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Message-ID: <32459asstr$999925802@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: See.signature.line@lycosmail.com (Y. Lee Coyote)
Reply-To: YLeeCoyote@lycosmail.com
Subject: {ASSM} St: Sequel to 'Paddled at Springfield High -- Story 1'  (M/t, humil, paddle)
Date: Sat,  8 Sep 2001 01:10:02 -0400
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St: Sequel to 'Paddled at Springfield High -- Story 1'
          (M/t, humil, paddle)

Nathan wrote a story about the paddling and the humiliation of a high
school jock, "Paddled at Springfield High" which can be found on my site
at:
<http://www.geocities.com/yleecoyote1938/PaddledSpringfieldHigh.htm>.  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.

Sequel to Paddled at Springfield High -- Story 1
By
YLeeCoyote@Lycosmail.com

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; shit!  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 damn 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 damn 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 damn 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 shit, 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!  Fuck -- it had just been a fucking 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.

The End

(C) Copyright A.I.L., September 7, 2001

Your comments are appreciated.  YLeeCoyote@Lycosmail.com
See my stories at http://www.geocities.com/yleecoyote1938/

Y.

Valid return address is <YLeeCoyote@Lycosmail.com>
(Posting address is for the spammers)

See my stories at: 
http://www.geocities.com/yleecoyote1938/
See Goldilocks stories at:
http://www.geocities.com/goldilocks1938/

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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