think any other such distracting thoughts. The only things he was aware of were pain, lust, and Jill.
Jill abruptly pulled her face away, pushing him back. Alex had only a brief moment to be disappointed, however, before she opened her legs, stood upright (nearly spilling him onto the floor), and ripped off her hotpants, revealing a muff of blonde hair between her Amazonian thighs. Then, she grabbed Alex and wrestled him onto the floor, ignoring his squawk of pain when his tormented buttocks hit the carpet. She squatted over his head, pushing her sopping vulva into his face. As his tongue started to sample her labia, she leaned over and pinned his thighs under her hands, relishing his pain as she forced his ass against the floor, before lowering her lips onto the head of his boner. Alex wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her vagina closer into his mouth as her smell overwhelmed his nostrils and her fluids soaked his face. His entire world became her blonde vagina, his smouldering ass, and the torturous sucking at the tip of his cock. He grabbed at her body, fondling her stomach and back and then grabbing and squeezing her big buttocks, all the while spelling his name around her clitoral hood with his tongue. Jill gasped and moaned appreciatively, taking his circumcised head into the back of her mouth and running her tongue up and down his shaft, her hands stroking at its base and fondling his balls. He was too long for her to fit most of him in her mouth, so she locked one hand around the base, pistoning it up and down to meet her own lips, her tongue circling the tip and then running itself along the underside. When Alex suddenly pulled his tongue away from her clitoris and forced it all the way into her vagina, she whimpered. When he began curling it against her G-spot, she moaned. As he worked, he let one hand squeeze her left buttock, while the other delivered a hard slap to its twin. Jill responded by thrusting her bottom outward, inviting another smack as Alex readjusted his face under her pussy, his moustache tickling her clitoris and labia as he pushed his tongue back inside of her. He felt himself trying to cum, but he forced his body to hold out. He tried to shut out the wizardry she was performing on his cock, to put every scrap of himself into penetrating her with his tongue, fingering her clit, grabbing her thighs, smacking her ass. He kept squeezing more of her pungent, female lubricant onto his face, racing to outrun his own need until finally it caught up with him, and he pulled his face out of her before he could suffocate as an explosion of pleasure rocked his body, pouring from his crotch into every extremity of his body. The two collapsed, panting, onto the floor.
“Nutmeg,” Jill whispered.
“Huh?” Alex craned his head to look down at her.
“In the brownies. I added nutmeg.”
“Ah, right,” he panted a few more times, “I knew it was either that or,” he panted again, “cinnamon.”
They made eye contact, Alex’s hazel eyes looking into Jill’s crystal blue ones. They started laughing. Alex flipped himself around so he was lying face to face with Jill. They put their arms around each other and kissed. The taste was odd, but neither of them cared all that much.
“Shower?” Jill suggested.
“Good idea.”
They cleaned themselves off in the shower, hot water flowing over both their bodies as they helped each other scrub and wipe themselves clean. Alex yelped when the hot water touched his ass, making Jill giggle. He kept that part of himself out of the shower as they washed. Alex made a point of sampling both of Jill’s big breasts, tasting and teasing her nipples until she made him stop, fearing things would get out of hand too quickly. It was he, however, who had to pull her hand away from his glisteningly wet penis, as it was still tender and aching from its last assignment. The two dried themselves off and retreated to Jill’s bed, treating themselves to another fudge nutmeg brownie each on the way.
“I told you paddling’s a great sport,” Jill gloated.
“I told you your mind was in the gutter,” Alex gloated back.
“Oh, whatever. You’ve been checking me out since our first day in class.”
“I’m a victim of society; I just do as my peers expect of me.”
“Shut up.”
“Kay.”
They kissed again, Alex fondling her shoulders and squeezing her right bosom in the process. When she nuzzled her chin back over the crook of his shoulder, she suddenly saw something that made her face light up.
“OH!!!”
She got out of bed, giving Alex a fantastic view as she danced across the room, pulling something out from under the nightstand.
“HERE’S where I left that paddle!”
She turned back toward him on the bed, grinning evilly, tapping the lexan blade against her palm. Alex’s eyes widened.
“Oh you wouldn’t…”
“Why not?” She asked sweetly, seating herself beside him.
“Oh you bitch!”
He grabbed her right nipple and twisted it, making Jill squeal in pain and startle back, grabbing her hurting breast and shooting to her feet. Growling, she threw herself back at Alex, tackling him. They wrestled for nearly a minute, Alex fighting dirty, until Jill managed to get his arms locked under his body and herself seated on his naked back. She grabbed the APA paddle and swung full force at his round, red bottom.
CRACK!!!
Alex roared in anguish. Jill smiled.
“I don’t have my phone, so let’s count to thirty.”
…
At 10:30 PM, Jill’s roommate came home.
“Hello?”
No answer.
After grabbing a brownie (mmm, nutmeg), she peeked her head into the bedroom. The light was off, but she could see Jill lying, asleep, in bed. There was a boyishly handsome and equally asleep male face visible over her shoulder, the body connected to it spooned around hers. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, the saw that the blankets didn’t cover all the way to their necks, and that his hand was on her breast. Jill was clutching, as always, her My Little Pony plushy as she slept.
Jill’s roommate smiled, perhaps a bit jealously. She noticed the lexan paddle lying discarded on the floor by the bed.
Okay, she decided, that does it. I’m joining that team next semester.
Sunday, July 10, 2011
Saturday, July 2, 2011
Paddling Team (chapter two)
The student activities offices were like a maze. In the six or seven visits Alex had made to them since that fateful Thursday afternoon, he had learned three things:
1. There were a ton of new extracurriculars that had just been introduced in the last year or two, and none of them were really that organized.
2. Either no one else felt like switching out of a team, or - if someone did - that information was lost somewhere on a buried database in one obscure office computer out of a dozen.
And
3. The activities offices were all on the fifth floor, and the elevator was broken, so he had to walk all the way up and down each time.
The staircase wasn’t the only thing that had been giving his muscles a challenge. To maximize his chances of getting onto another team - any other team - Alex had been going to the weight room religiously. According to the book he had borrowed on the subject, the routine he was following should make him visibly bulkier within two months. Hopefully, his athletic capabilities would increase much faster. The following Monday, he met Jill after Classics and told her his situation. She was, predictably, rather taken aback.
“You thought it was rowing?”
Alex looked at the floor. “Yes…”
“Even when we met at the gym?”
He felt his face turning red. “Yes…”
Jill shook her head. “Dunno how you managed that. Well, now that you‘re in, are you staying?”
Alex had to stop himself before he said something impolite. “Not if there‘s any way I can help it.”
Jill’s face fell. “Are you sure? I really like working with you. I think you could be a great bottom.”
Alex decided that that was the most unwelcome compliment he had received since his uncle had told him he’d make a good garbage man. The look he gave Jill contained an equal amount of outrage and disbelief.
“I‘m totally serious!” she repeated, “You‘re great to work with. With a little more practice-”
“-I’m not getting any more practice than I have to.”
Jill recoiled a bit. Alex realized that he had allowed his voice to get defensive. Damn, he hadn’t meant to sound that angry.
“I mean…” he said quickly, “working with you was cool” (actually, it was boilingly hot for some parts of him, but whatever) “its nothing personal. Just…this really isn’t the team I wanted to join.”
Jill looked a little relieved, but still a bit disappointed. “I know the activities director,” she said, reluctantly, “maybe if I talk to him you‘ll have an easier time.”
Alex smiled appreciatively. They had left the building now, and were in the sun. He really had a winning smile, when he wasn‘t looking antsy. Jill felt herself softening to his plight. “If you would do that, I’d really appreciate it.”
“Sure. I hope you at least come to the next practice though; give it one more chance.”
No. “Maybe. Anyway, I‘ll link you to that brownie recipe. Thanks a whole bunch for this!”
“Heh. Welcome.”
When they went their separate ways, Alex found himself staring after her again. Did she like him? As in, like him like him? Unfortunately, Alex had always been a remarkably poor judge of these things, and he knew it. He was fond of Jill, and didn’t want to ruin their friendship. He decided it best to wait until he got a clearer sign, rather than risk misreading her and making their relationship even more awkward than it already was with all this paddling insanity. In the meantime, it was time to find a different sport.
…
Alex did not make the next practice, as it turned out. Earlier that day, he had gotten a Facebook message from Jill telling him that the activities director would be in this afternoon, and that he should go in to the office before practice. Alex conveniently procrastinated in the early afternoon, and found himself forced to skip paddling in lieu of round 7 of bureaucratic arm twisting. Only slightly less painful, but hopefully this time he would actually get somewhere. After hiking up to the fifth floor and waiting in line, Alex found the director a reasonable man. He was told to fill out a form at the academic office and come back the following day, and he would be put in the next open slot on either the boating or the rock climbing teams. Awesome.
The next day, he had just ascended the staircase - completed form in hand - when someone called to him from behind.
“Good afternoon, Alex.”
He turned to see Coach Johnston standing in the hall. She was wearing her usual gym clothes, with a jacket over it. She looked businesslike.
“Afternoon,” he said, bashfully. He hadn’t seen Diane since last week’s paddling session, and had been rather hoping he wouldn’t again.
“Have you got a minute?” she asked, “there’s something I’d like to discuss with you. In my office.”
She led him to the hardwood door whose plaque bore her name. Damnit, I’ll bet Jill told her I was switching out. Here comes another speech trying to convince me to keep my ass where Jill can beat it. On the topic of asses, he was working hard to keep his eyes off Diane’s as he followed her into her office. Diane Johnston was a thick, solidly-built African American woman, with a muscular ghetto booty under those tight gym shorts to rival anything on MTV. Alex knew it was frowned upon to oggle one‘s own educators, and Diane’s dominant aura made him feel all the more immature for it.
“I noticed,” she said as she sat down in front of her hardwood desk, “that you weren‘t at yesterday‘s practice.”
“Yes, I’m swi-”
“You have also not emailed me with your measurements so I can order your uniform.”
Her eyes bored into him as she sat in her seat, looking up at him like a judge addressing a defendant. Apparently, she wasn’t going to offer him a seat. After looking away from her piercing eyes for a second, Alex tried again.
“I‘m not staying on the team. I just got the form to-”
“I know,” she interrupted him again, sounding much less than amused, “the director told me. I don‘t think you understand the situation.”
Alex felt the air pressure in the room increase. How exactly was she making him feel so guilty? He found himself acting like a naughty child having to answer to his mother for stealing a cookie, rather than a slightly offbeat young adult trying to make a completely reasonable adjustment.
Before he could think of anything to say, Diane got up from her chair, and - with a lightning quick motion - grabbed him by the shirt collar. Gasping in surprise, Alex tried to pull away, but a quick wraparound from her other, muscular arm put him in a chokehold. Before he even knew what was going on, she had yanked him forward, off of his feet, and was holding him over her chair. Squeezing his neck to silence his protests, she quickly planted her left foot on the chair and pushed him down over her thigh.
“WHAT THE FU-”
She leaned her considerable weight into his back, sandwiching him between her arm and the perfect platform of her leg, and delivered a loud, dramatic slap to his bent-over hindquarters. Alex gasped as the first spank landed. He tried to struggle, but found that his arms were both crossed behind his back, and Diane was holding them against his torso with an inescapable strength. Diane also coached the women’s wrestling and judo clubs; he was totally helpless.
As he struggled, completely disbelieving of what was happening, Diane moved her right arm like a piston, crashing her palm into his upturned buttocks harder than Alex could have possibly been ready for. Each hard smack was like being hit by a palm-shaped hammer, jarring his flesh before the sting could even begin. He was wearing sweatpants, which had to have been making a difference, but the pain of each slap was still enough to make him yelp. Why couldn’t he have chosen blue jeans today?
“Ow! What the! Help!”
“No one’s gonna’ help you,” Diane said, voice strained with determination, as she held the struggling boy over her knee and spanked him much harder and faster than what she would want her team to do, “team penalties are given in my office every month. Everyone‘s used to the noise.”
It took her less than half a second to lift her arm to shoulder length and rocket it back down again, making for two, merciless spanks every time the second hand ticked. Alex writhed his body from side to side, trying to jump or kick with his legs, but her right ankle came around with a practiced motion and pinned his left one behind it, so that three of his limbs were now helpless.
“You and I are going to talk,” she repeated as she drove her hand again and again against the seat of his pants, “and while we do, you are going to do everything I say! Do you understand?”
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!
Alex tried to argue, but the spanking just increased in intensity. Dear god, how much harder could this woman hit? Diane’s large, dark face just stared at him haughtily from atop her mountain of flesh and muscle, eyes pitiless, as her hand continued its barrage.
Alex was stunned. His eyes were watering. His backside was burning. He thought about screaming for help, but what was left of his masculine pride kept him from that. He kept struggling, growling. She kept spanking.
SMACKSMACKSMACKSMACKSMACK-
Soon, Alex was bouncing over her implacable thigh, body jerking involuntarily to the beat of her rock-hard palm. She was striking his bottom in a circle, hand straying from the top of his hemispheres down to his upper thighs, moving like a machine. Finally, the pain was too much, and he gave in.
“Okay! I’ll listen! Please, stop!”
He shouted louder than he had to, hoping someone would come to his rescue. True to Diane’s assurance, no one did.
Diane pulled him up off her knee and put him back in a standing position. Instantly, both hands went to the back of his pants, where he tightly gripped his stinging backside and bounced and the balls of his feet. Diane stepped over to the door, placing herself between him and the escape, as she watched his dance of pain.
“Take off your pants.”
Alex, hands still clutching his hot rump, stared at her in renewed disbelief.
“Are you fucking crazy?”
She smiled cruelly, her full lips seeming almost hungry. “After what just happened, you‘d be crazy not to do what I say. I want you in your undies. Ten seconds, or you go back over my knee.”
Ten. Nine.
He stared at her in openmouthed disbelief. This was a crime! A scandal! He could have her job for this!
Eight. Seven.
He could call for help, couldn’t he? In a crystal moment, he suddenly realized why no one objected to Diane’s disciplinary policy. The thick walls. The big, hardwood doors. Jesus Christ, this building is soundproof! It made sense, really. The chemistry labs were just one floor down.
Six. Five.
“We can talk!” He insisted frantically, “We don’t need this!” Her face didn’t change.
Four. Three.
Closing his eyes, almost sniffling with pain and humiliation, Alex looked down at the floor and - slowly, deliberately - undid his belt. He let his pants slide to the floor, revealing tan, well-toned thighs with a fine layer of reddish brown body hair, crowned by a pair of plaid boxers.
“There we go,” said Diane with a victorious smirk, “come over here.”
She took him by the arm and, using her other hand, pulled the office chair behind her by the door. Sitting heavily in the chair, she pulled him down over her lap, using both arms to easily overpower him. Diane wasn’t as tall as Jill (well, no one was as tall as Jill), but she was more stockily built, and probably at least as heavy.
“What are you doing?!” Alex demanded, looking up at the smirking coach. From his current vantage point, her face was framed above a very pronounced chest that jutted out from her rippling body like a solid, meaty shelf. Was he starting to get hard again? Oh god, please tell me I’m not getting hard right now.
“I’m teaching you a little lesson,” she said, maneuvering the helpless young man over her lap, “and I’m going to explain why you can’t quit the team.”
Once again, she forced his hands across his back and held them down with her left forearm, leaning in so hard he knew he could feel that enormous chest against his back. Her right leg came up, scissoring above his thighs and holding his legs down against the armless office chair. He marveled at the thickness and weight of her thigh, and how it felt so strong and yet so soft against his own, naked skin. That thought was quickly driven from his head when she grabbed the waistband of his briefs and yanked them down to where her thigh crossed his, baring his bottom.
“What the-!”
She cut him off by giving him a hard slap on the naked bottom, reigniting the sting from her last spanking. She left her palm on the crown of his left buttock, pressing down to remind him what it could still do. He had never felt so physically violated. Worse than even her hand on his naked ass was the feeling of his cock against her smooth, nylon gym shorts, as it hung down the inside of her left thigh.
“Listen up,” Diane said firmly, “I‘ve got a situation to deal with. And you‘re not going anywhere until you‘ve heard what I‘ve got to say.”
Alex panted and tried to struggle against her body, but it was useless. Did he just hear her chuckle?
“Paddling is a new intramural sport. We‘ve only been on campus for three years, and I promised myself that I‘m going to bring this team to nationals this spring.”
Her left leg, over which Alex was secured, was incredibly thick. It was like lying down on a platform of warm, springy flesh. His proximity to her female skin was having the same effect on him that Jill’s had the other week…only this time, his penis was completely exposed. She could probably feel it starting to harden against the inside of her thigh. If she flipped him over, she would see it. Alex prayed to every god he had ever heard of that he would open his eyes and find himself safe in bed, or that he would spontaneously die. Either one would work here.
“Jill is one of my best girls. Better than Courtney. Better than anyone else I‘ve had on the team. If there‘s anyone in this school who can win us that medal, its her. But she needs to stay motivated.”
Here, Diane took her hand off of Alex’s ass so she could inspect it. If Alex’s chest and arms were in as good a shape as his lower body, she would have had a much harder time wrestling him down. His smooth, rounded leg muscles flowed into each other like a blown-glass sculpture, coming together and swelling into a pair of almost perfectly rounded cheeks. Bent over as he was, his bottom stuck up at the ceiling in a consummate dome, each buttock a thick, bouncy half-circle. Diane thought that Alex definitely had a back porch to be proud of, especially for a white boy. His lightly tanned skin had started to redden after her spanking, making her eager to learn how it would look after a little more mistreatment. She laid her fingertips on the crown of his cheeks, pressing down a bit against their springy tissues.
“I‘ve tried pairing Jill with every bottom on the team,” she went on, “she does better with the boys, which makes it hard for me. It is almost impossible to find men who are willing to bottom. The APA wants each team to have a fifty-fifty mixture of bottoms, but at every meet I‘ve been to there were hardly any boys. The more I have, the more generous the judges are likely to be. And then there‘s Jill.”
Squeezing her right thigh down into his legs, she began spanking him again, just as hard. She didn’t have quite as much room to swing her arm in this position, but with his buttocks held so perfectly in place between her arm and her thigh, her aim was perfect. Alex hissed in pain as the first volley of hard slaps came down on his shamefully naked bottom, loud, wet slaps reverberating around the room as the agony grew.
“I have never,” Diane lectured as she spanked his bouncing domes, “seen Jill put as much of herself into the game as she did last Friday. From the first day I had her in the gym, I could see she had potential. I‘ve tried matching her up with all the boys and half the girls on the team, but until you came along, I wasn‘t tapping all of it.”
She began spanking faster, her cupped palm reaching a machinegun rapidity as Alex’s buns turned from pink, to sunset, to fire engine red. The pain was already at least as bad as it had been after his first paddling from Jill, and Diane showed no sign of slowing down. She didn’t even break pace as she continued to speak.
“With you as her bottom, I can finally get Jill to be the top I know she can be. She’s the one who’s going to make my team work. And I‘m not letting you ruin our chances at nationals because you’re too chicken to get your little booty smacked!”
Alex’s eyes were watering. His body wasn’t under his control anymore, writhing like a fish out of water in vein effort to get his “little booty” out of Diane’s line of fire. The smacks came down twice - no, three times per second, like a hail of incendiary shells setting a defenseless city on fire. Alex could hardly think coherently. How many times had she hit him? A hundred? A hundred and fifty? And still no signs of slowing down!
One minute after she had started the spanking, Alex was barking and yelping. One minute after that, his face was damp. How much pain could someone possibly feel? How much blazing holocaust could she possibly pour into his ass before she ran out of steam? He could barely feel it, but his penis was completely erect, his endocrine system choosing to respond to her female pheromones over his own pain receptors; it was standing at an uncomfortable angle against the length of her thigh.
After two and a half minutes and what had to be several hundred slaps of merciless, bare-bottomed spanking, Diane’s arm stopped descending. Alex was trembling, jaws clenched as he struggled to hold in the sobs. His body was covered in sweat. His buttocks, which Diane had just removed her hand from, felt like a nest of yellow jackets had been convinced it was their mortal enemy. “Red” didn’t even do it justice. Not five minutes after seeing it in its naked glory, Diane had turned her new favorite booty the color of an overripe tomato. She had trouble suppressing a grin. Reluctantly, she removed her leg and forearm from his body.
“Stand up. And don‘t you dare rub your butt!”
Alex extricated himself from her thigh, wobbling shakily to his feet. He quickly moved one hand in front of his crotch, while the other darted toward - no, he stopped himself just in time. His ass was demanding attention, its nerve endings screaming for him to do something. It took every ounce of determination to keep his hand a few inches away from it. Alex looked at Diane through leaking eyes, filled with fear and caution. Diane like the way his large, hazel eyes widened when he was in pain. Like Bambi. It made her want to hug him and make him feel better, perhaps in a motherly fashion, perhaps in certain other ways. She could definitely understand Jill’s affinity for this innocent young male. Unfortunately, the nature of Diane’s job prevented her from acting on these natural impulses. She sighed to herself; coaching this team could be such a clit tease.
“Stand in the corner, facing the wall. Leave your pants and undies down. Hands on your head.”
Alex did his best to keep his privates covered as he baby-stepped (his ankles were still bound by his semi-discarded clothing) over to the corner. His erection had gone down a ways due to the burning pain, but it was still at half-mast. In most situations, Alex took pride in the fact that his penis took both hands to cover at a profile. Right now, he was nothing but mortified at the possibility of Diane seeing its state. He started crying again, not from the pain so much as frustration and embarrassment, as he faced the corner and put his hands on his chestnut hair. How could she possibly get away with this? The more he thought about it though, the more likely it seemed that she could. Punitive spankings sounded like a logical enough punishment for misbehavior in this sick “sport,” and he was still technically on the team. He doubted that she was permitted to take his clothes off, but unless he ran out into the hall half-naked right now, it would be her word against his. That conniving bitch; she knew exactly how illegal this was, and she knew exactly why and how she would never have to face the consequences. Though he had his back to her, he could just imagine that big, white grin.
Diane wasn’t actually grinning as she joted something down on the legal pad on her desk, but she was smiling. Every few seconds, she looked up at her miserable captive, chuckling at the dichotomy between his fashionably clothed upper half and his naked, reddened lower one. She could see his arms tremble as he stopped himself from rubbing his ass. The pain must have been excruciating…okay, now she was grinning.
After a minute or two, Diane tore off the legal sheet and put it on her desk. “I’ve written up a nutrition and exercise routine,” she said, “paddling is a spectator sport, and I want all my team members looking their best. I expect to see the results in six weeks; I can tell if you aren‘t following it.”
Alex hung his head even lower. He was trying to think of a way she could be defeated, but nothing came to mind. It was like being trapped in some barbaric, third world dictatorship in the middle of an American private college.
“Turn around.”
Alex slowly turned, keeping both hands in front of his (now thankfully flaccid) crotch. He felt a bit releived that his naked, crimson ass was no longer on display, but having to make eye contact with Diane made him even more uncomfortable. Her jacket was now hanging on a hook on the wall, leaving her in just a wife beater and gym shorts. Even in his agonized state, her figure -as curvy and voluptuous as it was powerful - was hard to ignore.
“Before I send you home,” she explained, a look Alex didn’t at all like in her dark eyes, “there‘s one more thing we have to take care of.”
She opened her desk drawer and reached for an object inside. Oh god, Alex panicked, what now?
“I’m pretty sure you’re not going to quit the team,” she went on, “if you do, you will soon find yourself right back here in my office, and what happened today will seem like a gentle massage. Understand?”
Gritting his teeth, willing to do anything to get him out of here faster, Alex nodded.
“Very good. But you also skipped practice yesterday. I explained in the email I sent out that skipping has consequences.”
She pulled out the object from the drawer. It was a glossy, hardwood hairbrush, classically oval shaped and at least an inch thick. It gleamed in the fluorescent lighting like a surgical tool, the mottled, blonde wood appearing smooth and well varnished.
Alex’s mouth fell open. No. No, there was no way.
“Bend back over,” she tapped her thighs with the back of the brush, “skipping practice is thirty licks. If you try to fight or argue, you get thirty more.”
Alex’s outrage was immeasurable. That sadistic bitch was really enjoying this, wasn’t she? The mirth in her eyes, that subtle curl at the edges of her mouth that she was trying to hide. Never before had Alex truly felt like he was helpless, at someone else’s mercy. For some reason, he felt his manhood starting to repressurize. Why is this happening to me? What the hell is my problem?
She tapped the hairbrush against her thigh again. “Thirty-five licks. In ten seconds it‘ll be forty.”
As Alex baby-stepped back across the room, his foreboding mixed with morbid curiosity. A hairbrush. A wooden hairbrush, like in some old movie. How much was this going to hurt? What would the back of the brush feel like as it touched his sensitive cheeks? His stomach was churning. His mind was locked up. His face was the very picture of fear and emasculation. Alex wasn’t even sure what he was feeling as he laid down across Diane Johnston’s ample thighs. His cock was starting to pump itself back up; it was lying straight across her legs, so that the hills and valley of her lap could be felt along its length under her nylon shorts. Last week, he had been worried about Jill noticing his reaction, and that had been through his trousers. There was no way in hell Diane wouldn’t feel that. He wished he was back home. He wished he had gone to Washington State. He wished that he had enlisted and been sent over to Afghanistan. He wished he was feeling anything besides those plump, female thighs cushioning his hips.
Diane rested her hand on his back and gently ran the blade of the hairbrush across his buns. He shivered; it was cold, and so unforgivingly hard. She tapped it against the center of each buttock, making him wince.
WAP!!!!
The pain was like acid, burning acid. His left buttcheek felt like it had been skinned open and bleeding. His arms, head, and legs flew up in the air, his body vibrating in an attempt to diffuse the force.
WACK!!!
His right flank was dipped in the lava too. The hairbrush spanks came down about once every second and a half, as Diane leisurely redefined his concept of pain.
SPLAT!!!!
CRACK!!
CRACK!!!
CRACK!!
She rubbed the blade of the hairbrush in a circle around his ass. His mouth was gasping like a fish. His fingers and toes curling and uncurling. When Diane resumed the spanking, it was twice as fast, and significantly harder.
CRACK!!! CRACK!!! CRACK!!!
She leaned into him harder, squishing his torso, his prick, and her lap together into a sandwich of human flesh. She swung the hairbrush faster, catching him right on the underside of each crimson bubble, making his tight buttocks rebound after each lick. Diane felt the line of stiffness crossing her legs; she decided to hammer it a little deeper into her skin, so she increased the force. Alex howled.
At fifteen, she increased the pace again, moving her arm as fast as she had during the hand spanking. Alex’s naked buns were turning dark crimson, with round, purplish marks on the lower sit spots above his thighs where the hairbrush had fallen most often. His butt was starting to swell. At twenty-five, Alex had lost his ability to control himself; he was crying like a baby, no longer able to speak. Diane stopped to rest the heavy, wooden brush against his undoubtedly tender crowns. She prodded at him a little with her finger; making him jump; ohh, that bottom was putting out some heat alright!
Diane delivered the last ten a bit more slowly, making sure each blow landed squarely in the center of the opposite cheek. At thirty five she put down the brush, massaging her right bicep a little. Alex remained lying over her lap, crying softly, his sit-upon a rainbow of reds and purples. With a self-satisfied smirk, she noted that his erection was gone.
“Are you going to bring that form to the office?” Diane asked sweetly.
Alex shook his disheveled head. Diane patted him affectionately on the butt and picked up the form from the floor where he’d dropped it. He didn’t react when he heard her rip it in half.
“Good boy. There’s a bathroom in the back of my office; go there until you’re ready to leave.”
…
Alex took a few minutes to wash his face and straighten his hair in the back bathroom. While he was in there, he dared to take a look at his rump in the mirror; dark red, with two purple circles right where he‘d have to put his weight when he sat down. Even the lightest touch to his sit spots burned like a hot coal. He tried splashing cold water on them, but that just made him numb.
After stuffing some soft tissue paper into the back of his boxers, he was able to pull up his pants and underwear and walk - wincing with each step - back to the door. Before he left the bathroom, however, he noticed something hanging on the back wall. It was a long, hardwood paddle, the kind you’d expect from some fraternity hazing stunt, with two rows of holes drilled down its length. It was well over a foot long, and hung on the wall like a trophy. Looking at it, he remembered Diane’s warning about what would happen if he defied her again. He trembled. She wanted me to see that thing. That’s why she sent me back here.
As he left her office, Diane looked up from her desk.
“Don’t forget to take your cushion to classes; you’ll need it for the next few days. I tucked your diet and exercise program into your pocket.”
Alex stopped and looked at her. She was sitting behind her desk, working away at something on her computer. Like any staff member having a normal day at the office.
“I also emailed jill and told her to expect a visit from you. I expect you to make up this week’s session with her before next Thursday. I‘m going to be in touch with her.”
Alex reached into his pocket; the paper was there all right. She must have slipped it into his pocket while she was using the hairbrush.
“Email me your measurements. See you next week.”
1. There were a ton of new extracurriculars that had just been introduced in the last year or two, and none of them were really that organized.
2. Either no one else felt like switching out of a team, or - if someone did - that information was lost somewhere on a buried database in one obscure office computer out of a dozen.
And
3. The activities offices were all on the fifth floor, and the elevator was broken, so he had to walk all the way up and down each time.
The staircase wasn’t the only thing that had been giving his muscles a challenge. To maximize his chances of getting onto another team - any other team - Alex had been going to the weight room religiously. According to the book he had borrowed on the subject, the routine he was following should make him visibly bulkier within two months. Hopefully, his athletic capabilities would increase much faster. The following Monday, he met Jill after Classics and told her his situation. She was, predictably, rather taken aback.
“You thought it was rowing?”
Alex looked at the floor. “Yes…”
“Even when we met at the gym?”
He felt his face turning red. “Yes…”
Jill shook her head. “Dunno how you managed that. Well, now that you‘re in, are you staying?”
Alex had to stop himself before he said something impolite. “Not if there‘s any way I can help it.”
Jill’s face fell. “Are you sure? I really like working with you. I think you could be a great bottom.”
Alex decided that that was the most unwelcome compliment he had received since his uncle had told him he’d make a good garbage man. The look he gave Jill contained an equal amount of outrage and disbelief.
“I‘m totally serious!” she repeated, “You‘re great to work with. With a little more practice-”
“-I’m not getting any more practice than I have to.”
Jill recoiled a bit. Alex realized that he had allowed his voice to get defensive. Damn, he hadn’t meant to sound that angry.
“I mean…” he said quickly, “working with you was cool” (actually, it was boilingly hot for some parts of him, but whatever) “its nothing personal. Just…this really isn’t the team I wanted to join.”
Jill looked a little relieved, but still a bit disappointed. “I know the activities director,” she said, reluctantly, “maybe if I talk to him you‘ll have an easier time.”
Alex smiled appreciatively. They had left the building now, and were in the sun. He really had a winning smile, when he wasn‘t looking antsy. Jill felt herself softening to his plight. “If you would do that, I’d really appreciate it.”
“Sure. I hope you at least come to the next practice though; give it one more chance.”
No. “Maybe. Anyway, I‘ll link you to that brownie recipe. Thanks a whole bunch for this!”
“Heh. Welcome.”
When they went their separate ways, Alex found himself staring after her again. Did she like him? As in, like him like him? Unfortunately, Alex had always been a remarkably poor judge of these things, and he knew it. He was fond of Jill, and didn’t want to ruin their friendship. He decided it best to wait until he got a clearer sign, rather than risk misreading her and making their relationship even more awkward than it already was with all this paddling insanity. In the meantime, it was time to find a different sport.
…
Alex did not make the next practice, as it turned out. Earlier that day, he had gotten a Facebook message from Jill telling him that the activities director would be in this afternoon, and that he should go in to the office before practice. Alex conveniently procrastinated in the early afternoon, and found himself forced to skip paddling in lieu of round 7 of bureaucratic arm twisting. Only slightly less painful, but hopefully this time he would actually get somewhere. After hiking up to the fifth floor and waiting in line, Alex found the director a reasonable man. He was told to fill out a form at the academic office and come back the following day, and he would be put in the next open slot on either the boating or the rock climbing teams. Awesome.
The next day, he had just ascended the staircase - completed form in hand - when someone called to him from behind.
“Good afternoon, Alex.”
He turned to see Coach Johnston standing in the hall. She was wearing her usual gym clothes, with a jacket over it. She looked businesslike.
“Afternoon,” he said, bashfully. He hadn’t seen Diane since last week’s paddling session, and had been rather hoping he wouldn’t again.
“Have you got a minute?” she asked, “there’s something I’d like to discuss with you. In my office.”
She led him to the hardwood door whose plaque bore her name. Damnit, I’ll bet Jill told her I was switching out. Here comes another speech trying to convince me to keep my ass where Jill can beat it. On the topic of asses, he was working hard to keep his eyes off Diane’s as he followed her into her office. Diane Johnston was a thick, solidly-built African American woman, with a muscular ghetto booty under those tight gym shorts to rival anything on MTV. Alex knew it was frowned upon to oggle one‘s own educators, and Diane’s dominant aura made him feel all the more immature for it.
“I noticed,” she said as she sat down in front of her hardwood desk, “that you weren‘t at yesterday‘s practice.”
“Yes, I’m swi-”
“You have also not emailed me with your measurements so I can order your uniform.”
Her eyes bored into him as she sat in her seat, looking up at him like a judge addressing a defendant. Apparently, she wasn’t going to offer him a seat. After looking away from her piercing eyes for a second, Alex tried again.
“I‘m not staying on the team. I just got the form to-”
“I know,” she interrupted him again, sounding much less than amused, “the director told me. I don‘t think you understand the situation.”
Alex felt the air pressure in the room increase. How exactly was she making him feel so guilty? He found himself acting like a naughty child having to answer to his mother for stealing a cookie, rather than a slightly offbeat young adult trying to make a completely reasonable adjustment.
Before he could think of anything to say, Diane got up from her chair, and - with a lightning quick motion - grabbed him by the shirt collar. Gasping in surprise, Alex tried to pull away, but a quick wraparound from her other, muscular arm put him in a chokehold. Before he even knew what was going on, she had yanked him forward, off of his feet, and was holding him over her chair. Squeezing his neck to silence his protests, she quickly planted her left foot on the chair and pushed him down over her thigh.
“WHAT THE FU-”
She leaned her considerable weight into his back, sandwiching him between her arm and the perfect platform of her leg, and delivered a loud, dramatic slap to his bent-over hindquarters. Alex gasped as the first spank landed. He tried to struggle, but found that his arms were both crossed behind his back, and Diane was holding them against his torso with an inescapable strength. Diane also coached the women’s wrestling and judo clubs; he was totally helpless.
As he struggled, completely disbelieving of what was happening, Diane moved her right arm like a piston, crashing her palm into his upturned buttocks harder than Alex could have possibly been ready for. Each hard smack was like being hit by a palm-shaped hammer, jarring his flesh before the sting could even begin. He was wearing sweatpants, which had to have been making a difference, but the pain of each slap was still enough to make him yelp. Why couldn’t he have chosen blue jeans today?
“Ow! What the! Help!”
“No one’s gonna’ help you,” Diane said, voice strained with determination, as she held the struggling boy over her knee and spanked him much harder and faster than what she would want her team to do, “team penalties are given in my office every month. Everyone‘s used to the noise.”
It took her less than half a second to lift her arm to shoulder length and rocket it back down again, making for two, merciless spanks every time the second hand ticked. Alex writhed his body from side to side, trying to jump or kick with his legs, but her right ankle came around with a practiced motion and pinned his left one behind it, so that three of his limbs were now helpless.
“You and I are going to talk,” she repeated as she drove her hand again and again against the seat of his pants, “and while we do, you are going to do everything I say! Do you understand?”
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!
Alex tried to argue, but the spanking just increased in intensity. Dear god, how much harder could this woman hit? Diane’s large, dark face just stared at him haughtily from atop her mountain of flesh and muscle, eyes pitiless, as her hand continued its barrage.
Alex was stunned. His eyes were watering. His backside was burning. He thought about screaming for help, but what was left of his masculine pride kept him from that. He kept struggling, growling. She kept spanking.
SMACKSMACKSMACKSMACKSMACK-
Soon, Alex was bouncing over her implacable thigh, body jerking involuntarily to the beat of her rock-hard palm. She was striking his bottom in a circle, hand straying from the top of his hemispheres down to his upper thighs, moving like a machine. Finally, the pain was too much, and he gave in.
“Okay! I’ll listen! Please, stop!”
He shouted louder than he had to, hoping someone would come to his rescue. True to Diane’s assurance, no one did.
Diane pulled him up off her knee and put him back in a standing position. Instantly, both hands went to the back of his pants, where he tightly gripped his stinging backside and bounced and the balls of his feet. Diane stepped over to the door, placing herself between him and the escape, as she watched his dance of pain.
“Take off your pants.”
Alex, hands still clutching his hot rump, stared at her in renewed disbelief.
“Are you fucking crazy?”
She smiled cruelly, her full lips seeming almost hungry. “After what just happened, you‘d be crazy not to do what I say. I want you in your undies. Ten seconds, or you go back over my knee.”
Ten. Nine.
He stared at her in openmouthed disbelief. This was a crime! A scandal! He could have her job for this!
Eight. Seven.
He could call for help, couldn’t he? In a crystal moment, he suddenly realized why no one objected to Diane’s disciplinary policy. The thick walls. The big, hardwood doors. Jesus Christ, this building is soundproof! It made sense, really. The chemistry labs were just one floor down.
Six. Five.
“We can talk!” He insisted frantically, “We don’t need this!” Her face didn’t change.
Four. Three.
Closing his eyes, almost sniffling with pain and humiliation, Alex looked down at the floor and - slowly, deliberately - undid his belt. He let his pants slide to the floor, revealing tan, well-toned thighs with a fine layer of reddish brown body hair, crowned by a pair of plaid boxers.
“There we go,” said Diane with a victorious smirk, “come over here.”
She took him by the arm and, using her other hand, pulled the office chair behind her by the door. Sitting heavily in the chair, she pulled him down over her lap, using both arms to easily overpower him. Diane wasn’t as tall as Jill (well, no one was as tall as Jill), but she was more stockily built, and probably at least as heavy.
“What are you doing?!” Alex demanded, looking up at the smirking coach. From his current vantage point, her face was framed above a very pronounced chest that jutted out from her rippling body like a solid, meaty shelf. Was he starting to get hard again? Oh god, please tell me I’m not getting hard right now.
“I’m teaching you a little lesson,” she said, maneuvering the helpless young man over her lap, “and I’m going to explain why you can’t quit the team.”
Once again, she forced his hands across his back and held them down with her left forearm, leaning in so hard he knew he could feel that enormous chest against his back. Her right leg came up, scissoring above his thighs and holding his legs down against the armless office chair. He marveled at the thickness and weight of her thigh, and how it felt so strong and yet so soft against his own, naked skin. That thought was quickly driven from his head when she grabbed the waistband of his briefs and yanked them down to where her thigh crossed his, baring his bottom.
“What the-!”
She cut him off by giving him a hard slap on the naked bottom, reigniting the sting from her last spanking. She left her palm on the crown of his left buttock, pressing down to remind him what it could still do. He had never felt so physically violated. Worse than even her hand on his naked ass was the feeling of his cock against her smooth, nylon gym shorts, as it hung down the inside of her left thigh.
“Listen up,” Diane said firmly, “I‘ve got a situation to deal with. And you‘re not going anywhere until you‘ve heard what I‘ve got to say.”
Alex panted and tried to struggle against her body, but it was useless. Did he just hear her chuckle?
“Paddling is a new intramural sport. We‘ve only been on campus for three years, and I promised myself that I‘m going to bring this team to nationals this spring.”
Her left leg, over which Alex was secured, was incredibly thick. It was like lying down on a platform of warm, springy flesh. His proximity to her female skin was having the same effect on him that Jill’s had the other week…only this time, his penis was completely exposed. She could probably feel it starting to harden against the inside of her thigh. If she flipped him over, she would see it. Alex prayed to every god he had ever heard of that he would open his eyes and find himself safe in bed, or that he would spontaneously die. Either one would work here.
“Jill is one of my best girls. Better than Courtney. Better than anyone else I‘ve had on the team. If there‘s anyone in this school who can win us that medal, its her. But she needs to stay motivated.”
Here, Diane took her hand off of Alex’s ass so she could inspect it. If Alex’s chest and arms were in as good a shape as his lower body, she would have had a much harder time wrestling him down. His smooth, rounded leg muscles flowed into each other like a blown-glass sculpture, coming together and swelling into a pair of almost perfectly rounded cheeks. Bent over as he was, his bottom stuck up at the ceiling in a consummate dome, each buttock a thick, bouncy half-circle. Diane thought that Alex definitely had a back porch to be proud of, especially for a white boy. His lightly tanned skin had started to redden after her spanking, making her eager to learn how it would look after a little more mistreatment. She laid her fingertips on the crown of his cheeks, pressing down a bit against their springy tissues.
“I‘ve tried pairing Jill with every bottom on the team,” she went on, “she does better with the boys, which makes it hard for me. It is almost impossible to find men who are willing to bottom. The APA wants each team to have a fifty-fifty mixture of bottoms, but at every meet I‘ve been to there were hardly any boys. The more I have, the more generous the judges are likely to be. And then there‘s Jill.”
Squeezing her right thigh down into his legs, she began spanking him again, just as hard. She didn’t have quite as much room to swing her arm in this position, but with his buttocks held so perfectly in place between her arm and her thigh, her aim was perfect. Alex hissed in pain as the first volley of hard slaps came down on his shamefully naked bottom, loud, wet slaps reverberating around the room as the agony grew.
“I have never,” Diane lectured as she spanked his bouncing domes, “seen Jill put as much of herself into the game as she did last Friday. From the first day I had her in the gym, I could see she had potential. I‘ve tried matching her up with all the boys and half the girls on the team, but until you came along, I wasn‘t tapping all of it.”
She began spanking faster, her cupped palm reaching a machinegun rapidity as Alex’s buns turned from pink, to sunset, to fire engine red. The pain was already at least as bad as it had been after his first paddling from Jill, and Diane showed no sign of slowing down. She didn’t even break pace as she continued to speak.
“With you as her bottom, I can finally get Jill to be the top I know she can be. She’s the one who’s going to make my team work. And I‘m not letting you ruin our chances at nationals because you’re too chicken to get your little booty smacked!”
Alex’s eyes were watering. His body wasn’t under his control anymore, writhing like a fish out of water in vein effort to get his “little booty” out of Diane’s line of fire. The smacks came down twice - no, three times per second, like a hail of incendiary shells setting a defenseless city on fire. Alex could hardly think coherently. How many times had she hit him? A hundred? A hundred and fifty? And still no signs of slowing down!
One minute after she had started the spanking, Alex was barking and yelping. One minute after that, his face was damp. How much pain could someone possibly feel? How much blazing holocaust could she possibly pour into his ass before she ran out of steam? He could barely feel it, but his penis was completely erect, his endocrine system choosing to respond to her female pheromones over his own pain receptors; it was standing at an uncomfortable angle against the length of her thigh.
After two and a half minutes and what had to be several hundred slaps of merciless, bare-bottomed spanking, Diane’s arm stopped descending. Alex was trembling, jaws clenched as he struggled to hold in the sobs. His body was covered in sweat. His buttocks, which Diane had just removed her hand from, felt like a nest of yellow jackets had been convinced it was their mortal enemy. “Red” didn’t even do it justice. Not five minutes after seeing it in its naked glory, Diane had turned her new favorite booty the color of an overripe tomato. She had trouble suppressing a grin. Reluctantly, she removed her leg and forearm from his body.
“Stand up. And don‘t you dare rub your butt!”
Alex extricated himself from her thigh, wobbling shakily to his feet. He quickly moved one hand in front of his crotch, while the other darted toward - no, he stopped himself just in time. His ass was demanding attention, its nerve endings screaming for him to do something. It took every ounce of determination to keep his hand a few inches away from it. Alex looked at Diane through leaking eyes, filled with fear and caution. Diane like the way his large, hazel eyes widened when he was in pain. Like Bambi. It made her want to hug him and make him feel better, perhaps in a motherly fashion, perhaps in certain other ways. She could definitely understand Jill’s affinity for this innocent young male. Unfortunately, the nature of Diane’s job prevented her from acting on these natural impulses. She sighed to herself; coaching this team could be such a clit tease.
“Stand in the corner, facing the wall. Leave your pants and undies down. Hands on your head.”
Alex did his best to keep his privates covered as he baby-stepped (his ankles were still bound by his semi-discarded clothing) over to the corner. His erection had gone down a ways due to the burning pain, but it was still at half-mast. In most situations, Alex took pride in the fact that his penis took both hands to cover at a profile. Right now, he was nothing but mortified at the possibility of Diane seeing its state. He started crying again, not from the pain so much as frustration and embarrassment, as he faced the corner and put his hands on his chestnut hair. How could she possibly get away with this? The more he thought about it though, the more likely it seemed that she could. Punitive spankings sounded like a logical enough punishment for misbehavior in this sick “sport,” and he was still technically on the team. He doubted that she was permitted to take his clothes off, but unless he ran out into the hall half-naked right now, it would be her word against his. That conniving bitch; she knew exactly how illegal this was, and she knew exactly why and how she would never have to face the consequences. Though he had his back to her, he could just imagine that big, white grin.
Diane wasn’t actually grinning as she joted something down on the legal pad on her desk, but she was smiling. Every few seconds, she looked up at her miserable captive, chuckling at the dichotomy between his fashionably clothed upper half and his naked, reddened lower one. She could see his arms tremble as he stopped himself from rubbing his ass. The pain must have been excruciating…okay, now she was grinning.
After a minute or two, Diane tore off the legal sheet and put it on her desk. “I’ve written up a nutrition and exercise routine,” she said, “paddling is a spectator sport, and I want all my team members looking their best. I expect to see the results in six weeks; I can tell if you aren‘t following it.”
Alex hung his head even lower. He was trying to think of a way she could be defeated, but nothing came to mind. It was like being trapped in some barbaric, third world dictatorship in the middle of an American private college.
“Turn around.”
Alex slowly turned, keeping both hands in front of his (now thankfully flaccid) crotch. He felt a bit releived that his naked, crimson ass was no longer on display, but having to make eye contact with Diane made him even more uncomfortable. Her jacket was now hanging on a hook on the wall, leaving her in just a wife beater and gym shorts. Even in his agonized state, her figure -as curvy and voluptuous as it was powerful - was hard to ignore.
“Before I send you home,” she explained, a look Alex didn’t at all like in her dark eyes, “there‘s one more thing we have to take care of.”
She opened her desk drawer and reached for an object inside. Oh god, Alex panicked, what now?
“I’m pretty sure you’re not going to quit the team,” she went on, “if you do, you will soon find yourself right back here in my office, and what happened today will seem like a gentle massage. Understand?”
Gritting his teeth, willing to do anything to get him out of here faster, Alex nodded.
“Very good. But you also skipped practice yesterday. I explained in the email I sent out that skipping has consequences.”
She pulled out the object from the drawer. It was a glossy, hardwood hairbrush, classically oval shaped and at least an inch thick. It gleamed in the fluorescent lighting like a surgical tool, the mottled, blonde wood appearing smooth and well varnished.
Alex’s mouth fell open. No. No, there was no way.
“Bend back over,” she tapped her thighs with the back of the brush, “skipping practice is thirty licks. If you try to fight or argue, you get thirty more.”
Alex’s outrage was immeasurable. That sadistic bitch was really enjoying this, wasn’t she? The mirth in her eyes, that subtle curl at the edges of her mouth that she was trying to hide. Never before had Alex truly felt like he was helpless, at someone else’s mercy. For some reason, he felt his manhood starting to repressurize. Why is this happening to me? What the hell is my problem?
She tapped the hairbrush against her thigh again. “Thirty-five licks. In ten seconds it‘ll be forty.”
As Alex baby-stepped back across the room, his foreboding mixed with morbid curiosity. A hairbrush. A wooden hairbrush, like in some old movie. How much was this going to hurt? What would the back of the brush feel like as it touched his sensitive cheeks? His stomach was churning. His mind was locked up. His face was the very picture of fear and emasculation. Alex wasn’t even sure what he was feeling as he laid down across Diane Johnston’s ample thighs. His cock was starting to pump itself back up; it was lying straight across her legs, so that the hills and valley of her lap could be felt along its length under her nylon shorts. Last week, he had been worried about Jill noticing his reaction, and that had been through his trousers. There was no way in hell Diane wouldn’t feel that. He wished he was back home. He wished he had gone to Washington State. He wished that he had enlisted and been sent over to Afghanistan. He wished he was feeling anything besides those plump, female thighs cushioning his hips.
Diane rested her hand on his back and gently ran the blade of the hairbrush across his buns. He shivered; it was cold, and so unforgivingly hard. She tapped it against the center of each buttock, making him wince.
WAP!!!!
The pain was like acid, burning acid. His left buttcheek felt like it had been skinned open and bleeding. His arms, head, and legs flew up in the air, his body vibrating in an attempt to diffuse the force.
WACK!!!
His right flank was dipped in the lava too. The hairbrush spanks came down about once every second and a half, as Diane leisurely redefined his concept of pain.
SPLAT!!!!
CRACK!!
CRACK!!!
CRACK!!
She rubbed the blade of the hairbrush in a circle around his ass. His mouth was gasping like a fish. His fingers and toes curling and uncurling. When Diane resumed the spanking, it was twice as fast, and significantly harder.
CRACK!!! CRACK!!! CRACK!!!
She leaned into him harder, squishing his torso, his prick, and her lap together into a sandwich of human flesh. She swung the hairbrush faster, catching him right on the underside of each crimson bubble, making his tight buttocks rebound after each lick. Diane felt the line of stiffness crossing her legs; she decided to hammer it a little deeper into her skin, so she increased the force. Alex howled.
At fifteen, she increased the pace again, moving her arm as fast as she had during the hand spanking. Alex’s naked buns were turning dark crimson, with round, purplish marks on the lower sit spots above his thighs where the hairbrush had fallen most often. His butt was starting to swell. At twenty-five, Alex had lost his ability to control himself; he was crying like a baby, no longer able to speak. Diane stopped to rest the heavy, wooden brush against his undoubtedly tender crowns. She prodded at him a little with her finger; making him jump; ohh, that bottom was putting out some heat alright!
Diane delivered the last ten a bit more slowly, making sure each blow landed squarely in the center of the opposite cheek. At thirty five she put down the brush, massaging her right bicep a little. Alex remained lying over her lap, crying softly, his sit-upon a rainbow of reds and purples. With a self-satisfied smirk, she noted that his erection was gone.
“Are you going to bring that form to the office?” Diane asked sweetly.
Alex shook his disheveled head. Diane patted him affectionately on the butt and picked up the form from the floor where he’d dropped it. He didn’t react when he heard her rip it in half.
“Good boy. There’s a bathroom in the back of my office; go there until you’re ready to leave.”
…
Alex took a few minutes to wash his face and straighten his hair in the back bathroom. While he was in there, he dared to take a look at his rump in the mirror; dark red, with two purple circles right where he‘d have to put his weight when he sat down. Even the lightest touch to his sit spots burned like a hot coal. He tried splashing cold water on them, but that just made him numb.
After stuffing some soft tissue paper into the back of his boxers, he was able to pull up his pants and underwear and walk - wincing with each step - back to the door. Before he left the bathroom, however, he noticed something hanging on the back wall. It was a long, hardwood paddle, the kind you’d expect from some fraternity hazing stunt, with two rows of holes drilled down its length. It was well over a foot long, and hung on the wall like a trophy. Looking at it, he remembered Diane’s warning about what would happen if he defied her again. He trembled. She wanted me to see that thing. That’s why she sent me back here.
As he left her office, Diane looked up from her desk.
“Don’t forget to take your cushion to classes; you’ll need it for the next few days. I tucked your diet and exercise program into your pocket.”
Alex stopped and looked at her. She was sitting behind her desk, working away at something on her computer. Like any staff member having a normal day at the office.
“I also emailed jill and told her to expect a visit from you. I expect you to make up this week’s session with her before next Thursday. I‘m going to be in touch with her.”
Alex reached into his pocket; the paper was there all right. She must have slipped it into his pocket while she was using the hairbrush.
“Email me your measurements. See you next week.”
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
Paddling Team (chapter one)
Alex wasn’t known for being punctual, but this afternoon he made sure he was at the gym five minutes early. Today was the last day of tryouts, which meant he had to make damn sure he was on top of his game. For the millionth time, he cursed himself for procrastinating this long; now that time was running out, he was dangerously low on options…and the ones that were left didn‘t exactly play to his strengths. Sadly, aside from hiking and bike-riding he wasn’t too much of an athlete. He just hoped to god that he was enough of one to make the team.
The nineteen year old college freshman had gotten himself into a bit of a pickle. Due to his impressive grades and exemplary citizenship in high school, the institution was willing to waive 75% of his tuition…on two conditions. The first was that he maintain a Grade Point Average of 3.5 or higher; no problem, he was going for a history major. The second was that he participate in at least two official extracurricular clubs or activities per semester, one of which had to be a competitive, intramural event. This shouldn’t have been a problem either, had he not listened to the drunken frat boys who assured him that there were always plenty of open slots and that he shouldn’t hurry. Note to self: avoid the Greek scene from now on.
“Alex?” A female voice came from behind him. “Hi!”
Alex turned to see Jill striding up to the gym. Jill’s was a very distinctive appearance. She was the tallest woman Alex had ever met, her 6’2’’ frame giving her four inches over himself, along with almost everyone else. Hell, she was probably one of the tallest people he had met. With her blue eyes and long, platinum blonde hair, Alex thought she looked like a Valkyrie out of some Norse opera. The first thing he had said to her, when they met in Classics last week, was “Hello, I’m Alex. Wow, you’re really tall.” Jill had blushed and shaken her head at him, but she didn’t seem to take it in a bad way. She had continued sitting next to him, and usually provided conversation on the way out of the building.
“Oh, hey there!” Alex replied as she came up to the door. “Here for paddling tryouts?”
She shook her head. “I’m already on the team. Its, like, my favorite sport.”
She smiled broadly. Jill had this wide, full-cheeked grin and freckled, girlish face that looked almost out of place on her stature. Alex smiled back. “I used to be pretty good back in middle school,” he said, recalling his sea-kayak trips around Pudget Sound, “but…uh…its kinda been awhile.”
“Oh, don‘t worry, I‘m sure you‘ll do fine.” She sounded like she meant it, which honestly confused Alex a bit; his arms were not exactly bulging. “You want to work together?”
Alex raised an eyebrow. “Together? They don’t have the new people together for tryouts?”
“What?” Jill gave him an incredulous stare. “Is that really how they do it in Washington? You can get really hurt if the top isn‘t experienced.”
Alex had never heard the word “top” used in association with paddling. Granted, it was several years since he’d touched a rowboat, but he could have sworn the two positions were “front” and “back.” Maybe it was an east coast thing.
“I guess I‘m just a super badass then,” Alex shrugged.
Jill chuckled, looking at Alex in what almost seemed an appraising manner. “I guess we’ll see.”
“So,” Alex said, deciding to change the subject before he made himself look too ignorant, “how‘d the cupcakes turn out?”
Jill’s eyes lit up. “Oh, they were great! I made that mocha frosting you told me about, and…here, I took a picture!”
She eagerly fished out her cell phone and showed him the cupcake platter she had been planning earlier that week. They talked about baking until the rest of the team started to arrive, at which point Jill started introducing Alex around. Strangely, almost all of them were girls. For a moment, Alex was afraid he had accidentally showed up for women’s tryouts, but there were a couple other guys. Finally, the gym door opened, and they filed in.
“Locker rooms are that way,” Jill pointed when Alex tried to follow her. Alex was confused.
“We‘re not changing up at the lake?”
“Lake?” Jill looked at him blankly. “Why would we go there?”
…
The men’s locker room was nearly empty - just Alex and two other guys, both of them upperclassmen. In it had been a hamper containing a number of one-size-fits-all uniforms that looked nothing like the wet suit Alex had worn in middle school. A white muscle shirt with a black number “05” on the front, a pair of skintight white polyester shorts that Alex felt embarrassed just looking at, and slippers. The hell? He had asked one of the older guys about the uniforms, to which he replied “what about them?”
No wet suits, and no lake. Were they just going to be paddling across the gymnasium swimming pool or something?
Alex looked at himself in the mirror before following the others out into the gym. The muscle shirt hung loosely around his torso, displaying his none-too-great arms and upper chest. The swimming trunks (or whatever they were supposed to be) were the exact opposite, squeezing his hips and upper thighs like a constrictor snake. Turning around, he saw a shamefully prominent bulge at the front; damn, it hadn’t looked so noticeable from above! The other two boys had the same problem with their own uniform bottoms, but they seemed nonchalant about it. Alex decided he should try and act the same, but it wasn’t easy. He just hoped he could avoid paying too much attention to the girls…
After trying in vain to adjust the front of his trunks, Alex gave himself one last look in the mirror. A tan-skinned (from his Mexican half) and reddish-brown haired (from his Irish half) young man, broad shouldered and on the tall side, was framed half-nakedly against the wall of lockers. His arms and legs were on the thicker side, and there was a bit of a pectoral bulge over the low collar of the shirt, but his torso could still hold a lot more muscle mass than it currently did; overall, he was a lot fitter below the waistline than above it, which did little for rowing a boat. The bits of white cloth and polyester didn’t look right on him - like he was too small for the shirt and too big for the trunks - and the bright white was too vivid against his complexion.
He shook his head. There were just too many things about this practice that didn’t add up.
…
Everyone paired up as soon as they entered the gym. Most of the girls were coupled with another of their kind, aside from the two who had snapped up Alex’s peers. It didn’t take him long to spot Jill, on account of her being almost half a head taller than the next biggest person. She smiled encouragingly as they crossed the room toward each other.
“It looks good on you!” She insisted.
Alex snorted. “I guess you‘re more into baking than fashion.”
She gasped in mock offense. “Oh, shut up!”
However ambivalent Alex was about his own uniform, there was no denying that Jill looked absolutely stunning in hers. Her shirt and trunks were pale gray rather than white, and fit her just tightly enough to show off her strong, buxom figure without squeezing too tight. As his eyes fell over her tall, well-highlighted body, Alex felt his trunks getting tighter; he carefully reminded himself to stop checking out his teammates and get back to worrying about tryouts.
Judging by the presence of Jill’s name emblazoned in black letters next to the number 09, this suit had been fitted for her. Hopefully, Alex would be granted the same privilege when he made the team. Well, if I make the team.
“What’s with the different uniform colors?” Alex asked as he peered around the room.
Jill gave him that incredulous look again, like she couldn‘t believe he didn‘t know this. “Gray is top, white is bottom.”
Alex raised an eyebrow. There had only been one hamper in the men’s locker room, and it had been full of white uniforms. The women, from what he could see, were divided pretty evenly between white and gray. While Alex didn’t especially care which side of the canoe he sat in, he couldn’t help but feel just a little discriminated against. Maybe the coach is some crazy feminist or something, and she wants the girls to steer? The more he thought about it, the less likely that seemed.
“Here she comes,” Jill whispered as the door opened again, “ready to blow Coach Johnston away?”
“I’ll blow out every candle on her cake,” replied Alex in the most ridiculously macho whisper he could produce.
Jill laughed, shaking her head and putting a hand over her eyes. “That sounded so dirty.”
“Well you sound like you’ve got your mind in the gutter.”
She rolled her eyes with a bit of a blush. Jill seemed to blush as easily as she smiled.
Coach Diane Johnston turned out to be an African American woman, big boned and thickly built, with heavyset features and an impressive musculature that showed through her full gym suit. Alex guessed her age at a very fit and athletic forty.
“Good morning,” her voice was deep and throaty, “welcome, newcomers, and welcome back team. I was very glad to learn how many new faces there would be for this year‘s women‘s paddling team, and I‘m even gladder to see you all for myself. As some of you know, this is only the third year we‘ve had a team, and I hope with this many of you we can finally go all the way to nationals.”
Alex did a double take. Did she just say women’s paddling team? He could have sworn she said that. He quickly looked around at the other two guys; they looked kind of nervous and jumpy, but they hadn’t left the room. And there was a hamper of uniforms in the men’s locker room, wasn’t there? Alex felt the uncomfortable, visceral sensation that comes with not knowing if you’ve just made a major screw-up.
“Most of you know that we compete in three separate events,” Coach Johnston went on, pacing in front of her lined-up protégés, “timed, endurance, and skit paddling. Every pair is expected to participate in at least two of those events, but as your coach, I‘ll appreciate it if you try for all three. There are some different skillsets involved in each one - especially the skits, which take a little drama acting - but when you‘ve gotten yourself into the right headspace, you‘ll find they can all be mastered.”
Alex wasn’t sure he understood three consecutive words that she was saying. All this talk of acting skits and headspace, and still not a drop of water in sight? The writhing in his stomach got worse when Johnston walked past him. The more he watched her, the more Alex realized what an impressive figure of a woman Diane was. Her very dark complexion and classic, African lips worked a strange kind of chemistry with her domineering voice and body language, reminding Alex again of just how tightly his trunks fit him. Great, Alex thought as he tried to get ahold of himself, my arms are skinny, I look like a dork in this suit, and now if I‘m not careful I‘m going to burst out of these goddamned hotpants things in front of the whole bridge club, or whatever the hell this is.
Alex was grateful when Diane clapped her hands sharply and told them to start doing warmups. After however many stretches, pushups, jumping jacks, and situps, Diane told them all to pair back up, each veteran team member making sure that there were no free neophytes before picking another of their own. Jill happily took Alex by the arm and led him to the right side of the gym, where the other newbie teams were concentrated. Leaning against the bleachers were a number of armless folding chairs, and before them was a large, white box. Diane positioned herself by these before speaking again.
“Since some of you haven‘t done this before, I‘m going to demonstrate before you start. Everyone watch me very carefully, especially prospective tops. If you don‘t pay attention, you could end up hurting your bottom, and then its off the team.” She looked much more serious as she said this bit, looking back and forth to make eye contact with every single student. Despite apparently being a “bottom,” Alex recoiled a bit from her stare.
“Courtney, come here.”
A big, slightly chubby girl in a gray uniform reading “01: Courtney” came forward. She was only around average height, but with a very thick, heavy figure; a stocky mixture of muscle and pudge. She was cute, in an unconventional way: Greek features, big bust, and - most apparently from where Alex was standing - what had to be the largest rear end in proportion to the rest of her body that Alex had ever seen. Despite having a fitted uniform, her gray trunks were tight in the back, making each mighty bounce and wobble only too visible as she walked. Alex mentally slapped himself again and looked back up. He noticed Jill watching him coyly out of the corner of her eye. It was now his turn to blush.
“Courtney Aniksos is your team captain. Courtney’s normally a top, but as captain she’s going to play the bottom for me.”
Courtney grinned and curtsied. A few people laughed.
“Since this is our first practice of the term, we‘re going to spend most of today doing counting exercises. Courtney, set up a chair.”
Courtney grinned sheepishly and looked at the floor. “Yes, ma’am,” she said, before taking one of the folding chairs from the wall and opening it facing the others.
“Ma‘am,” the coach repeated meaningfully, looking into everyone’s eyes again, “from the moment you start the routine, bottoms must address their tops as ‘ma’am’ unless they’re told to do something else. That’s going to be very important for skits, so you’d better get into the habit now.”
As Diane seated herself on the chair, Alex turned his utterly bewildered face up at Jill.
“What the hell is this?” He whispered.
“Shush,” Jill shushed him, looking surprised at his interruption, “this is important, watch!”
Before Alex’s disbelieving eyes, the older woman gave Courtney a cross look and urgently patted her thigh. “Bend over.” Still grinning sheepishly, Courtney leaned over Diane’s lap and planted her hands on the floor, so that she was arched over the coach’s thighs. With a bit of help from Diane, she was soon positioned so that her oversized bottom was resting right over the center of the coach’s lap, its immense, tightly-clothed underside open to Diane’s right.
“Over-The-Knee is the standard position used in American Paddling Association meets. OTK is comfortable for the bottom and gives the top plenty of room to work. If the bottoms can‘t hold still, their tops can restrain them by resting their left arms on the lower back, like this, and leaning in. As you can see, I don’t lean too hard; I want to hold Courtney down, not crush her.”
Leaning over her “bottom,” Diane’s face was held closer to her audience, giving her powerful body an almost predatory silhouette. Courtney was taking deep breaths, as if preparing herself for something strenuous. Diane waved her free right arm a few times to warm it up.
“For longer exercises, we‘ll use a safe word, but to start we‘re just going to do a thirty count warmup and a ten count paddling. For warmups, you cup your hand just a little, and bring it down while flicking your wrist, like your arm is made of leather.”
And then, before Alex could convince himself that this was really happening, Diane brought her slightly-cupped right hand down against Courtney’s upturned buttocks.
Snap!
Courtney jerked a little and let out a soft “ooh…” Alex’s eyes snapped open wide. He looked around at the others. Everyone else was either watching closely, with a mystified excitement or apprehension, or (in the case of the veterans), tapping their toes waiting for the demonstration to be over. Paddling team, Alex thought, paddling team. On the website there was a boating team, and there was a paddling team.
Damnit, I thought it was a typo!
“Remember, the warmup starts out light, just hard enough to sting. Each slap should be just slightly harder than the one before. For beginners, its good technique to switch cheeks every time you slap. Like so.”
Snap! The other side of Courtney’s bulging ass was paid a visit by Coach Diane Johnston’s palm. Courtney’s body shivered again as each ample bottom cheek shook and jiggled under her gray trunks. Alex felt his eyes gluing themselves to Courtney’s besieged backside as its owner gasped. The way Diane made it shake was hypnotic.
“Count your strokes,” Diane advised, “if you have trouble doing that, count out loud. Start with two seconds between strokes - one Mississippi, two Mississippi - and speed up after fifteen. Remember,” she slapped Courtney’s bottom again, “each stroke is just a little harder than the last!”
Her hand came down again on the opposite cheek, and then - almost exactly two seconds later - revisited its twin. Courtney’s trembling and gasps made it clear that these were getting more painful. Five…six…seven…
Alex looked up at Jill. She looked excited, and impatient. Oh god. He was a bottom wasn‘t he? It really was a women‘s paddling team; only women could do the paddling! For Alex, everything seemed to slow down into a waterlogged dream-time. His brain was locked in disbelief. His heart was racing. His eyes were captivated. The only sensation in his body was a growing discomfort down below, as his penis fought to stand up against his tight shorts; he tried to avert his gaze from Courtney’s bouncing ass and Diane’s domineering face, but they wouldn’t obey.
At fifteen, Diane doubled her speed, striking the captain’s big ass every second. Courtney was writhing now, gasping sharply after each loud slap set her immense buttocks dancing. The spanking grew harder, as did the resulting vibrations, and soon Courtney was kicking her legs a little and wincing painfully. The younger girls present all pressed in, eager to see the details of their captain’s chastisement. Some gray-garbed applicants looked excited. Their white-clad counterparts did not. When the thirtieth smack landed, Diane left her hand on Courtney’s quivering, oversized ass and addressed her.
“Fetch me a paddle and get back in position. No rubbing!”
While Diane explained that rubbing or grasping one’s own hindquarters was not permitted during the exercises, Courtney opened the box and took out a big, plastic spanking paddle. It was rectangular, about twelve inches long, and had “American Paddling Association” printed on the blade. Her face hardly betraying the sting she must have felt, Courtney handed the paddle to Diane and climbed obediently back over her lap.
“I want you to count these,” she commanded her victim. Courtney nodded reluctantly. Before Alex’s still-widening eyes, Diane raised the paddle and brought it down right on the very center of Courtney’s fat bottom.
“ONE!”
Courtney’s entire body buckled under the paddle as her massive tush shook like two scoops of jello in a tight, gray wrapping. She was still grimacing with pain from the first stroke when the clear plastic cut into her bottom again, sending the flesh splashing away from the part that it flattened in a great wave. The instant the paddle cracked into her ass, Alex felt the tension in his shorts skyrocket. He tried to stand at an angle that made the bulge less visible, as the coach raised her arm again.
“TWO!”
Diane delivered each paddle lick as soon as Courtney was finished counting the previous one. After five, she stopped for a moment and gently fondled her student’s ass with her left hand, taking her weight momentarily off of Courtney’s back.
“This is why the warm up is important. If I swing like this without getting the blood flowing, I could bruise her for weeks.”
She emphasized this point by making the sixth stroke the hardest so far. Alex’s eyes were glued to the scene as the demonstration came to its end. He had actually lost the sensation in most of his body by the time Diane lifted the paddle after the tenth stroke and told Courtney she could rub now. Jumping to her feet, the team captain quickly enjoyed her new privilege.
“Owww…” she muttered, giving her mentor a look of half-serious reproach as she furiously kneaded her own behind. There was some deliberate drama in the way she conducted herself, but the pain was clearly genuine. Alex winced. Jill looked frighteningly peppy.
Diane stood up and placed the paddle back in the box. “Set up the chairs in a line. New people on this side, veterans over there. There’s enough chairs and paddles for everyone. I’ll be walking past to help you out.”
Courtney hotfooted it back to her partner, hands still clutching her hindquarters. Before Alex knew it, Jill had unfolded a chair toward the end of the line, and was beckoning him toward it. She was already holding a standard issue APA paddle.
“Come on,” said Jill, smiling coyly as she pushed some platinum blonde bangs out of her eyes, “you‘ve got some birthday candles to blow out.”
Alex stammered. Around them, other duos were getting themselves into position. One of the veterans was already positioning someone over her knee.
“Um…”
Jill raised an eyebrow. “Are you feeling alright?”
For a moment, Alex was stuck staring into Jill’s concerned face, trying to articulate the many, many problems he had with this situation. Her large, blue eyes were waiting.
“I…um…I think I may have come to the wrong practice.”
“What?” She gave him a funny look. “You told me you did this in junior high!” She thought for a moment. “Do you mean you thought it was coed? I know, there should really be a boys’ team, but the board of-”
“No,” he said sharply, making her recoil a bit, “I didn‘t think that.” He felt momentarily bad about interrupting her, but the fact that she was about to gleefully beat him with a paddle made Alex less concerned about cordiality. Alex just hoped she didn’t notice that his penis was doing its best to rip his shorts out of its way; watching the demonstration had effected him in a way he wasn‘t comfortable with watching someone in pain effecting him. “I…”
As he looked up into Jill’s curious, blue eyes, he thought carefully. If he explained his mistake, it was doubtful that he would be able to switch into a different team in time for the scholarship cut. While he could probably stall for a few days by visiting the office and making appointments with whatever Dean was in charge of this stuff, that would mean a LOT of hours dealing with the bureaucracy and an even metric fuckton of frustration and headaches. He could tell Coach Johnston his problem and hope she would let him stay on the team without participating until he could switch into something else, but something told him Diane would not appreciate that. And really, it was his own fault he was in this situation. He hadn’t bothered reading the description of this so-called “sport” before signing up for it, and he hadn’t bothered getting his extracurricular taken care of back when everyone else was doing it. Did he really want to start off his college career by throwing his stupid mistakes at other people?
“I…”
Jill looked like she was starting to worry about his health.
“…I didn’t think they were birthday candles. I was expecting more of an anniversary cake.”
For a moment, Jill stared at him in open mouthed disbelief. Then, with a most unladylike snort, she doubled over and started chuckling into her palm.
“I don’t even…” she said between chuckles, her platinum hair rippling around her head, “oh, I‘m going to make you sorry!”
Still giggling and shaking her head, the brobdignagian blonde seated herself in the folding chair, put the paddle down on the floor, and pointed at her lap. “Bend over, goofball.”
Alex stared at her thighs like a political idealist at the guillotine. Was he really going to be…beaten…paddled…oh, enough beating around the bush…spanked by one of his fellow students? By the cupcake girl? Unfortunately, “yes” was the only answer that wouldn’t put his life plans in jeopardy.
Trying not to betray his shame and trepidation, Alex stood to Jill’s right and awkwardly lowered himself over her thighs. He hesitated before putting a hand on her exposed knee (her shorts stopped just above them); she nodded encouragingly, so he put down his hand on her skin to support himself. Just before lying down, he stealthily pulled out his waistband so that his dick could uncoil itself and rest along his belly. Damn, the head was poking out from his waistband, wasn’t it? Praying to every god he had ever heard of that Jill wouldn’t feel that, he put his hands on the floor and let his body rest on her lap. I hope all this blood rushing to my head will drain some out of my cock. After a few seconds, Alex was mortified to learn that it wouldn’t.
“Alright you bad little boy,” Jill chimed as she shifted him over her thighs into just the right position, “I hope you‘re ready for this.”
“Don‘t worry, I want that cake too.”
“Oh please…”
She pushed him a little bit further forward, so that the mysterious protrusion wasn’t digging into her thigh as much. The ill-fitting trunks held Alex’s nates high above his thighs, forming a prominent dome that pointed at the ceiling. His legs and butt really were better toned than the rest of him; Jill had caught occasional glimpses of this in Classics class, but this was the best look she had gotten. She caught herself humming a bit under her breath, and hoped Alex didn’t notice. For his part, Alex felt himself being ground against Jill’s thick lap, her soft skin and the taught musculature beneath very perceptible under the thin fabric. His erection wasn’t going away - being mashed against her legs just seemed to stimulate it. Alex winced. Getting a boner during a presentation in class or something was an acceptable hardship that came with growing up male, but in this situation? Much more unfortunate.
“You comfy?” Jill asked as she rested a firm hand on his back.
“As close as I‘m going to get,” he replied, holding his head a little higher to minimize the dizziness. He was becoming aware that his buttocks were currently the highest part of his body, making them just embarrassingly conspicuous. And vulnerable. A strange shiver whose nature Alex couldn’t quite grasp ran through his flesh.
“Alright!” She said excitedly, “Warm up time!”
The first, forceful handprint appeared on Alex’s right butt, sending a wet, smacking sound into the air. He jumped a little in place; he hadn’t been expecting it yet. The burn took a second to start, but once it did his first impulse was to reach back and grab his mistreated cheek.
“Hey, that‘s not allowed!” Jill intercepted his hand and gripped his wrist, startling him with her strength. “Hands stay on the floor until I say.”
She released his hand, leaning more strongly on his back to remind him who was in charge. As she leaned in, Alex felt a faint glimmer of warmth on his back, which he knew was body heat from her overhanging chest. His face burned as he replaced his hand on the hard floor, but his manhood grew stiffer against her meaty lap.
He was more ready for the next slap, which imparted its sting on his left cheek, and for the third which came again on the right. After that, Jill started spanking harder, and the two Mississippi’s that Alex was counting in his head started being cut off as her pace increased.
“Hey, you‘re speeding up!” He protested, looking back over his shoulder to see her smiling over his helpless body.
“Oh, that‘s just my technique. Diane has the new tops start with doubling speed after fifteen, but once you‘ve learned that you can do all kinds of things.”
She then slapped him three times, very fast, in a row, presumably to make up for the interruption. Alex almost grunted out loud - it was really starting to hurt!
Ten…eleven…twelve…by fifteen, she wasn’t even waiting a second between wristy slaps. Alex grimaced as he felt his body starting to involuntarily cringe away from her hand, grinding him forward into her lap. The thin, soft fabric of their uniform bottoms tickled him as he rolled over it, and the topography of her thighs created an uneven surface that created a kind of massage. If it weren’t for the pain in his ass, the sensation might have even been pleasurable. Seventeen…eighteen…Alex thought she must have been using her full strength now, and Jill was every bit as strong as you’d expect a towering Viking lass to be. He felt her weight crushing him against her thighs as she leaned on her left arm, locking him in place as her right arm swung harder and faster, each burning palm falling on the ones before.
“Awww,” she said as she slapped him twice, very hard, right in the center of his sit spot, “didn‘t - SLAP - you say - SMACK - you‘ve been - SMACK - doing this - WAP since middle school?”
Alex tried to think of a snappy answer, but the merciless smacking and growing pain interfered with his thoughts. By the time she reached thirty, he had lost count; it was all he could do not to cry out or start struggling like a baby.
“I’ll bet your all warmed up,” Jill said, teasing the undersides of his buttcheeks with a gentle fingertip, “now we do some paddlin‘. You ready?”
She leaned over toward his head, causing her thighs to shift under him, which made him twitch electrically. He felt her soft, blonde hair falling lightly on his upper back, and just a trace of breast grazing him further down.
“Um…yeah, ” he shifted his hands around, trying to get his confused body back under his control, “paddle. Like we‘re going up the Mississippi.”
Jill didn’t catch the bitterness or wishful thinking in that last sentence. She just affectionately ruffled his hair and leaned over further (ooh, yes) to grab the paddle from the floor (oh no…). He had an obstructed, over-the-shoulder view of the transparent, acrylic blade being lined up behind him before he felt it press against his stinging buns. The flat of the paddle pushing against his beaten cheeks felt good, for a moment; the pressure helped keep the sting away. An instant later, however, the pressure was gone, and Jill was lifting the American Paddling Association Standard Issue up to shoulder height.
“Playtime’s over,” she half said, half sang as she pushed her considerable weight back onto her left arm, holding him down, “hope you‘re nice and warm back there!”
Alex reflexively tensed his buttocks when he heard the paddle whoosh through the air. When its unbreakable surface impacted his taught flesh, he was immediately sorry he had done that.
CRACK!!!
Alex immediately raised his body like a cobra, legs twitching with the force of the impact. He heard Jill announce “one!” and barely had time to register the second whoosh before a second CRACK landed. The spanking had been painful, but being beaten with something hard and flat on top of already burning flesh?
The third crack came quickly afterward, flattening his buttocks against his hips and forcing those down into Jill’s thighs, crushing his manhood against her thinly-garbed legs more strongly than ever. He felt a shock of stimulation, but it was drowned out by the pain from the other side as she landed another paddle lick, and then another. Alex looked over his shoulder, then around the gym; everyone was busy with their own exercises. Thank god at least no one was watching him like this…
“How are you two doing?” Coach Johnston’s voice came from behind him.
“Great!” Jill exclaimed, mercifully giving her right arm a rest as she looked up at her mentor. “Alex is as a great bottom.” She took her left hand off his back to give that part of his body a playful swat, making him gasp and tighten up. Even a light smack was like pouring gasoline on the raging fire. His eyes felt watery.
“Hmmhmm,” he heard Diane chuckle, “careful you don‘t overdo it. Pace yourself more; give him another second after each lick.”
“Right. I’m sorry, I know this; its been all summer, and I’m out of practice.”
“Don’t worry,” Alex saw Diane flash a brilliantly white smile at Jill, “everyone is. You‘re one of the bests on my team, you‘ll do fine.”
“Thanks.” Jill did her cute, easy blush again.
Alex was about to report on how he was doing, but, at a motion from Diane, Jill raised the paddle again and brought it down for the seventh stroke.
“OW!!!” He finally lost it, shouting in pain at the unexpected, full-force lick. Jill giggled. Diane glared at him disapprovingly for a second, making him turn his burning face back to the floor, before speaking to Jill again.
“Give it a moment now. One…two…eight!”
CRACK!!!
Alex shut his eyes, not wanting to know if the pitiless, older woman was still standing beside his upturned bum, watching it head on as Jill introduced it to the paddle for the ninth and tenth times. His elbows were trembling. His eyelashes felt wet. His underside felt crushed and winded, and his backside was a holocaust of fiery pain.
“Get up and rub.”
Alex awkwardly pried himself out of Jill’s lap and put both hands on his ass. The skintight fabric was holding in the heat, further irritating his inflamed skin with its pressure. It was only a moment before he looked down and noticed that the waistband of his shorts wasn’t quite touching his belly in the very front. He turned his side to jill, praying she hadn’t noticed. How the hell could he still be erect? Perhaps more to the point, why?
“How did I do?” Jill asked excitedly as she stood up.
“Ahhh…” he continued to ruefully rub his ass, turning so that his front was facing the wall, “…great. Best top I‘ve ever had.”
“Awww. Think we can paddle up the Mississippi?”
More like the Amazon.
“Yeah. And back. In..ow…in an evening.”
Alex was relieved that they were given fifteen minutes to recover before the next exercise. He was much less please, however, at the end of that period, when Diane marched in front of her lined up team and announced that it was time for “thirty-lick technique paddling.” No practical demonstration this time; she just explained what had to be done and set them back to work. Once again, Alex found himself across Jill’s ample lap, this time for an unbearable thirty swats from the acrylic paddle. He thought his bottom has been on fire before; now, it was almost numb. On the bright side, his boner at least was starting to lose its enthusiasm. On the dark side, Jill was doing the exact opposite. Toward the end of the exercise, Diane reappeared to watch Jill beat his helpless ass and tell him to keep up the good work. Goddamnit, why did she have to sound so smug when she commented on the mistreatment his lewdly presented butt was enduring?
For the final ten strokes, Jill stood up and put her foot on the chair, making Alex bend over her thigh so she could paddle him over her knee. When she was done, he veritably flew to his feet, stamping his feet and furiously kneading his ass, almost crying with embarrassment. Thank god Diane wasn’t watching at the moment, and everyone else was occupied.
“That’s it for this afternoon,” Diane announced, “I’m happy to say all the newcomers have made the team; you’ll get an email asking for your measurements so we can order fitting uniforms. Bottoms, you’ll each find a cushion in the locker rooms that you can bring to classes with you while your booties are still stinging. I’ll see you all next week!”
…
Alex avoided the other two guys in the locker room. He retreated into one of the shower cubicals and inspected his hindquarters in the mirror. Pink. His skin was bright pink and swollen, with lines battered into the flesh where the edge of the paddle had left its impression. Most embarrassingly, he thought he could make out a number of large, reddish handprints, like some personalized cattle brand, spread out across the rounded undersides of his burning nether cheeks. The shower water stung his beaten ass when he turned on the cold, and burned it when he turned on the hot. He had to grit his teeth and suck in his breath as he quickly went through the shower. Getting dressed again was no fun either; it was all he could do to avoid yelping when he pulled his jeans back up.
As he hurried out of the gym, he thought frantically about how to get out of this. Will they let me switch out before next practice? It’s the early season, people are still adding and dropping activities, right? I swear to god the next time someone tells me the deadlines aren’t important…
On his way out the door, Jill appeared beside him.
“Hey, do you feel like dinner?” She asked, playing a bit with a strand of light blonde hair as she gave him a sideways look.
“Maybe tomorrow. I…uh…have homework.” He avoided making eye contact; he was too humiliated to meet Jill’s gaze after what she had just done to him.
“Oh. Okay.” If he had been looking her in the face, he would have seen her disappointment. “I‘ll Facebook you.”
Jill joined up with Courtney and some of the other girls and headed off in a different direction. Alex power walked back to his dorm, looking around to make sure there was no one looking so he could rub his bottom from time to time. Before he rounded the corner away from the gym, however, he looked back over his shoulder. Jill was walking away with some of the other girls, her tall, broad-shouldered silhouette, trailing platinum hair, and rather large, fleshy bottom bouncing as she stepped. As he watched her retreat, a number of conflicting sensations were felt in Alex’s body. He saw her innocent, girlish smile in his mind’s eye, and then felt the sting of her palm against his ass as she held him down and teased him. For a moment, he wasn’t sure exactly what he was thinking.
He rounded the corner and shook her out of his mind. When he got home, he was going to spend the afternoon on his laptop, trying to determine how and if he could switch out of this so-called “sport” before next week’s butt burning session. After that, he would try and get some sleep. On his stomach.
The nineteen year old college freshman had gotten himself into a bit of a pickle. Due to his impressive grades and exemplary citizenship in high school, the institution was willing to waive 75% of his tuition…on two conditions. The first was that he maintain a Grade Point Average of 3.5 or higher; no problem, he was going for a history major. The second was that he participate in at least two official extracurricular clubs or activities per semester, one of which had to be a competitive, intramural event. This shouldn’t have been a problem either, had he not listened to the drunken frat boys who assured him that there were always plenty of open slots and that he shouldn’t hurry. Note to self: avoid the Greek scene from now on.
“Alex?” A female voice came from behind him. “Hi!”
Alex turned to see Jill striding up to the gym. Jill’s was a very distinctive appearance. She was the tallest woman Alex had ever met, her 6’2’’ frame giving her four inches over himself, along with almost everyone else. Hell, she was probably one of the tallest people he had met. With her blue eyes and long, platinum blonde hair, Alex thought she looked like a Valkyrie out of some Norse opera. The first thing he had said to her, when they met in Classics last week, was “Hello, I’m Alex. Wow, you’re really tall.” Jill had blushed and shaken her head at him, but she didn’t seem to take it in a bad way. She had continued sitting next to him, and usually provided conversation on the way out of the building.
“Oh, hey there!” Alex replied as she came up to the door. “Here for paddling tryouts?”
She shook her head. “I’m already on the team. Its, like, my favorite sport.”
She smiled broadly. Jill had this wide, full-cheeked grin and freckled, girlish face that looked almost out of place on her stature. Alex smiled back. “I used to be pretty good back in middle school,” he said, recalling his sea-kayak trips around Pudget Sound, “but…uh…its kinda been awhile.”
“Oh, don‘t worry, I‘m sure you‘ll do fine.” She sounded like she meant it, which honestly confused Alex a bit; his arms were not exactly bulging. “You want to work together?”
Alex raised an eyebrow. “Together? They don’t have the new people together for tryouts?”
“What?” Jill gave him an incredulous stare. “Is that really how they do it in Washington? You can get really hurt if the top isn‘t experienced.”
Alex had never heard the word “top” used in association with paddling. Granted, it was several years since he’d touched a rowboat, but he could have sworn the two positions were “front” and “back.” Maybe it was an east coast thing.
“I guess I‘m just a super badass then,” Alex shrugged.
Jill chuckled, looking at Alex in what almost seemed an appraising manner. “I guess we’ll see.”
“So,” Alex said, deciding to change the subject before he made himself look too ignorant, “how‘d the cupcakes turn out?”
Jill’s eyes lit up. “Oh, they were great! I made that mocha frosting you told me about, and…here, I took a picture!”
She eagerly fished out her cell phone and showed him the cupcake platter she had been planning earlier that week. They talked about baking until the rest of the team started to arrive, at which point Jill started introducing Alex around. Strangely, almost all of them were girls. For a moment, Alex was afraid he had accidentally showed up for women’s tryouts, but there were a couple other guys. Finally, the gym door opened, and they filed in.
“Locker rooms are that way,” Jill pointed when Alex tried to follow her. Alex was confused.
“We‘re not changing up at the lake?”
“Lake?” Jill looked at him blankly. “Why would we go there?”
…
The men’s locker room was nearly empty - just Alex and two other guys, both of them upperclassmen. In it had been a hamper containing a number of one-size-fits-all uniforms that looked nothing like the wet suit Alex had worn in middle school. A white muscle shirt with a black number “05” on the front, a pair of skintight white polyester shorts that Alex felt embarrassed just looking at, and slippers. The hell? He had asked one of the older guys about the uniforms, to which he replied “what about them?”
No wet suits, and no lake. Were they just going to be paddling across the gymnasium swimming pool or something?
Alex looked at himself in the mirror before following the others out into the gym. The muscle shirt hung loosely around his torso, displaying his none-too-great arms and upper chest. The swimming trunks (or whatever they were supposed to be) were the exact opposite, squeezing his hips and upper thighs like a constrictor snake. Turning around, he saw a shamefully prominent bulge at the front; damn, it hadn’t looked so noticeable from above! The other two boys had the same problem with their own uniform bottoms, but they seemed nonchalant about it. Alex decided he should try and act the same, but it wasn’t easy. He just hoped he could avoid paying too much attention to the girls…
After trying in vain to adjust the front of his trunks, Alex gave himself one last look in the mirror. A tan-skinned (from his Mexican half) and reddish-brown haired (from his Irish half) young man, broad shouldered and on the tall side, was framed half-nakedly against the wall of lockers. His arms and legs were on the thicker side, and there was a bit of a pectoral bulge over the low collar of the shirt, but his torso could still hold a lot more muscle mass than it currently did; overall, he was a lot fitter below the waistline than above it, which did little for rowing a boat. The bits of white cloth and polyester didn’t look right on him - like he was too small for the shirt and too big for the trunks - and the bright white was too vivid against his complexion.
He shook his head. There were just too many things about this practice that didn’t add up.
…
Everyone paired up as soon as they entered the gym. Most of the girls were coupled with another of their kind, aside from the two who had snapped up Alex’s peers. It didn’t take him long to spot Jill, on account of her being almost half a head taller than the next biggest person. She smiled encouragingly as they crossed the room toward each other.
“It looks good on you!” She insisted.
Alex snorted. “I guess you‘re more into baking than fashion.”
She gasped in mock offense. “Oh, shut up!”
However ambivalent Alex was about his own uniform, there was no denying that Jill looked absolutely stunning in hers. Her shirt and trunks were pale gray rather than white, and fit her just tightly enough to show off her strong, buxom figure without squeezing too tight. As his eyes fell over her tall, well-highlighted body, Alex felt his trunks getting tighter; he carefully reminded himself to stop checking out his teammates and get back to worrying about tryouts.
Judging by the presence of Jill’s name emblazoned in black letters next to the number 09, this suit had been fitted for her. Hopefully, Alex would be granted the same privilege when he made the team. Well, if I make the team.
“What’s with the different uniform colors?” Alex asked as he peered around the room.
Jill gave him that incredulous look again, like she couldn‘t believe he didn‘t know this. “Gray is top, white is bottom.”
Alex raised an eyebrow. There had only been one hamper in the men’s locker room, and it had been full of white uniforms. The women, from what he could see, were divided pretty evenly between white and gray. While Alex didn’t especially care which side of the canoe he sat in, he couldn’t help but feel just a little discriminated against. Maybe the coach is some crazy feminist or something, and she wants the girls to steer? The more he thought about it, the less likely that seemed.
“Here she comes,” Jill whispered as the door opened again, “ready to blow Coach Johnston away?”
“I’ll blow out every candle on her cake,” replied Alex in the most ridiculously macho whisper he could produce.
Jill laughed, shaking her head and putting a hand over her eyes. “That sounded so dirty.”
“Well you sound like you’ve got your mind in the gutter.”
She rolled her eyes with a bit of a blush. Jill seemed to blush as easily as she smiled.
Coach Diane Johnston turned out to be an African American woman, big boned and thickly built, with heavyset features and an impressive musculature that showed through her full gym suit. Alex guessed her age at a very fit and athletic forty.
“Good morning,” her voice was deep and throaty, “welcome, newcomers, and welcome back team. I was very glad to learn how many new faces there would be for this year‘s women‘s paddling team, and I‘m even gladder to see you all for myself. As some of you know, this is only the third year we‘ve had a team, and I hope with this many of you we can finally go all the way to nationals.”
Alex did a double take. Did she just say women’s paddling team? He could have sworn she said that. He quickly looked around at the other two guys; they looked kind of nervous and jumpy, but they hadn’t left the room. And there was a hamper of uniforms in the men’s locker room, wasn’t there? Alex felt the uncomfortable, visceral sensation that comes with not knowing if you’ve just made a major screw-up.
“Most of you know that we compete in three separate events,” Coach Johnston went on, pacing in front of her lined-up protégés, “timed, endurance, and skit paddling. Every pair is expected to participate in at least two of those events, but as your coach, I‘ll appreciate it if you try for all three. There are some different skillsets involved in each one - especially the skits, which take a little drama acting - but when you‘ve gotten yourself into the right headspace, you‘ll find they can all be mastered.”
Alex wasn’t sure he understood three consecutive words that she was saying. All this talk of acting skits and headspace, and still not a drop of water in sight? The writhing in his stomach got worse when Johnston walked past him. The more he watched her, the more Alex realized what an impressive figure of a woman Diane was. Her very dark complexion and classic, African lips worked a strange kind of chemistry with her domineering voice and body language, reminding Alex again of just how tightly his trunks fit him. Great, Alex thought as he tried to get ahold of himself, my arms are skinny, I look like a dork in this suit, and now if I‘m not careful I‘m going to burst out of these goddamned hotpants things in front of the whole bridge club, or whatever the hell this is.
Alex was grateful when Diane clapped her hands sharply and told them to start doing warmups. After however many stretches, pushups, jumping jacks, and situps, Diane told them all to pair back up, each veteran team member making sure that there were no free neophytes before picking another of their own. Jill happily took Alex by the arm and led him to the right side of the gym, where the other newbie teams were concentrated. Leaning against the bleachers were a number of armless folding chairs, and before them was a large, white box. Diane positioned herself by these before speaking again.
“Since some of you haven‘t done this before, I‘m going to demonstrate before you start. Everyone watch me very carefully, especially prospective tops. If you don‘t pay attention, you could end up hurting your bottom, and then its off the team.” She looked much more serious as she said this bit, looking back and forth to make eye contact with every single student. Despite apparently being a “bottom,” Alex recoiled a bit from her stare.
“Courtney, come here.”
A big, slightly chubby girl in a gray uniform reading “01: Courtney” came forward. She was only around average height, but with a very thick, heavy figure; a stocky mixture of muscle and pudge. She was cute, in an unconventional way: Greek features, big bust, and - most apparently from where Alex was standing - what had to be the largest rear end in proportion to the rest of her body that Alex had ever seen. Despite having a fitted uniform, her gray trunks were tight in the back, making each mighty bounce and wobble only too visible as she walked. Alex mentally slapped himself again and looked back up. He noticed Jill watching him coyly out of the corner of her eye. It was now his turn to blush.
“Courtney Aniksos is your team captain. Courtney’s normally a top, but as captain she’s going to play the bottom for me.”
Courtney grinned and curtsied. A few people laughed.
“Since this is our first practice of the term, we‘re going to spend most of today doing counting exercises. Courtney, set up a chair.”
Courtney grinned sheepishly and looked at the floor. “Yes, ma’am,” she said, before taking one of the folding chairs from the wall and opening it facing the others.
“Ma‘am,” the coach repeated meaningfully, looking into everyone’s eyes again, “from the moment you start the routine, bottoms must address their tops as ‘ma’am’ unless they’re told to do something else. That’s going to be very important for skits, so you’d better get into the habit now.”
As Diane seated herself on the chair, Alex turned his utterly bewildered face up at Jill.
“What the hell is this?” He whispered.
“Shush,” Jill shushed him, looking surprised at his interruption, “this is important, watch!”
Before Alex’s disbelieving eyes, the older woman gave Courtney a cross look and urgently patted her thigh. “Bend over.” Still grinning sheepishly, Courtney leaned over Diane’s lap and planted her hands on the floor, so that she was arched over the coach’s thighs. With a bit of help from Diane, she was soon positioned so that her oversized bottom was resting right over the center of the coach’s lap, its immense, tightly-clothed underside open to Diane’s right.
“Over-The-Knee is the standard position used in American Paddling Association meets. OTK is comfortable for the bottom and gives the top plenty of room to work. If the bottoms can‘t hold still, their tops can restrain them by resting their left arms on the lower back, like this, and leaning in. As you can see, I don’t lean too hard; I want to hold Courtney down, not crush her.”
Leaning over her “bottom,” Diane’s face was held closer to her audience, giving her powerful body an almost predatory silhouette. Courtney was taking deep breaths, as if preparing herself for something strenuous. Diane waved her free right arm a few times to warm it up.
“For longer exercises, we‘ll use a safe word, but to start we‘re just going to do a thirty count warmup and a ten count paddling. For warmups, you cup your hand just a little, and bring it down while flicking your wrist, like your arm is made of leather.”
And then, before Alex could convince himself that this was really happening, Diane brought her slightly-cupped right hand down against Courtney’s upturned buttocks.
Snap!
Courtney jerked a little and let out a soft “ooh…” Alex’s eyes snapped open wide. He looked around at the others. Everyone else was either watching closely, with a mystified excitement or apprehension, or (in the case of the veterans), tapping their toes waiting for the demonstration to be over. Paddling team, Alex thought, paddling team. On the website there was a boating team, and there was a paddling team.
Damnit, I thought it was a typo!
“Remember, the warmup starts out light, just hard enough to sting. Each slap should be just slightly harder than the one before. For beginners, its good technique to switch cheeks every time you slap. Like so.”
Snap! The other side of Courtney’s bulging ass was paid a visit by Coach Diane Johnston’s palm. Courtney’s body shivered again as each ample bottom cheek shook and jiggled under her gray trunks. Alex felt his eyes gluing themselves to Courtney’s besieged backside as its owner gasped. The way Diane made it shake was hypnotic.
“Count your strokes,” Diane advised, “if you have trouble doing that, count out loud. Start with two seconds between strokes - one Mississippi, two Mississippi - and speed up after fifteen. Remember,” she slapped Courtney’s bottom again, “each stroke is just a little harder than the last!”
Her hand came down again on the opposite cheek, and then - almost exactly two seconds later - revisited its twin. Courtney’s trembling and gasps made it clear that these were getting more painful. Five…six…seven…
Alex looked up at Jill. She looked excited, and impatient. Oh god. He was a bottom wasn‘t he? It really was a women‘s paddling team; only women could do the paddling! For Alex, everything seemed to slow down into a waterlogged dream-time. His brain was locked in disbelief. His heart was racing. His eyes were captivated. The only sensation in his body was a growing discomfort down below, as his penis fought to stand up against his tight shorts; he tried to avert his gaze from Courtney’s bouncing ass and Diane’s domineering face, but they wouldn’t obey.
At fifteen, Diane doubled her speed, striking the captain’s big ass every second. Courtney was writhing now, gasping sharply after each loud slap set her immense buttocks dancing. The spanking grew harder, as did the resulting vibrations, and soon Courtney was kicking her legs a little and wincing painfully. The younger girls present all pressed in, eager to see the details of their captain’s chastisement. Some gray-garbed applicants looked excited. Their white-clad counterparts did not. When the thirtieth smack landed, Diane left her hand on Courtney’s quivering, oversized ass and addressed her.
“Fetch me a paddle and get back in position. No rubbing!”
While Diane explained that rubbing or grasping one’s own hindquarters was not permitted during the exercises, Courtney opened the box and took out a big, plastic spanking paddle. It was rectangular, about twelve inches long, and had “American Paddling Association” printed on the blade. Her face hardly betraying the sting she must have felt, Courtney handed the paddle to Diane and climbed obediently back over her lap.
“I want you to count these,” she commanded her victim. Courtney nodded reluctantly. Before Alex’s still-widening eyes, Diane raised the paddle and brought it down right on the very center of Courtney’s fat bottom.
“ONE!”
Courtney’s entire body buckled under the paddle as her massive tush shook like two scoops of jello in a tight, gray wrapping. She was still grimacing with pain from the first stroke when the clear plastic cut into her bottom again, sending the flesh splashing away from the part that it flattened in a great wave. The instant the paddle cracked into her ass, Alex felt the tension in his shorts skyrocket. He tried to stand at an angle that made the bulge less visible, as the coach raised her arm again.
“TWO!”
Diane delivered each paddle lick as soon as Courtney was finished counting the previous one. After five, she stopped for a moment and gently fondled her student’s ass with her left hand, taking her weight momentarily off of Courtney’s back.
“This is why the warm up is important. If I swing like this without getting the blood flowing, I could bruise her for weeks.”
She emphasized this point by making the sixth stroke the hardest so far. Alex’s eyes were glued to the scene as the demonstration came to its end. He had actually lost the sensation in most of his body by the time Diane lifted the paddle after the tenth stroke and told Courtney she could rub now. Jumping to her feet, the team captain quickly enjoyed her new privilege.
“Owww…” she muttered, giving her mentor a look of half-serious reproach as she furiously kneaded her own behind. There was some deliberate drama in the way she conducted herself, but the pain was clearly genuine. Alex winced. Jill looked frighteningly peppy.
Diane stood up and placed the paddle back in the box. “Set up the chairs in a line. New people on this side, veterans over there. There’s enough chairs and paddles for everyone. I’ll be walking past to help you out.”
Courtney hotfooted it back to her partner, hands still clutching her hindquarters. Before Alex knew it, Jill had unfolded a chair toward the end of the line, and was beckoning him toward it. She was already holding a standard issue APA paddle.
“Come on,” said Jill, smiling coyly as she pushed some platinum blonde bangs out of her eyes, “you‘ve got some birthday candles to blow out.”
Alex stammered. Around them, other duos were getting themselves into position. One of the veterans was already positioning someone over her knee.
“Um…”
Jill raised an eyebrow. “Are you feeling alright?”
For a moment, Alex was stuck staring into Jill’s concerned face, trying to articulate the many, many problems he had with this situation. Her large, blue eyes were waiting.
“I…um…I think I may have come to the wrong practice.”
“What?” She gave him a funny look. “You told me you did this in junior high!” She thought for a moment. “Do you mean you thought it was coed? I know, there should really be a boys’ team, but the board of-”
“No,” he said sharply, making her recoil a bit, “I didn‘t think that.” He felt momentarily bad about interrupting her, but the fact that she was about to gleefully beat him with a paddle made Alex less concerned about cordiality. Alex just hoped she didn’t notice that his penis was doing its best to rip his shorts out of its way; watching the demonstration had effected him in a way he wasn‘t comfortable with watching someone in pain effecting him. “I…”
As he looked up into Jill’s curious, blue eyes, he thought carefully. If he explained his mistake, it was doubtful that he would be able to switch into a different team in time for the scholarship cut. While he could probably stall for a few days by visiting the office and making appointments with whatever Dean was in charge of this stuff, that would mean a LOT of hours dealing with the bureaucracy and an even metric fuckton of frustration and headaches. He could tell Coach Johnston his problem and hope she would let him stay on the team without participating until he could switch into something else, but something told him Diane would not appreciate that. And really, it was his own fault he was in this situation. He hadn’t bothered reading the description of this so-called “sport” before signing up for it, and he hadn’t bothered getting his extracurricular taken care of back when everyone else was doing it. Did he really want to start off his college career by throwing his stupid mistakes at other people?
“I…”
Jill looked like she was starting to worry about his health.
“…I didn’t think they were birthday candles. I was expecting more of an anniversary cake.”
For a moment, Jill stared at him in open mouthed disbelief. Then, with a most unladylike snort, she doubled over and started chuckling into her palm.
“I don’t even…” she said between chuckles, her platinum hair rippling around her head, “oh, I‘m going to make you sorry!”
Still giggling and shaking her head, the brobdignagian blonde seated herself in the folding chair, put the paddle down on the floor, and pointed at her lap. “Bend over, goofball.”
Alex stared at her thighs like a political idealist at the guillotine. Was he really going to be…beaten…paddled…oh, enough beating around the bush…spanked by one of his fellow students? By the cupcake girl? Unfortunately, “yes” was the only answer that wouldn’t put his life plans in jeopardy.
Trying not to betray his shame and trepidation, Alex stood to Jill’s right and awkwardly lowered himself over her thighs. He hesitated before putting a hand on her exposed knee (her shorts stopped just above them); she nodded encouragingly, so he put down his hand on her skin to support himself. Just before lying down, he stealthily pulled out his waistband so that his dick could uncoil itself and rest along his belly. Damn, the head was poking out from his waistband, wasn’t it? Praying to every god he had ever heard of that Jill wouldn’t feel that, he put his hands on the floor and let his body rest on her lap. I hope all this blood rushing to my head will drain some out of my cock. After a few seconds, Alex was mortified to learn that it wouldn’t.
“Alright you bad little boy,” Jill chimed as she shifted him over her thighs into just the right position, “I hope you‘re ready for this.”
“Don‘t worry, I want that cake too.”
“Oh please…”
She pushed him a little bit further forward, so that the mysterious protrusion wasn’t digging into her thigh as much. The ill-fitting trunks held Alex’s nates high above his thighs, forming a prominent dome that pointed at the ceiling. His legs and butt really were better toned than the rest of him; Jill had caught occasional glimpses of this in Classics class, but this was the best look she had gotten. She caught herself humming a bit under her breath, and hoped Alex didn’t notice. For his part, Alex felt himself being ground against Jill’s thick lap, her soft skin and the taught musculature beneath very perceptible under the thin fabric. His erection wasn’t going away - being mashed against her legs just seemed to stimulate it. Alex winced. Getting a boner during a presentation in class or something was an acceptable hardship that came with growing up male, but in this situation? Much more unfortunate.
“You comfy?” Jill asked as she rested a firm hand on his back.
“As close as I‘m going to get,” he replied, holding his head a little higher to minimize the dizziness. He was becoming aware that his buttocks were currently the highest part of his body, making them just embarrassingly conspicuous. And vulnerable. A strange shiver whose nature Alex couldn’t quite grasp ran through his flesh.
“Alright!” She said excitedly, “Warm up time!”
The first, forceful handprint appeared on Alex’s right butt, sending a wet, smacking sound into the air. He jumped a little in place; he hadn’t been expecting it yet. The burn took a second to start, but once it did his first impulse was to reach back and grab his mistreated cheek.
“Hey, that‘s not allowed!” Jill intercepted his hand and gripped his wrist, startling him with her strength. “Hands stay on the floor until I say.”
She released his hand, leaning more strongly on his back to remind him who was in charge. As she leaned in, Alex felt a faint glimmer of warmth on his back, which he knew was body heat from her overhanging chest. His face burned as he replaced his hand on the hard floor, but his manhood grew stiffer against her meaty lap.
He was more ready for the next slap, which imparted its sting on his left cheek, and for the third which came again on the right. After that, Jill started spanking harder, and the two Mississippi’s that Alex was counting in his head started being cut off as her pace increased.
“Hey, you‘re speeding up!” He protested, looking back over his shoulder to see her smiling over his helpless body.
“Oh, that‘s just my technique. Diane has the new tops start with doubling speed after fifteen, but once you‘ve learned that you can do all kinds of things.”
She then slapped him three times, very fast, in a row, presumably to make up for the interruption. Alex almost grunted out loud - it was really starting to hurt!
Ten…eleven…twelve…by fifteen, she wasn’t even waiting a second between wristy slaps. Alex grimaced as he felt his body starting to involuntarily cringe away from her hand, grinding him forward into her lap. The thin, soft fabric of their uniform bottoms tickled him as he rolled over it, and the topography of her thighs created an uneven surface that created a kind of massage. If it weren’t for the pain in his ass, the sensation might have even been pleasurable. Seventeen…eighteen…Alex thought she must have been using her full strength now, and Jill was every bit as strong as you’d expect a towering Viking lass to be. He felt her weight crushing him against her thighs as she leaned on her left arm, locking him in place as her right arm swung harder and faster, each burning palm falling on the ones before.
“Awww,” she said as she slapped him twice, very hard, right in the center of his sit spot, “didn‘t - SLAP - you say - SMACK - you‘ve been - SMACK - doing this - WAP since middle school?”
Alex tried to think of a snappy answer, but the merciless smacking and growing pain interfered with his thoughts. By the time she reached thirty, he had lost count; it was all he could do not to cry out or start struggling like a baby.
“I’ll bet your all warmed up,” Jill said, teasing the undersides of his buttcheeks with a gentle fingertip, “now we do some paddlin‘. You ready?”
She leaned over toward his head, causing her thighs to shift under him, which made him twitch electrically. He felt her soft, blonde hair falling lightly on his upper back, and just a trace of breast grazing him further down.
“Um…yeah, ” he shifted his hands around, trying to get his confused body back under his control, “paddle. Like we‘re going up the Mississippi.”
Jill didn’t catch the bitterness or wishful thinking in that last sentence. She just affectionately ruffled his hair and leaned over further (ooh, yes) to grab the paddle from the floor (oh no…). He had an obstructed, over-the-shoulder view of the transparent, acrylic blade being lined up behind him before he felt it press against his stinging buns. The flat of the paddle pushing against his beaten cheeks felt good, for a moment; the pressure helped keep the sting away. An instant later, however, the pressure was gone, and Jill was lifting the American Paddling Association Standard Issue up to shoulder height.
“Playtime’s over,” she half said, half sang as she pushed her considerable weight back onto her left arm, holding him down, “hope you‘re nice and warm back there!”
Alex reflexively tensed his buttocks when he heard the paddle whoosh through the air. When its unbreakable surface impacted his taught flesh, he was immediately sorry he had done that.
CRACK!!!
Alex immediately raised his body like a cobra, legs twitching with the force of the impact. He heard Jill announce “one!” and barely had time to register the second whoosh before a second CRACK landed. The spanking had been painful, but being beaten with something hard and flat on top of already burning flesh?
The third crack came quickly afterward, flattening his buttocks against his hips and forcing those down into Jill’s thighs, crushing his manhood against her thinly-garbed legs more strongly than ever. He felt a shock of stimulation, but it was drowned out by the pain from the other side as she landed another paddle lick, and then another. Alex looked over his shoulder, then around the gym; everyone was busy with their own exercises. Thank god at least no one was watching him like this…
“How are you two doing?” Coach Johnston’s voice came from behind him.
“Great!” Jill exclaimed, mercifully giving her right arm a rest as she looked up at her mentor. “Alex is as a great bottom.” She took her left hand off his back to give that part of his body a playful swat, making him gasp and tighten up. Even a light smack was like pouring gasoline on the raging fire. His eyes felt watery.
“Hmmhmm,” he heard Diane chuckle, “careful you don‘t overdo it. Pace yourself more; give him another second after each lick.”
“Right. I’m sorry, I know this; its been all summer, and I’m out of practice.”
“Don’t worry,” Alex saw Diane flash a brilliantly white smile at Jill, “everyone is. You‘re one of the bests on my team, you‘ll do fine.”
“Thanks.” Jill did her cute, easy blush again.
Alex was about to report on how he was doing, but, at a motion from Diane, Jill raised the paddle again and brought it down for the seventh stroke.
“OW!!!” He finally lost it, shouting in pain at the unexpected, full-force lick. Jill giggled. Diane glared at him disapprovingly for a second, making him turn his burning face back to the floor, before speaking to Jill again.
“Give it a moment now. One…two…eight!”
CRACK!!!
Alex shut his eyes, not wanting to know if the pitiless, older woman was still standing beside his upturned bum, watching it head on as Jill introduced it to the paddle for the ninth and tenth times. His elbows were trembling. His eyelashes felt wet. His underside felt crushed and winded, and his backside was a holocaust of fiery pain.
“Get up and rub.”
Alex awkwardly pried himself out of Jill’s lap and put both hands on his ass. The skintight fabric was holding in the heat, further irritating his inflamed skin with its pressure. It was only a moment before he looked down and noticed that the waistband of his shorts wasn’t quite touching his belly in the very front. He turned his side to jill, praying she hadn’t noticed. How the hell could he still be erect? Perhaps more to the point, why?
“How did I do?” Jill asked excitedly as she stood up.
“Ahhh…” he continued to ruefully rub his ass, turning so that his front was facing the wall, “…great. Best top I‘ve ever had.”
“Awww. Think we can paddle up the Mississippi?”
More like the Amazon.
“Yeah. And back. In..ow…in an evening.”
Alex was relieved that they were given fifteen minutes to recover before the next exercise. He was much less please, however, at the end of that period, when Diane marched in front of her lined up team and announced that it was time for “thirty-lick technique paddling.” No practical demonstration this time; she just explained what had to be done and set them back to work. Once again, Alex found himself across Jill’s ample lap, this time for an unbearable thirty swats from the acrylic paddle. He thought his bottom has been on fire before; now, it was almost numb. On the bright side, his boner at least was starting to lose its enthusiasm. On the dark side, Jill was doing the exact opposite. Toward the end of the exercise, Diane reappeared to watch Jill beat his helpless ass and tell him to keep up the good work. Goddamnit, why did she have to sound so smug when she commented on the mistreatment his lewdly presented butt was enduring?
For the final ten strokes, Jill stood up and put her foot on the chair, making Alex bend over her thigh so she could paddle him over her knee. When she was done, he veritably flew to his feet, stamping his feet and furiously kneading his ass, almost crying with embarrassment. Thank god Diane wasn’t watching at the moment, and everyone else was occupied.
“That’s it for this afternoon,” Diane announced, “I’m happy to say all the newcomers have made the team; you’ll get an email asking for your measurements so we can order fitting uniforms. Bottoms, you’ll each find a cushion in the locker rooms that you can bring to classes with you while your booties are still stinging. I’ll see you all next week!”
…
Alex avoided the other two guys in the locker room. He retreated into one of the shower cubicals and inspected his hindquarters in the mirror. Pink. His skin was bright pink and swollen, with lines battered into the flesh where the edge of the paddle had left its impression. Most embarrassingly, he thought he could make out a number of large, reddish handprints, like some personalized cattle brand, spread out across the rounded undersides of his burning nether cheeks. The shower water stung his beaten ass when he turned on the cold, and burned it when he turned on the hot. He had to grit his teeth and suck in his breath as he quickly went through the shower. Getting dressed again was no fun either; it was all he could do to avoid yelping when he pulled his jeans back up.
As he hurried out of the gym, he thought frantically about how to get out of this. Will they let me switch out before next practice? It’s the early season, people are still adding and dropping activities, right? I swear to god the next time someone tells me the deadlines aren’t important…
On his way out the door, Jill appeared beside him.
“Hey, do you feel like dinner?” She asked, playing a bit with a strand of light blonde hair as she gave him a sideways look.
“Maybe tomorrow. I…uh…have homework.” He avoided making eye contact; he was too humiliated to meet Jill’s gaze after what she had just done to him.
“Oh. Okay.” If he had been looking her in the face, he would have seen her disappointment. “I‘ll Facebook you.”
Jill joined up with Courtney and some of the other girls and headed off in a different direction. Alex power walked back to his dorm, looking around to make sure there was no one looking so he could rub his bottom from time to time. Before he rounded the corner away from the gym, however, he looked back over his shoulder. Jill was walking away with some of the other girls, her tall, broad-shouldered silhouette, trailing platinum hair, and rather large, fleshy bottom bouncing as she stepped. As he watched her retreat, a number of conflicting sensations were felt in Alex’s body. He saw her innocent, girlish smile in his mind’s eye, and then felt the sting of her palm against his ass as she held him down and teased him. For a moment, he wasn’t sure exactly what he was thinking.
He rounded the corner and shook her out of his mind. When he got home, he was going to spend the afternoon on his laptop, trying to determine how and if he could switch out of this so-called “sport” before next week’s butt burning session. After that, he would try and get some sleep. On his stomach.
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