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Well, here I was again. Sitting outside the principal's office waiting for yet another paddling. It had only been one month since I'd moved to my new school, but already my old reputation had caught up with me. At my old school, I was known far and wide as a guy who would do anything for a laugh. I was notorious for stirring up trouble anywhere I went - the classroom, the lunchroom, even the boys restroom. As a result of my non-stop antics, I frequently found myself at the receiving end of a teacher's paddle, but that never dampened my spirit of mischief. I did what I wanted to and took whatever punishment came my way. Being the school bad boy didn't bother me one bit. In fact, I was proud of that title and did my best to live up to it.
Now, just one month after moving to a new town and school, I was proud to say that I was picking up where I had left off. Me and my best bud Greg were screwing around in the cafeteria when suddenly I got the idea that we should liven the place up a bit. Why not start a food fight? Just for the hell of it. Greg laughed and went along with it and soon food was flying around everywher. The whole place was in chaos with people running around, girls screaming, cafeteria monitors trying to get things under control. It was great! But, like all good things in life, the food fight soon came to an end, and we found ourselves being marched to the principal's office to be disciplined for our "rowdy" behavior. For Greg, being sent to Mr. Pastrick's office was nothing new, but for me it was a brand new experience. I was both excited and a little nervous. I wondered if he would paddle as hard as Mr. Taylor, the principal at my old school.
As is standard procedure, we were instructed to sit down in the chairs outside the office while our crime was explained to the principal. This is always one of the most nerve-wracking times, because you're left out there for what seems like an eternity wondering what kind of punishment was in store for you. More often than not, being sent to the principal's office meant a paddling, but a suspension was not out of the question. I really hoped we would get the paddle, because that would be over the fastest. You just take it and leave and get on with your day. Whatever he was going to do to us, I wished he would hurry up. Oh well, at least we were missing the first part of fifth period.
Finally, the door opened and we were summoned inside. Once inside, I immediately noticed a large wooden paddle laying on Mr. Pastrick's desk. It was probably about 18" long, 5" wide, and maybe 1/2" thick. Pretty big, but definitely not the biggest my ass had felt. We all sat down, and the lecture began. Mr. Pastrick babbled on for at least 5 minutes before he announced that our punishment would be 5 swats with the paddle. Greg didn't look too concerned, and I was just glad the time had finally come.
Mr. Pastrick told Greg to step forward and remove everything from his back pockets, which he promptly did. He then picked up the paddle and told Greg to bend over and grab his ankles. Greg was wearing a pair of tight faded Levi's, and when he bent over, the sight was truly amazing! His perfectly shaped bubble-butt looked like it was about to bust out of its denim shell. _d_a_m_n_, his ass looked hot. As I stared at my buddy's ass, I felt my dick jump a little in my own pants. Then, without warning, Mr. Pastrick's paddle crashed down onto Greg's butt with a loud "Whack." Greg's butt tensed for a second, then relaxed. The second swat was a little harder and landed a little lower. Greg clenched his ass cheeks two or three times. Then, "Whack" the third swat hit its target. This time, Greg grunted and raised his head up. I could tell he was really starting to feel it. Mr. Pastrick's paddle hit Greg's sore butt for the fourth time and Greg jumped from the force of the blow. Finally, the fifth and final swat was delivered and my buddy was allowed to stand up. He wasn't crying or anything, but I knew he was in pain. Now, it was my turn!
Mr. Pastrick instructed me to do just as Greg had done, and I quickly obeyed. I bent over and grabbed my ankles and waited for the first swat to fall. After a few seconds, the paddle struck my ass. It stung a little bit, but it felt like he had only hit my left cheek. The second swat landed squarely across my butt and sent a wave of heat through my backside. _d_a_m_n_, this guy really knows how to swing a board! The third swat again felt as though it only hit my left cheek, but it caused an intense sting that made me clench my butt cheeks about three or four times. At this point, it felt like my butt was on fire! Then, Mr. Pastrick delivered an even harder swat that caused me to lunge forward a bit and let out a slight grunt. This guy was doing a real job on my poor ass. Finally, the last swat was administered on my now throbbing butt, and I was allowed to stand.
We received a final lecture and were sent off to class. But, before we returned to class, we just had to go to the restroom to inspect the damage. We both dropped our pants and looked at our sore butts in the mirror. The lower part of both my cheeks was bright pink! Greg's cute little ass looked nearly the same, except that the pinkness was just beginning to fade. After that, we went back to class and manged to stay out of trouble...at least for the rest of THAT day.