New MMSA spank logo

The Blister Boyz
Chapter 42: Baldwin's Plateau

by Redspkscott

Go to the contents page for this series.

Copyright on this story text belongs at all times to the original author only, whether stated explicitly in the text or not. The original date of posting to the MMSA was: 15 Aug 2010

Blister Boyz — Ch. 42: Baldwin's Plateau

The heroes:
Troy Manning – Heat Blister
Jason Klein – Ice Hazer
David Mercer – Smaqdown
Dennis Lowder – The Humiliator
Walt Hemingway – Major Fry
Brian Tannon – Murky Menace
Jorge Vasquez – Poison Punisher
Keith Grady – The Sticking Point

When the Paragon U. football players needed to describe Coach Garrett Baldwin to outsiders, they had a simple saying: “Coach Baldwin is a good guy. He's just not a nice guy.”

That might well be obvious with the kind of man who devised spanking as a reward. He did not mess around when it came to punishment. Among Omega alumni he was ranked annually on the top of the list of “most intimidating punishers.” He did not smirk or joke when he was getting ready to lay the wood down on a football player's backside. He didn't give long, droning lectures. He figured the guys were adults and knew what they fucked up. Often he didn't talk at all while administering punishment. He just gave intense, relentless paddling sessions to get his “boys heads on straight.”

Today he was giving his first squad punishment for the season, four big guys on the offensive line. Baldwin had a section of the locker room by his office set up for the specific purpose of punishing wayward players. A large whiteboard on the wall listed all the squads in a spreadsheet format. Twenty squares separated the squad name and a cartoon image of a large paddle. Each time a member of the squad earned a demerit, a square was filled in. So once a squad earned twenty demerits the whole squad earned what coach called “a whuppin'.” The players referred to the board as the “Whuppin' Wall.”

Demerits were usually earned through bad behavior, poor sportsmanship, tardiness, and the like, as well as for poor performance on the field. Whether one person on the squad was more responsible for the demerits than the others was not relevant. They were all punished equally hard. Very hard.

In front of the Whuppin' Wall were four large punishment horses. They were padded steel, adjustable, and bolted to the floor. His paddlings were intense enough to justify the restraints, given the size and strength of the recipients. The horses were arranged in a square so that when bent over them and strapped down, the four squad members were facing inward, looking at each other. Their bottoms faced outward, raised up in the air enough so that their strapped down legs and feet were just off the floor (the height wasn't a problem for the very tall Coach Baldwin). In this position, the player who bore the most responsibility for the squad being punished had no choice but to watch his buddies react to getting their butts blistered.

And that was exactly Coach Baldwin's extremely effective punishment tactic. The most troublesome players were forced to directly experience the effect of his behavior on his teammates. Often by the time it was over, the player responsible for the most demerits was begging the coach to lay off his buddies and give him their swats instead. Baldwin ignored the begging. In the weeks following the punishment, the worst player on the squad inevitably did his best to make sure his teammates weren't punished for his mistakes. The plan was extremely effective.

Players Cody, Reggie, Michael, and Tomas had been strapped down to the paddling horses and were awaiting the coach. They were in full uniform, but with the backs of their uniform pants pulled down to expose their large bottoms, not unlike Dennis's dreams of player punishment. The players were held down with thick leather straps in a variety of places, making struggling worthless. They were bent over enough so that their large cheek muscles couldn't squeeze together or otherwise react to the hard blows of the coach's paddle.

Coach Baldwin's paddle was a piece of work on its own. It was massive, designed to be used with both hands (which Coach Baldwin did). It had a long handle to accommodate a baseball-bat style swing. The paddle started off at six inches wide at the handle, and then widened to ten inches at the end, creating a little bit of a V-shaped paddle.

Anybody versed in the ways of paddle use would declare such a paddle design to be a terrible idea and normally they'd be right. One of the problems of a poorly wielded paddle is that the inertia of a paddle swing was concentrated on the far end of the paddle, so the cheek opposite the person paddling would get the brunt of the impact. That's why occasionally frat boys who have been paddled have much more damaged right cheek than left. Theoretically Baldwin's paddle made this bad problem worse. Since the end of the paddle is wider than the part near the handle, the inertia of the swing was even worse, causing even more damage to the far cheek and an uneven swat.

But Coach Baldwin's genius was that he was ambidextrous with his paddling. He would, in fact, completely bruise and blister a football player's right cheek with his first salvo of swats. But then he would switch sides and repeat the punishment. Then the player's left cheek would be similarly tortured from the swats.

Also, the paddle was designed for big bottoms, which had enough surface area to absorb the pain of the massive swats. You didn't get bigger butts than the guys on his football team. The reality was, after everything was accounted for, the punishment wasn't really worse than any other paddle punishment these guys might get from David or Dennis or Troy, but it sure seemed like a much worse experience, and that helped Coach Baldwin develop his intimidating reputation.

The four young men stared at each other nervously, their bottoms quivering, as the coach strode out of his office toward them, paddle in hand. He had been busy giving Terrell his coach's prize spanking for a really good day of practice while the squad awaited its punishment. Terrell was shooting for the pros and he might well make it.

Garrett walked up to the muscled but helpless young men on the horses. Without saying a word, he walked around the square and positioned himself behind Tomas. Tomas was a good, vigilant player, polite, observant, and was not responsible for a single one of the squad's demerits. This is why he would be the first to be paddled. Troublemakers like Cody and Reggie, who were frequently late to practice due to hangovers from partying too hard, would have to watch their most innocent squad member get his ass paddled raw before their turn came around. It gave the two of them a lot to ponder before their asses caught fire.

Without a single world, Coach Baldwin pulled the paddle back with both hands let loose with a paddle swing intended to hit a home run: KRACK! The sound echoed through the locker room. Tomas's eyes widened and he gasped in air in shock as the paddle swat flattened his round cheeks. Then he belted out a cry of pain as he breathed back out.

Coach Baldwin slowly, but relentlessly applied 50 hard swats of the paddle across Tomas's ass. Each swat was equally hard. There were no “warm up” swats. It was all pain, all the way. Tomas was crying by swat 30. And this was only half the punishment. Cody, positioned directly across from Tomas, cringed and whimpered as he was able to see both the coach's hard swings as well as the expression on Tomas's face each time a swat landed. After the 50 swats, Coach Baldwin moved over to Michael, also a fairly innocent player (he was responsible for two demerits) and again, lay down 50 hard swats across his muscled, jock-clad butt. Reggie was positioned across from Michael and occasionally apologized to Michael out loud as he endured the punishment.

After 50 more swats, Coach finally made it to the two football players who deserved it. “Sorry, Coach,” Reggie muttered as the burly man took position behind him. He didn't respond. He knew the boys were sorry. They were still going to get their punishment. He raised the paddle again and Reggie shouted and cried as his big broad backside took 50 hard swats. Finally, it was bad boy Cody's turn he bawled his eyes out as the paddle slammed home.

That was the first half. Coach Baldwin switched sides and then went back through the boys, in the same order, for another 50 hard swats. This was the point where the bad boys begged the coach to give them the swats for the good boys instead. Baldwin knew not to relent or the system would break down. From years of experience he knew that bad boys accepted punishment for their behavior and didn't really change for long. When their innocent buddies were dragged into the punishment, though, they were quick to improve. He rarely had to give a single squad more than two whuppins during a football season. And the bad boys usually made it up to the innocent victims by submitting to them for additional punishment throughout the season.

Once the Blister Boyz learned about the secret world of pain, discipline and abuse, Troy figured the punishment of the innocent players had to show up as abuse energy. After all, the innocent players hadn't done anything to “deserve” the paddlings, and wondered why the Adepts of Discipline hadn't done anything to stop it. But when he checked into it, the Adepts of Discipline told Troy that no, actually, the innocent players also produced the positive discipline energy. It fell on his psych-centric boyfriend, Jason, to explain.

“Football is a team sport, and we all depend on each other, right?” Jason said. “We can't succeed as a team with bad influences. By putting the team in squads, the coach made us all responsible for each other and we all bought into it. Even though the innocent players didn't do anything wrong, they failed to rein in their teammates, which affects our performance overall. So subconsciously, they don't really see themselves as innocent, and even though they hadn't earned any demerits, they didn't really do enough to stop the demerits from being earned, even though they knew what the consequences would be.”

“Interesting theory,” Troy said.

“Believe me, I've thought about it,” Jason said. “I've been the innocent party in a couple of squad whuppins and I realized that was going through my mind. I was thinking of every opportunity I had to stop my teammates from fucking up and did nothing. So in a way I do accept responsibility for the punishment and work harder to keep my squadmates on the coach's good side. It only works on big team sports like football. It wouldn't work in something like wrestling or solo sports.”

Coach Baldwin made his way through the second round of punishment, the football players bawling in pain now, begging and apologizing, and straining at their restraints. It did them no good. Like a machine, Coach Baldwin forced the four boys to take the complete punishment at his full strength. Their four bottoms were blistered, busted and quivering at the end. Their faces were red and their tears dripped down their chins onto the concrete floor.

“Y'all need to get your shit together,” Coach Baldwin said when he finished. “I don't wanna see you back up here. I'm gonna give you double demerits now if any of y'all are late to practice.” The four players all apologized and promised to improve.

“Oh, and you got a boy in the frat, named Dennis, right? Diver?” he asked. The boys nodded. “Tell him I wanna see him about somethin' when get your asses back in there.”

The coach nodded and left them there in their restraints and returned to his office to do some work on the playbook. The guys would remain stuck in the restraints for about an hour, to make them really think about (and feel) their punishment. Then he would come back out and release them.

Coach sat down at his desk, ignoring the sounds of the players sobbing in the background. For some reason that Dennis kid had been on his mind lately. Smart as hell, and got straight A's. But he had never come to claim a coach's prize. For some reason that struck Garrett as odd, though he couldn't quite figure out why.

The Blister Boyz gathered at The Augurer's magic scrying pool down in the depths of Oranbega. Jacob Brass was there standing next to The Augurer as the leader of the Adepts of Discipline chanted a preparation spell.

“I had to go knock a few heads to get a few corrupt Crey prison guards to 'recollect' any experiments going on involving prisoners that might have also involved some corporal punishment,” Jacob said. “Eventually they were able to at least give us a window of time where these experiments were going on. The boys went to work scanning through old CDs and chanting up some past incidents. Fortunately the research was timed well with your pledge hazing because the spells took a lot of discipline energy.” The Augurer had completed his chant.

“That's partly because we're actually trying to search out abuse incidents, not discipline,” The Augurer explained. “We're trying to push into the other side of the pain spectrum and it takes a tremendous amount of magic. The reverse is also true. The Circle of Thorns would have to expend an extreme amount of magical energy if they wanted to spy on your frat games, which serves to protect you a bit from their espionage.”

“Ah, I was wondering why we hadn't had to deal with a bunch of ambushes from them, if they hate us so much,” Heat Blister said.

“It will happen eventually,” Jacob Brass said. “Once you become more than a nuisance. Believe me.”

“Watch the pool if you will, gentlemen,” The Augurer said. “The segment isn't very long, but we've secured it so we can review as needed.”

The boys looked down at the water as a vision slowly faded into view. Six men were strapped down to bent tables in an unidentifiable laboratory. The men were in prison uniforms, with their bottoms bared. They were getting paddled hard by Crey prison security staff.

“Hot!” Murky Menace declared. Heat Blister shushed him.

“Is that Hopkins standing there, too?” Major Fry asked.

“Yes,” Jacob Brass said. “He's the real abuse influence in Crey, not the Countess. I've tangled with him a couple of times, but it's next to impossible to make anything stick with them. I do know that that cane he carries around is for more than show.”

“Hot!” Murky Menace declared again. Smaqdown slapped him on the ass to shut him up.

“This is obviously some early testing of the chemical,” The Humiliator observed. “The number attached to the chemical indicates quite a few iterations of testing, so these guys probably had many sessions like this.”

They watched the six men getting paddled for a little bit. Then Heat Blister pointed toward one of the younger victims.

“There's our ninja, right there,” Heat Blister said. “We didn't see his full face, but the body type matches up very well. Not enough for a court or anything, but enough to investigate. Do you know who these guys are?”

“Unfortunately, only one,” Jacob said. “The blond guy with the goatee, the oldest one there, is Dr. Howard Grand. We only know who he is because his trial was fairly well publicized. He was a Crey researcher who got caught up with some corporate espionage.”

“They're using their own staff for experiments?” Ice Hazer asked.

“They threw him under the bus when they were caught,” Jacob explained. “In all likelihood the poor guy was actually innocent and had no idea he was involved with illegal actions. Crey is very good at making sure they have a fall guy when they do anything that could cause them problems.”

“Yeah, I don't know how many times I've heard them claim some sort of incident involving them was due to a 'rogue researcher' operating outside Crey's instructions,” Major Fry said.

“Their prison records are mysteriously missing,” Jacob said. “This, of course, happens a lot at the Ziggurat. They grease a lot of palms to keep their prison contract. It's certainly not competence keeping them in charge.”

“So any ideas as to where they might be now?” Heat Blister asked. “Obviously at least one of them is no longer in prison.”

“I think so, and you're not going to like it,” Jacob said. “This experiment took place a few months before the big assault on the prison by Lord Arachnos's troops. They liberated thousands of prisoners, many with powers, and brought them to Rogue Isles.”

“You think they're on Rogue Isles?” Heat Blister said. “How did he get here?”

“Remember Oranbega extends beneath both Paragon City and under the ocean to the isles,” The Augurer said. “With the boy's powers, he could travel back and forth undetected.”

“Rogue Isles is way beyond us at this point,” Ice Hazer said. “We'll be eaten alive. Is there any way to find where these guys are?”

“Our scrying magic can't extend to the isles,” The Augurer said. “Simply put, the island is a dark stronghold of abusive energy. There's very little discipline energy that comes from that place.”

“We do have other resources though,” Jacob said. “I know the men in uniform of course, some more ... intimately ... than others.”

“Uh huh,” Poison Punisher said, raising an eyebrow in amusement.

“The news is not good,” Jason said. “I'm fairly sure these guys stuck together and are now an outfit know is the Crimson Brotherhood. They've grown very powerful and apparently have the ear of Lord Arachnos himself. You're familiar with the Longbow division of the Freedom Corps, right?”

“Those hotties in the red and white spandex,” Poison Punisher said. “Got asses you can bounce quarters off, among other things.”

“Longbow agents used to take them on and get delivered back to their home base with embarrassingly blistered bottoms,” Jacob said.

“Sounds a lot like us ... sort of,” Smaqdown said.

“Exactly,” Jacob said. “Except, as of a few months ago, Longbow agents who attempted to take on Freedom Corps haven't returned at all.” The Blister Boyz eyes widened.

“Are they killing them?” Heat Blister asked.

“No, that's the good news. But there have been reports getting back to us of Longbow agents being forced somehow to 'serve' the villains on the isle permanently, and that they are subjected to very harsh corporal punishment.”

“Hot!” Murky Menace said. The rest of the team rolled their eyes. Annoyed, Smaqdown grabbed him, forced him over his knee and started paddling him as the rest of the team continued the discussion.

“So what do we do next? What do we think these guys want?” Heat Blister asked.

“The same thing you guys want,” Major Fry said. “An army. They're trying to consolidate power. They can make the Longbow guys work for them, but that's not nearly enough.”

“But what do they want an army for? How much power do they need?” The Humiliator asked.

“They want revenge,” Ice Hazer said. “They were abused by the Crey terribly. Dr. Grand was likely innocent of the crimes he was convicted of in the first place.”

“Well hell, if they want to take on Crey, I say we let them,” Major Fry said.

“I don't think that's where it ends,” Ice Hazer said. “Not if he's enslaving Longbow. Not if he's working with Lord Arachnos. It was Paragon City that convicted him and put him in jail. He wants revenge on all of us.”

“So what's our plan of action?” Smaqdown asked, ignoring Murky Menace's whimpers as he paddled him.

“We can't go to Rogue Isles, so we need to set some sort of a trap to bring the Crimson Brotherhood here,” Major Fry said.

“Actually, we don't need to set a trap,” Heat Blister said. Major Fry looked at him in confusion. “Mr. Porter and I already did, but we didn't realize it. If he wants an army powerful enough to take on the heroes of Paragon City, you better believe he's going to want the formula for PSGE-398. If our attacker reported back to him, he's going to start investigating. He will try to figure out a way to get to Mr. Porter and that formula.”

“Your job,” Heat Blister continued to Major Fry, “Is to track down any other methods the Crimson Brotherhood might be using to keep an eye on us or Mr. Porter. They're going to make a move. It's your job to keep it from happening.”

“Yes sir,” Major Fry replied. It would be his ass if he failed.

Xian Sheng – also known as Ambush Viper – was enduring punishment of his own at the hands of Master Manacle. Or rather, the Crimson Brotherhood leader's proxy spankbots. Xian was wrapped up in thick segmented metal tentacles connected to the torso of Manacle's latest humanoid-shaped punishment machine. The arms, positioned above the tentacles, ended in large metal paddles with holes in them. He was held up in a vulnerable punishment position, not unlike the football players in Coach Baldwin's locker room. His black pants had been pulled down, exposing his rapidly blistering bottom. He was much smaller than a Paragon U. football player, but much tougher. So far he had managed to keep from crying. It had been an hour and Xian's powers had shut down, not that they could have helped him in this situation. His invisibility and intangibility powers required quite a bit of concentration, and getting his ass beat made it impossible.

Master Manacle stood there watching him being punished, glaring. The team's newest member, Argus Penn, a.k.a. The Corrupter, stood by his side.

“You were the one I trusted the most, Xian,” Howard said. “I sent you to get information and you withheld something very important from me. That is a huge betrayal ... huge. Do you understand?” Xian nodded, but said nothing as he endured the paddle swats.

“That discovery that you hid from me changes everything,” Howard emphasized. “You're going to spend the rest of the day helping test P-801, my latest paddlebot. And let me be clear, if I decide that I cannot trust you, I would have no difficulty slapping the slave manacles on you so that you can't betray me. Am I understood?” Xian nodded again. Master Manacle and The Corrupter then strode off, leaving Ambush Viper there to suffer hours of relentless paddle punishment.

The threat was a bluff, really. Master Manacle relied a lot on Ambush Viper's ability to operate independently. They were all fugitives in Paragon City. Xian was the only person on the team who could scout there. Slapping slave manacles on Ambush Viper would interfere with his natural talents far too much. He just had to hope that Xian's response that he reacted emotionally and didn't think through his actions was true. But Xian was not really known for his emotional responses, as obvious by his failure to react to his own paddling. Even Jolt Jammer would have been begging for mercy by now.

Argus had found out about Xian's omission through Dennis's dreams. He had decided, actually, to stay out of Xian's dreams themselves. Xian was an Infiltrator, the evil counterpart to Walt's Guardian. The role of the Infiltrator is to, as the name suggested, track down and take down enemies of those who promoted Abuse over Discipline. Even without knowing his archetypical role, he had very nearly done just that by attacking Andrew Porter. If only the boy had finished him off it would have made life for the Circle of Thorns so much easier. Infiltrators are very sensitive to intrusions and violations, so Argus needed to treat Xian very carefully for now. Also, he had realized Howard's trust in the young man, and it was important for Howard to stay on track.

Howard and Argus strode into the conference room where the rest of the Crimson Brotherhood waited.

“Gentlemen, as you've probably heard, we've made a discovery that changes things quite a bit,” Master Manacle said.

“That devil's potion they made over at Crey is still around?” Holler asked.

“So it seems. The good news is that we're actually on track to get the formula for PSGE-398 for our own use.”

“You really wanna do that, bossman?” Jolt Jammer asked. “What's da plan with that stuff?”

“We need an army, boys,” Master Manacle said. “We're powerful, but not powerful enough. If we upset the wrong group we'll be crushed. We're still not big enough for Crey.”

“I thought enslaving the Blister Boyz would take care of that,” Holler said.

“They'll help, but they're still not enough. Here's the plan now. We're gonna get the Blister Boyz and with the help of the slave manacles and Argus's magic we'll train them to do all our beck and call. Once we know the system works, we'll contact this Porter guy and offer up a trade: the chemical for the Blister Boyz.”

“You actually going to trade them away?” Holler asked. Everybody knew Howard was obsessed with the young jocks. Holler wanted to get his hands on them as well.

“What do you think?” Master Manacle responded. “Why the hell would we actually give them back?” The others nodded.

“Who will we use the chemical on?” Thornscourge asked.

“Why don't we use it on them Longbow guys we got?” Granite Growl asked. “We already got them trained and everything.”

“You're exactly on the right track,” Master Manacle said. “We will turn the Longbow agents into super-powered slaves. Then we can turn them on their former teammates to get even more agents under our control. Eventually we'll have an army to rival even Lord Arachnos's. And then we can go back to Paragon City and get revenge for what happened to us.”

“How are we going to get the boys, though?” Thornscourge said. “I don't think we've still worked that out yet.”

“The Circle of Thorns would allow us access to Oranbega to get to Paragon City,” Argus said.

“And then what?” Holler said, rolling his eyes. “No offense, but we aren't a stealth team and neither are they. We aren't going to have a team-on-team battle to kidnap these boys without it becoming a big deal.”

Argus was about to argue with the overly critical man, but Master Manacle raised a hand.

“I agree with Holler,” he said. “We cannot afford that much attention in Paragon City this early in the plan.”

“Ha, there ya go,” Holler said. “And y'all will be happy to know I got a strategy in mind.”

“You, actually pulling your weight with something besides your big mouth?” Jolt Jammer said. “Wonders never cease.”

“Siren's Call,” Holler said, ignoring an argument, perhaps for the first time in his life. Master Manacle nodded.

“Lord Arachnos's troops have been establishing beach heads there on the shores of Rhode Island to try to work their way inward,” Master Manacle said. “The heroes have been keeping them back, but there are some semi-permanent Arachnos presences on there.”

“It's a total free-for-all out there,” Holler said. “A fight between our crew and those boys is just gonna be background noise.”

“There's the matter of getting the boys out there,” Argus said.

“That's easy,” Holler said. “You just find a way to leak some info to their paranoid Army boy about our super-secret satellite repositioning information relay station we've been using there to spy on them.”

“We don't have a super-secret satellite ... oh,” Master Manacle said. “Of course. They would have no reason to expect yet that we would be taking direct action. They're just now starting to work out our identities.”

“Damn,” Jolt Jammer said. “Loudmouth actually came up with a good idea. Guess that military training taught ya more than how to abuse your position.”

“Jolt Jammer, go join Ambush Viper to make sure our paddlebots are in tip-top shape,” Master Manacle ordered. Jolt Jammer started to argue, but the slave manacles kicked in he stood up against his own will and walked right out of the conference room to get his ass busted raw alongside Xian.

“Holler, start getting this plan underway. Corrupter, are you going to be ready to deal with Murky Menace and The Humiliator?”

“I should be,” Argus said. “The trap for The Humiliator is going to be sprung by tomorrow, if the boy's dreams are any indication.”

“Good,” Master Manacle said. “If this works out, it will be a great coup not just for us, but for your own Circle.”

“Agreed,” Argus said, though he was beginning to not really care about the future of the Circle of Thorns. Here was where all the action was.

Dennis wasn't as nervous as he thought he'd be heading into the football locker room. He wasn't an inexperienced freshman any more and developing a reputation for busting the butts of the bigger jocks of the frat gave him some confidence.

Still, he felt a little out of place. The 5 foot, 7 inch, 155 pound diver didn't look he belonged on the team. Well, maybe as a kicker. He was pretty-well muscled for his sport, but not exactly intimidating. He made his way to Coach Baldwin's office, stopping to taken note of the Whuppin' Wall and punishment horses. He had heard of them but had never seen them before.

He approached the office door, finding himself feel just a little nervous after all, and knocked on the open door frame. Coach Baldwin was sitting behind his desk, working on the playbook, as usual. He looked up and gave a nod to Dennis. Smiling wasn't in his nature, but he didn't seem upset or angry.

“Cody came to me back at the Omega house yesterday and said you wanted to see me?” Dennis said. He failed to mention that Cody was in tears and was rubbing his backside, given that the coach was no doubt responsible.

“Yeah, thanks for stoppin' by,” Garrett drawled, gesturing to a seat in front of the desk. “Heard you were helpin' out David down there and takin' the wood to my boys.”

“Oh, that's not a problem, is it?” Dennis said as he sat down, nervous that he might be in trouble after all. “I'm not violating frat rules or anything.”

“No, no, no, don't get me wrong,” he said. “Believe me, blister their asses as much as you see fit. Helps keep 'em in line. Makes my life a whole lot easier.”

“Oh good,” Dennis said. Cody was one of his regular humiliation targets and he hated to think he would have to scale back paddling the big boy's tail.

“You got the boys nervous, in a good way,” Garrett said. “Been hearin' your name pop up when the boys talk about studyin' in the locker room. Makin' them keep their grades up. Good work.” Dennis nodded.

“Thing is, I was hearin' them talk and it got me thinkin'. Why ain't I never had you up here in my office before?” he asked.

“What do you mean?” Dennis asked.

“Hearin' your name pop up reminded me you've earned yourself a truckload of coach's prizes with those grades of yours. But you ain't never come by to claim one.”

“Uh, well, I ...,” Dennis blushed. This was so odd. He had been thinking and wondering about the coach's prize spankings the last couple of days. And now here he is with the coach asking about it.

“You afraid, boy?” Garrett asked. “You can't be afraid of a spankin' with the frat you're in.”

“No, it's not that.” He squirmed in his seat a little bit. “I don't know. I'm just more of a top guy I guess.”

“Aw, that don't mean nothin'. I've had David in here gettin' 'em. I even had that intense boy, what's his name – Walt. I even had him across my knee.”

Dennis wasn't quite sure how to respond.

“What are you worried about? I know you're worried. I can't think of any other Omega boys who have won a spankin' from me who never claimed it.”

“Well, everybody talks about how much they love them,” Dennis said. “And I was just ... I don't know, I was afraid that I'd be the one guy who doesn't like it. And then I wouldn't fit in the frat any more.”

“Nobody's 100 percent a giver, you know,” Garrett said. “It ain't healthy.”

“What about you?”Dennis asked. Garrett leaned back in his chair and gave a brief grin.

“Like I said, nobody's 100 percent a giver.” Dennis wondered who would be giving Garrett swats. Maybe Coach Cortez of the wrestling team? There were rumors the two of them were some sort of “item.” Dennis always assumed Cortez as the bottom.

“I think we should get this over with,” Garrett said, folding his arms and staring at Dennis. “Get you all squared away to see if you do or don't like it. The boys are gone, nobody's gonna see. If you don't like it, nobody has to know.” The man stood up and took his stool from the corner and dragged it to center of the office. He sat down, a massive man in a tight-fitting white tee and red gym shorts. He cocked his head at Dennis, gesturing him over.

Dennis slowly stood up, his heart thumping in his chest. He felt himself drawn to over to Garrett's masculine magnetism. A part of him still worried that he wouldn't like it, but he was determined to find out.

He walked over to Garrett, and the coach reached out and grabbed him, lifting him up easily and putting him over his lap. Dennis grabbed the stool for support as Garrett positioned him for a spanking. The man then roughly pulled down Dennis's khakis, not bothering to unfasten the belt or unzip the pants. His bare bottom was now up in the air, a position he was not very used to.

“You know what I think it is?” Garrett said. “Boys like you in sports like diving or tennis don't think you got good butts for spanking. You think you're too skinny. Trust me, you do. May not be as big as my boys, but nice and round. I'm gonna enjoy this, and I'm bettin' you will too, so don't be nervous.”

Without another word or waiting for Dennis's response: SMACK! Garrett's meaty paw slapped down across Dennis's right cheek. SMACK! Down on the left. Dennis gasped, just like the first boy Garrett ever gave a coach's prize. The swats stung ... but not to such a degree that he couldn't handle it. The coach went to work, giving Dennis a good hard spanking. Dennis squirmed a little bit, but focused mostly on trying not to overreact to the stinging of his bottom. Then it started to happen. As his cheeks slowly began to grow warm, he started feeling arousal. Each swat hurt, but then left a wonderful warmth when Garrett pulled his hand away. Dennis was developing an erection. He blushed to himself, even though he knew full well this happened to every guy who won a coach's prize. He was camping on Baldwin's Plateau, though he didn't yet know the phrase or what it meant. He found himself moaning and couldn't stop.

In a punishment, it can feel like time stands still and the paddling takes forever. This was the opposite. It felt like only a few minutes had passed, but when Coach Baldwin wrapped up the spanking, Dennis realized nearly a half an hour had passed. He felt light-headed when Coach stopped and helped him back to his feet.

“Wow,” Dennis said finally.

“I usually only do about 15 minutes, but decided to go a little longer with you just so you could be sure whether you like it or not. What's the verdict?”

“That was amazing!” Dennis turned to check out his own ass. It was as red as his hair, but not marked up. It stung, but was pleasantly warm in a way that he didn't want to stop.

“I think you got a good half-dozen of those comin' your way when you like,” Garrett said. “You're gonna lose 'em when you graduate, so make sure to claim 'em when you've got time.”

Dennis nodded, still recovering from what happened. And completely unknown to him, the Corrupter's noose started to tighten. Argus had a way in now.

Next: Siren's Call

Go to the contents page for this series.

◀  Read the in this series.     Read the in this series.  ▶

Show all the stories by Redspkscott
Go to this author's homepage
You can also discuss this story in the New MMSA Forum.

The contents of this story archive may not reflect
the views or opinions of the site owners, who most
certainly DO NOT sanction ANY abuse of children.
copyright © 2005-2018   admin ·AT·
Labelled with