Paddling Team (chapter three)

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.

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.”