Becky the Prankster, A College Idyll

Here’s sort of a back-to-school story. I think at some time we’ve all had that “buddy” relationship with a girl (or if you’re a girl, a boy) who we were probably in love with but were afraid to admit it.  It’s frustrating and never ends well, but every once in a blue moon it actually has a chance to work itself out in a way nobody expected.


The first thing you have to understand about Becky and me is the curious nature of our relationship. I first met Becky in second grade. What a knockout! Seven years old and I’m in love (and I didn’t even like girls). We’re classmates all through grade school. In high school we were paired as lab partners in biology class. They say opposites attract, but Becky and I are really kind of similar. Both of us are the smart-ass rebellious type, always spouting off with the wisecracks, cavalierly killing any sacred cows that wander our way, and generally making nuisances of ourselves to any powers-that-be. Oh, and then there are the pranks. It seemed we were always in competition with each other, and this led to practical jokes at any available opportunity.

I started it by putting a “diamond” ring in a frog we were going to dissect which led to Becky getting all excited about it, telling the class and all until my sniggering gave up the joke. So she somehow got in my locker and filled it with very realistic-looking rubber snakes, much to my surprise and alarm. This went on through high school, each of us trying to one-up the other.

I guess you wonder about the boy-girl thing. Becky is cute—and hot. Reddish wavy hair, a nice compact little figure with curves in all the right places, perky tits, really nice ass, an impish smile. I wanted to be the boyfriend, but it seemed she always wound up with either rich pretty boys or dumb jocks. But she always flirted with me, and sometimes I’d think ‘maybe’, but then I’d chicken out. Still, we were together a lot. When she wasn’t planning her next prank, she was telling me about her boyfriend trials and tribulations. Now, for a guy attracted to a girl, being the shoulder she cries on is the worst possible position to be in. I was her male best friend, and so I had no shot. None. Guys, I’m sure you all know what that’s like.

But anyway, back to the pranks. They escalated over time until at the end of our senior year one got out of control. The result? A detention for us both. What I didn’t really appreciate was it was her fourth detention-type offense that semester (what with all the other typical Becky shenanigans and non-sense) and that meant the ultimate penalty. Swats. Yep, five hard swats on her behind with a wooden paddle.


I happened to be in the office when she was called in. She saw me and grimaced. I nodded in sympathy. She was wearing tight pants made of some stretch fabric. Every curve was outlined and I could see her sexy rear end twitch as she was called into the back office. I could visualize the scene, but I wish I’d been a fly on the wall. She would be told to bend over the desk, feet apart, elbows on the desk. They’d tell her “eyes forward and do not move or it won’t count.” Mrs. Cooch, the assistant principal, would tap her bottom a time or two then slowly draw her arm back. From behind the closed door I heard five crisp cracks, applied by Mrs. Cooch about 15 seconds apart. Becky came out a few minutes later with watery eyes, ruefully rubbing her bottom. For once she had no wise-alecky remark to make.


Later I told her how sorry I was. I hadn’t known. I thought she’d get normal detention with me, which would have been no big deal. She forgave me, but said something interesting. “Did you want to see me get the paddle, Davey? I see how you always check out women’s butts.” Then she punched my shoulder.

She had me there. Guilty. What can I say? It is what it is.

Ok, fast forward. We both ended up at State U. We both pledged Greek. She joined Kappa Rho, I went Sigma Chi. Our lives intersected again and we took up where we left off. It was in the student union one day when she caught me ogling the retreating rear ends of a pair of comely coeds. She said, “You know, they paddle the pledges in my sorority—right on their cute little asses.”

That got my interest. “You, too?”

“Sometimes.” Then she said, with a coy smile, “Would you like to see?”

Does the Pope wear a beanie? But I sensed something amiss. My radar shot up, but I think Little Dave (who lives in my pants) was in control at that moment.


It would work like this. She’d let me in through a basement window. I’d hide in a closet in the middle of their basement recreation room. There was a big hole where the knob usually went because it fell off in some distant past. I’d be able to see everything. I made her repeat all that a few days later—into my concealed digital recorder. A little insurance.

It was all too easy. I should have been more suspicious. Becky left the window open and I snuck in. I found the closet and settled in. I did not have long to wait. Four hot girls wearing sexy lingerie like baby doll nighties trooped down the stairs and into the room. And I thought, Wow! Then came several others dressed normally, including Becky. Some other girls who looked older came in behind them, all carrying paddles. They said something about demerits for various things like not cleaning sisters’ rooms or curfews or grades. Then one-by-one, sentence was pronounced. The girls in the nighties were going to get it.

The first girl was a honey blonde, short and voluptuous with a cute bubble shaped rear end. They made her bend over the back of the sofa. They flipped up her top so her only protection were flimsy panties so sheer it was like she was bare. The leader, I guess the pledge mistress, announced five swats. I was sweating like a stevedore in that cramped closet and had a hard-on that could have driven nails. The pledge mistress drew back and planted five loud whaps! with the paddle that made the blond jump and squeal. They let her up and she rubbed her bottom furiously. A slender black haired girl took her place. She got four, hissing and squirming with each SPLAT! of the paddle. Then came a really built babe with a great ass. She got five. Holy crap! I was glued to the hole in the door.


I don’t know if you’ve ever seen a girl get her ass paddled, but let me tell you, it is one sexy sight. She bends over sticking her bottom up in the air, two round and jouncy cheeks, all nearly bare and vulnerable. The pledge mistress takes the paddle and taps her once or twice. The girl might flinch. Then slowly she rears back, pausing at the top of her swing. Then she brings the board down with a whoosh and…Splat! The girl’s bottom cheeks flatten and she howls, then half straightens up. They tell her to get right back down and get ready for the next one.

I was totally enthralled and that is why I had a near heart attack when someone yelled, “Aghh…somebody’s in the closet!” And they were all looking at me.

I froze. I couldn’t move. They opened the door, and I was surrounded by a dozen scowling sorority girls holding big wooden paddles. I was trapped. I looked at Becky. She shook her head as if to say, ‘don’t rat me out’—or it might have meant ‘I didn’t do it’. But I suspected otherwise. This smelled like a set up all the way, and stupid me, I had fallen for it.

They were plenty pissed about the spying and my legs shook as they discussed calling the cops, the campus police, my frat house (that would have been bad). Finally, the leader, I guess the pledge mistress, a nearly six foot tall Amazon athletic type said, “Oh, hell. Let’s let him go.” But she added with an evil grin, “That is, if he can hold still for ten good hard ones—on the bare. How about it, frat boy?” she said, smiling and tapping her paddle in her palm. “Do you feel brave today? Well do you?” Oh great, a female Dirty Harry.


I really had no choice. So, surrounded by a circle of sorority girls, I dropped my pants and bent over, grabbing my ankles. The girls whistled gleefully as Miss Amazon peeled my briefs down exposing my bare butt and my unfortunate boner (still there). Comments abounded as you might expect.

I don’t know if you’ve ever taken ten licks with a hard wooden paddle on the bare butt. If you have, you’ll know it’s the most excruciating thing you’ll ever feel. You hear the whoosh then there is this almighty CRACK! The pain literally explodes across your backside. It hurts so bad you can’t breathe. And with each one it gets worse. By three it’s a bonfire back there. By five it’s just a red haze of unbelievable agony. By eight you are crying for your mommy. How I managed to hold onto my ankles and take ten from Miss Amazon, I’ll never know.


After that I somehow managed to apologize as ordered (“…and thank you ma’am for disciplining me.”) collect myself and leave.

For days I couldn’t sit. I had bruises and blisters. Becky was avoiding me, the little rat. I knew she’d set me up. I just knew it. But what she didn’t know was that I had the goods—the recording. What would her sorority sisters think about that?

I finally caught up with her walking across the quad. “We have to talk,” I said.

“Are you—are you ok?” she said.

“Yeah, now,” I said. “A few days ago, not so much.”

“I’m really sorry. I didn’t know.” She made a face like wincing.

“Uh huh,” I said.

“I can explain, but we can’t talk here. Come to my friend’s apartment tonight.” She gave me the address.

When I got there her friend was out. It was just us. I made a big show of sitting on the couch like I was easing into a hot tub. She had a worried look. Good.

She began. “Look Dave, I did not know that would happen. I had no idea…”

I held up my hand. “I think you set me up.”

“Uhhhh,” she said. A deer in the headlights.

“Uh, hunh,” I said. I pulled the recorder out of my pocket. “See this? Remember how I had you repeat the instructions for sneaking in? How about I play this for Miss Amazon Pledge Mistress what’s-her-name?”

“You wouldn’t do that.” She looked very worried.

Now I had her. And at this point, I know—you are going to think me a total cad, but there was something I wanted to do, and that was to spank Miss Becky Bradford’s cute bare butt.  I had genuine affection for the girl, but, God forgive me, I always had wanted to do this. The second thing was that I loved her. Always had. css1

“I won’t but there is a price.”

“What?” she said with alarm.

Time to go for it. Even suggesting this would be a risky escalation in intimacy, but it was the only way I knew to move the needle from friend toward possible lover.

“Ten licks, Bradford. Bare butt. Like I got.”

“You wouldn’t,” she said, but her expression was odd. Was she excited?

“I can’t take ten paddle swats on the bare. Nobody can,” She gasped, suddenly realizing the irony.

Oh no? I had.

I held my hand up, palm out. “Just my hand, Becky. No paddle.”

She bit her lip. She was thinking about it. “Ok. Just your hand, then. And not too hard.” Then she stood up, resigned to her fate. “Ok, how do you want me?”

I sat on the couch, moved to the middle and sat forward on the edge. “Right here. I believe the magic words are: over my knee, young lady.” I slapped my thighs. “Oh, and take your pants down.”

Curiously Becky didn’t come back with a sharp retort. She licked her lips, and her breasts heaved. She stood next to me and unclasped her jeans. It took a bit of wiggling and tugging but she got her jeans down. She always wore them as tight as possible to display her too cute bubble-shaped ass.

I gazed at the triangle covered by a flimsy pair of panties. She blushed, then eased herself across my thighs. I positioned her across my left knee, propping her bottom up, just at the right angle for my attentions. I heard a sharp intake of breath as I put my fingers in the elastic of her panties. Slowly I tugged them down to reveal two perfectly rounded cheeks, jutting upwards provocatively. She made a little gasp as I rested my hand on the satiny orbs and patted. Her flesh was warm and wonderfully resilient. She gave a little shudder at my touch.


“Ready?” I said. I heard a muffled yes. I raised my hand and brought it down with a firm smack! Becky let out a muffled “Ow!” Again, on the other side, smack! Another “Ow!” So I spanked her cute ass 8 more times, reveling in the delicious feel of her and the sexy wobble of her bottom. But, actually I took it easy. The idea wasn’t to really hurt her.

So imagine my surprise when after number ten she said, “Is that all you got, Davey?”

I said, “What?”

“You want to spank me, don’t you? So spank me like you mean it.”

Who could resist an invitation like that? I smacked her curvy little fanny for the next several minutes, peppering her bottom with crisp smacks that made my palm sting and her cheeks quiver. She began to hump, grinding her pelvis into my knee. She was getting off on it!


When I finally stopped, she turned around and grabbed me, pulling my lips to hers, kissing me fiercely. We tore off clothes and ended up in her friend’s bed. A friendship had ended. A love affair had begun.

Afterwards, she admitted it had been a set-up. All the girls had thought it a great gag.

“What about the paddlings for demerits?”

“Balsa wood paddles and theatrics,” she said.

“The one I got was no balsa wood paddle,” I said

“Mary Jo switched it. I didn’t know. Later she said she was sorry, but she’d always wanted to paddle a guy for real.”

“I wasn’t going to rat you out,” I said. “I erased the recorder.”

“I know,” she said.

“What do you mean?”

She snuggled closer. “I’ve known how you felt about me, Davey. But I only have one question.”


“What took you so long?”

You can find this story and 19 others in The Romance of Spanking: The Complete Collection.

Rom SP 6.0


4 responses to “Becky the Prankster, A College Idyll

  1. As always Sorority stories always get me ahhhh, what is a good word. Horny, that’s the word I was looking for. Thank for the story.


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