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.”

Backfire 3

Getting dressed up for tonight was a big job. So much so, in fact, that April had come home after class, wolfed down a quick dinner, threw her dishes in the sink, and then gone straight to the wardrobe.

“Are you sure I shouldn‘t put up my hair?”

From his seat in the living room, Kevin looked in the bathroom door. April, still wet from the shower, was holding out a strand of her dishwater blonde hair and looking at him inquiringly. Kevin chuckled.

“You know I like it down,” he repeated, “but if you think it’s not classy enough for Hell Night, I won’t pretend to know better.”

April scowled at him the way women often do when their boyfriends know what they are expected to say but refuse to do so. Kevin had called April’s cell phone a few minutes ago asking if he could come over. Deciding that she needed someone to help her make these important decisions, and that Sara was most likely not going to be home in time, she had said yes. Since he’d walked in the door, she’d had him sitting on the couch answering questions about her wardrobe as she bustled between the bedroom and the bathroom.

Kevin was rather amused by all this. He had tried rushing a fraternity last year, but quickly decided that the Greek scene was silly. Some people really got into it, though, and he had become increasingly aware that his girlfriend was one of these. Not that he minded sitting back and watching her shower and dress; a half-naked April was a delight to see under any circumstances, and being wet and in a hurry made her even easier on the eye.

April took out her comb and began to straighten her hair. Doing this meant putting down the bath towel and facing the mirror, which turned her back toward Kevin. As they nearly always did when he faced her from this angle, Kevin’s eyes went to her (currently naked and glistening) bottom. April was a short girl, but she was wide in the shoulder and wider in the hip, and the latter supported two of the most enviable buttocks on campus. It was one of the first things he had noticed about April when they met in class two months ago, and - despite her prominent chest and baby face - it was the first thing most men noticed about her. And, for the last four weeks, this backside had been the subject of considerable drama. If you don’t know the details, go back and read chapters one and two.

Finishing her hair, April went back to drying herself and - when this too was completed - putting on a fresh bra and panties. The conversation was limited to occasional questions and comments back and forth, with Kevin’s amusement gradually turning into annoyance. Was a sorority initiation really worth as much effort as a meeting with the President?

“I look fat in this, don’t I?”

Kevin rolled his eyes as she stepped out in her black cocktail dress. “Fat” was a touchy adjective in this case. Kevin’s 6’2’’ frame was rock hard and slender, honed by over a decade of sports enthusiasm. Running her hands over Kevin’s chocolaty brown skin and feeling the springy musculature of his pecs and abs was one of April’s favorite indoor pastimes, but her boyfriend’s magazine cover physique also made her somewhat insecure. April had been a few pounds overweight since she was a child. When she hit puberty, most of this adipose tissue had migrated to her breasts and buttocks, but there were still love handles and just a bit of a belly.

“Ape, you asked me that when we went to the club last week. Nothing’s changed.”

April pouted. “That’s not a straight answer.”

April was remembering why men were no good for this sort of thing. They just had no idea of when a girl looks good.

Kevin sighed again. “You look hot. Not fat.”

“Are you sure my tummy doesn’t stick out?”

Here, Kevin was at an impasse. The fact was, April’s stomach did curve outward just a bit, and that skintight black dress made it a bit more noticeable. It also made the rest of her anatomy more noticeable - which was a more than worthwhile tradeoff in Kevin’s opinion - but if he had to answer her question honestly, she wouldn’t like the answer. Goddamnit, April wasn’t normally this fussy with her clothes. She’s just being a pain.

Kevin got up from the bed and walked over beside April. She looked up at him, still impatient. He put a gentle hand on her side and said “Babe, you’re way too worried about this.”

April opened her mouth to retort, but this turned into a surprised squeal as Kevin grabbed her around the midsection and pulled her back toward the bed. Before she could even ask him what he was doing, he was sitting on the edge of the mattress, and April was lying across his lap.

“No, Kev, I don‘t have time! I need to finish-”

SLAP!!!

April’s complaints were cut off by a sharp “ooh!” as Kevin’s big hand cut into her right butt. The pain was sharp, hot, and immediate, and made her twitch her arms and legs.

“We can do this later tonight! Right no - OW! Not so hard!”

“I‘m helping you take your mind off things.”

As Kevin said this, he pushed his left forearm down across her black-clad back and began flicking his wrist harder as he brought his right arm up and down, landing his open palm against the underside of her buns in a series of sharp snaps. With her panties and cocktail dress on, April’s buttocks were well lifted above her thighs, making those sensitive, lower surfaces much easier to hit. The prominent mound shook and bounced with each slap; Kevin could just imagine the redness that must be spreading underneath. Normally, Kevin got April naked before he spanked her, so he could watch the splash and jiggle of her voluptuous flesh as he transferred energy into it. He missed that tonight, but the movements of the tight dress teased his imagination about the pain that was being suffered below.

“Ow! Ow! Please, not so-AHH!”

Kevin suddenly stepped up the pace, dribbling her big bottom as quickly as his basketball skills allowed. April felt her butt heating up and burning much more quickly than it usually did; her dress was holding in all the heat. Only thirty seconds or so in, and she already felt like the skin was coming off of her ass!

In what now seemed like a magical, far off time, April had been able to hang out in Kevin’s room to avoid the blistering punishments that her roommate was always finding excuses to dish out. That was before Kevin, too, had been shown the delights of spanking her poor butt until she couldn’t sit down. Nowadays, April’s buns weren’t safe anywhere. On one hand, Kevin’s spankings were usually a prelude to sex, of which April was fond. On the other, unlike Sara - who needed a reason to punish her unfortunate roommate - Kevin was prone to putting her over his knee without warning, just because he happened to feel like it. It was a tough decision, but April still found herself tending to spend more time in Kevin’s room than her own. At least Kevin didn’t use that awful hairbrush!

As Kevin continued the spanking at a lively pace. April’s gyrations and twitching ground her against his lap, which was answered by a hardening below. April could feel Kevin’s growing erection through the thin material of her dress. That jerk!

Kevin finally stopped the smacking, leaving his palm resting firmly on April’s tortured backside. She felt his fingers squeezing and kneading, as he enjoyed the heat her bottom was giving off. The pain extended beyond the skin he was fondling, through her ample buttocks and into the other side of her, where it stopped being pain and became simple heat. April was panting, her privates feeling very empty and in need of attention. She let Kevin rub a little of the sting out of her tush as she moaned softly. She wished she could be properly angry at Kevin for humiliating her like this, but her libido kept her hands helplessly tied in this matter. Such were the frustrations of love.

“Feel better now?” Kevin asked.

“No! Asshole!”

Kevin patted her bottom a couple of times before letting her up. Immediately, April put one hand on the seat of her dress and the other under it, clutching at her abused cheeks with both as she bounced a little on the heels of her feet. Her carefully brushed hair was disheveled, and her face was flushed. As she stood up, she felt her panties clinging wetly to her crotch. Ugh, not now!

“You’ve got ten minutes,” Kevin said, checking his watch.

Not looking at or speaking to Kevin, April redid her hair and put on some makeup. She was really regretting her tight choice of dress now; every step pulled the fabric against her butt cheeks, making them sting. And now she was all horny too! Kevin was such an insensitive prick sometimes.

“You had better not be asleep when I get back!” April ranted as she powdered her nose, giving Kevin a furious scowl over her shoulder.

“You’d better come straight to my room after your thing,” he replied, a mirthful smile on his face.

“Jerk.”

Finished at last, she looked at herself in the mirror one last time. She looked…well, she thought she looked decent enough. Like a young woman who could be taken seriously, even if she had to suck in her stomach a little bit. Not like a nervous girl who had just been spanked like a little kid and was now too hot and bothered to think clearly. Hopefully.

“See ya later, baby doll.”

She stood on her tiptoes to kiss him on the lips as they left the room.

“Fuck you.”

Kevin laughed as he went back to his single room and April trotted off to Sigma Phi Kappa house.

…

Lady GaGa was playing from someone’s iPod as the SPK sisters and pledges sat around the living room, chatting and cracking open a few cheap beers as they waited for everyone to arrive. Well, most of them were sitting. April had politely refused a seat.

“Think you’re ready for tonight?”

Courtney was sitting on the couch to April’s left, a Budweiser in her hand.

“I feel like I‘ve been ready for a month,” April replied to her Big Sister, leaning against the backrest of the couch in what she thought was a sophisticated and elegant pose, “I want to live here next year.”

Courtney chuckled. “Nervous at all?”

“Nope.”

For a moment, Courtney’s face wore a strange expression, a sort of “oh, if only you knew” look that made April’s already jumpy nerves twitch. April ran through everything in her head. She had memorized the Sigma Phi Kappa pledge and motto, of course. Likewise for the sisterhood’s history and foundational members. There would probably be some silly hazing thing (like a drinking game, or a “tell us your raunchy secrets” interview), but April wasn’t averse to getting drunk or talking about naughty things, especially when she had the former to help the latter along. Courtney was probably just trying to make sure her pledge was taking this seriously, and April was resolved to not disappoint her.

Despite her laid back, easygoing attitude, Courtney was a rather intimidating presence. A senior girl, she stood four inches taller than April and was probably the most solidly-built woman April had ever met. Big boned and very stocky, Courtney’s shoulders and hips were even wider than April’s, and that was saying something. She was quite a muscular girl, but she also had fifteen extra pounds of chub; in short, her body was a taller, more tank-like version of April’s. This all contrasted with her soft-featured Greek face, with its beaky nose, wide, brown eyes, and easy smile. If it weren’t for her big smile and rather silly demeanor, Courtney would probably cow a lot of people with her appearance.

“Good girl,” said Courtney, “Only the strong survive at SPK, but I think you‘re gonna’ make it.”

April and the other pledges giggled. The senior girls just smiled. There was a momentary, rather awkward, silence. Finally, someone said, “Can we put on Bad Romance?” And the conversation turned cheerfully back to the subject of Lady GaGa until the last of the pledges arrived.

“Pledges, after me,” said Sandra, the SPK Mistress of Ceremonies as she waved for them to follow her up the stairs. April and the other five underclasswomen quickly trotted after her.

“Be a good girl now,” said Courtney, waving a melodramatic goodbye as April left. She then threw a playful swat at April’s retreating bottom.

“Ow!”

April startled forward, a hand reflexively going back to rub the bulging rear of her tight cocktail dress. Around the living room, a few eyebrows rose. That didn’t look like it should have hurt. Face turning as red as her secretly burning tush, April looked at the floor as she hurried up the stairs, avoiding putting her hand back to her bum until she was sure she was out of sight.

There were a number of small bedrooms on the top floor, as well as a bathroom. At the end of the hall was a staircase leading up to the large loft, where - or so April had been told - the secret rituals of SPK were conducted amidst pomp and ceremony. Tonight, each of the doors had a pledge’s name taped to it.

“Each of you will open the door bearing your name. Inside, you will find the garments in which you must be robed for the final initiation, and a scarf to tie around your eyes. You must don these vestments, and then await your Big Sisters in silence.”

April had heard the sisters use this kind of language before, during the earlier ceremonies. Kevin was always making fun of the Greek scene for this, claiming it was over the top pretentiousness, but April thought it was kind of cool…if slightly eerie. On the other hand, she was a little disappointed that she wouldn’t get to show off her dress for the next while; hopefully, she’d be allowed to change back into it for the after-party.

Smiling encouragingly (if nervously) at each other, the six underclasswomen went into their respective rooms. What April found inside the small bedroom was…not what she had been expecting.

Lying neatly on the bed was what looked like some kind of gauzy, pink tutu, like a six year old who wanted to be a ballerina might bully her mother into buying. Next to it lay a light gray bikini-top and a pair of similarly colored thong panties, both apparently in April’s size. A pair of slippers sat on the floor by the bed, and hanging from the headboard was a black, polyester blindfold.

April stared in disbelief. She considered turning back to the door and asking Sandra for an explanation, but quickly decided that that would not be good for her initiation status. Reluctantly, she started untying the dress that she had wasted so much effort on. It looked like this was probably going to be a “tell your raunchy secrets” kind of event. She stole a quick look at her hindquarters in the mirror as the dress came off; damnit, they still had red handprints all over them! Feeling like she wanted to crawl under a rock, April just hoped that the pink tutu would disguise most of the redness.

…

Courtney watched impatiently as Sandra led the pledges up into the loft. Candles burned on the shelves that lined the dark, wooden walls. Twenty-one girls in flowing, black robes stood around the raised stage in the center of the room, as six others were escorted in. Five of the pledges wore white cloaks, similar to those of the older sisters except in color. The exception, of course, was April. Courtney felt a grin spread across her broad, Mediterranean face as she wondered excitedly how her little sister would react once the blindfolds came off; Courtney certainly recalled how scared and embarrassed she herself had been when she was the unlucky pledge three years earlier. Not fun to be there yourself, but - as she had learned - tremendously fun to watch it happen to someone else. And this semester’s would be even more engaging for Courtney. Tonight’s the night, Courtney mused. It’s happened before. Has to happen.

One of the other Big Sisters turned to her and whispered “Think you‘re up for this?”

Courtney’s grin broadened as whispered back. “Watch me.”

The other girl giggled behind her hand. “I‘m a little preoccupied watching something else right now.”

Courtney nodded. “I think we all are.”

She was at least mostly right. Many pairs of eyes were trained enviously on April, and the way in which that ridiculous pink thing barely contained her ample anatomy. Her belly and love handles weren’t flattered by the see-through dress, but her big breasts and even bigger buttocks were done wonders by the skimpy, gray underwear.

Up on the stage, Sandra commanded the pledges to recite the SPK motto in turn, tapping each one lightly on the head with a certain long, wooden object to let them know who was up next. Satisfactory performances all around. Next came the oaths themselves, naturally. Again, no hesitation or reluctance. April was shivering a little, her flesh rippling visibly; it was chilly in the loft, and she was the only one who wasn’t wearing a nice, warm robe. Courtney found it adorable; April was just such a cute, wide-eyed little girl. Ooh, here it comes…

“Remove your blindfolds.”

April had been expecting to see her pledge mates dressed in the same manner as herself when she finally pulled off the band. When it turned out that all their eyes were on her, she felt like she had been dropped in a pool of ice water; such was her shock and exposure, she almost forgot to keep her stomach sucked in. Is this a mistake? This has to be a mistake. Oh god, did I do something wrong? Is this a punishment? Worst of all, Did I not make the cut?

“Attention,” said Sandra, a smirk just barely managing to creep through her professional calm, “before we proceed, an explanation is in order.” She motioned to Courtney. “Sister Aniksos, stand with me.”

Courtney joined Sandra on the stage, her heavy silhouette dwarfing the Mistress of Ceremonies’. She managed to keep herself from smirking or winking at April as Sandra continued.

“As you’ve been told since your first night as pledges, the road of Sigma Phi Kappa is a difficult one. To walk it, you must be tested, mentally and physically.” As she said that last word, she held up the thing she had been prodding at them with, revealing it to be a large, wooden paddle, eighteen inches long including the handle, with the letters “SPK” cut out of the blade.

The pledges’ eyes all widened. April felt the bottom drop out of her stomach when she saw the paddle and - more quickly than the other girls, due to her recent life experiences - realized its purpose. This had to be a prank, she told herself hurriedly. Hazing wasn’t allowed on campus. They couldn’t actually expect her to…

“Five years ago, our chapter was investigated by the university when one of our pledges - her name will not be spoken - betrayed the sanctity of our sisterhood by telling the campus police about our test of physical resolve. Since that day, we have had to change our practices. It was decided that - instead of risking our secrecy by subjecting every pledge to the test - only one of you will bear the burden for her sisters. You have endured everything together thus far; what one of you faces, all of you face. If one of you fails, it is because her sisters have failed to give her proper support.”

She held the paddle out in front of her.

“The pledge to be tested is chosen by lot. The paddling - one lick for every new sister - will be administered by the chosen’s Big. Sister. Take the Tester of Endurance and call forth your pledge.”

Courtney took the paddle from Sandra’s hand and turned to April, smiling with mock-invitingness. “Come over here, Ape.”

April froze. Her face was like a helpless rodent’s when it realizes it’s backed into a corner. Courtney was tapping the paddle against her palm, impatient. The other pledges looked a mixture of relieved, concerned, and intrigued. Everyone was staring at April. In her pink gauze with the entire sorority watching and waiting for her mortification, April had never in her entire life felt this exposed. She looked from Courtney’s eyes to Sandra’s to the pledges’. Everything was hinging on her. If she didn’t take the paddling, she wouldn’t get in, and her peers would hate her for making one of them take the licks instead.

Slowly, breathing deeply, April stepped onto the stage and stood in front of Courtney. As Sandra backed off the stage, Courtney pointed at April’s feet. “Face the back wall and grab your knees.”

Courtney’s eyes were full of mirth, and she was smiling. April looked ready to faint. Moving very, very slowly, she turned her back to the watching sorority and - gritting her teeth - bent over and grabbed her knees. Courtney, standing a bit behind April and to her left, used her free hand to grab the hem of the pink tutu and flip it up over her back. When April’s mostly-naked butt was exposed, whispering and giggling erupted all around the room.

“April,” Courtney asked, slowly. “Have you rushed another sorority tonight?”

April squeezed her eyes shut, wishing she could block her ears against the chorus of chuckles.

“He did a good job,” she continued when April didn’t answer, “it is a he, right?”

More laughter. April didn’t think she had ever blushed this hard.

“Can you give him my number?” someone in the peanut gallery asked. Uproarious laughter.

“Settle down!” Sandra finally cut in. She tried to sound stern, but in truth she was suppressing a giggle herself. April’s bottom was standing there, facing them, with red handprints all over it. Amusing though it was, Sandra did feel sorry for the pledge; tonight was seemingly not her lucky night.

Courtney licked her lips as she lined up the SPK paddle with April’s outstretched bum. “Get ready,” she said as she pressed the wood into her soft flesh, pushing April’s weight forward into her knees a bit, “here‘s one!”

She raised the paddle above her shoulder and brought it down with a twist of her hips, letting the Tester woosh around her body and SPLAT into April’s bottom with incredible force.

“OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!!!”

April’s body shot up into a stand, raising herself up on her toes as she grabbed her ass in both hands. As the other girls chuckled nervously, she began beating her feet against the floor in a kind of dance.

“Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow!”

Courtney looked at Sandra and shook her head in mock-disappointment. Sandra put a hand on April’s shoulder.

“Stay in position. If you do that again, Sister Aniksos will have to repeat the stroke.”

“You don‘t want me to hurt my arms, do you?” Courtney asked sweetly.

April looked back over her shoulder. Her five pledge classmates looked nervous. If they were interpreting Sandra correctly, their own entry into Sigma Phi Kappa was hinging on April’s ability to take this. She had to do this. For herself, and for them. But good god, the pain in her already stinging bottom was more than she could have ever imagined coming from a single blow from anything - and she still had five left! Memories of her first punishment spanking from Sara came to mind. April recalled the fire that wouldn’t go out, the agony that left her helplessly sobbing on the carpet for fifteen minutes and unable to sit down for days. Was she going to end up that way again, this time in front of her entire peer group?

Her mind reeling with mortification and shame, April bent back over (grimacing as she had to stretch her injured gluteal muscles) and grabbed her legs again.

“Good girl. You know this hurts me much more than it hurts you.”

The room erupted in chuckles. Courtney was a funny girl - it was an endearing quality in her Big Sister - but April had never been the butt (hahaha, get it?) of her jokes before.

“Ready?”

Before she had time to reply, she heard the paddle whistle through the air again, and another explosion of pain tore through her lower body. April reflexively tried to straighten, but she kept her fingers locked around her knees. She sucked in a long, harsh breath through her teeth as the agony in her situpon grew and flamed as her nerves got over the shock.

“Much better!” Courtney congratulated her, giving her bottom a little pat with her palm., “You‘re good at this. Ready for three?”

April started to shake her head no, but was interrupted by the third paddle stroke biting into her ass.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!”

April screamed. She couldn’t help it. Tears started to flow. She was bending and unbending her knees in a futile effort to diffuse the energy, her bottom dancing up and down like a piston in front of her audience, its mane of pink gauze fluttering. A chorus of laughs ensued, and intensified when Courtney put a hand under April’s lower buttocks (ow, did she have to squeeze that hard?) and held them in place until April was done bouncing. April felt her fingernails cutting into the skin of her knees. And she was only halfway done…

Mercifully, Courtney waited a bit longer before delivering the fourth dramatic blow to April’s sacrificial hindquarters, pulling the paddle quickly away so she could see as much of the bounce and jiggle as possible. She had been curious to see those chubby buns out in the open since she and April had first been assigned to each other. Sure, there was a thong, but it covered so small a percentage of April’s expansive target that it didn’t bother her a bit. On a further note, Courtney was more than a little curious about April’s initial redness. She had mentioned a boyfriend before (at length, actually). Courtney decided that she would have to learn more about their relationship dynamics in the near future, in the name of science of course.

The fifth lick was like the fourth, April somehow managing to stay bent over even as she yelled in anguish and trembled like a leaf in the wind. Courtney waited about twenty seconds before reaching up and, making sure she was putting as much into the last stroke as she could…

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!”

April stood up so abruptly that she nearly fell over backwards. The SPK sisters got to see the flesh explode in a great, rippling shockwave around the wooden paddle for just a split second before April’s hands flew to her buttocks and grasped them tightly as she wailed and stamped her feet.

“We‘re gonna have to do that one over,” said Courtney. Her voice was sorrowful, but her eyes betrayed her (fortunately, April was looking in a different direction).

“Repeat the final stroke,” Sandra agreed.

“No!” April squealed, having forgotten herself entirely., “I can’t! I can’t do it! I ca-”

Courtney put a big hand on April’s back and pushed her back into position. “Not hard.”

April squeezed the tears out of her eyes. She felt the flesh of her behind bruising, she knew it. She would have thought she was bleeding if she hadn’t had a chance to feel back there. Somehow, she managed to raise a part of her consciousness above the infernal pain and think clearly. That part of her consciousness decided that rushing SPK was still worth it, and commanded her fingers to grab, fumblingly, onto her knees).

SPLAT!

She let go of her knees again, came close to straightening up, but managed to bob back down before she could get herself into any more trouble. For an awful, pain-blinded moment, April wasn’t sure if they would count this one or not. Then, she felt Courtney and Sandra pull her upright and Courtney wrap her in a bear hug against her thick, soft body.

“Welcome home, honey.”

April sniffled as she squeezed Courtney’s midsection. Once she pulled away, April stood dazedly in the middle of the room as her pledge mates ran up and chatted at her excitedly. She had forgotten about sucking in her belly; her pudginess was out for all to see. Her carefully styled hair was all over the place, a few strands sticking to her face. Her ample bottom glowed red even through the pink fabric.

Once this had ended and the afterparty was underway, April quickly popped into the bathroom and lifted her tutu with her back to the mirror. Livid red weals ran across her fiery cheeks. The letters “SPK” were highlighted in white in several places on the swollen crowns of her buttocks, like a cattle brand. As April grimaced, she heard a knock at the bathroom door.

“Hurry up,” said Courtney’s voice, “the pledges serve the refreshments.”

Moaning, April fixed her hair as best she could and quickly splashed some cold water on her ass (ow!) before putting the tutu back and walking tenderly out. The other pledges had already changed back into their civilian clothes. April was about to go back upstairs to do the same when Courtney grabbed her arm.

“Keg‘s in the kitchen, snacks are on the table. Would you be a doll now and get Sandra and I a couple of beers?”

April nodded reluctantly and turned around toward the kitchen. The sisters cheered and catcalled as the scantily clad new member walked by. As she passed one of the couches, another SPK sister grabbed the hem of her tutu and lifted it.

“Damn, Court, do you play baseball?”

April blushed as she tried to pull out of the older girl’s grasp, but she held on tight.

“Big target,” said another girl sitting next to her, “hard to miss.” And she gave April a hard slap under the lifted tutu. April jumped into the air and yelped, yanking the hem of the tutu down a few inches and causing much laughter and applause around the room.

“Go get your big her beer now,” said the first girl, letting go of the tutu, “and fetch some carrot sticks while you’re at it.” She gave April’s bottom a couple of pats (ow!) over the tutu and let her go, averting her eyes from the room full of amused grins.

It was half an hour until April was given a minute to change back into her cocktail dress, and by that time she had endured countless jokes and comments and not a few painful slaps to her shamefully exposed and ruby-red bottom. She almost couldn’t bear to pull the dress past her hips; even after loosening it as much as she could and running her sizzling cheeks under more cold water (she could swear she heard the hiss of steam when the water touched her ass), it was still an agonizing process. Once she was dressed again, she found that every step caused pain as the dress was stretched against her rear. Generally speaking, April was proud of her big butt (it was one of the places where she didn’t want to lose weight), but right now she would gladly trade it in to make the back of her dress less tight. April drank and socialized and tried to laugh off her pain and embarrassment, but her sisters were gleefully aware of the fact that she wasn’t walking more than she had to and not sitting down at all. The beer helped reduce the pain, but when she was ready to go home two hours later it was still a less than comfortable walk.

…

When April got back to her room, the sound of the TV told her that Sara was home. The smell of marijuana told her that Sara had been doing some deep thinking.

“Good evening,” said Sara as April came in. Her dark red hair was hanging loose and wavy around her shoulders, and there was a smile on her face.

“Hi,” April replied quickly on her way to the bedroom. Sara kept watching the screen as April passed, raising her eyes only after she had gone by. Her expression was quizzical, as if she was trying to make a difficult decision. Her smile continued, but it was very soft.

April’s first action once she had the bedroom door closed behind her was to ditch the cocktail dress, breathing a sigh of relief once the pressure was off. She pulled off her panties as well, grimacing as the waistband constricted her inflamed cheeks on their way down. She looked at her ass once more in the bedroom mirror. The welts had mostly gone down, but there was still a dark, unhealthy redness that bordered on maroon, covering her entire derriere. It looked like a couple spots were starting to bruise.

She was tempted to just lie down on her bed and fall asleep, as the evening had left her incredibly drained. Unfortunately, she remembered that she was expecting an email from Professor Johnston the PE teacher about getting that personal weight trainer. Groaning, gingerly rubbing her posterior, April put on her loosest, lightest short skirt and went back to the living room where her laptop was stationed.

Sara was sitting in the same position, looking even more pensive than before. The smile had been replaced with a poker face.

“How was initiation?” Sara asked as April stood at the desk behind Sara’s back.

“Huh? Oh…um…it was great! It was like, a bit party, and everything was really wild.”

“That sounds really nice.” Sara turned back toward April and smiled encouragingly. “And now you’re a sister.”

“I know, right? Finally!”

Sara waited for a few moments. Then, “we lost the tennis game ten to six.”

“Oh,” April said distractedly as she logged onto gmail, “that sucks.”

Sara sighed and turned back to the TV. She kept thinking as April typed away, now seeming a little more sure of whatever idea she was considering. The room was silent until April logged off and started back toward the bedroom.

“It was your turn to do the dishes,” Sara said as April walked by.

April froze in her tracks. Her heart sank halfway down her midsection as she remembered throwing her dishes on top of the others that afternoon before starting on her wardrobe.

“Shit! I’ll do it now.”

“Too late,” said Sara as April trotted toward the kitchen, “I already did.”

April’s heart sank the rest of the way. No. Not now. Not after everything else…

Sara switched off the TV with the remote and turned toward April. “It seemed like you were going to make it two whole weeks without needing this. So much for that.” She patted her thigh.

“No, please! Not tonight! Please!”

Sara shook her head, her mouth forming the cruel smile that April had become all too familiar with in recent months. “I’ve never let you put it off before. What makes tonight any different?”

April looked from her waiting roommate to the bedroom to the door. Then, she started crying.

“April?” Sara got up from the couch and walked up to her. April never seemed exactly thrilled when Sara announced it was punishment time, but this was a bit more extreme. “April, are you alright?”

“No!” barked April between sniffles, “I’m not!” And, with her self-control and sense of propriety eroded away by a combination of beer and tonight’s taxing events, she tearfully told Sara everything.

“Kevin spanks you?” Sara interrupted when she got to that part.

“Y-yes. Ever since you let him watch you bitch!”

“Hmm,” Sara chewed her lip, “yes, that would fit.” There was a subtle look of triumph in her green eyes, as if something she was hypothesizing had just been confirmed.

April’s wet eyes narrowed in confusion. “Never mind,” Sara waved her on, “keep telling me.”

April knew she wasn’t supposed to talk about Sigma Phi Kappa’s secret rituals, but her filter had been paddled out of commission. Sara seemed taken aback by the reports.

“Do you mind if I see?”

April turned around and lifted the back of her skirt, leaving her swollen, multicolored rump completely naked before Sara. She looked at Sara’s face over her shoulder, hoping for sympathy. It was there for a moment, but then the poker face returned. There was something a little different about Sara tonight.

“Ouch.”

“So,” April said as she let go of her skirt and wiped her eyes, “can you please, please not spank me for the dishes? I’ll do them for a month.”

She screwed up her round face and gave Sara a look of utmost sorrow with her wide, blue eyes. Sara shook her head.

“If I let it go this time, it sets a bad precedent.”

April opened her mouth to argue, but Sara continued.

“But, if you don’t make a fuss, I’ll do it very, very lightly; it‘ll barely even hurt. And afterward I’ll get you some ice.”

April shook her head no. Sara raised her voice a little and said, sternly, “if it doesn‘t happen tonight, then it‘ll happen tomorrow, and I‘ll use the brush. It‘ll be the hardest butt-beating you‘ve ever gotten, including your initiation.”

April stared at her for a moment. Would Sara really make good on that threat? She didn’t doubt her ability to do so (her first punishment spanking from Sara had left her bawling like an infant, and that had been with just her hand), but would she really? Just over the dishes? April decided, reluctantly, that she had better avoid finding out.

“Do you promise to be really gentle?”

“I promise to be gentle.”

That would have to be good enough. April stalked over to the couch and waited for Sara to sit back down, but Sara surprised her by saying “let’s sit on my bed.” April followed her into the bedroom, where Sara sat down and guided her compliant counterpart over her lap. April was wearing nothing besides a bra and skirt, so her soft midsection was lying directly on Sara’s exposed thigh (Sara was still wearing her gym shorts). With a soft grunt, April positioned herself so that she was lying along the side of the bed, with her hips raised over Sara’s lap. Sara flipped up her skirt, revealing her beaten backside once more.

“Your big must have really given it to you,” Sara said, tracing her index fingernail very gently across April’s hindquarters, “I can see the paddle marks. Heh, are those letters?”

April nodded, blushing for the millionth time that night as Sara’s tickling fingernails outlined a faded “SPK” on the middle of her right buttock. Her touch stung a little, but it also tickled. April tried not to make any sounds. A moment later, she felt Sara’s palm rest itself very lightly against the side of her rounded bum, and Sara started rubbing her without applying any pressure.

“You know,” Sara said slowly as she rubbed April’s cheeks, “I never thought I‘d find myself here.”

“At school?” April asked sarcastically, breathing in at the relief the gentle rubbing was bringing but wary of what might follow.

Sara chuckled. “With your naked ass in my face.”

April wasn’t sure how to respond to that. Sara rubbed her fanny in a wide circle before lifting her hand and giving a firm pat to her left flank, making it jiggle and vibrate just a tiny bit. April grimaced at the burning sting.

“I‘ve been thinking about our living situation. There‘s a lot that doesn‘t make sense about it, but might.”

She rubbed another circle, going the other way, before patting the same cheek a little harder. April sucked in a pained breath.

“Why do you think I spank you?”

She gave a very light slap to the underside of each cheek as she asked, making April whimper and roll back and forth over Sara’s lap.

“I dunno,” April said despondently, “because you’re mean?”

“Hmm.” She gently tickled April’s buttocks with her nails again, right over the undersides where she had slapped. “That‘s probably part of it. Did I seem like a mean person before the thing with Stan?”

April twitched as she tickled a very sensitive spot on the crease of her left buttock and her fleshy thigh. “I dunno, not really.”

“Right, I didn’t think I was.”

SLAP!

April reared up into a cobra-like position as Sara delivered the first real spank to the center of her lower bum, making both maroon cheeks bounce and splash away from her hand.

“OW!!!”

April made as if to get up, but Sara put a firm hand on her back and slowly, as if making a wordless argument, pushed her front back onto the bed. As if to atone for her last smack, she began an even gentler rubbing of April’s inflamed bottom with her other hand.

“Any ideas about why I do this to you?”

April looked over her shoulder for clues. Sara’s face said nothing. April shrugged.

“I‘ve been psychoanalyzing myself lately,” Sara went on, “I never thought there‘d be so much I didn‘t know.”

A few firmer pats, not as hard as the last slap, but painful, fell in a ring around April’s bum.

“You have such a great ass.”

SLAP!

April spasmed and yelped, then looked back over her shoulder in disbelief. Had she really just said that? Sara was smiling in an odd way.

“Really. I love how it jiggles when I smack it. Like that!”

Two hard smacks landed on the centers of each cheek, reignited some of the fire that was smouldering under the surface. April kicked her legs as the pain resurged, hot and fierce. Fortunately, Sara followed up with another gentle rubdown.

“Its so funny. Its like playing with jell-o. I don’t blame Kevin for picking it up from me; I’ll bet he gets really turned on when he spanks you, doesn’t he?”

April was aghast. There were so many things running through her mind right now she wasn’t even sure how to begin processing it. Despite having had her bare bottom over Sara’s knees many times before, she suddenly felt very naked and exposed, and totally out of the comfort zone she had been forced to build.

“Doesn’t he?”

Sara pinched April’s tush hard, making her thrash again. April quickly nodded yes.

“Heh. I thought so.”

Sara very gently rubbed the place where she had pinched before getting friskier again. Pat. Pat. Rub. SMACK!

“I have another question for you,” Sara began another very long and conciliatory rubbing and tickling period, “why are we still roommates?”

April shrugged, not daring to look Sara in the face.

“You could switch rooms any time you wanted. If you were really upset at me, you could report me to the Dean; I always leave plenty of physical evidence.” She chuckled her as she traced the fading white handprint she had left over the deep redness of April’s posterior. “I would be expelled. And probably arrested.”

April wanted to crawl under a rock. Sara’s tickling fingertips began to creep toward the center of her ass, running up and down along the sides of her crack. It was very sensitive in there, and not nearly as spanked, so the tickling was stronger and less painful. April almost giggled despite herself.

“But for some reason, you don’t.”

Suddenly the tickling was gone, and ten full-fledged spanks landed without warning on April’s fat behind. Each one was like a firecracker, fueled by the pain of the one before. Her bottom was roasting in its own heat, and Sara was languidly stoking it back into a full inferno. She had to concentrate on holding April down for a few moments until her kicking and struggling ended before she could start rubbing the burn back out again. There was a long, silent stretch as Sara carefully fondled and caressed April’s much-abused flesh. April was hoping the dialogue was over for good. But she knew she was still vulnerable, until-

April felt something cool, smooth, and hard rest against her left butt. She recognized it immediately.

“NO!” She tried to bolt upright, but Sara was expecting it and held her clumsily down. “NOT THE HAIRBRUSH! YOU PROMISED YOU WOULDN’T USE THE HAIRBRUSH!”

Sara removed the brush and waited for April to settle down. Then she said “ten. Just ten with the brush, not very hard. Then I’ll get the ice. I promise.”

April looked hard and desperately into her disciplinarian’s face. Sara looked so confident, so much in her element. April met her gaze very carefully. After about ten seconds, she slowly nodded yes, and lowered her head back into position.

The plastic hairbrush moved up and down her cheek, its weight resting on the inside of her crack, its bristles tickling the inside of the opposite buttock and making April suppress another giggle.

“Behave yourself now, and I‘ll make it feel better. Otherwise, I‘ll spank you every day for a week. Hard.”

And with that, the hairbrush vanished from April’s crack before returning - at a much greater velocity - to her left sit spot. April yelled and lurched, but Sara kept her down while the hairbrush repeated its forceful kiss on the opposite cheek. Three seconds later, another splat, exactly on top of the second one. The fourth came faster, and again on the same side. April’s right cheek felt like it would burst open at the next spank, but the next one landed on the left. Sara increased the speed of the paddling, thoroughly enjoying the sight of April’s fat ass - already so bruised and welted - wobbling madly as she punished it hard and fast. After the ninth stroke, she waited for a moment before bringing it down at full force on the center of her bum, making both cheeks bounce aside and making April screech over the loud, fleshy CRACK! of the hairbrush. Then she was done.

Sara replaced the hairbrush on her bedside table and began petting April’s dark blonde hair. April was sobbing again; not too hard, but clearly in a lot of pain. Sara stroked the back of her head like a kitten and massaged her back while April made occasional attempts to rub her backside, but gave up when her hand hurt more than helping.

“There’s a tray of ice cubes in the freezer,” Sara said when the sobbing had ended, “bring ’em over.”

Sniffing the last of the tears and snot back into her nose, April got up and (after discarding the skirt, as even it was now painful to wear) walked delicately out of the room, Sara eyeing her mottled red and purple fanny as she stepped. When she returned with the ice, Sara pulled her back over her lap. April gasped when Sara gently touched an ice cube to the lower middle of her left cheek, where the bruising was worst. She wriggled and breathed loudly as the melting ice was brought, slowly and gently, around the extensive surface of her rear, leaving a trail of instant relief that slowly melted back into pain in its wake.

“Feel good?” Sara asked as she spread the ice over both of April’s immense hemispheres. April nodded, her body trembling as icemelt trickled down the valley toward her anus. Noticing April’s strong reaction, Sara moved the ice cube itself down toward the crevice, making April kick a little as the freezing object pushed against some sensitive skin.

Sara chuckled. “No kicking.” She gave April a light spank with her free hand that convinced her to try to keep still.

When Sara was done cooling that area, she moved down to the sit spots, quickly melting an entire ice cube over those purple, lower chubs and starting on another. As she worked at her lower buns, she leaned a little further over and peeked between her legs.

“That didn‘t all come from the ice, did it?” Sara whispered knowingly, mischievously. April groaned in embarrassment and started to close her thighs, but Sara put her hand in between.

“Let me see.”

April felt a finger trace around the perimeter of her clean-shaven vagina, pulling itself away across her skin to spread the warm fluids before returning. Sara ventured a little deeper toward the middle, and April shuddered involuntarily across her lap.

“That’s pretty naughty of you, April,” Sara said as she continued applying the ice with one hand and venturing into April’s damp folds with the other, “but it explains a lot.”

Suddenly, Sara touched the ice to April’s open vulva, making her jump an inch off her lap. Sara laughed heartily and moved her probing arm upward to press down hard on April’s back. With her roommate securely pinned, she started tracing around her vagina again, first with her cool fingertips, and then with the freezing ice. The mix of sensations dazed April. She couldn’t think clearly at all, and she had no idea how she was supposed to react.

“You’re such a sexy little girl. And so submissive. I bet you’ve been making me mad on purpose, haven’t you?”

April didn’t answer. She honestly didn’t know the answer. Avoiding the question, she just let herself slide back into a world of pure sensation as Sara’s fingers stopped playing around and made their way into her waiting tunnel. The horniness she had left over from Kevin’s spanking had resurfaced. This was a moment of weakness, and Sara was taking full advantage of it.

April’s moans took on a different tune when Sara’s fingering was accompanied by the tip of an ice cube being pressed against her back door. April looked back around at her leering companion and started to protest, but Sara gave her a look that shut her up. Gasping, bouncing hilariously around to deal with the cold, April shut her eyes and was introduced to a strange new feeling as Sara slowly, rhythmically pushed the ice cube into her anus, while she fingered and probed her vagina with her other hand.

“That’s right, keep bouncing,” Sara said as April’s bobbing lower body created friction around her fingers and helped the ice cube work its way into her ass, “pretend like I‘m a couple of guys. Or something.”

April was barely hearing her. She couldn’t stand the freezing inside of her sensitive innards, the burning heat that was coming back in her bottom cheeks, the gyrating invasion of her female orifice…she needed it to stop, to continue, to…

With a loud moan, April’s body seized up. Sara kept pushing in and out of both openings without breaking pace, pushing her roommate over the edge and all the way down into the soil at the bottom of the canyon. Finally, when April started shivering in real pain, she removed the ice cube and used both hands to gently fondle her bottom. April lay across her knees, twitching, as she recovered from the strangest, most painful orgasm of her young life.

“You’ll sleep in my bed tonight,” said Sara.

April turned over on her side and let Sara spoon her in her taller, muscular body. Sara’s pubic hair was scratching her sore ass, but April knew better than to make an issue of it. As Sara’s hand reached over her body and started pulling off her bra, April remembered that she had promised Kevin she would see him again tonight, and realized that he wouldn’t be happy with her negligence. She whimpered in dread at what the morning would bring.

But for now, she fell into a contented sleep.

Backfire

This story was originally intended as a rather silly one-off short, but ended up starting a serial. The idea of this series is that it follows an X+1 progression; in each chapter, one new spanker is added to the roster, and our sub gets it from all of her previous spankers as well. Her life is going to be painful.

...

“Stan? You mean Stan Geller?”

April nodded, closing her eyes dreamily. “Yesss. God, I‘ve been trying to get him to notice me since winter break, but he, like, just keeps being there.”

They were sitting on the couch in their dorm room, chatting during a commercial break in Dexter. Sara was a tall, athletic redhead; she ran track, played tennis, the works. April, who currently wore a slightly downtrodden expression, was a short blonde girl with a softer, curvier figure. The two had been friends since they started college together last year.

Sara listened curiously to her roommate’s plight. Sara and April were part of the same weekly study group, which Stan had joined late last semester. Sara had known Stan before that (she was friends with an ex-girlfriend of his), but April had not.

“He is cute,” Sara agreed, “and he knows how to cook. I…guess he‘s not a bad choice.”

April gave Sara a curious look.

“You guess?”

Sara flashed her a “well, if you REALLY want to know” smile. April looked on impatiently.

“Well…” Sara said, not sure if she should really be spilling the beans, “Jen told me that part of the reason they broke up was…um…spanking.”

April raised an eyebrow.

“What do you mean? Spanking?”

“She told me Stan was, y’know, into it. Like, as a sex thing. He kept wanting to do it, she didn’t.”

April looked shocked. She knew that kinkiness wasn’t all that uncommon, especially among their offbeat circle of friends. But Stan? Hitting a girl? That image just wasn’t something she could get her mind around.

Sara smiled again. “So yeah. That‘s the story.”

“Huh.”

April seemed to be thinking. Sara found this somewhat amusing.

“Still want to date Stan?”

“Spanking? Wow, um…I think…yeah, I could see myself there, I guess. Like, sure, even if he‘s sort of freaky, he‘s still the same guy, right?”

Sara shrugged. “I‘m not the one to ask.”

April frowned thoughtfully, evaluating this new information.

Sara shook her head. Whine, whine, whine. Sometimes, when April got into these moods, it seemed like that was all she could do. April was far from unattractive. Sara even envied her, when they went to parties and it seemed like all the guys had their eyes glued to April’s chest and butt. April did have quite a butt, Sara had to admit. Big, round, and jiggly as a mound of jell-o. Haha, maybe Stan really should give April a try. The mental image of April’s fat ass getting a good tanning was awfully funny. Sara thought it would actually be kind of cool if that happened…Stan would certainly get a kick out of it, at least.

The show came back on, and they watched Dexter kill people for the next fifteen minutes. Or at least, Sara did. April wouldn’t shut her damned mouth.

“Like, you think he‘d want to do that with any girl, or was it, like, just Jenn? Like, I…”

Sara rolled her eyes. Even without that bum of hers, maybe April could use an occasional spanking just to make her shut up. Once they got through the show, April got up and turned off the TV, wiping some dirty blonde locks out of her face as she stood. Sara watched April’s fat, wobbling buttcheeks shake under her panties as she walked. Sara’s eyes narrowed in thought. You know…

“You think I should get some new outfits? Like, these shorts are cute, but-”

“April,” said Sara, “shut up. I have an idea.” Even if April didn’t like the idea, which she probably wouldn’t, maybe she would at least listen to the first part of that.

“What?”

Sara giggled, pushing some red bangs out of her eyes. “If Stan sees you get a spanking, I bet he‘ll want in on the fun.”

“WHAT???”

April stopped being whiny long enough to chuckle along with her.

Shaking her head, hardly able to believe she was actually suggesting this, Sara told April her idea. When the two were done laughing and making jokes about it, April thought about it seriously.

“Oh god, that would be…I don‘t even know, just crazy! Its like something you‘d hear about from a friend‘s friend.”

Sara shrugged. “We are in college.”

There was silence for a few minutes, broken only by the occasional giggle.

“Okay, but like, seriously. Do you think that would actually work?”

Sara shrugged. “I know I‘d notice. Especially if I had a fetish.”

“Yeah but…oh god, its crazy!”

“It was just a passing thought.”

More silence. Then.

“Do you REALLY think it would-”

“Yes.”

April blushed deeply, grinning an embarrassed, yet unconsciously sultry grin.

“Well…yeah…I guess we are in college.”

…

“You‘re not going to do it hard, are you?” Asked April as she waddled along beside Sara. Okay, waddled might not be the best word, but close enough; April wasn’t that out of shape, but she did have a couple of pounds here and there that weren’t strictly necessary. It helped fill out her figure.

“Its got to be convincing,” Sara answered.

“But…”

“If you‘re that nervous about it, you shouldn't be after Stan.”

April blushed again. “Okay, you‘re right.”

They reached the common room/kitchen in the dormitory basement and said hi to the others. This was the meeting place for their study group.

“Hey Stan,” said April sweetly.

“Heya,” Stan replied with a friendly nod of his head. Stan was a tall, dark-haired boy, with an athletic figure and very striking green eyes. He had brought donuts tonight…it was always something. You know, thought Sara, he is a pretty sweet guy, even if he’s got secrets. He would be good for April. Hell, she decided, he’d be good for most girls, as long as they didn’t mind his bedroom eccentricities. She was really going to be doing her roommate a favor tonight.

An hour and a half later, people started saying goodnight and going back to their rooms. As Stan began to put his books away, Sara said “Stan, I think you left your coffee cup here last week. Isn't that it in the kitchen?”

“Did I? Huh, thanks.” Stan went into the little kitchenette, giving the common room an extra minute to empty. In a few moments, it was just the three of them in there. Perfect.

April looked at her nervously. Sara grinned and nodded. April blushed and nodded back. Showtime.

“APRIL!” Sara shouted, dropping her bookbag to the ground, “WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?”

“Wuh…um…“ April coward a few steps back and stammered, “…it’s a calculator.”

Sara huffed. “Oh, a calculator. That‘s MY calculator! What the hell is it doing in your backpack?”

Sara shouted loudly enough to be heard in the kitchen, but not quite enough to wake people up in the surrounding rooms. At least she hoped not.

“I…um…mine was out of juice, and I didn‘t think-”

“Yeah, you didn‘t think. What else is new? I NEEDED THAT IN CLASS TODAY YOU LITTLE BITCH! I had to share with someone else for the quiz. Do you know how embarrassing that was?”

Stan’s head appeared around the corner of the kitchen entrance. His eyes were wide. He had never seen Sara act like this before. It was completely out of character. She decided they had better get on with it before he excused himself.

“Obviously not!” Sara growled. In a flash, she reached out and grabbed April by the hair, making her wince and “ow!” as she yanked her back toward the couch. April, gritting her teeth against the pain, winked at her. Sara decided not to risk winking back; it would be too easy for Stan to notice.

“Ow! Ow! Sorry! Ow-let go! Here, we can talk about this in our room!”

“No.” Said Sara, “No talking. I‘m not interested in your excuses. We‘ll sort this out right now!”

Sara sat down, sideways, on one arm of the couch and pulled April down over her lap, letting go of her hair and grabbing her around the torso. April wriggled and begged to be released, feet kicking a few inches above the carpet. They made quite a sight in this position. Sara was a tall, almost Amazonian figure, just shy of six feet tall, body slender and toned, and she wore a very convincing expression of rage. April was about the right relative height to be Sara’s daughter, and acted the part with her struggling and half-coherent begging to be released. The fact that April had enough tits and ass to fill out a girl twice her stature only made the picture prettier. Sara risked a quick, sideways glance at the kitchen door. Stan was still standing there, completely motionless, mouth starting to hang open.

“Sara, please, not in pu-”

SLAP!

Sara brought her right hand down hard against the seat of April’s skirt. April was wearing a miniskirt and thong tonight, just as they had agreed. As a result, part of Sara’s hand fell under the cloth line and hit naked thigh.

“OW!”

April’s reaction (which included even more bucking and kicking) was genuine. She had not expected one slap to sting that much. It dawned on her, to her dread, that Sara was probably one of the strongest, most athletic girls she knew, and that, for the sake of verisimilitude, she would not be holding back much. She shouldn’t have agreed to this! But it was too late to back down now…

SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!

“I told you to ASK ME before taking my things!” Sara pressed down with her left forearms as she swung her right in a wide, meteoric arc, slapping April’s bum with as much drama as she could muster. “DIDN’T I?”

“Ow! Ow! Yes, I‘m sorry! I-WHAT THE??”

Sara had grabbed April’s miniskirt and flicked it up over her backside, pinning it against April’s back with her other arm. In their position, April’s ass was pointed straight at Stan, and that thong covered maybe five percent of it (the thong did its best, but seriously, there was a lot of ground to cover). Her round, chubby, perky cheeks jiggled lewdly into the open air, requiring severe punishment for their immodesty.

Sara brought back her arm and gave her roommate the hardest slap yet, catching her right in the center of the right cheek and making it bounce and wobble around beautifully. That one left an angry, pink handprint across April’s virtually naked buttock.

“YEOW!!!”

SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!

“We agreed not to use each other‘s things without asking!”

SLAP! SLAP! Aprils’ massive bottom was now lightly pink all the way across.

“DIDN’T WE?”

April’s answer was cut short by a truly fierce volley of slaps that exploded into the lower, fleshy undersides of both cheeks, right at the crease where they tucked back in to her thighs. Her butt wasn’t done jiggling from the last smack when the next three landed, keeping it dancing and wobbling constantly for the entire spanking. April’s rear really was perfect for spanking. Sara was actually wondering why she hadn’t thought to do this before.

As April kicked and mewled, Sara finished her off with another dozen slaps to each big, reddened cheek. Then, without releasing her unfortunate roommate, she reached into her bag and pulled out her secret weapon.

Sara’s parents were of the old fashioned, spare-the-rod variety. As a result, she had been corporally punished pretty often as a kid, all the way up until eighth grade. She knew, therefore, exactly how to hold a struggling girl down to keep her in place until the punishment was over. She knew also that a proper spanking began with a parent’s hand, and ended with an even two dozen with a hairbrush. There were two reasons why she hadn’t mentioned this part of her plan to April. One was that she wasn’t sure it was worth mentioning; when spankings were given, a hairbrush was used. That’s just how its done, at least in Sara‘s household growing up. Part and parcel of any convincing punishment, right? The other was that...well…April wasn’t going to win any Emmis for acting. She had exceeded Sara’s expectations so far tonight, but her performance probably wouldn’t stand up to scrutiny, and Stan was very likely to scrutinize. If she wasn’t expecting the hairbrush, her reactions would be much more genuine.

Sara stole another covert glance at Stan as she pulled out the plastic, flat-backed hairbrush and held it aloft. His eyes were as wide as saucers. He wasn’t excusing himself. In fact, he darted back around the corner to avoid notice as she glanced in that direction; he wasn't going anywhere, and who could blame him?

“What are you doing!?!?”

April was looking up over her shoulder and staring, terrified, at the hairbrush. Her eyes were full of indignation, confusion, and not a bit of trepidation. Sara shrugged a little and gave her a look that said “well, we agreed it would have to be a real spanking. Anyway, there‘s no backing out now without ruining everything, so I guess you‘ll have to grin and bear it.” April moaned and shut her eyes, falling weakly back into place over her friend’s lap, gritting her teeth against what was to come. Sara pressed the back of the hairbrush against April’s angry, red buttocks, pushing those thick cushions of flesh down against the hips. Her left hand crept further down April’s back, grabbing the hem of her thong and pulling it upward into her crack, resulting in a painful wedgie that left even more bottom exposed for the brush.

The first CRACK! of the hairbrush came with a twirling flick of Sara’s hand, and crashed like flat, plastic shockwave into the swell of her left butt. April’s cheek flattened and pancaked out under the force of the brush, then bounced and jiggled madly back outward when she raised it again. For a second, April didn’t seem to react to the blow. Then, when her nerves did their job…

“AUUGH! OW! NO!”

She kicked her legs wildly and tried to push herself off of Sara’s lap. She almost succeeded too; Sara had to lean forward and press her full weight onto April’s lap to keep her in position. Despite this awkward pose, she managed to raise her hand to around shoulder level again, and brought the brush down in a series of blind, clumsily-aimed stokes.

SNAP! CRACK! CRACK! SNAP! WACK!

As April howled, Sara managed to raise herself back into an upright, sitting position while keeping April pinned with her left arm. April’s ass was red from crowns to crease, with a handful of deeper, ugly crimson splotches where the hairbrush had left its calling card. Now that she could aim and swing properly again, Sara wasted no time in applying fast, even strokes to her victim’s behind, making sure every last centimeter of the brush bit deeply into the flesh with each landing. She swung without any sign of tiring, putting those tennis muscles to good use. She wasn’t using nearly her full strength, but she still went hard enough to make sure there was real pain and distress in April’s yelps.

CRACK! “You.” CRACK! “Will.” CRACK! “Ask.” CRACK! “Next.” CRACK! “TIME!”

She sped up for the final dozen, her arm becoming a blur as she paddled as fast (though still not as hard) as she could, landing the blows in a circle around April’s protruding target. April was sniffling now, eyes starting to get damp and bleary under her blonde bangs. Her body was still bucking and trembling as hard as ever, but Sara had this pinning thing down now. There was absolutely nothing April could do as Sara landed the last ten strokes in the space of four seconds.

“Well now,” said Sara, dropping the hairbrush back into her bag, “have we learned our lesson?”

She put her hand back on April’s buttocks and gently massaged them, kneading the shiny, red hot flesh with her fingers. April’s backside was the color of red construction paper, with the lower sit spots being a darker, tomato shade.

“Y-yes!” April gasped, sniffling in pain, “I‘ll never do it again!”

Sara smiled. “Good.”

She patted her bottom a couple times with her hand, putting just the slightest jiggle back into it, before letting April back up. April’s hands raced to her backside, clutching it tightly as she bounced on the balls of her feet. She glared at Sara angrily, her eyes on the brink of tears. Sara smiled sweetly back as she got back to her feet. As they left the room together, she stole a final glance at the kitchen door. No sign of Stan. He was probably hiding in the kitchen taking care of himself after the show.

As they returned to their room, April glared at Sara.

“You didn't tell me about the brush!”

Sara shrugged. “You didn‘t ask. Its not that bad; my mom used a wooden one when I was a kid. Now THAT would have hurt.”

“You could have just stuck with your hand!”

“Not really,” said Sara as she opened their door, “if I really wanted to spank someone, I‘d use a brush. You told me you wanted to make it look real.”

April shook her blonde head, wiping her blotchy face again. “You‘re still a bitch!”

Sara nodded. “Fair enough.”

To atone for her overzealousness, Sara got a cold beer out of their fridge and rolled it over April’s sizzling ass, providing some relief. As she did this, the topic of conversation turned back to their objective for the night.

“Did he seem like he was interested?”

“Oh yeah. You should have seen his face. He couldn't take his eyes off you. Or part of you, anyway.”

“Really?”

“Really. He‘s not going to think about anything else for a week.”

April seemed satisfied by this answer. Soon, they were giggling and making jokes about the silliness of the whole situation, and April finally got up and creamed Sara with a couch cushion, showing that she wasn’t angry anymore. After a thoroughly gratuitous scene of the two half-naked girls jumping around and having a pillow fight, they got ready for bed. April would have to sleep on her stomach tonight, but she could hardly wait to run into Stan again now. As for Sara…she looked forward to being able to watch TV in peace.

…

The next day, Sara answered a knock at the door. It was Stan.

“Hey,” she said, “what‘s up?” She grinned conspiratorially before adding “Did you find your coffee cup?”

“Hahaha,” he laughed nervously, “no, actually, it was weird. I found it in the sink in my room, where I thought I had left it.”

“Huh,” said Sara, “guess someone else’ looked like yours. Anyway, April’s in the shower right now. If you wait a couple minutes, she’ll be out soon.”

Stan smiled. He really did have a charming smile, Sara thought.

“Actually,” he said, “I wanted to talk to you.”

Sara raised her eyebrows a bit. What the hell?

“Um…”

She really wasn’t sure what was going on here.

“…okay. What‘s up?”

“Well,” he said, “I got two tickets for the Modest Mouse concert next week, and I only need one of them. I thought maybe you could help me avoid wasting the second one.”

WHAT????

“I…um…”

It was now Sara’s turn to stammer.

“I dunno, I‘ll have to think about it. Here, maybe April would want-”

He shook his head. “No offense to April, but I think I’d rather take you.”

Slowly, comprehension dawned as Sara recounted her conversation with Jen. She had told her that Stan was into spanking. But she had never clarified who he wanted on the receiving end.

He smiled that winning smile again.

“Um…”

“I can make dinner afterward. You liked my brisket, right?”

…

“YOU BACKSTABBING BITCH!!!!”

“I tried to get him to ask you for fifteen minutes. I’m not exaggerating, you were drying yourself by the time he left.”

“HOW COULD YOU FUCKING DO THAT? I TRUSTED YOU!”

Sara shook her head helplessly. “I told you what I knew. I was joking when I suggested that, you‘re the one who wanted to go through with it.”

April was screaming at Sara from across the room. Sara had spent the last two days trying to get Stan interested in April, but he seemed to have fallen hopelessly in love. And, while she felt terrible admitting it, Sara had begun to reciprocate. Stan had this witty, underdog charm about him that made her want to just bring him home and make him hers. No one could accuse her of not trying to fix April’s chances with him, but it became more of an uphill battle every time they saw each other. And honestly, all the boys wanted April. Sara wasn’t used to being first choice, and it felt damned good.

“I‘LL BET YOU LIKED IT, DIDN‘T YOU!?!? YOU‘RE A FUCKING LESBIAN!”

“Well…” Sara said slowly, “if you didn‘t like it, you probably won‘t last longer than Jen did.”

“FUCK YOU!!!”

Sara sighed. She knew she couldn’t blame April for being upset, but seriously, she was acting like it was all Sara’s fault. She wasn’t going to be able to watch TV in peace for a month, was she? No, probably not.

“Alright,” said Sara, “when he knocks on the door, you can answer. I‘ll pretend I have a headache. If you can-”

“I‘m telling your mom about the weed!”

Sara’s jaw dropped.

“April, stop being ridiculous.”

April did not stop. Instead, she picked up the phonebook.

“April…Are you even thinking?”

April was flipping through the pages. Wow. Sara was used to her occasional, petulant moods, but this was a side of her friend that she had never seen before. Sara had never suspected that April could be such a spoiled brat. I mean, the signs were all there, but she had never bothered to put them together, and now that April was in a situation where the full extent of it showed Sara was just shocked.

“My mom‘ll take me home if she finds out about that! April, this is actually serious stuff. You know what, let‘s do what I said before; when he comes in, we‘ll sit down and tell him everything.”

“Shut up!”

Sara had already suggested that several times. April was no more amenable to it now than she was before. Desperate, she stood up and tried to pull the book out of April’s hands.

“Let go!”

“I can‘t let you do this! Its not fair.”

“Its not fair you stole Stan you cunt!”

“What the…stole him? You‘re making it sound like he was obsessed with you before!”

“GIVE IT BACK YOU BITCH, GIVE IT BACK!!!”

April slapped Sara across the face.

For a very long second, silence rang across the room. Sara stared at April in shock, raising a hand to rub her face where she had been hit. April looked smug, giving her a “now you know what it feels like” glare.

More silence.

Then, Sara grabbed April by the scruff of the neck and dragged her into the middle of the room.

“GET THE FUCK OFF ME!!!”

“Do you promise to be rational?”

“FUCK YOU!!! LEMEGO!!!”

She punched Sara in the stomach, winding her and nearly making her let go. Sara growled and wrestled her struggling roommate down, throwing her against the floor and sitting down on her back. April was struggling for real, but she had crossed too many lines. Sara was determined.

Pinning April under her body, Sara reached forward and tore her panties down, leaving her luscious, bratty bottom exposed.

“WHAT THE FU-"

Sara turned up the music in her head and started the spanking.

“OW! OW! OOOWWW!!!!”

At this angle, she had much more room to swing than last time, and she wasn’t pulling any punches. Her last spanking had been hard and fierce, but she hadn’t nearly used her full strength. This time, though, she had a very real lesson to teach.

“Owww! I’m sorry, please stop! No! No! I won’t call your mom, I won’t call the cops, I won’t, ow! Ow! OW!”

Two days worth of anxiety, frustration, and annoyance were pouring through Sara’s arm and into April’s ass. Her hand fell much faster than the clicks of the second hand of the clock mounted on their wall, and each smack landed with every bit as much force as her body could provide. She was spanking from the torso, all the muscles in her upper body clenched for a unified purpose.

A minute later, April was blubbering incoherently, her words not making even the slightest amount of sense. A minute after that, she was screaming and crying like a six-month-old baby, tears cascading down her cheeks and wetting the carpet beneath her blonde head. Sara’s palm felt like she had pressed it down against a hotplate, and her arm was aching something fierce. But she didn’t stop. April’s bum was at least as dark a red as it had been after the paddling a few nights ago. Swollen to a size even more generous than its natural volume, April’s round, cheeky ass was dancing like the entire cast of Rocky Horror under Sara’s clublike hand, a madly jiggling, trembling mass of dark red and purple flesh, its entire self consumed with indescribable, searing pain.

After five uninterrupted minutes of this, Sara finally got up. Her arm hurt more than it ever had since she broke it nine years ago. Her hand was completely numb. She couldn’t begin to imagine how April’s bottom must feel, and in all honesty, I can’t think of words to describe it. April’s blistered, bruising cheeks were completely red from top to bottom, leaning toward a darker shade on the swollen, fatty undersides. She was still crying, hands twitching involuntarily between her face and her devastated ass as she writhed and squirmed on the floor.

There was a knock at the door. Fixing her hair, Sara went to answer it.

“Ready to g-woah!”

Stan’s eyes widened as he noticed April lying helplessly on the floor, trying to clutch her smoldering rump with trembling hands, and heard her anguished sobs. Sara could tell he was getting excited again.

Sara shook her head. “She borrowed my calculator again. Let’s hit that concert.”

She put her hand in his and led him out of the room, ignoring April's anguished sobbing. It occurred to her that it was April's turn to do the dishes tonight; she decided a dose of the hairbrush would await her if she didn't.