The Coach


by Barespankr <Barespankr@aol.com>

My friend Carl and I continued to be hell raisers right through Junior High. The punishments increased slightly, but not enough to deter us from having our fun. Besides, it was cool to be able to take these swats from the teachers and principal and not be bothered enough to change our ways. Every time we promised to straighten up after we were paddled, we would invariably provoke the authorities within a short period of time. Actually, I guess we were becoming quite a legend from both the teachers and students. This was all tremendous fun until we met up with "the coach".

Coach Waller was the high school football coach and really didn't think much of his assignment to have to teach physical education as well, especially to the ninth graders. We entered high school that year, and weren't the slightest bit afraid, unlike the other students. We continued our errant ways and unbelievably were not paddled, just lectured about becoming adults and the rest of that stuff. PE was not something either of us got into, so we did our best to disrupt the class. The coach would berate us in front of the other kids and we could clearly tell we were getting under his skin. We played on this, defying constantly his authority. Something about him scared me a little but we foolishly pressed on and on.

About a month went by during which the coach had us running laps and other crap for our misbehavior. We began to ditch the class a lot, hiding over the embankment and smoking cigarettes. Little did we know that Coach Waller had declared war on Carl and myself. He sent letters to our parents, explaining our behavior and asking for right to discipline us accordingly. He must have asked them not to mention it to us, as we never heard about it from our parents. He evidently DID get permission to do with us as he saw fit.

That Friday, we blew off gym class as usual and ducked over the bank to smoke. We had been mischievous all week. The coach found where we were hiding and caught us red handed smoking the cigarettes. He called us up the hill and told us that class was over and to get to the locker room to change out of our PE gear. This was not the angry action we were expecting if we were ever to be discovered. We went into the lockers with the rest of the boys, acting cool cause we got away with something. We even told them what we'd been doing, bragging that the coach had caught us smoking and didn't even say nothing. In the shower, we laughed about working up a sweat.

As we were drying off our bodies, the coach summoned us into his office. Saying we would be there in a second, we started to get dressed. The coach came out and put his hands around the back of both our necks and told us he meant NOW.

We were both naked under the towel we quickly wrapped around us as we were marched into his office. We could hear the others whisper that we were going to get it good and that it served us right. The coach closed the door and drew the blinds. He then showed us the signed letter from our parents and with an evil grin stated that we were about to pay dearly for our misdeeds. We were scared as he lectured us over and over about our bratty behavior. Then he went into his inner office and brought out a viscous looking hardwood paddle, saying that 15-yr-old boys were not to old to be spanked. The whole locker room could see under the cracks in the window blinds and we started to say we were sorry and would behave. He ordered me to stay put and told Carl to go with him into his back office and then shut the door. I waited, now pretty frightened as it dawned on me that we didn't have anything on but this towel. Would he, I wonder, let us keep the towel on for the paddling? Oh _s_h_i_t_!

I put my ear against the door as I listened to what was happening in the inner office with Carl. I heard a stern order to get over here and then heard the coach sit in the chair. Carl was trying to maintain his cool, but saying he would be good from now on. Then I heard Carl gasp "No!" and the sounds of him being pulled into position. Then my question was answered as I heard the distinct sound of the flat paddle connecting to bare skin and a muffled "Ah!" from Carl. The smacks seemed hard and continued about 1 every 10 seconds. Carl was really starting to yelp after six, but the paddle kept smacking. Chills ran clear through me as I heard my friend cry out in pain. Carl could always take a lot of pain, but we had never had it on the bare butt in school. SMACK! "OOOWWW" SMACK! " OOOCHHH" the paddling continued. Now, after 10 good ones, Carl was starting to cry hard, begging him to stop. But the smacks kept falling and Carl started screaming. I lost count at 15 cause of all the noise. I couldn't believe he was getting it that hard!

I was back against the far wall scared to death when the door opened and Carl came out. He was crying out loud, actually bawling with both his hands over his butt while he jumped up and down, tears flowing and his _c_o_c_k_ jiggling around. He was as naked as a jaybird. I stared incredulously at him, looking for a sign he was okay and not really in that much pain. He cried hard and still held his rear end.

"Okay son, your turn. Come in here!" I heard the stern voice from the other room.

Oh my God! I looked really scared as I went by Carl who now was brushing the tears with one hand from his eyes, still holding his butt with the other. His ass was crimson! and completely welted with angry marks and welts.

"That _f_u_c_k_er!" he sobbed as I walked by.

I entered the room with the towel still around me and immediately noticed the paddle Coach Waller was holding by his side. It was about 3/8" thick, 4" wide with a gripped handle. It also had small holes through it like a cribbage board. I turned to close the office door and the next thing I noticed were all the faces staring through the window with sheer lewd excitement on their faces. I was scared to death!

The coach motioned for me to come over to him and I did, playing the role of a fast talking diplomat to no avail. I was going to get it and there was no getting out of it. As I approached, he sat down in the chair and pulled me roughly to his side. He talked about me being such a smartass, and thinking I was so cool. I bowed my head. He then reached out and ripped the towel from my body, leaving me bare. I heard faint chuckling and high fives from the locker room crowd during that moment of silence after being asked to assume the position across his lap. My feet left the floor and I was repositioned off-balance over his knee. He had his whole body leaning over mine and his arm wrapped around my midsection so that I couldn't move at all and my bare fanny was sticking up in the air. He grabbed the paddle and whacked me really hard across both my cheeks. Before I could even gasp, another hard, hard swat!

"OOCH" He continued a very hard paddling, smacking by bare seat over and over. These hurt 10 times more than when done on top of the pants. Each one would cause a "SPLAT!" which echoed in the room followed by a yell of pain from me. I started kicking my legs up and down now, trying like hell to get out of the hold. No way! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! I was fighting back tears, but there was no way I could hold back. I began to cry, kicking violently, and begging for him to stop.

But the paddling continued, hard as could be, my butt on fire! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! I began to yell loud with each hit. "OOOOUUUUU!!!" PLEASE, PLEASE STOP!" My butt felt like it was going to explode! SMACK! I cried hard and loud, finally giving up the fight and just bawling and howling as loud as I could. The spanking continued for a few more really super hard swats, then stopped.

I got up bawling really loud and jumped around holding my butt with both hands, just as Carl had done. Coach Waller opened the door and I quickly left the room, still crying and now wanting to get away from the several glass peering spectators who I noticed were getting the show of their lives. I was still crying hard and Carl's eyes were still red. He walked over and put his arm around me in friendship. The coach called us back in and placed the paddle on his desk and started asking us questions on how we were going to behave. This time, there were no smartass comments. Just "Yes sir" and "No sir". We both felt better somehow and didn't hate the coach at all. In fact, we really grew to respect the man who had dared to discipline us in the manner we deserved. We straightened up and acted right the rest of the year. The kids who saw us emerge with blistered butts did kid us a little though, asking what it felt like to be spanked that hard. We told them that we could show them anytime.


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