(This story will no doubt seem a combination of unusual elements. First, I took the character of Steve Sloan from the TV series "Diagnosis Murder" (and if you know what Barry van Dyke, who plays him, looks like, you'll understand). Second, the events described here take place after the police have captured and subdued the members of a street gang called the Dragons). I think that's enough information to get you started.
Lt Steve Sloan stood in the meeting room of the city council, about to address the expectant members of that assembled body. His attire was surprisingly casual for what appeared to be a formal occasion. He wore a short-sleeved shirt (that emphasized his muscular torso, jeans (on the tight side), and tennis shoes. The badge fastened to his wide leather belt was the only indication of authority about him, if one didn't count the sturdy wooden paddle which appeared so formidable in his tight grip.
Steve spoke quite casually as well. "Gentlemen, there are some very distinguised guests that I want you to meet, waiting outside." He gestured with the paddle toward the half-open door. "They used to be the Dragon gang, but now - well, we've given them some new uniforms, so I guess you'd have to call them the Pink Ladies. I'll let you decide."
He moved close to the door and beckoned with a thick forefinger, "Come on, girls." The men of the city council looked in anticipation at the threshold. A moment of silence followed, and Lt Sloan had to urge the "guests" coaxingly, "C'mon!" At last they entered, seeming to be nudged from the other side.
Slowly, huddled together like a corps of timid ballerinas, the former Dragons came in: eight very embarrassed boys, ranging in age from sixteen to nineteen. No longer did they proudly sport the leather jackets with the gang insignia. No. Each boy wore a flimsy, frilly pink dress that reached halfway down his hairy thighs, and whose swishing revealed a pair of lacy white panties below! Steve had indeed tamed these dragons.
The amused council members now gazed at a pink line, flanked on one end by Lt Sloan and on the other by a uniformed policeman, that wavered as the humbled hooligans shifted uneasily in their embarrassment. A gentle blush of red on each boy's cheeks matched the color of his dress.
Steve waited with a smile of approval as he allowed the officials to get a good long look at their guests, then half-asked, half-commanded, "Well, girls, what do we do in front of gentlemen?"
In response, each ex-dragon grabbed the hems of his dress and performed a delicate curtsy.
These maneuvers were received with some applause and a few derisive chuckles, encouraged by Steve, who then asked, "And we have something else to show these gentlemen, don't we, boys?"
The abashed teenagers exchanged hopeless glances, and their blushes intensified.
"You know what to do, fellas," Steve prompted, with a mixture of humor and command.
Ever so reluctantly, the boys turned around, and bending over slightly, reached back and flipped up the back of their dresses to expose their girlish underwear.
Unbridled mirth greeted this display. What other response could the sight of white lace panties bulging with boy butts produce?
"That's right, boys," Steve gave them his approval. "But we aren't quite finished are we?" He turned to the city council. "For a few weeks now, I've been working with these boys ( here he significantly grasped and waved his paddle) and I - I mean, we all want you gentlemen to see the results. Don't we, boys?"
"Yes, Lt Sloan, " came a hesitant chorus.
"All right, then." Steve paused, then ordered, "Panties down and dresses up!"
Obeying without the slightest protest, each boy gently pulled his panties halfway down his thighs, then grabbed the ends of his dress and fanned it out, perfectly framing his bared butt.
And those bared butts liteally glowed with fire! All sixteen cheeks bore the vivid results of Steve's more than efficient paddling. Every council member could easily judge from the many hues of red with which those little behinds glowed just how sore they must be. Even so, the color of the boys' faces almost surpassed them in redness, as they were thoroughly humiliated.
"Aww - aren't they cute?" Steve taunted condescemdingly. Looking down at the upthrust rump closest to him, he asked, "Davis?", then turned to the council. "I've spent a lot of time with these guys, and although I still can't put a name to a face, I can put a name to a butt!"
Laughter greeted his little joke, then Steve resumed his contemplation of those ex-dragon fannies.
"They're nice and sensitive, too. If you just touch one ever so lightly..." He patted Davis' nearby rear end, and even that soft contact made the brat clench his cheeks, rise on the balls of his feet, and squeal.
Steve chuckled. "And I'm about to do a lot more than touch them lightly!"
He assumed an operating stance and raised his paddle in preparation. "I'm going to add an extra sheen to those prissy little butts! So stick 'em in the air, boys!"
They complied by bending farther down, and their naked behinds rose accordingly, thus providing, as they had recently so often done, eight irresistible targets requesting Lt Sloan's consideration. The intended first recipient of Steve's attentions tried vainly to ready himself for the upcoming rear assault, but even the plentiful experience of late did him no good. That board made rousing contact with the boy's vulnerable butt cheeks, setting them ablaze once again with an all too familiar accuracy. Davis' ensuing howl was equally a commonplace of the last few weeks.
Steve Sloan's paddling skills seemed sharpened rather than fatigued by the exercise they had lately undergone. Certainly his muscles propelled the paddle with undiminished force, and he snapped his wrist with uncanny precision at the key moment to produce an acutely heightened sting.
All of which Davis could attest to. He had first yelped, then hopped forward a few feet. He immediately shot back into position, knowing quite well the consequences of stepping out of liine.
Steve moved to the next bare butt that offered itself so obligingly and rubbed his paddle against it gingerly. The unfortunate boy who owned it barely had time to cringe before Steve raised the board and brought it down with blistering force. A howl, a smirk from Steve, and chuckles of approbation from the council followed.
Thus Lt Sloan continued down the row of boys, bestowing on each butt a scorcher of a paddle whack. On reaching number five, he asked, "Sanders, is that you?" Hearing a feeble "Yes, sir" he continued, "I promised you a break didn't I?" Steve explained to his audience, "He's been such a good boy - so cooperative, so contrite - that I want to show him that I appreciate it, and go easy on him." He comforted ex-dragon number five, "I'm not going to hit you nearly as hard as I do everybody else." And he didn't, not bothering to put his full strength behind the lick, which nonetheless captured the boy's attention.
Steve completed his round, then turned to appraise his handiwork. The eight red butts, still prominently displayed by the boys despite their sobbing, did as Steve had foretold, glow even brighter. The council members awarded his efforts with applause and calls of "Excellent, Lt Sloan!"
But Steve hadn't quite finished, and when the congratulations had died down, he commanded, "All right, girls, stand up and come over here where these eminent gentlemen can get a good look at you. But keep those panties down! You're not through yet!"
After the tearful boys had moved closer, Steve said, "I know you council members believe in hands-on management. So I want each of you to take a little miss across your knee and give him your opinion of gang violence." The boys shivered as Steve went on, "There aren't enough to go around, but you men can take turns - we have enough time for that."
The members of the council didn't have to be asked twice, and rose eagerly to fetch a dragon. Steve thoughtfully pulled Sanders back "You just wait over here with me, pal. I want you to see the unhappy results of bad behavior."
Each meekly protesting boy was now firmly positioned over the knee of an official eager to administer justice., while other men stood close by, impatiently awaiting their turns.
"Now spank those dragon butts good!" Steve urged, rather superfluosly.
Soon the sounds of Spank! Smack! Whap! filled the council chamber, as did the squalling of the unhappy gang members. Steve stood, arms folded, beaming with approval at the spectacle. Each boy, dress again raised, panties down, legs kicking, cried in earnest as his tender tail was flailed again and again.
After several butt-reddening minutes, the spanking council members grudgingly surrendered their charges to the men standing by, who took up with enthusiasm the task at hand.
Steve finally had to call a reluctant halt to the proceedings. "I'm sorry,, gentlemen, but these boys have another appointment." As the unfortunate teens crawled off their captors' laps, Steve said, "All right, we've heard you sing, now dance, dragons!"
The boys knew what to do, which was exactly what they wanted to do at this moment. They bounced around, furiously rubbing their injured parts. This uncontrolled leaping, plus the boys' vigorous but useless attempts at soothing, caused their dresses to billow out, revealing the rekindled fire of their bright red butts.
Steve let them caper like this for his and the council's amusement, then ordered, "Okay, ladies, back in line." The ex-dragons obeyed, still sobbing and rubbing their behinds through a layer of dress and panties.
"And what do we say now?"
The boys responded slowly in unison. "We've been bad boys, and we're very, very sorry. We've been properly punished, so please forgive us."
The city council applauded to indicate the apology was accepted.
A gratified Lt Sloan asked, "Do you know where we're going now, guys?"
They didn't have a clue, so Steve told the council, "These girls are about to make a few special appearances at their high school."
They boys grew wide-eyed with horror and cried, "Oh, no!"
Steve inquired, "What's the matter, girls? I know your classmates would just love to see you again - especially the way you are now. Let's go!"
The boys were as unwilling to leave the room as they had been to enter it. Steve had to herd them out with his paddle, assisted by the uniformed policeman. This accomplished, he paused in the doorway to receive the energetic handshake of each council member, and promised to keep up the good work.