Here’s an excerpt from a longer story of mine called “31 Hours,” which you will find in the collection Spanking Times Eleven. The stills which illustrate this story are from Nu-West’s film, “Two Spanked Cheerleaders” which is still available in various formats at Nu-Westleda.com.
Art by Rebecca. Photo by Punishedbrats.com
There they were, the little madams. Caught them! Wheeling into the back of the parking lot in a convertible with two boys—from a rival school yet. “You two,” she shouted, pointing. “In my office. Now.”
“Miss Presley,” the girls gasped, surprised to see her.
“And you,” she said, hands on her hips and glaring at the two boys, “get out of here and don’t come back!” Damn! She should have checked both busses. Heather Foster and Jamie Benning had obviously slipped out and ridden back with those two delinquents. Two of her best players and state finals coming. Damn and triple damn!
“What were you two thinking?” Keri was boiling mad. Heather and Jamie huddled nervously in chairs in front of Miss Presley’s desk while she chewed them out. It was a noisy scolding but thankfully no one could hear her raised voice in her basement office next to the locker rooms. Most everyone was gone for the day. “Suppose there had been a wreck? Wait…” she sniffed. “Let me smell your breath.”
She stood in front of the girls. Took a deep breath. “Beer. You’ve been drinking beer. I can’t believe this. State finals in our grasp and you go out drinking beer with boys instead of returning on the team bus.”
She paced in front of them. “You know what this means? I have to suspend you both. I can’t let this go.” She threw up her arms in exasperation.
That made the girls sit up with alarm. “Please don’t suspend us, Miss Presley. We want to go to state. Our parents will find out. Please, we’re sorry!” They were both jabbering at the same time. Oh, yeah, now they were sorry. They hadn’t been sorry when Butch and Sundance out there had lured them into the car with promises of booze and God knows what else.
She knew how this would have been handled back in Texas. Her old mentor and coach, Mrs. Lord, would have dealt with it her way. She would have sent them to the showers and told them to report back in nothing but a towel. She kept a pinewood paddle in her desk drawer, an unofficial “attitude adjuster”. They would have been told to drop the towels and bend across her desk. A good dozen hard swats on bare girlish butts after the shower would have fixed this, and they’d have never done it again. Accept the punishment, stay on the team, that was her deal. Keri knew. She’d been one of those girls once.
But they didn’t do that here. Frickin’ hippie northwest. Well, it’s about time they learned how we do it Texas style. But she had no paddle or anything like it. And it would have to be on the QT. But if she knew her girls, they’d take their licking and keep quiet about it. Maybe just a good old fashioned spanking like mamma would dish out—-that would bring them down a peg. A little voice told her to be careful, but she was so damn angry, she didn’t listen.
“Ok, girls. You want to stay on the team and not be suspended?”
At last, a ray of hope. The girls brightened up. “What do we have to do, Coach Presley?” asked Heather.
The girls were still in their volleyball uniforms. “I’m not letting you off easy. You’ll have a choice to make. Hit the showers. Don’t dress. Wrap up in towels and come back in here, then we’ll talk.” She watched them look at each other, question marks on their faces, but they left for the showers right next door. Both were pretty girls. Both were seniors. Heather was slender, Jamie short and buxom. But, they were getting a bit big for their britches.
While they were out Keri moved a chair out in front of her desk. “Just like momma used to do,” she muttered to herself. “That’s what these little princesses need.” Keri had been no stranger to motherly discipline when she’d been younger. Even through her teen years willful disobedience had been punished by a trip across her momma’s knee for a stinging session with a flat backed hairbrush on her bared bottom. She recalled those sessions all too well. The hot sting of those spankings had taught her to behave.
Heather and Jamie soon returned, their arrival announced by the wet slap of bare feet on the concrete floor. When they opened the door they were surprised to see Keri seated in a chair in front of her desk.
“Coach? Uh, here we are,” said Jamie. They were wrapped up in towels, legs still a bit wet.
“Yeah, we showered like you told us, but why can’t we dress?” said Heather.
“Because, girls, it’s part of the deal,” said Keri. “You violated a very important rule and according to official policy, you’re off the team. But, if you accept my informal punishment, we’ll forget about this little escapade of yours.”
“Ok, coach, um….so how are you going to punish us?” asked Jamie.
“Yeah, how? Do we have to do wind sprints or something?” asked Heather.
“No wind sprints. To stay on the team, both of you, right here, right now, take a good hard spanking. You drop those towels, come across my knee and take your licking. Then we forget about this. Well, what will it be?”
Both sets of jaws dropped. Eyes grew big as saucers.
“A…a spanking, Coach Presley?” Jamie was shaking her head in disbelief.
“You heard me. Or, there’s the door.” Keri pointed to the door. ” Off the team.”
For a minute they stood still, in shock, but thinking it over. Finally Heather spoke. “Wait. No one will know, right? Not the school, not our parents, no one.”
“That’s right. It ends here. So decide. I don’t have all night and you girls have to get home.”
The girls looked at each other. Heather turned toward Keri. She shrugged. “I’m in,” she said, lifting her chin in an act of teenage bravado. “How do you want me?”
“Heather!” Jamie squealed.
“Oh, Jamie, don’t be such a baby,” said Heather. “I’m ready, Miss Presley.”
“Come over here to my right side,” said Keri, pointing at the floor. Heather moved over with mincing steps to stand at Keri’s right. “Ok, Foster, drop the towels.”
Heather let the towels slip to the floor. The girl was a young Venus. She put one hand at her crotch, the other vainly tried to cover her exposed nipples. She had smallish breasts, long legs and a slender torso with slim hips, but a cute apple-cheeked derriere prominently set off from her long legs. Keri aimed to thoroughly redden that pert butt to teach this young miss a lesson.
“Over my knee,” said Keri.
Heather lowered herself gingerly over her coach’s lap. Keri pushed her forward until her nose almost touched the floor, her bottom uppermost and well positioned to receive her spanking. Keri raised her right knee and hooked it on a lower chair rung, elevating Heather’s behind a bit more.
“Yes, coach,” she squeaked, tensing her body.
“You’ll be getting fifty swats with my hand. It would help if you counted.”
She raised her hand to shoulder height and brought it down with a loud smack! Heather hissed with an intake of breath. Smack! Keri spanked the other cheek. Heather lifted a leg off the floor.
“How many?” asked Keri. “I don’t hear counting.”
“Ow…two,” said Heather.
Keri launched into a rhythmic smacking of Heather’s bouncing bottom, landing smacks on alternating cheeks at a rate of about one every two seconds or so. She carefully covered the full expanse of Heather’s bottom, working from the top of her bottom to the lush underside, not missing an inch. Sometimes she landed crisp smacks right across the divide, right on the sit spot. Heather yipped softly but kept the count, waving her legs in the air, wincing, opening and closing her eyes, flexing her wriggling fanny as the spanks landed. At the count of fifty, Keri stopped. Heather’s bottom was beet red. It looked like two stoplights on a white background. Keri let her up.
Heather hastily grabbed her towels and covered herself, only to find she couldn’t cover up and rub the atrocious sting at the same time.
“Ok, Benning. Your turn.”
Jamie took Heather’s place. Her hips were wider, her bottom fuller, but well shaped. She was short and her feet came off the floor, legs fluttering. She was more vocal too. The sharp spanks rang out, echoing off the concrete walls in the enclosed office. Jamie yelped and had to be reminded several times to keep count. Keri’s hand rose and fell, splatting against the soft rounds at a steady tempo.
“Youch…oh, youch, coach! Uh, 15!….16!….17!….owwww!”
It was a steady litany of distress that accompanied the noisy smacking. Her bottom cheeks were softer and they wobbled more than Heather’s. By the time the count had reached fifty her rear end was also a vivid red.
“Both of you stand in front of me and turn around.” Both girls had been duly punished, Keri could see as she inspected her handiwork. Two sets of glowing red bottom cheeks attested to the fact that she had meted out a very thorough spanking. “Now face me,” she said.
“Never do that again, do you understand? Next time you will be off the team. Now get dressed and go home.” The girls gathered towels and left in a hurry.
Whew! Thought Keri. I need a drink. Maybe Rusty is still here. But I can’t tell him about this, oh no. In fact, she mused, I can’t tell him about me—what I want. He’s too nice a guy. The act of spanking the girls had brought back memories—memories of past experiences when she’d been the naughty miss. I need a man to take me in hand, she reflected. Like Ty, her ex, her rodeo cowboy lover. He had not hesitated to put her in her place when she got too full of herself, and that place was over his knee. Sometimes even, his belt came out if she’d really been difficult. Rusty just looks too easy going, she thought. A pity. The man is pretty hot. But this time I’m going to do it right, find the right guy out here for me—one who won’t be off at the stinkin’ rodeo and who will give me what I crave.