"Hi. I'm Keith Williams. I'm supposed to get a tour of the college today." The slender, scarcely 6', blond-haired, young-looking boy, with dark brown eyes, stood in front of the desk in the Visitors' Center of MacDougald University. He was wearing a clean, bright white t-shirt, khaki shorts, and cross-training shoes with low-cut socks.
"Yes, of course, Keith. June 14th, 11 a. m. I'm Kurt Wedgewood. Glad to meet you. I'm the director of the Visitors' Center here at Mac-U. I also coach the varsity men's soccer team. Have you graduated from high school yet, Keith?"
"Yes, sir. Ten days ago," the slim, young man grinned successfully.
"Congratulations! Good. Well, first, we'll take you to admissions, walk you through the sample application process, and then walk you through financial aid to see what you might be able to expect in the way of eligibility. After that, we have you scheduled for a tour today, and an appointment this afternoon at 3 with the head basketball coach.
Turning to a tall, young man with brown hair and deep blue eyes, Kurt called him over. "Jason. Come on over here and meet Keith Williams. He just graduated from high school ten days ago, and he's here investigating Mac-U. He needs to go through admissions, and then to financial aid, and afterwards for a campus tour. Could you show him around, please?"
The lanky, 6'5" walked slowly, but covered ground rapidly, from the back of the room over to the desk. He wore a rugby stripe, collared shirt, khaki pants with broad leather belt, and big, size 13 Doc Martin shoes. Sticking out his large hand, he shook the young visitor's hand. "Keith Williams? Where are you from, Keith?"
"Mountain City, Tennessee," the boy grinned as he spoke.
"Jason Jeffreys. Did you play basketball at Mountain City?" Jason asked.
"Yes, sir. Four years high school varsity."
"Not sir – Jason. I'm a student here – 'going to be a senior in the fall." Jason replied. "I thought you sounded familiar. I read about you. My folks live in Bristol, and they send me newspaper clippings about outstanding high school basketball players. They sent me some about you. You're the point guard who averaged 23 points a game, with 18 double-double games in your high school career. I remember you."
"Wow! I'm impressed!" Keith responded. "How come you know this stuff?"
"Jason is too modest, Keith," Kurt interjected. "He was a high school basketball sensation himself, from Evansville, Indiana. Mac-U recruited him, and we were fortunate that he came here. He's played the last three years, and will be starting center again in the fall."
Jason blushed intensely.
"Now I'm even more impressed!" Keith declared.
"Well, don't be. Come on. Let's get started with the business stuff, so we can get going on the tour. OK, Kurt?" he turned and looked at the man who obviously was his boss.
"Sure, Jason. And be sure he sees everything he wants. We want this guy to get the full treatment, eh?" The last phrase was the give-away. Kurt Wedgewood, in his late 20's, was from Canada. And although he coached the mens' soccer team, he had already been tipped off that this youth presented a ripe, basketball prospect for the university.
He shook Keith's hand again, patted Jason on the back, and said: "You're in good hands, Keith. Just follow Jason. He knows everybody in the school. 'Have fun."
The tall senior opened the door and held it open for the young prospect to exit. Keith walked past, and Jason followed, closing the door behind him. They walked down the corridor, and began their walk to the admissions office. After a sample, model application, Jason walked Keith to financial aid. There, they learned that Keith would qualify for about 2/3 tuition, room, and board, based on his B+ high school grade point average, and his family income. Keith's father was an automotive mechanic who owned a small shop in Mountain City. Because he was only 17, he would have to have his parents sign everything to finalize the financial aid package.
Keith was enthusiastic as they left the business offices building, to begin their tour of the campus. The academic buildings – classrooms, offices – were next. Then, the various departmental buildings and offices. They spent some time at the student union, then walked over to the circle of quadrangle dormitories, to look at some typical dorm rooms. After that they headed to the Physical Education Building, to examine the inside basketball, racquetball, and tennis courts; the Olympic swimming and diving pools; the indoor track; and the workout and weight rooms.
During the long trek to the outdoors football, baseball, and soccer fields, Keith confirmed what Jason had suspected: despite the obvious basketball talent of this kid, because of his size and the insignificance of his high school, he had been completely overlooked by college and university recruiters. Now, somewhat at loose ends, he was looking for a college that he would feel comfortable and capable at, could afford, and maybe would have a chance to try to walk-on to the basketball team.
Jason encouraged Keith, telling him that, with his obvious talent, a walk-on spot was a realistic shot for him. In fact, now he understood why the kid had asked for an appointment with Coach Weston, when he had called to inquire about a visit and tour.
"You put your best foot forward with Coach Weston, Keith, and I'll talk to him about you too," Jason urged. "Let's go over to The Pit. It's an amusement center and café on campus, and we can get some lunch." The tall center firmly strode his 205 pounds along, with the slim, young, shorter player hurrying alongside.
During lunch, Keith asked Jason about the Eagles Nest, the domed arena where the basketball team played their home games. "I've read about it and seen pictures, but I really want to see it," Keith exclaimed. "I want to see the court and the stands where the crowds roar!" The kid was excited to be in a real college, athletic environment.
"Well, they're doing some major remodeling work on the Nest," Jason explained, "and it's supposed to be closed until the end of August when the work is to be finished." Keith's disappointment was unmistakable on his face. "But let me see. Maybe we can figure something out," Jason added hastily. They finished their lunches, and then walked out together across the campus to the northeast corner where the huge dome loomed above the horizon. There were barricades set up all around the dome. They tried several doors, but the doors were locked with "No Trespassing" signs in every door. They heard the sound of hammers, saws, and workmen coming from inside the arena; but the dome was closed tight.
Keith looked crestfallen, and Jason quickly thought through his well-familiar acquaintance with the arena, to think about any other possibility. Suddenly, he smiled. "There may be more than one way to skin the cat," he offered. "'Come on. 'Follow me," he called to Keith, and set off jogging around the southwest corner of the arena, with the youngster in fast pursuit. He stopped near a pile of debris and rubble, where the heating/air conditioning plant for the arena was located.
There just four feet to the left was an opening at the ground cement about 3' wide and 2' high. Jason stepped quickly to the opening, and then dropped quickly down flat onto the cement, his long, lean body stretched out on his stomach, his head towards the opening. He began sliding along on his stomach, with his shoulders, legs, and hips wiggling himself forward as he pushed himself through the opening. His low-riding khakis snugly tightened across his firm, small, flat butt, as he wriggled and dragged himself along. When he had squirmed through the opening, he began pulling himself up and turned to watch Keith following his lead, writhing along on his stomach to slide through the opening behind him. He stood up to watch Keith finish dragging himself through the opening to join him.
"Wait just a minute there, boys!" a voice commanded from out of the dusky hallway. Jason turned around and immediately saw a huge campus policeman walking towards him. The guy must have been at least 6'8", 280 lbs, with biceps as large as Jason's thighs, and a chest and stomach like formed cement. He walked right up to Jason, who found himself in the unusual position of staring up at the officer. Keith, still lying on his stomach on the floor, also looked up to see the colossal cop looking down at him. The gigantic policeman's name tag said, "Markham."
"What are you boys doing crawling in here?" he demanded.
"Oh, . . . ah, sir. I'm JJ, from the Visitors' Center, and I'm giving Keith here a tour of the campus."
"Oh, you are?" the huge policeman asked. "And who is JJ?"
Still trying to recover from the shock of being caught breaking into the arena, Jason added, "Sorry, sir. It's Jason. Jason Jeffreys."
"Jason Jeffreys!? I thought I recognized you. You're that big, southpaw center on the basketball team that gets all those rebounds and scores all those points, aren't you?"
Jason blushed, but thought this was a good sign. "Yes, sir. That's me. I'll be playing again this coming year – my senior year."
Officer Markham paused, and looked down deeply into Jason's dark, blue eyes. Then he inhaled loudly, sighed, and spoke. "Well, JJ, being a senior, and a leader on campus, you know better than to break into a building that is locked, posted 'no trespassing,' and off-limits. Not even mentioning taking a youngster like this boy along with you."
"He wanted to see the Nest," Jason hastened to explain.
"And, if he wanted to see the White House, would you break into it and take him with you?" the officer interrogated.
"Well, ah . . . "
"Well, nothing," the policeman interrupted, placed his big right hand around Jason's neck, and the lean, tall, senior center took a step backward away from Officer Markham. "And you, youngster," the officer spoke, turning to Keith. You know it's wrong to break into a closed, barricaded building, too."
Keith, now standing, only looked down at his feet.
"You boys are breaking the law, and it looks like you need to learn about the consequences of crime. You'd better come down with me to the security office. We'll let Harold talk to you boys." He shifted his right hand around to the back of Jason's neck, put his left hand around the back of Keith's neck, and began marching the boys toward the stairs and downwards.
Jason tried to turn around and speak to Officer Markham. "Look, officer, Keith here has a 3 o'clock appointment with Coach Weston, and we nee . . . "
WHAP!! The officer dropped his right hand from Jason's neck, and interrupted the tall senior with a swat to the seat of his khakis. Jason jumped, but at once turned back to stepping rhythmically down the stairs. "If I call the Grady County Sheriff, you boys'll miss more than afternoon appointments while you spend all night at the jail. Now, keep going, JJ. You can give your explanations to Harold."
With that he returned his hand to the neck of the lanky senior, who continued marching down the steps. When Officer Markham had marched the boys down the steps, he turned them to the left, and walked them down the dark, under-arena hall, towards the light streaming from the slightly opened door marked "SECURITY."
When they reached the door, the officer opened it, pushed the boys forward through it, and followed them in. He closed the door tightly, turned the deadbolt lock, and fastened the chain-pin lock as well. Jason felt apprehension rise as the officer closed and locked the door, but said nothing as he looked around the room.
The room was a fairly big, windowless one, with several desks, a number of wooden bankers-type chairs, probably 10 telephones, and four or five computer terminals and monitors. Television monitors lined the top along the wall where the door was – probably for observing different locations around the arena above. Expecting to see someone else in the room, the boys were surprised to find it empty.
Officer Markham pointed to a chair over by a wall. "You have a seat there, youngster," he directed Keith. Keith at once moved over to the chair and sat down.
"You can stay right there, JJ," he ordered. Standing alone in the middle of the room, but off to the left of where Keith was sitting, Jason looked around. He watched as the large policeman strode solidly across the room over to one of the desks, and sat down on it at the front. On the left side of the desktop, Jason saw a big, wooden hairbrush, about 3 x 5. Officer Markham reached over, picked it up, and began tapping it in the palm of his left hand while looking from one young man to the other. The two boys stared at the tapping oak brush in Officer Markham's hand, casting fast, furtive glances at each other from the corners of their eyes. Each of them began to have wondering suspicions about what was going on.
"This here is Harold," the policeman finally spoke. "He really communicates to bad boys who ignore the rules and break the law. He'll teach a lesson to you boys that you'll never forget, I promise you that. And whatever you have to say, I can assure you, Harold has heard it all before."
The reality of the prospect in store began to dawn from the officer's figurative speech. Keith sat frozen in his chair. Jason stood still, stunned, shifting his weight back and forth on his legs.
"All right, now. 'Time to hear from Harold. You're first, JJ!" he barked. Jason slowly backed away, eyes narrowed with shock. Keith stared at them both with widened eyes of disbelief.
"You heard me, Mr. Senior Center. Don't make me have to come get you, boy. Get over here now!" The officer tapped the right thigh of his lap, indicating what he expected. His command was quiet, firm, and inexorable.
"You've got to be kidding. Look, sir, . . . ah, officer, . . . there's no way. This is crazy." Jason replied. He continued backing away.
"You just made a big mistake, JJ. There's no use in fighting me. You'll fight Harold plenty, until he breaks you. You're only making it necessary for Harold to make a lot longer, stronger impression on you – one that you will always remember."
The huge officer stepped quickly down from the desk, and within seconds was right at Jason's side. With his right hand, this time he grabbed Jason's neck from the back, bending the tall, slim young man down and over. Then the police officer grabbed the head and neck of the young athlete in a headlock with his left arm. At that moment, Keith stood up from his chair and took a step towards the officer holding his new friend in a bent-over headlock.
"What are you doing, boy?" the policeman demanded. "Sit back down in that chair, if you know what's good for you, or you'll be first to get acquainted with Harold – instead of your big buddy here!" he ordered. "You've just earned yourself some extras, son! Now, get back in that chair – PRONTO!" Keith froze. Confronted with the officer's austere, authoritarian voice, he backed down, and sat back down. Fear and shock registered on his face.
The officer, still gripping Jason in the iron headlock with his left arm, grabbed the back of Jason's waist and belt, pulling his pants up high and tight, almost lifting him off the ground. The star senior center's feet slipped and raced trying to keep up while he was being pulled across the room.
Officer Markham sat back down on the desk top, still controlling Jason with the left-arm headlock, and with the right hand pulling the young man's pants' belt. "Over you go, big fella," he said, and hauled the long, young athlete over his lap.
"Aaaaauhmphaaah!" Jason grumbled his objection as he sprawled across the policeman's knees. While the young man was still off-balance, the officer bounced him up and down on his lap a few times, so that Jason's head and left arm were over the officer's left leg and partly under the desk. The policeman's left arm and hand reached around the overturned senior, securing him with an iron grip around his waist. The lanky center's feet scarcely touched the floor, and his small, tight, muscled bottom was aimed high.
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!
The cop wasted no time in beginning the young athlete's spanking. The first five surprised Jason with their suddenness.
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!
By the tenth one, his brain had caught up with his behind in experiencing the smarting insults. Instinctively, he shifted all of his weight to his left hand, and reached back with his right hand to try to protect his backside. Immediately, Officer Markham released his grasp around Jason's waist, grabbed the young man's right arm from covering his behind, and pulled it up behind his back to a place high between his shoulder blades. With the force of his right arm being jerked up against his upper back, Jason yielded his resistance. Like a long, lithe rabbit, he was trapped.
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!
The officer immediately resumed the volley of spanks smacking against the young man's bottom.
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!
Whewah! Whoaaah! Jason couldn't remember how long ago it had been that he had felt this kind of agony. Each successive swat of the hairbrush jolted his backside and brain with the stinging pain and increasing heat. He felt frantic. He had to get this halted – right away!
"Hey! Alright! Ahumaah! Stop! Sir! Aah-I mean, uh-officer! Stop it! Uhmmahaah-N-noo kidding! Ahhhh Stop it! Aaaah! I'm serious! Aaaahhhhum! Stop it! Stop it!" he called out in vain.
Officer Markham only intensified the force and speed of the descending spanks.
SMACKSMACKSMACKSMACKSMAAACK! SMACKSMACKSMAAACK! SMACKSMACKSMAAACK! SMACKSMACKSMAAACK! SMACKSMACKSMAAACK! SMACKSMACKSMAAACK! SMACKSMACK! SMACKSMACK! SMACKSMACK! SMACKSMACK! SMACKSMACK! SMACKSMACKSMACKSMACKSMAAACK! SMACKSMACKSMACKSMACKSMACK! SMACKSMACKSMACKSMACKSMAAACK! SMACKSMACKSMACKSMACKSMAAACK!
Jason was bouncing and squirming over the policeman's lap, and kicking – as much as his locked-in condition would allow. He was also shouting and pleading with pain, calling out for the officer to stop the fiery swats that were scorching the seat of his pants. His reddened face, gaping mouth, disheveled hair, and squinted, streaking eyes reflected the torment to his searing rearend.
"OOOO-AHHH-NOOO! STOPIT! STOPIT! OWOWW! UH-AH-OOO-UH YOWW! P-PLEASE! UHAHM-OOO-UH STOPITSTOPIT! PLEEEZ! UH-IT HURRRTZ-UH-SOO-UH-BAAAD! UH-OKOKOK-UH-I'M SORREEE! UH-B-BUT STOPIT-UH-PLEEEZ! AHH! NOOOMOOOOR-UH! IT'S HURRRTING! AH-UH-OOOOO-UH! OOOOOO-AH-STOP! UH STOP-UH-PLEEEZ-UH! IT'S HURRRTING! UH-AHM SORREEE! PUH-LEEEEZ! UH–UH-OWOWOWEEE! IT HURRRTZ-UH-SOOOO-UH-OOOO-UH-B-BAAAD! OOO! UH-UH-YOWWW! NOMOOOR! IT HURTZ! IT HURTZ! AAAAH-OOOOO-UH-UH! SOOOO! BAAAD!"
Suddenly the massive policeman stopped his relentless spanking of the young senior's blazing bottom. He loosened the pull of Jason's right arm against his back, and pulled it towards him, rolling the young man over on his back and throbbing behind, facing up towards the officer. Jason's mind leaped to the relief that he had survived this unthinkable ordeal without any greater pain and embarrassment than he had already endured; and he began to sit upward on the officer's lap.
The cop's enormous arm hit Jason's chest like a concrete beam, knocking him backwards. His head struck the side of the desk, dazing him as he fell. With swiftness, Officer Markham grabbed the young student's belt, unbuckled, it, unsnapped and unzipped his khaki pants. Bouncing the backwards-dangling young man around on his lap, the officer grabbed the crotch of Jason's pants, tugging them down from his hips, past his thighs, then knees, to his feet and ankles. The cool air on his thighs and legs shocked Jason into greater alertness.
He was struggling to try to sit back up when the officer grabbed his right arm, tucked it under the young player's back, and rolled him back over draped across the policeman's lap. The young student's head and left arm were back partly under the desk, and Officer Markham pulled Jason's shirttail up to his neck, and pinned his right arm up between his bare shoulder blades. The cool air on his exposed back, from his waist to his shoulders, made the young man shudder.
His head snapped around to the right, looking upwards, as he felt the officer's powerful hand grasp the waist band of his boxers, jerking them over his buttocks, thighs, past his knees to join his pants tangled around his ankles.
"NOOOWAAAAAEEEYAIAAAAAAAH!!" he protested futilely. Now bare from his neck to his ankles, he was stunned by the excruciating bite of the brush resuming its punishment of his battered backside. The giant officer made the brush dance up and down, up and down – all over Jason's red hot, small, flat bottom.
THWHACK! THWHACK! THWHACK! THWHACK! THWHACK! THWHACK! THWHACK! THWHACK! THWHACK! THWHACK! THWHACK! THWHACK! THWHACK! THWHACK! THWHACK! THWHACK! THWHACK! THWHACK! THWHACK! THWHACK! THWHACK! THWHACK! THWHACK! THWHAAACK!!
Despite the force of his arm wrenched up against his back, Jason frantically, desperately squirmed and wriggled, bounced and bucked, pushed and kicked, screaming his pleas for mercy. Thrashing about, he thrust his tightened, tensed legs and feet as much as the tangled khakis and boxers would allow. He begged and pleaded with the big cop to stop.
"OWWWAAAH-OOOO! P-PLEEEZSTOP! OOOO-AH-NOOOO-AH-MOOOOR! UH-AH-OOOO-UH-EEEYOWW! I CAN'T-UH-TAAAKIT! AAAAUGHOOOOAAH! STOP! OKOKOK! OWOWOWEEE! OOO-AHM-UH-SORRREEE! P-PLEEZ! STOPIT! OOOO! UH-AHLL-UH-BEEEE-OOO-UH-OWW! UH-GOOOD! PUH-PLEEEZ! OOOO-AH-OW! PLEEEZNOMORE! PLEEEEZ! OOOO-UH-YOWOWOWW! AHM SORRREEE! AH'LL NEVER-UH-UH-NEVER! OOOO-AUGH-UH-AHLBEEEGOOOD! AAAAH-AH-OOOOO! IWILL! OOOIWILL! IWILLIWILLIWILL! AH-AH-UH-BEE-AH-G-GOOD! OOOOOAAAH! NOOOO-UH-MOOOOR! PLEEZ! PLEEZ! PLEEZ! UH-UH-UH! I'LLBEGOOD! I'LLBEGOOD! I'LLBEGOOOOD! OOOOOOOOOO! AAAAAH-UH-UH-YEEOWWWW!!"
The brawny policeman neither spoke, nor slacked the continuing the torrent of spanks on the writhing student's blistered behind. Instead, he intensified the speed and force, but shifted the aim of the brush to whack the young man's thighs just below where they met his now-dark-red, small, tight, flat, muscled buttocks.
THWHACKTHWHACK! THWHACKTHWHACK! THWHACKTHWHACK! THWHACKTHWHACK! THWHACKTHWHACK! THWHACKTHWHACKTHWHACK! THWHACKTHWHACKTHWHACK! THWHACKTHWHACKTHWHACK! THWHACKTHWHACKTHWHACKTHWHACK!
The branding fire against the young man's sensitive upper legs shot him forward, wailing and shouting with agony.
"AIEEEYAAAOOOYOWWW! OOOOOAH-AH-YOWOWOWW! EEEYAAAAOW! OWOWOWOWOWW! OOOOAAAAH-EEEAIEEEAIEEEYOWWWW!
The big officer then began, rapid-fire, smacking, scorching, and scalding of the inside thighs of the young athlete.
THWHACKTHWHACKTHWHACK! THWHACKTHWHACKTHWHACK!! THWHACKTHWHACKTHWHACKTHWHACK! THWHACKTHWHACKTHWHACK! THWHACKTHWHACKTHWHACKTHWHACK! THWHACKTHWHACKTHWHACK!
Jason shrieked even higher and louder; but at the same time, the smacks against his hypersensitive, inner thighs automatically forced him to move his legs and buttocks open as far as his entangled pants and underwear permitted. Then the big oak brush began pummeling repeatedly against the anus and inner buttocks of his burning backside. From those flaming swats, he would close and tighten together his buttocks and legs, only to spread them wide as his legs parted in reaction to having his inner thighs spanked again, to have his inner buttocks and anus hit with the torch again and again. Over and over Jason screamed and howled, jumped, bucked, kicked – in heightened shock at the unimaginable, intensified pain.
Finally, he collapsed into heaving, gasping, choking, wailing, and coughing, unable any longer to speak amidst strangling sobs.
"AUGH-UH-UH-OOOO-AH-UUAGHAAAH! AIEEEEOOOO-UH-HAUGH! UH-UH! OOOO-AIUGH-UH-UH-OOOOOO! HAUGH-UGHPH-AAAAH-UH! OOOEEEEOOOO! AUGH-UH-AUGH-UH! AAAHNOOOOOO-UH-UH! OOOOOOEEEEOOOOOAAAAAH! HAUGH-UH-PHAUGH! PHAUGH! UH-OOOOOO-AUGH! YOWEEEYOWEEEYOWW! AUGH-UH-UH-UH!
When it was finally over, and the giant officer stopped, he let the long, lanky student athlete lie draped across his knees, heaving and shaking, intermittently whimpering and weeping, choking and coughing. Officer Markham looked over at Keith, who was sitting on the edge of his chair, weeping uncontrollably. This boy will be a lot quicker and easier to break, he thought. Still, he deserves a long, strong lesson from Harold for his initial dare to defy the officer's commands.
Jason finally began to gain some control and composure of himself. Officer Markham reached down, under the young man's arms, and lifted him firmly, but lightly, up, off his lap. Immediately, Jason's legs buckled, and he fell to his knees, sobbing out loudly again.
"AUGH-UH-UH-AHAUGH! OOO-UH-UH! OOOOOO! UH-UH!"
"Now, now, big fella. It's not the end of the world. It's only your singed bottom and your bruised pride. They'll survive, and you'll be much better for it. Stand up now!" He reached down and pulled the tall, thin center up by his under arms.
Jason stood up, tears streaking down his face, and unthinkingly wrapped his arms around the massive officer's neck, leaning against his granite chest. The policeman's huge hands grabbed Jason at the sides of his ribs, and held him steady in front.
"You're going to be fine in a few weeks, JJ. And you've received an important lesson at the same time. Now, leave your pants and underpants down at your ankles, and go on over to the corner by the door. Nose in the corner; hands on the wall, above your head; and don't let me catch you looking around anywhere than straight in the corner, or trying to touch your rearend. If you do, Harold will have to take you for another long talk."
THWHAAACK! With that he swatted Jason's naked bottom again with the brush, sending him jumping over into the corner. The tall, young, senior center, with purple-red backside, leaned into the corner with his nose, resting his hands on his head.
"Good boy, JJ. Now make sure you stay that way."
He turned back to the terrified, younger student, still sitting, crying in his chair. "All right, youngster, your turn next to hear from Harold. 'Come on over here, son," he called, sitting back down on the desk top and patting his right leg.
Reluctantly, Keith rose from the chair and began a slow, measured walk towards the giant police officer. He stopped and stood in front of the sitting policeman, facing him. Officer Markham reached over with his left hand, took hold of Keith's left arm, and firmly pulled him around to the sitting officer's right side. Then, still holding Keith's left arm, the officer reached his large arm around the slight young man's waist, lifted him off the floor, and deposited him over his knees.
Again, he bounced this shorter young man up and down on his knees, as he shifted him over to the left, his head and arms reaching down under the desk, his feet completely off the floor. Officer Markham's huge right hand smoothed the khaki shorts over the two muscular bubbles of Keith's butt. Harold was going to pop those bubbles real good, he thought. Keith broke down sobbing.
"Ooooh-uh-uh-ooooo-aaaah-uh-uh-ooooooooo!" he bawled.
SMACKSMACKSMACKSMACKSMACKSMACKSMACKSMACKSMACKSMACK! SMACKSMACKSMACKSMACKSMACK! SMACKSMACKSMACKSMACKSMACK! SMACKSMACKSMACKSMACKSMACK! SMACKSMACKSMACKSMACKSMACK!
Officer Markham delivered a long volley and strong message to Keith right away. "Listen up, little fella. You haven't even begun to get the point yet. Your big buddy over there took a huge licking to learn his lesson; and here you're already crying like a whipped puppy! Well, Harold has a lot more in store for you, buddy boy!" With that he quickened the pace of the spanks heating up the globes under the seat of Keith's shorts.
SMACKSMACKSMACKSMACKSMACKSMACKSMACKSMACKSMACK! SMACKSMACKSMACKSMACKSMACKSMACKSMACKSMACKSMACK! SMACKSMACKSMACK! SMACKSMACKSMACK! SMACKSMACKSMACK! SMAAACK! SMMAAAAACKK!! SMMAAAAACKK!! SMMAAAACKK!! SMMAAAAAAAAACKKK!!!!
"OHNO! OHNO! OHNO! OHNO! OWEEEE! OWEEEE! OWEEEEEEOO! STOP! OOO! PLEEZSTOP! PLEEZSTOP! NOMOOOOOR! NOOOOAH! OOOOO-AAAAH! MOOOOOR! OOOO! P-PLEEZ! STOP! STOP! STOP SPANKING! IT HURTZZZZ! YEEEOWWW! SOOOO-BAAAAAAD! OOOO-AH-NOOOO-AH-MOOOOR! PLEEEEZ-OOOOOO-AH-NOOOO!"
Already, Keith was shouting and pleading. His mouth was wide, his eyes squinted, and his face was stained from his running eyes and nose, and strained with the taste of blistered agony. The hammering hairbrush set fire to his hard, round bottom, as Officer Markham kept the machine-like rhythm of the spanking. With each whack, Keith stiffened from neck to feet, before recoiling just in time to receive another one.
Then the policeman stopped suddenly again. This time, he just pulled the smaller youth's t-shirt up all the way over his head, exposing his back, shoulders, and neck. Then, without turning him over, Officer Markham reached under Keith and unbuckled his belt, unsnapped and unzipped his shorts. Once again bouncing the boy around on his lap, the officer grabbed the crotch of the khaki shorts, and yanked them down over the bulbous buttocks, past his thighs and knees, to his feet. Grabbing the waist of Keith's boxers, Officer Markham jerked them right off his hips and butt, and down his legs to his feet, in one fierce motion.
Keith shrieked. "OOOOOAAAAANOOOOEEEEEEYOOOOOAAAAH!!!"
THWHACKTHWHACKTHWHACK! THWHACKTHWHACKTHWHACK! THWHACKTHWHACKTHWHACKTHWHACK! THWHACKTHWHACKTHWHACK! THWHACKTHWHACKTHWHACKTHWHACK! THWHACKTHWHACKTHWHACK! THWHACKTHWHACKTHWHACKTHWHACK! THWHACKTHWHACKTHWHACK!
The hard, wooden hairbrush immediately returned to blistering the ample, undressed bottom of Keith Williams. The cool air against his bare back, bottom, and legs only sharpened the contrast to the fiery inferno ignited on his rear. He had no reserve to resist, and began writhing and squirming on the officer's lap, while reaching back to shield his blazing backside. Once again, the officer grabbed the right hand of the young man wriggling over his lap, pinning it up between the boy's bare shoulder blades. Then, he kept the spanking coming.
THWHACKTHWHACKTHWHACK! THWHACKTHWHACKTHWHACK! THWHACKTHWHACKTHWHACKTHWHACK! THWHACKTHWHACKTHWHACK! THWHACKTHWHACKTHWHACKTHWHACK! THWHACKTHWHACKTHWHACK! THWHACKTHWHACKTHWHACKTHWHACK! THWHACKTHWHACKTHWHACK!
Keith screamed and hollered, bucked and thrust, kicking his shorts off his feet, past his shoes.
"AUGH-UH-NOOO! PUH-LEEEZ! DON'TDOIT! DON'TDOIT! OOOO-UH-UH! P-PLEEEZ! I'LLBEGOODI'LLBEGOODI'LLBEGOOD!! NOOO-UH-MOOOOR! STOPIT! STOPIT! PLEASE STOP SPANKING! OOOOO-UH-UH-STOPIT! PUH-LEEEZ! AUGH-UH-UH! DADEEE! DADEEE! NOMOOOOR! AIUGH-UH! AH-AH-AHWONT! AHWON'T! DADEEE! AHWON'T BE BAAAAAD! UH-UH-AGAIN! OOOOO-AAAAH! P-PLEEEZ-DADEEE! PLEEEEZ! I'LL-UH-BE-UH-UH-AUGH-AAAA-OOOO! G-GOOD! OOOOOO! AAAOOOO-EEEEYOWEEEE! DADEEE! DADEEE! DADEEE! PUH-LEEEZ! STOP SPANKING! STOP SPANKING! AHM-UH-SOOO-UH-SORREEEE! DADEEEEE! OOOOOOO-AUGH-UH-UH-UH-UGUAGH-AUGH-UH-UH-OOOOOOO!"
He had quickly broken, collapsing into childish calling out, begging, pleading, and then into incomprehensible, garbled sobbing and gasping. From what he was hearing, maybe it had not been as long for Keith, as apparently it had been for Jason, since he had received a sound, hard spanking.
The officer shifted the aim to smack the smaller young man's thighs just below his buttocks, and then his inner thighs, which raised the level of screaming and wailing with each whack. When Keith's boxers flew off his thrusting feet and legs, he was free to open wide his legs and buttocks in reaction to the stinging smacks on his inner thighs. Then, the officer's relentless swats began blistering the young man's inner buttocks and anus. Like Jason, Keith alternated closing tight his legs and bubble buttocks against the lapping flames of the hairbrush, and opening them wide in reaction to more smacks on his inner thighs, only to receive more whacks on his inner buttocks and anus. Keith was beside himself with frenzied pain!
"AIEEEYAEEEEYOWW! OOOOO-AH-YOWEEEYOWEEEYOWWW! UH-UH! STAH-UH-UH-OOOOO-UH-YEEEOWWWW! OWOWOWOWOWOWWW! AUGH! UH-UH-UH-AIUGHAAAAH! YEEEOWW-UH-EEEEYOWWW! OOOOO-UH-UH-AUGH! UH-UH-HAUGHAAAAH-UH-UH! YOWEEEOOOOO-UH-UH! HUH-UH-EEYAUGHAAH!"
Like Jason before him, Keith simply rode each searing smack of the burning torch that hit his bottom, no longer able to speak, just shrieking, choking, and gagging through his sobs of pain. But Officer Markham did not stop so soon with this young man. He kept the hairbrush pounding those muscled mounds, inside, underneath, straight on, and from the outsides! They were deep, dark, battered, black-red, bulbs aflame!
Finally, this spanking, too, was concluded, and Keith lay sobbing and shaking, hanging over the lap of the monstrous policeman. Officer Markham let him dangle there for awhile, as well, until he finally began to subside and acquire some composure. The officer then reached down under his arms, pulled up and off this smaller young man, and stood him on his feet.
He doubled over immediately, reaching back to rub his branded bottom. Reaching over and grabbing up his arms, Officer Markham swung the wooden hairbrush against Keith's blazoned behind again. THWHAAACK!
"Hands on your head! You can waddle over to join your big buddy with your nose in the corner. No turning around, and no touching your rearend. Understand?"
"OOOOOAAAAAH, Y-YESSIR!" Keith wailed again, and leaned his nose into a corner as well.
Jason turned slightly, looking over to see what was occurring to Keith; but the big officer caught him.
"What did I tell you, big boy!? 'Looks to me like you need another session with Harold!" He grabbed the lanky, tall young man and pulled him away from the corner, back over towards the desk. Jason began bawling.
"OOOOHPLEEEZ! PLEEEZ! NOOOOO! I DIDN'T MEAN IT! OOOOO-UH! PLEEEZ! NOT AGAIN! NOT MORE! I CAN'T TAKE-UH-UH-ANYMOOOOOR! ICAN'TTAKEIT! ICAN'TTAKEIT! PLEEEEZ! OOOOOOOO!"
Once more he found himself upside down over the officer's lap, staring underneath the desk, his burnt behind sticking up in the air awaiting further swats.
THWACKTHWHACKTHWHACKTHWHACK! THWHACKTHWHACKTHWHACK! THWHACKTHWACK! THWHACKTHWACKTHWHACKTHWHACKTHWHACK! THWHACKTHWHACKTHWHACK! THWHACKTHWHACKTHWHACKTHWHACK! THWHACKTHWHACKTHWHACKTHWHACKTHWHACKTHWHACKTHWHACK! THWHACKTHWHACK! THWHACKTHWHACKTHWHACKTHWHACKTHWHAAACK!!
Jason screamed and hollered, then crumbled into unintelligible sobbing, heaving, and choking. In a few minutes, it was over, and he was back on his feet, stamping and stomping from the flaming wildfire on his bottom.
"You can pull up your pants now, JJ," the officer directed.
"Uh-uh-I-uh-uh-don't think-uh-uh-I can," he cried. "It's burning, throbbing! It hurts so bad!"
THWHACKTHWHACKTHWHACKTHWHACKTHWHAAACK!!
"Pull-em up now, JJ!" Officer Markham commanded, adding five more spanks as an incentive to obey him.
"OOOOOAAAAH-UH-UH-OOOOOKAAAAY!" Jason wailed. He reached down and grabbed up his boxers and then his khaki trousers, moaning as he pulled them up on his seat.
"Wait right there, JJ," the police officer ordered.
Jason stood standing, his hands reached around to the seat of his pants, holding his beaten bottom.
"Now, maybe we better have a repeat, reheat session for you too, little buddy," he spoke to Keith. Keith's head snapped around to look at the huge policeman, but he burst into crying again.
"N-nooooaaaah! Uh-uh-p-please! Noooooooo-aaaaaah!"
Officer Markham walked over to the smaller, young man, who was bare from his socks to his t-shirt still up over the back of his head. Reaching around his waist with his colossal arm, the officer lifted the youngster up into the air, tilting his head slanted towards the floor, and carried him back to the desk. Once more, Keith was topsy-turvy, as he was dropped over the officer's knees, his feet dangling above the floor, his bare backside aimed as a target.
THWHACKTHWHACKTHWHACK! THWHACKTHWHACK! THWHACKTHWHACK! THWHACKTHWHACKTHWHACK! THWHACKTHWHACKTHWHACKTHWHACK! THWHACKTHWHACKTHWHACKTHWHACKTHWHACK! THWHACKTHWACK! THWHACKTHWHACKTHWHACK! THWHACKTHWHACKTHWHACKTHWHACK! THWHACKTHWHACKTHWHACKTHWHACKTHWHACKTHWHACK! THWHAAACK!!
Keith quickly succumbed and lay hanging across the officer's lap, kicking and weeping, wailing and screaming; but most of it was unintelligible coughs, gasps, and sobs.
In another few minutes, Officer Markham lifted him back up onto his feet. "Go find your underwear and shorts, son, and get'em on!" the cop commanded.
Again, however, Keith doubled over with the agony on his rearend. The officer fired the spanking hairbrush several more times against Keith's smoking behind, and the young, high school graduate leaped up and ran to find his boxers and khaki shorts. Then, while stomping up and down with the pain to his backside, he swiftly stepped into and pulled them up over his aching bottom.
Both boys faces were crimson and streaked with many dirty tears and wet, runny noses. Their hair was rumbled and disheveled. Their eyes were swollen and red. Here were two, young men who had been taught a painful, unforgettable lesson about obeying rules and the law; and now they wanted to get out of there as soon as they could.
The officer placed the hairbrush back down on the side of the desktop, walked over to the door, unlocked and opened it.
"'Come on, boys. I'll see to it that you leave this building right away," he stated flatly. From upstairs, the two boys could hear the workers and the sounds of construction. Once more, Officer Markham placed his large hands around the back of each boy's neck and directed them through the door, out into the dark hall.
Stiffly and woodenly, they both hobbled out of the office, down the hall, and up the steps with the officer right behind. He directed them back to the 2' x 3' opening through which they had crawled.
"Ok, then, down you go, and out. And don't let me and Harold catch you boys around here again – or this will seem like a picnic! Get my drift?"
"Ooooh, yes, sir! Yes, sir! Don't worry, you won't! . . . er we won't!" they both hastened too loudly to promise. Then, slowly and with uncharacteristic awkwardness, first Jason, and then Keith, laid down on their stomachs and crawled through the opening to the outside. Standing up on the outside of the dome, they saw the officer salute them, and turn and walk out of sight.
Jason was humiliated, as well as ashamed. "I'm so sorry, Keith. Look what I got us into."
Keith replied, "Well, I insisted on getting into the Nest – and now we know what it got us both."
"It's 4:30, way past your 3 p. m. meeting with Coach Weston, Keith. I'm really sorry. I feel so bad. We could try and see if he might still be around," Jason added.
"That's okay, Jason," Keith answered. "I think I just want to get on my way home," he explained.
Oh, great! Not only had he gotten himself and this would-be walk-on into a mess that they would never forget, but now he had lost him as a prospect for the college. If this were found out, how could he ever face Kurt again? He staggered, limping along with Keith, walking him to his car. Then the new, high school graduate, slowly eased himself down into the seat of his car, and started the engine, preparing for the 6-hour drive home.
"Thanks for everything you did – and took – because of me, Jason. I'm sorry it happened."
"Me, too, Keith. I just wish you'd still think about bringing your talented – but now tanned – hide back here to play on our team this coming year. You'd play a lot, and really could contribute!" Jason urged.
"Gosh! Thanks, Jason! Coming from you that means a lot. But I think I've seen enough of 'Smack-U'! I guess I'll look some other places too." Then, waving out the open car window, he drove off.
Jason limped back to his dorm room, quietly opened, closed, and locked the door. With difficulty bending over to take off his shoes, and hurriedly pulling off his clothes, he slid into his bed on his stomach, between the sheets, letting the cold cotton fabric soothe his bruised and flaming backside. Within minutes he was asleep, and did not awaken until he painfully rolled over on his back at 7:30 the next morning.