Author's note: This story is the first in a trilogy. Each story, though, is self-contained, so it is not necessary to read the stories following or preceding it. These tales follow the three spankings of an eighteen year old high school senior. The first story involves a coach and the paddle, the second involves an "uncle" and the cane, and the third involves the "uncle" and the strap. These stories are fictional and certainly do not advocate the actual use of corporal punishment on minors. Comments are welcome. Enjoy!
It was a beautifully warm Friday, and Matt wasn't going to spend it cooped up in school. So, after grabbing a bite during his lunch break, Matt decided to start the weekend early -- he skipped the rest of his classes and headed over to the park. Since none of his teachers after lunch bothered to take roll, he wouldn't really be missed. Besides, this was his last year in high school, and he figured none of it really mattered anyway.
At the park, Matt decided to stretched out on the grass to enjoy the sun. It was a great day, Matt thought. What a shame for all his sucker friends who were still at school. Just a few months until graduation, and they were still toiling away. Matt smiled, closed his eyes, stretched his sleepy muscles, and relaxed.
He had been laying there for quite a while and was beginning to fall asleep when he was jolted back to consciousness by a familiar voice. Matt opened his eyes to see a tall, hulking figure blocking out his sunlight. The figure was Matt's old lacrosse coach.
"Nice day, isn't it, Matt," Coach O'Conner asked with a smirk.
Matt stood up quickly, brushing the dust and grass off himself. Startled at being caught by his favorite teacher, Matt almost stood at attention when answering the question.
"Yes, Sir, it is a nice day." He stood there in petrified silence, not knowing what to say next.
Coach O'Conner stood there studying the boy. Matt had been nothing but trouble lately. He was 18 years old, tall, and very muscular. He had neatly cropped hair, a beautifully clean-shaven face, and an attitude that needed some serious adjusting.
"Matt, why aren't you in school," Coach asked with a sigh.
Matt stood there again in silence, not quite knowing what to say. Searching his mind for an excuse, all he could come up with was the truth.
"It was such a beautiful day...I just thought I'd take a little time off. Start the weekend early."
Coach O'Conner looked at Matt for a while. He knew the boy well -- since Matt was born. In fact, many years earlier (when the Coach was fresh out of college), he had Matt's father as a student. Over the years, O'Conner and the boy's father had become good friends, and it was a stunning blow to everyone when Matt's father died two years ago. Since his mother wasn't around, the boy was then sent to live with his father's best friend, whom Matt often referred to as "Uncle" Jack. Jack had been a student of O'Conner's as well, and had remained good friends with the man. The subject of their conversations lately, though, revolved around Matt's declining behavior. Though both men were advocates of corporal punishment, Jack had never spanked Matt. "To me he's just another friend," Jack told the Coach recently. "I couldn't imagine spanking him. However, if you ever see fit to use the paddle on him, please let me know." The Coach agreed, but until now hadn't seen any particular reason to give the boy a round of good hard swats. Now, however, things were different.
"C'mon Matt, you're going back to school."
Matt gulped hard, adding an obedient "yes, Sir" before heading back to his car.
When they arrived back at school, the Coach parked next to Matt and walked him into the building.
"There's only one class left today," the Coach began, "but after school is out, I want you to come by my office. I'll cover for you with your other teachers, but we need to have a serious talk about this."
Matt nodded in nervous agreement as they walked through the empty halls.
As Matt sat through his last class, he thought about the Coachs words -- we need to have a serious talk. It looked like all the Coach was going to do was give him a lecture after school and let him off the hook. Good ol' Coach, Matt thought. Matt had always admired Coach O'Conner -- he'd known the man for his entire life, and respected him immensely. When Matt got to high school, he eagerly tried out for the lacrosse team so he could spend more time around the Coach. During Matt's sophomore and junior years on the team, Matt would often stay after practice and have wonderfully long talks with the Coach in his office. Though Matt had quit the team his senior year, he signed up for P. E. just so he could keep seeing the Coach everyday. Matt smiled as he sat through class -- his good friend Coach O'Conner was going to let him off with a good lecture.
When the end of the day finally came, Matt waited for a while before heading over to the Coach's office in the locker room. The school cleared out quickly on the weekend -- both teachers and students fled the school at record speed, leaving it entirely deserted (save one or two janitors). Matt wound his way through the now empty halls and back to the men's locker room. Coach O'Conner's office was at the back of the room, behind some lockers, and around a corner -- well out of site from the main dressing area. Matt knocked on the Coach's open office door. Busy with paperwork, the OConner looked up at the knocking.
"Ah, come in, Matt. Have a seat."
Matt walked into the spacious office, and sat down in one of the chairs facing the desk; Matt looked at the Coach, waiting for the lecture to start. But the Coach was silent for a long time, simply studying the muscular lad who was slouched down in the chair opposite him. Matt began to feel a little uneasy. The Coach was an imposing man -- tall, strong, authoritative, and extremely good looking. Just when the Coachs silence became unbearable, he spoke.
"Skipping school -- that's pretty serious, Matt. Normally I'd say it's just a case of senioritis, but it's more than that. You started acting up last year, and it's only gotten worse. You used to never get in trouble, Matt, but now you're getting detentions three and four times a week, your grades are slipping, and worst of all, you've developed a serious attitude -- even in my class. What's been going on with you lately?"
Matt felt kind of sick. He didn't plan on the lecture making him feel like this. The Coach's disapproving eyes were locked on him in a penetrating gaze. Matt looked down at the floor. For the first time, he began to feel slightly ashamed at the way he'd been behaving. He recalled all the times lately he'd smarted off to his teachers and even to his Uncle Jack, but no one had ever really called him on it until now. Sure Jack had taken to grounding him pretty often, but Matt was never truly sorry for anything he'd done -- not really even now.
"I..." Matt paused. He didnt know what to say. As the Coach waited patiently for an answer, Matt could only think of one thing to say.
"I'm sorry."
The Coach sighed. "Are you, Matt? Your Uncle tells me how often he grounds you, but I don't see it making any difference. Matt, I think you're a good kid, but your attitude needs some serious adjusting. To tell you the truth, I've been pretty disappointed in you lately and so has Jack."
Matt cringed at those last words. Despite the recent groundings, Matt thought of Jack like a best friend -- he'd been a pretty great father-figure these last two years, and the thought of disappointing Jack made Matt feel pretty bad.
"You know, Matt, in the old days -- when Jack and your father were in school -- I would've taken care of your behavior with a good old fashioned paddling. Officially, though, I'm not supposed to do that anymore; I'm supposed to send you to the office for a three day suspension. However, I think the idea of suspension is a load of bull_s_h_i_t_ -- it only inconveniences parents and damages your transcript for college. Furthermore, I dont think a three day vacation is much of a punishment. The Coach paused. Matt, I know you pretty well, and I don't want this incident to mess up your future. That's why I'm going to offer you a choice."
Matt swallowed hard -- he began to see where this conversation was heading. He was very familiar with Coach O'Conner's views on discipline. Many days after practice, the Coach had entertained Matt with stories of his high-school-aged father and uncle getting into trouble. And these stories always ended with the two youths bending over for some serious old fashioned discipline. The Coach's firm belief in corporal punishment had even made Matt a firm believer in its virtues. During their conversations, Matt would always agree with the Coach that corporal punishment was the only effective punishment for a boy, but Matt had always thought himself too old to be on the receiving end of it again. Secretly, though, he desperately craved a spanking. Somehow he knew that the inner turmoil which had been building up inside him lately -- all of his bad grades, bad behavior, and lousy attitude -- could only be solved with a good hard spanking. Ever since he was young, corporal punishment had mysteriously excited him, and anytime the Coach would talk about the days when the paddle was still heavily used, Matt would fantasize about bending over for a good hard paddling from his favorite teacher.
Matt's mind began to wander as the Coach spoke on. Though O'Conner was a little older than his father and uncle, he still looked like a young man. Lean and muscular, the Coach's body showed the rewards of a life of hard exercise. His biceps were massive, and his chest was broad and beautiful. Matt suddenly realized he wasn't listening anymore, but instead just admiring the _s_e_x_y man seated before him. Suddenly he was snapped back into reality by the Coach's stern growl.
"Matt!! Are you even listening to me?"
Matt grew pale. "Uh..." He tried to think of what to say. "Uh..."
"I believe the words you're looking for are 'no, Sir!'"
"No, Sir! Sorry, Sir," Matt said embarrassingly.
The Coach sighed. "I'll repeat myself. Matt, you can either take a paddling from me or you can go to the office for suspension. Which is it?"
Matt thought back to the erotic image of taking a sound paddling from Coach O'Conner. The choice was obvious. Matt began to grin. A couple of hard swats instead of suspension was an easy trade-off. Besides, after innumerable lacrosse injuries, Matt had built up a high pain to tolerance; whatever Coach could dish out, he could handle. And best of all, Matt had considered, his Uncle Jack would never have to know.
"The paddle, Sir. Ill take the paddle.
Coach OConner looked at Matt closely -- a grin was breaking out over the lads face. The boy obviously had no idea what he was in store for.
Alright. the Coach said, but one more thing. Your uncle made me promise recently that if I ever had to give you a dose of the paddle, I'd tell him."
Matts grin faded, and his eyes widened a bit. The thought of Jack hearing about this made the deal less appealing. Matt decided to make a plea.
"Please, Sir, don't tell him. Please -- he'll be so disappointed."
The Coach's eyebrows furrowed a bit. Im sorry, Matt, but I have to. You should've thought about this before you skipped school.
But, Sir --
Matt, the Coach interrupted, this isn't open for debate. You either take the paddle or you dont.
The Coach waited for a response from the strapping young man across the desk. Matt began to look a little sick and had lowered his head in embarrassment.
"Matt," the Coach continued softly, "youre a good kid, but your attitude needs some adjusting. He paused. Personally I think you'd benefit more from a good round of corporal punishment, but you can still take the suspension if you want."
Matt was thoughtful for a little while. Even though his uncle would find out about him skipping school, the paddle was still the better choice. Besides, Matt needed to the paddle -- he wanted the turmoil, the attitude, and bad behavior to stop. Not to mention (Matts grin returned) he really wanted the opportunity to take a paddling from the Coach.
"No, Sir, you're right -- I need a good paddling. I'll take your punishment."
The Coach studied Matt for a bit. The smirk on the boys face had returned. OConner knew that Matt had gotten some serious spankings from his father as a young boy, but the Coach figured Matt hadnt ever had a serious paddling before.
"Matt, have you ever gotten paddled before?"
"Yes, Sir. A couple of times in elementary school -- when it was still allowed."
"And you probably got the standard three swats, didn't you?"
"Yes, Sir."
"Well that's not the type of paddling you'll be getting from me, Matt. Its going to hurt....a lot. If we do this, I want you to understand what you're getting into. You'll be taking forty swats from me. Twenty on your jeans, and twenty on your shorts. You're going to be sore for quite a while afterwards, and you might even cry during. Do you still want to go through with this?" The Coach paused, waiting for a response from Matt, who was sitting there quietly.
Matt thought for a minute. Forty swats? He hadnt counted on that. It wasn't too late to turn back. For a second, Matt thought about choosing the suspension, but for some reason, the increased number of swats appealed to Matt. He knew he could take pain well, and the Coach was probably just exaggerating about the crying part anyway.
Matt nodded. "Let's get it over with, Coach."
"Alright, then, stand up and close the door. After that, push the chairs back against the wall."
While Matt was doing as he was told, the Coach stood up and opened his bottom filing cabinet drawer. He reached back behind the files all the way to the back of the drawer, and pulled out an old maple paddle. The Coach admired it. It had been around since the school was built about seventy-five years ago and had always been exclusively used by the men's athletics Coaches. Many young men had gotten their backsides severely tanned with this instrument. Though it showed signs of wear from the days when it enjoyed heavy use, the old thing was still in good condition -- made to last. Three and a half inches wide, half an inch thick, and eighteen inches long, the paddle had been drilled with holes to make its sting more efficient. The Coach grinned and remembered the good old days when a dose of the paddle was all that was needed to straighten a boy out.
"Alright, Matt, I want you to come over to the desk and grab on to both sides of it," OConner ordered.
Matt nervously walked over to the desk and assumed the traditional position. This is it, he thought, I'm finally about to get paddled. He was excited.
"Place your feet further apart," the Coach said as he led Matt through the time-tested ritual. As he watched the boy spread his legs further apart, the Coach's breath caught in his chest -- hed always secretly enjoyed doling out this kind of discipline to his students, and of all his students, Matt was his all-time favorite. The boy was intelligent, kind, and beautiful. Hair neatly cropped, yet tussled; a beautiful and smooth face; and a muscled body which put Greek statues to shame. Easily one of the most _s_e_x_y guys in school, Matt came to high school as a scrawny freshman boy, but had developed into a lean, muscular, rugged young man. Coach took a moment to appreciate Matt's body. The lads triceps flexed a bit as he held onto the desk. His muscular shoulders and back stretched against his form-fitting short-sleeve shirt. His perfectly shaped butt filled out his well-worn jeans. Just right for spanking, OConner thought.
Placing a hand on Matt's lower back, the Coach stood at Matt's side ready to begin the punishment.
"I'll ask this one last time, Matt -- are you sure you want to do this? Once we begin, there's no turning back."
The thought of being completely at Coach O'Conner's mercy excited Matt more, and he felt himself start to get hard.
"Yes, Sir. I'm ready."
Coach O'Conner took aim, lifted the paddle into the air, and let it land on the seat of Matt's jeans.
CRACK! Matt gasped. He didn't expect it to be so hard. CRACK! The second swat stung even more. CRACK! The Coach laid on another. Obviously, Matt thought, I underestimated how much muscle he'd put into the swats. CRACK! Matt winced a bit, and clenched his buttocks. CRACK! Another swat came with extreme force. In pain, Matt lowered his head and was awarded a perfect view of the Coach's muscular legs and generous package. Coach OConner always wore a pair of snugly fitting work-out pants, which yielded a nice view of the Coach's goods. The sight made Matt even harder.
CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! O'Conner laid on three more swats with severe force and accuracy. With his hand on Matt's lower back, he could feel the boy's body tense up and relax between swats. He was enjoying this particular punishment session more than any other. But then again, he enjoyed being around Matt more than any other student, too. CRACK! CRACK! He heard Matt give a loud gasp at that last swat, which had been delivered with more force than the others.
CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! The swats came methodically, allowing enough time between each one for Matt to anticipate, dread, and look forward to the next one. The Coach had also increased the severity of the swats, letting them land in the same place over and over again. Matt winced with each new swat delivered. CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! He could feel his ass getting hot, and imagined it turning a deep shape of red. The pain was becoming unbearable. He bit his lower lip as the last four swats were delivered with an echoing CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!!!
The Coach stopped and stepped back a bit. He watched as Matt held the position, breathing heavily with a concentrated look on his face.
Alright, son, off with your jeans.
Matt stood up, a bit shaky, and had an overwhelming urge to rub his ass, but fought it. He didnt want the Coach to think he couldnt take it. He lifted up his shirt, and started to unbutton his jeans. But then he stopped.
Uh...do you want them down or all the way off? Matt asked in anticipation. Part of him wanted to just pull his pants down, but another part of him wanted to take his jeans all the way off -- to expose as much of himself to Coach as possible. Although, he supposed, this was a little silly, as Coach had seen him change hundreds of times and had even seen him naked after the showers. Still, though, he secretly hoped the Coach would tell him to take them off.
Coach OConner looked at Matt. His students usually just dropped their jeans enough to accept the rest of the punishment -- no one had ever asked whether or not to take them completely off. It was an intriguing question.
Its up to you, son, Coach said, hoping Matt would take them off. Even though he had seen Matt naked before, there was something about having a boy bent over with his jeans totally off....
Matt nodded. He slowly unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans. Matts mind raced. Ill just let them drop to the floor, he thought, thats all. But before he could let them fall, he unexpectedly started to kick off his shoes. All the way, he thought, all the way off. As he started to slide his jeans down, he became aware that he was still quite hard.
Coach watched as Matt kicked off his shoes and took off his jeans. The boy walked over to one of the chairs and placed his jeans on it. As Matt turned to walk back to the desk, the Coach couldnt help but notice the enormous bulge in Matts snug grey boxer-briefs. OConner suppressed a smile -- this was his first student who had ever shown an erotic interest in these discipline sessions. The Coach started getting hard himself.
Matt avoided the Coachs eyes out of embarrassment. He hoped the Coach wouldnt notice his erection. Matt assumed the position again. As he bent over, his sore butt stretched and reminded him of the pain.
Ready, Sir.
The Coach stood at Matts side again; placing his hand on Matts lower back, he took aim, and let the next swat land twice as hard as any others.
CRACK! Matt jumped a little.
Ah! he moaned out in pain. He figured the second set of swats would hurt more because theyd be given on his underwear; however, he didnt think the Coach would put more force into them.
CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! Swat after swat landed, each in the same place as the one before. Matt shifted slightly from side to side between swats -- his ass felt like it was on fire. He didnt know how much more pain he could endure. He felt tears start to form in his eyes. No, he thought, I can take it. I wont cry. Im not a little boy.
CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! Matt couldnt stand it anymore. He jumped up unwillingly out of the pain. He grabbed his ass, and screwed up his face in agony.
The Coach waited a moment for Matt to recover from the shock before giving him a firm word of warning.
Matt, remember, you chose this punishment. You knew it would hurt. Now bend back over, and take what you deserve.
Matt suddenly felt ashamed. He had been fooling himself into thinking he could take the Coachs swats unflinchingly. And the Coach was right, Matt thought. I chose this punishment, and I deserve it.
Im sorry, Sir. It wont happen again. Matt bent back over, and waited to feel the Coachs firm, but gentle hand on his back again.
See that it doesnt, Matt, or well have to modify the punishment.
Matt didnt like the sound of that and promised himself that hed take the rest of his punishment like a man. And though he was in severe pain, he retained his hardon and had even grown more excited during the punishment.
CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! Coach laid on three more, giving Matt the most severe punishment he could dish out. He liked Matt, but knew that the boy needed a good healthy spanking right now if he was going to fall back into line. As he continued with the paddling, he noticed Matt getting more and more erect with every swat. The Coach smiled and got even harder himself.
CRACK! Matt felt the tears coming back and bit down on his lower lip again. Take it like a man, he thought. The tears subsided, and Matt lowered his head in agony. Another perfect view of the Coachs package, and this time Matt noticed that Coach OConner had become almost fully erect. I cant believe hes getting into this, Matt thought -- this is great!
CRACK! Distracted by the Coachs package, Matt hadnt prepared for the next swat, and uncontrollably stood up again. As soon as he was upright, he had realized his mistake, and unconsciously swore out of anger.
Son, the Coachs voice boomed. I warned you about standing up. And I dont ever want to hear you swearing at school again, do you understand me?
Scared, Matt nodded his head vigorously.
Yes, Sir. Im sorry, Sir. Matt bent back over the desk.
Not so fast, son. I warned you that wed have to modify the punishment if you stood up again. Im doubling the remainder of your swats -- you have ten more to take now. And you have to take them bare.
Matt was horrified. What!?
The Coach didnt want to hear an argument and firmly stated, Take the punishment or the deal is off.
Matt gulped and reluctantly stood up. A bare spanking was still better than suspension, he thought. Besides, he didnt take all those swats just to turn back now. Hooking his thumbs into the waistband of his boxer-briefs, he slid them down to the floor and tossed them onto the chair where his jeans were. His eyes were still watery from the pain, and before he bent over again, the Coach placed a hand on his shoulder.
Matt, its ok to cry. Youre being punished -- its supposed to hurt. Your dad and uncle always cried when I paddled them. Its nothing to be ashamed of.
Matt gave a little smile, nodded, and bent back over. He was relieved -- he didnt know if he couldve taken ten bare swats without crying. And in a way, he wanted to cry. He needed to cry.
Aligning both himself and the paddle one more time, the Coach began the remainder of the punishment.
CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! Though the pain was unimaginable, Matt relished in it. He seemed to be calmed somehow by it. And best of all, he became even more aroused by it. He felt his eyes welling up again with tears, and instead of holding them back this time, he let them come. He cried quietly as the next swats landed.
CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! The Coach laid on three more hard swats, trying his best to make a permanent impression on Matt. And that butt -- he thought -- simply perfection. The Coach admired his handiwork; Matts ass was a deep crimson. He wanted nothing more than stop and feel the heat coming off of Matts well-disciplined ass, but he continued with the spanking -- raging hardon and all.
CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! Matts quiet crying had become quite audible as the Coach laid on the next three swats. Matt didnt think it were possible, but the pain had grown even more intense and somehow seemed to be relieving all the stress and tension in his body. He felt himself change. Instead of having a bad attitude and slacking off, he wanted to improve his behavior and work hard. He wanted to make both Jack and the Coach proud of him. He wanted to stop being a troublesome little boy and start being a man. Matt had been counting the swats in his head and knew this was the last. He yearned for it and prayed it would be the worst one of all.
CRACK!!!!! The Coach put all his body and might into that last swat. It landed with such force, that Matts let out a loud gasp and started sobbing. Coach laid the paddle down on the desk and gently placed his hand on Matts head.
After a minute or two, Matts crying subsided, and he lifted head to see the Coach smiling proudly at him.
You took that well, Matt, he said, still with a raging hardon.
Matt stood up and smiled. Though he was still quite hard, he forgot about it for a moment and had a sudden urge to hug Coach OConner. Sliding his arms around the handsome and burly man, Matt suddenly became aware that his _c_o_c_k_ was pressing against the Coachs, and it felt good.
Thank you, Sir.
Youre welcome, son, the Coach replied, enjoying the feeling of having his favorite students _c_o_c_k_ pressing against his.
The two stood there for a while, not quite sure what to do next. And then, filled with a new peace and confidence, Matt stepped out of the hug and lowered himself to his knees. Without a word, Matt took hold of the Coachs pants, and slid them down to the floor. The Coach stood there in his tight briefs, waiting eagerly to see what Matt would do next.
Matt knelt there for a moment, admiring the massive hardon of this man whom hed always respected and lusted after. Biting his lip in anticipation, Matt moved his hands around to the Coachs firm muscular ass. It was wonderful. Slowly now, Matt pressed his lips against the Coachs brief-covered _c_o_c_k_, moving his mouth slowly up and down the front of the Coachs briefs. And as Matt was about to take down the thin layer of fabric between him and ecstasy, Coach OConner spoke.
Matt, you realize that no matter what happens next, Ill still have to tell your uncle about your punishment.
Matt looked up and smiled.
I understand, Sir. As long as you dont tell him about this.
And with that, Matt lowered the mans briefs. Coach OConner smiled, and placed a hand on the back of Matt's head, happy to let the boy fulfill both of their fantasies.