Bruce Wolcott surveyed the boys of his 6th period math class with imperious disdain. Nature had not given Mr. Wolcott a very nice disposition, nor a very high level of tolerance, especially for teenaged boys. The fact that he spent much of his day in a small classroom with twenty or so of the brats did little to improve his mood.
But it was not true that he hated boys: in fact, he enjoyed at least one activity with them: Mr. Wolcott enjoyed very much administering corporal punishment to the boys in his class, especially the nicest looking ones. He particularly chose those who were most popular, best-looking and who had the nicest, tightest little butts. He liked nothing better than to haul the guilty one from his seat, drag him into the small office at the rear of the classroom, and paddle or spank his bare bottom until the boy sobbed and begged for mercy. He loved they way they squealed and twisted on his lap to avoid his wrath's hot descent upon their tender young buttocks. Just the thought of it was giving him a boner, as he walked the rows, glaring down at the rapidly writing boys, trying to finish their pop quizzes and leave before they became his next victims.
Punishment like this was not unusual at Swathmore Day School: many of the boys had come to the exclusive boy's school because their parents wanted them to learn discipline, and discipline is what they got, by God! And then his eyes came to rest on two boys passing a note at the back of the class. Passing notes was one of Wolcott's pet peeves. If anything would win these two well-tanned behinds it was passing notes. He advanced on the hapless pair.
At sixteen, Buddy was really becoming a stud. His copper-colored hair was cut close around the neck but long in front, so that it often fell in front of his bright green eyes in a way that was particularly alluring. He was popular among the other boys, too, even the straight ones, which would make his humiliation even more delicious to Wolcott. Buddy was slender and athletic and he had one of the hottest little asses of any boy in the school.
Seated next to Buddy was his friend Pauly, tan, blond and blue-eyed. He was a little shorter and stockier than Buddy, but his butt was almost as cute. Humiliating both of them in front of each other would be a double bonus. He stopped before their desks.
"Give me the note," he said, growling. Buddy handed it to him. He opened it and what he read there turned him purple with rage.
"Wolcott popped a boner!" It read in one handwriting. "Yeah, it's for you. He wants your ass!" It said in another hand. Wolcott tore the note to pieces, enraged that they had the unmitigated gall to discuss him in such telling, personal terms.
"Get up!" He bellowed. The boys, looking sheepish, did as ordered. "I will meet you in the office. Now go!" Both boys shuffled sheepishly to the back office, opened the door and went inside.
"Keep writing!" He told the others. "No talking. Remain here until I have finished with these two sniveling brats!" Wolcott strode to the office and went inside.
"Have you anything to say? Buddy? Pauly?"
"Please, Mr. Wolcott! Don't whip us! We'll never do it again!" Pauly pleaded, voice cracking. Buddy just grinned that annoying, mischievous grin: well, he wouldn't think it so funny after it was over!
"All right, Buddy. Bend over the desk. Get that butt up, too. I'm going to teach you two little punks some respect!"
Buddy bent over the desk. He was wearing tight white Girbaud jeans that outlined his tight little ass perfectly. The inseam of his jeans separated his well-rounded buttocks just so. It was one of the hottest little asses Wolcott had ever seen! This would be fantastic! From the shelf he took down his official paddle of white oak.
"Pauly, your count each stroke. If you miss one, he gets an extra lick and so will you. Watch closely, boy: you're next!"
With that he took careful aim, swung back and delivered the first lick to the boy's upturned rear end.
"Whack!" went the paddle. "Eeeyow!" went Buddy. "One," said Pauly.
"Whack!" again! Buddy's bottom burned "Owoooo!" He wailed. Pauly counted two. Again and again the paddle descended, searing his ass cheeks. "Please! Please, Mr. Wolcott! Owoooo! It hurts! I'll be good! OOWWOOO!" he bawled.
Pauly reached twenty, and Wolcott pulled the sobbing boy to his feet. Tears streamed down the boy's handsome, freckled face. He was directed to stand, as Pauly had, by the bookcase. He wasn't grinning now!
"All right, Pauly! assume the position!" Pauly looked about to cry. He bent over, the seat of his tight, faded chinos stretched tight over his firm ass. Cruelly, Wolcott pulled the boys shirttails out to expose him even more. The boy's khakis were faded enough for Wolcott to clearly see the outline of Pauly's briefs. He pulled back the paddle.
"Count!" he ordered Buddy. The paddle connected with Pauly's ass with a sharp crack! Pauly yelped in pain as Buddy counted each stroke. By the third one, Pauly was bawling openly, the little brat! Wolcott gave him twenty hard licks, then pulled him up from the desk. Hot tears coursed down the teenager's face; his lip quivered as he sniffled. Wolcott's swollen _c_o_c_k_ throbbed in his pants.
"Now," he said, slowly, savoring his mastery over the two little _s_h_i_t_s. "For the hard part!" He noticed, oddly, that both boys had obvious erections as well: Buddy's _c_o_c_k_, in particular, bulged in his jeans!
"Pauly, you first," he said, sitting on the desk and taking a heavy wooden hairbrush out of his desk. Sometimes he simply spanked the boys, but these two merited special treatment. Pauly's eyes went wide.
"Oh, please, Mr., Wolcott: not that! Not on my bare bottom! It' on fire already!"
"Drop your pants or I'll double the licks!" Sobbing, Pauly dropped them, then took his position across Wolcott's knee. The boy was wearing thin cotton briefs: blue ones. Wolcott peeled them slowly down to expose the boy's hot pink bottom, crisscrossed with paddle welts. He caressed the hot flesh, tracing the curve of Pauly's tight buns. Then he began to spank Pauly's bare ass with the hairbrush.
"Whap! Whap! Whap!" went the hairbrush, searing Pauly's tender young bottom. Pauly yelped in pain, twisting and dimpling his butt as Wolcott's hairbrush turned it a bright, cherry red. By the time it was over, the boy had surrendered utterly, racked with sobs of pain and humiliation. When Wolcott let the boy up, his boner stood straight out. Wolcott let his gaze rest lovingly on Pauly's quivering manhood for a moment.
"All right, Buddy," Wolcott commanded sternly. "Get over here and drop them!" The boy complied, reluctantly, it seemed, but with the hit of a mischievous grin.
As Pauly stood by the wall, crying and rubbing his sore butt, Buddy pushed his jeans to his ankles. Wolcott noted, not without some satisfaction, that the slender redhead was wearing a lightweight jockstrap, the kind swimmers sometimes wear, and the pouch was distended by an ample boner: the little homo! Wolcott pulled the boy across his muscular thighs and raised his shirttail to expose an exquisitely rounded, ripe boy-butt, a lovely rosy pink, outlined by the thin white straps. He ran one hand over the curve of hot firm flesh, pulling up one strap to reveal a pale white line beneath, much like a case of sunburn.
Across Wolcott's lap, his butt already hot from the paddling, his throbbing boner pressed against the Math teacher's muscular thighs, Buddy awaited the next ecstatic, searing stroke. He tightened his buttocks, and his _c_o_c_k_ throbbed. This was by far the most delicious licking he had ever gotten, at least since Tom moved away. He and Pauly sometimes played spanking games with each other, but nothing compared to an all-out butt-beating like this one.
A year or so ago, after long aching nights of horny teen fantasy, Buddy and Pauly had managed to annoy Tom, a student of Buddy's father's at the University, who was watching the two boys while Buddy's parents were on vacation, into a couple of hot, bare-bottomed spankings. Both boys had been raised in homes where corporal punishment was rare (which was a good thing, since both of them enjoyed it so much). He glanced over at Pauly: the stocky blond was still rubbing his rear end and whimpering. He caught Buddy's eye and flashed him a quick, conspiratorial grin.
"Whap! Whap! Whap!" went the hairbrush, and Buddy howled as his tender butt-cheeks were seared by the expert blows of his sadistic teacher. Each blow rocked him forwards on Wolcott's lap, rubbing his hard _d_i_c_k_ deliciously against the rough fabric of his jock pouch, while the straps tugged at his ass and balls.
"I'm sorry! I won't do it again! Please! It hurts!" he bawled, full knowing that it would only incite Wolcott to beat his burning backside yet harder.
The blows were really coming fast now, Wolcott determined to give Buddy the beating of his life. The brat kicked and squirmed and cried like a baby: his lovely ass was turning deep red with angry welts of purple. He felt the boy stiffen suddenly and cry out, and then he went limp, surrendering, finally, to Wolcott completely! Wolcott was infused with triumph, so much that, as he delivered a few last whacks to the tenderest parts of Buddy's upturned bottom, he felt himself spurting wildly, the orgasm so powerful that he almost dropped the boy!
Buddy's sudden surrender, though, had not been to Wolcott, but to his own orgasm, which had pumped his jock full of hot boy-cream, and left him spent and moaning. He glanced over at Pauly and shot him a wide, satisfied grin. Pauly's _d_i_c_k_ was still as hard as a rock: well, they'd fix that, later.
At Wolcott's command, both boys, pants down to showcase their bright red bottoms, were marched back into the classroom amid the hooting and whistling of the other boys, who knew full well that any lack of enthusiasm on their parts could place them in the same sad position next week. There they were forced to stand for the remainder of the class, until school was finally over.
They rushed back to Buddy's room at home, eager to compare their wounds. That got them hot again, of course, so a hot jerk off session followed, which left both boys spent and covered with fragrant jism.
"Oh, man!" Pauly exclaimed, examining his fire-engine red rump in Buddy's mirror. "My butt's gonna hurt for a week!"
"Yeah!" Buddy grinned. "We sure got old Wank-cott pissed." Both boys laughed out loud.
"You know," Pauly said, later, as they lay (on their stomachs, of course) watching MTV. "I think I just might be bad in class again. What about you?"
"Yeah, me too," Buddy said, grinning widely. "But not too soon: there's only so much my little ass can take. Besides, we don't want him to get wise."
"Hey!" Pauly said. "I hear the new baseball coach is like, real strict."
"I know," the redhead replied coolly, rubbing his hot behind gingerly. "Why do you think I signed up for the team?"