Nathan wrote a story about the paddling and the humiliation of a high school jock, Paddled at Springfield High which can be found in this archive as story #4687. (You can also check the author index for his full story list.) I was intrigued enough to write this sequel with Nathan's permission, encouragement and advice. You are strongly advised to read his story first since it set up the this story.
The following story is fiction. It contain scenes of humiliation and paddling. If such subjects are offensive, uninteresting or if you are a minor (i. e., child) please leave now.
This work is copyright by the author and commercial use is prohibited without permission. Personal/private copies are permitted only if complete including the copyright notice. The characters and setup are used with the kind permission of Nathan.
The author would appreciate your comments -- pro and con, including constructive criticism, and suggestions.
This night, as every night since that paddling, Timothy Bennit found himself laying on his bed, staring at the ceiling in his bedroom. It was the middle of the night; the clock showed 3:15 am. Sleep just didn't seem to come, and hadn't for the past several nights. In school he had been exhausted but still he couldn't sleep. Hell, here he was again tossing and turning like an old insomniac; _s_h_i_t_! After getting paddled -- sleep just seemed impossible.
The entire episode had just been so humiliating, and it seemed everywhere he went and everyone he saw either had seen him, heard about him or at the very least knew about what had happened to him that awful day. And just like he had known would happen, he had been all but laughed right off the stage and had lost the school election by so much that it was just more to be embarrassed about. And that _d_a_m_n_ wet spot, marking the front of his jeans, the way they had all looked at it, STARED at it; hell, even as he closed his eyes and as tried desperately to think of something else he could still visualize the outline of his circumcised dick head through the wet fabric of those _d_a_m_n_ tight jeans. His ass had burned and while he liked to think that he hadn't cried he knew the reality was that he had. Oh, he had and everyone knew it! Yeah, his faced had flushed crimson, so red and so bright it had literally matched his bright red freshly paddled ass.
Then there was the locker room and showers the very next period. He had to strip down completely to put on his jock and that _d_a_m_n_ Clyde Appleby, his arch rival, started a game of keep-a-way with his briefs -- with the still wet yellow stain where he peed in them. No matter which way he turned they were laughing at his glowing red butt. Then, at the end of gym, he tried to skip showering, but the coach caught him. That slap on the butt would normally have been just that, but after that paddling he yelped like a baby to everyone else's great amusement.
It was after lunch that the little notes were first slipped into his locker: CRYBABY and PANTS WETTER and BRING YOUR DIAPERS TOMORROW and LOSER. After a couple of days they also started to get taped to the front of the locker.
Tim lay with his eyes clenched shut, trying to forget the reality of his living nightmare, exhausted beyond measure. The soft ticking of the grandfather clock at the bottom of the stairs filled his ears like the taunts of his schoolmates all day. His imagination shifted into overdrive and his mind manipulating what had been to what should have been. The ticking was like the clicking typing, the school office, and suddenly, he was there again....
As Tim carried Mrs. Krammer's note to the principal and school disciplinarian he was not that worried. He knew that he was a top student in all ways -- academically, athletically and socially -- and a shoe-in for the school election next week. But he did lose control of himself at times. Today was one of those rare times in his second period English class that he joined in ragging Mrs. Krammer. Shocked and indignant, she sent him to the principal. Even before he was ejected from class, the other students stopped for they too were shocked at what he said.
As he sat on the bench waiting for Mr. Chandler to call him he watched Marie Henderson who worked part time in the office. She was a beautiful young lady who he had dated; who he hoped to date again and score a home run. Of course, after he was paddled (he was certain that was going to happen) how could he ever ask her out again. Told to bend over and be paddled like a little boy. A young man does not suffer such indignities for it is far to embarrassing and humiliating. Of course, several thousand (or so it seemed) others came and went and certainly knew why he was sitting on that hard bench.
Not only was he concerned about what Mr. Chandler would do, but what his own father would have to say that evening. It was then that he realized how to handle his situation. If he did it right he would come out ahead with both his classmates and his father. Probably even with Mrs. Krammer and Mr. Chandler as a bonus.
Finally, he was summoned by the feared disciplinarian, Principal Chandler. As he walled in he saw the paddle lying on the desk. It looked wicked; it was at least 20 inches long, 5 inches wide and ½ inch thick. It was covered in signatures and had a lot of holes through the business end. It was a longer, heavier more vicious paddle than the one his dad had for him. He had second thoughts about his plan, but his resolve must not fail him now. He was so glad that he stopped and peed on the way to the office. He had heard about sissies who could not take it peeing in their pants.
He entered the office and 'forgot' to close the door. He decided that he must take control and keep it immediately. "Mr. Chandler, Mrs. Krammer was absolutely right in sending me to you. What I said was very rude, uncalled for and totally untrue." Tim picked up the paddle and looked at it thoughtfully and fingered the holes. "You probably should paddle me; I certainly deserve it."
"The paddle seems to fascinate you." young man.
"No, sir. I was just wondering about the holes."
"They reduce air friction and cushioning so that it hits more effectively. Much more effectively." Mr. Chandler actual smiled; no grinned.
Tim handled the paddle to Mr. Chandler. "I'll need a couple of witnesses, Mr. Bennit." he said as Mr. Pace, one of the schools history teachers, along with Marie Henderson walked in just on cue. She was grinning from ear to ear and obviously thrilled to be a witness.
Mr. Chandler stepped back to his desk and pressed some buttons on his intercom. There was static from the little speaker, and then he heard that familiar little "bing-bing" that was used whenever the office would signal a classroom. Suddenly, he heard Mrs. Krammer's voice -- Oh, G'd, he was calling HIS CLASSROOM!
"Yes...this is Mrs. Krammer...go ahead please."
"Mr. Chandler here. Sorry to disturb your class, but I've got Timothy Bennit here and I am about to paddle the boy for his rudeness to you. If you'd like, I can send Mr. Pace to take your class so you can witness his paddling. Would you like to be here when his punishment is applied Mrs. Krammer?" Even Tim could not help but to smile at that phase.
"No, but thank you sir. That won't be necessary -- I'm certain you will deal appropriately with his misbehavior. We are reviewing for a test tomorrow and I can't break away. But thanks for asking. When you are done with him though, please send him back if there's any class time left as he needs the review." The room went quiet as Mr. Chandler released the button.
"Empty your pockets, Mr. Bennit and bend over the desk."
"With all respect sir, my father said that a paddling must be on the bare or it does not count." Then before Mr. Chandler could react, he opened his belt and ripped open his jeans and pushed them and his briefs down to his ankles and bent over the desk presenting his tight ass -- the target held high as it jutted out fearlessly.
Marie was more than pleasantly shocked now enjoyed the sight of Tim's naked muscular butt and the peek she got of his package. Mr. Chandler raised the paddle and brought it down on target. Tim gripped the desk tightly and clenched his jaw tight.
The CRACK of the first stroke carried out the open window to the basketball court in the schoolyard. The game stopped as all turned to watch. He smiled before clenching his month closed for each successive stroke. Then William Burns waved at him. A dozen more followed and Tim knew that he had been paddled. He would know that for a long time to come. In the middle of it all, William Burns waved at him and he flashed him a smile back.
Then it was over. When the witnesses left, Tim pulled up his pants. "Thank you, Sir. I really deserved that."
Mr. Chandler had him sign the paddle and directed him to return to class and apologize to Mrs. Krammer -- publically. As the boy, no, young man left he could not help admiring how well he accepted his punishment.
Tim briskly walked back to class glad that he had not cried and had not even yelled under the heavy onslaught of that monstrous paddle. He would have to remember NOT to tell his father about the holes and how much more effective it made things.
Back in class he did what he had to do -- apologize. It is never easy to do that particularly publicly but he did the best that he could. "Mrs. Krammer, I'm sorry for what I said. It was rude, uncalled for and certainly not true. Thank you for sending me to see Mr. Chandler. Please forgive me, ma'am."
"Of course, Tim. Now take your seat so we can continue with class."
The class watched in silence as Tim hesitated. "With all due respect, ma'am, I don't think I can sit still just now." The class laughed until Mrs. Krammer's scowl silence them. "And because my father has a very strict rule -- I must do some corner time after a spa..., er," he quickly corrected himself, "a paddling or it does not count." Purposefully he headed for front corner of the room (the girls side) and stepped into it. Then, just as he had in the principal's office dropped his jeans and briefs. He did not care about the guys for they would see him in gym in the next period class. But giving the girls a thrill certainly would help his status. Let them admire his tight muscular bubble butt and dream about him. Let them see how much punishment he took like a man. He thought about how they ogled him at the beach and swimming pool. He knew that Marie would tell how macho he was with Mr. Chandler.
When the bell rang ten minutes later, he turned slightly as he pulled up his pants to flash the girls. He was proud of his penis and how well it worked. Let a few more see it; it would make them want it even more. As they walked by him he could hear them talk about him in tones of admiration. Some were even hoping to sit at his table at lunch. He was surrounded by his admiring buds as they went off to gym together.
In the locker room, Clyde Appleby a major rival spoke to him. "That was some stunt that you pulled in class today, Tim, I have to give you credit for that. Chandler must have really given it to you; you're going to be red for days." That Clyde said something so complementary publically proved that he really gained in status.
"Not nearly as bad as my dad does." he lied, happy to make sure everyone heard and knew how macho he was.
beep... beeeep...! beeeeeeeep!! bEEEEEPPPPP!!! bEEEEP!!!! BEEEP!!!!! BEEP!!!!!!
Timothy Bennit bolted upright, his alarm blaring in his ear, the clock staring at him, its bright red numerals shocking him back to reality. 6:45 am, and _s_h_i_t_, the school bus in just 45 minutes! He must have hit the snooze button before. As he started to move, he felt it, the wetness in his pj's, the soaked bottoms where he had shot his load and his hard dick still tenting them with teenage desire. Hell -- it had all been a dream! _f_u_c_k_ -- it had just been a _f_u_c_k_ing dream.
Tim stripped off his sticky pjs and dropped them on his bed. He grabbed a fresh pair of briefs from the drawer and dashed into the bathroom. He would have knocked over his younger brother if Kevy had not been so agile as he jumped into the shower. When he returned, his pj bottoms were hanging by their legs from the upper bunk. Kevy was happily telling his mother "Timmy wet his jammies again." He blushed all the way to the waist band of his briefs. He knew that his mother had told him that she understood his wet pants but the way his kid brother described it was embarrassing.
His mother sighed and said: "Hurry up; both of you -- so you can have breakfast before the bus gets here."
At school there was a diaper tied about the handle of his locker; again. He used it to wipe away the tears that swelled up in his sad, unhappy eyes as he headed for his first class.