Here’s the second story that I promised, originally posted on alt.sex.spanking on January 6, 1995.

Unlike some of my other stories, this one was actually based on real-life events…to a certain degree at least. It was written just after the 1995 Rose Parade, which I had attended with several friends from high school.

One of my friends, who was basically the organizer of the event, was there with his then-girlfriend/future-fiance. She was something of a spoiled brat, but not the fun type that I made Debbie out to be.

Some of the events in the story come straight from her actions that day, though the final straw in the real event was her playing touch football in the street with a group of drunk guys (that none of us knew) that night. My friend had been growing more and more tired of her actions all day, and that was the end. He basically took her inside after that to talk, and while my fantasy was that he’d soundly spank her for her behavior, he didn’t and they spent the rest of the night inside arguing. The next morning, they were somewhat made-up, but it was still tense.

I think a spanking would have done her a world of good, but that’s just me.

In any event, their subsequent engagement didn’t last long (I think he found out she was cheating on him), which was good for him in the long run since he’s now married to a wonderful woman who does have a fun streak of mischievousness, as opposed to the outright brattiness of his former girlfriend.

And no, I don’t have red hair.

Enjoy!

———————————-

Marc and Debbie at the Rose Parade
by
Chris

Marc and Debbie were hopelessly in love. They had started dating during high school and their romance had endured into their second year of college at UC Berkeley, where Debbie studied Architecture and Marc studied Business. Marc was 6’2 with curly blond hair, while Debbie was 5’8 with short blond hair. Both worked out at a local gym and looked the couple. However, Marc and Debbie were distinctly different personalities. Marc was calm, logical, seldom doing anything on impulse. His father had been a US Marine, and Marc had inherited many of his traits. Debbie, on the other hand, was a whirlwind of energy. She was always acting impulsively, and on many occasions, got in trouble, which is what had attracted Marc in the first place. Marc enjoyed having girlfriend who was a foil to his on logical self. But he also often became exasperated with Debbie’s hijinks, like the time she had locked him out of his car in the middle of a rainstorm, laughing at him from the other side of the window. When she had finally let him in 5 minutes later, Marc was thoroughly soaked and thoroughly pissed. He hadn’t talked to her the whole way home. Later that evening, with tears in her eyes, Debbie had apologized profusely and begged Marc not to be mad at her. Marc had accepted her apology, but had promised her that the next time, she would not get off so easily

Because of their busy schedules (Marc also worked part-time in the bookstore), the couple tried to spend as much time together as possible, especially during breaks. Both were Bay Area natives, and shared an apartment near campus. As a result, they were able to go to their parents homes for Christmas, but still return to each other after the holiday.

Marc and Debbie were snuggling on the couch watching All of Me when the telephone rang. Debbie reached over and picked up the handset.

“Hello. Hey Chris!” Chris was an old friend of Marc and Debbie’s who had gone to USC after graduating from Fremont Preparatory with them. He now had a small house in Pasadena which he shared with his girlfriend and another couple from USC.

Debbie listened for a couple of minutes, and then cupped her hand over the receiver. “Marc, Chris wants to know if we want to come down to his place for New Years, to watch the Rose Parade.”

Marc thought for a minute. “Sure, why not. Want to?”

“Sounds good to me.” Debbie lifted her hand from the receiver. “All right Chris. We’ll be there. When?” Debbie looked at Marc, who mouthed Saturday. “We’ll be there Saturday, Chris. Hmm? Ok, just a minute.” Debbie picked up a pencil and paper and wrote the directions to Chris’ house. “OK, see you then, Chris.”

On Friday morning, Marc and Debbie packed their bags and sleeping bags into Debbie’s ’91 Bronco. Marc climbed behind the wheel, and they were off for Pasadena.

Late that evening, a very tired Marc and Debbie pulled into Chris’ driveway on Sierra Madre Blvd. Chris, a tall redhead, came out the front door to welcome his two old friends.

“Debbie! Marc! Good to see you. Have a nice trip.”

“Nine hours in a car with him,” laughed Debbie as she hugged Chris. “Sure great fun.”

“Oh, hush up,” said Marc and swatted his girlfriend on her jean-clad rear. Debbie gave Marc a pout, but her eyes twinkled.

Well, I see you two are playful as ever,” said Chris. “Come on, let’s get you guys set up inside. I’m sure your ready for some rest.”

Chris led the couple into his house and directed them to the den, where he had laid out a futon for them to sleep on. Marc and Debbie immediately got ready for bed, and after a bit of fun, fell asleep.

The next morning after they had awaken at the ungodly hour of 11 AM, Chris announced to his two friends that he was having a small New Year’s party that evening. Because the First was on a Sunday this year, the Parade wouldn’t be until the Second, so everybody could ring in 1995 without having to worry about saving parade seats. And, Chris had already laid out a spot in the center boulevard for the group. They would go out early Sunday morning and wait until the Pasadena Police allowed them to set up camp at noon.

That evening, several of Chris, Marlene (his girlfriend), Tom, and Sheryl’s (his housemates) friends showed up for the party. And a wild party it was. By the end of the evening, everybody except Marc, who only had a couple of beers, was stone cold drunk. Even Debbie, much to Marc’s chagrin, imbibed in the liquid celebration to excess and passed out on the living room couch..

The following morning, Marc awoke around 7, dressed, and walked out to the center of Sierra Madre Blvd. to save the group’s seats. No one else in the house was in much of a condition to wake that early, leaving Marc by himself, and slightly annoyed. He had hoped that Debbie would come out with him to keep him company, but when he had tried to wake her, she had simply mumbled and fallen back asleep.

Around 10, after Marc had been talking to the family from Houston camping next to his group for an hour, Debbie came out of the house and crossed the street. She hugged her boyfriend. “Morning, honey.”

“Well, look who finally woke up.” said Marc.

“Shhh. Not so loud.”

“A little hung over, dear? You shouldn’t have had so much last night.” said Marc with a slight frown. With an ex-alcoholic uncle, Marc was a bit intolerant of people who over drank, including his girlfriend.

“Don’t get in a huff, Marc. I just had a few drinks. No harm done.”

Marc shook his head and dismissed the subject, not wanting to get into an argument here in the middle of the crowd.

Shortly after, the police stopped asking people to not set up their camps, so Marc went to the house to get the gear. Chris and most of the others had waken, and with their help, the camp in the middle of the boulevard was set up in a few minutes.

As the group sat in the grassy strip watching the cars and trading stories from high school and college, the day moved on. After a couple of hours, Chris, Marlene, and Sheryl returned to the house to get food for lunch, leaving Tom, Marc, and Debbie to watch the spot. Debbie, who was growing bored, picked up the bag of marshmallows that Chris had brought to roast that evening. She opened the bag and began throwing marshmallows at passing cars. Marc was just about to say something when Debbie turned and started pelting the group next to them with marshmallows. The group, composed of high school students, responded in kind, and soon the Marshmallow War was in progress.

“Debbie!,” hissed Marc, “stop it! Your embarrassing us.”

Debbie looked at her boyfriend and said with a smile, “Lighten up and have some fun, hon.” But, she put down the marshmallows, which were fairly well exhausted, anyway, and resumed watching passing cars. With their opponent no longer attacking, the high school kids in the next spot stopped their attacks and resumed the football game they had been playing.

Chris and the others returned with the lunch food, and everybody ate their sandwiches. Afterward, the respective couples paired off. Marc and Debbie sat on a sleeping bag cuddling, until Debbie turned and pinned Marc to the bag and started tickling him. Marc was incredibly ticklish on his sides, which Debbie knew, and he was soon rolling defenseless, laughing and crying at the same time. Finally, Marc begged Debbie to stop, but she continued to tickle.

“Debbie!” said Marc between gasps, with tears streaming down his cheeks, “Stop! I can’t breathe.” Debbie finally stopped and rolled off her boyfriend, who lay panting. “You don’t know when to stop, do you? asked Marc.”

“I’m sorry, babe. I guess I just got carried away.” Debbie leaned over and kissed her boyfriend on the forehead. “Catch me.”

Debbie jumped up and ran across the spot. While looking back at Marc, who still lay panting on the ground, Debbie caught her toe on the edge of the tarp spread out on the ground and pitched forward into the barbecue Chris had set up, toppling it and spilling charcoal into Sheryl’s lap and onto the ground. Marc jumped up and went to his girlfriend, who lay sprawled on top of the barbecue.

“Are you OK, Deb?” Marc asked, with genuine concern.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Oh Sheryl! Oh my God, I’m so sorry!” blurted Debbie when she saw her sitting their with a pile of charcoal in her lap.

“Don’t worry about it Deb,” said Sheryl, scooping the charcoal off her lap and back into the barbecue which Tom had set back upright. She stood and brushed the dust off her shirt and pants. “But, I’m going to go put on a clean shirt.” Sheryl’s white T-shirt was black with charcoal. As Sheryl walked to the house, Marc knelt and began scooping charcoal back into the barbecue.

“Debbie, your lucky that we didn’t have a fire lit. Otherwise, we’d be calling an ambulance right now.” Debbie bowed her head in shame at her boyfriend’s rebuke and turned away, sitting down and sobbing softly.

Marc walked over to his sobbing girlfriend and knelt down next to her, putting his arm around her shoulder. “Come on, babe. It’s OK. Just calm down, OK?” Debbie looked up and Marc and said, “OK, hon. I’m going to take a little walk.” With that, Debbie stood up and walked off down the grassy strip.

An hour later, as the sun began to set, Marc sat wondering when Debbie would return. He hadn’t thought she’d be this long. Suddenly, he heard a familiar voice from his side.

“Hey Marc!”

Marc turned to look at his girlfriend, and as a result, received a face full of Silly String. The green foam covered his face, and Marc sputtered “What the…” as he reached up to wipe his face. As he wiped away the Silly String, he saw Debbie standing 5 feet away aiming the can at him. She then turned and took aim at Chris, who was standing with his back to the street. But Chris had seen Marc ambushed, and ducked down as Debbie sprayed the Silly String.

However the string still found a target. Instead of hitting Chris, it hit the face of an LA County Deputy Sheriff who was walking along the street with his partner, a female Pasadena Police Officer. When Debbie saw who she had hit with the Silly String, she dropped the can and covered her mouth with both hands. Marc looked at his Debbie, who was incredibly embarrassed, and yet trying to keep from laughing, and then at the Deputy. The Deputy turned and looked at the group, and the young girl who had sprayed him.

Marc stepped forward and said, “Sir, I’m very sorry about this. She was trying to spray our friend and…”

The Deputy raised his hand, wiping away the Silly String. “Don’t worry about it. It’s better than some of the stuff we get thrown at us. But Ma’am, please be more careful about who you spray that at.” Debbie nodded quickly, and the Deputy continued walking with his now laughing partner

Marc turned and walked to Debbie. He put his hand on her shoulder and said, “Come on Deb. We have to have a little talk. With that, Marc strode across the street to Chris’ house, stopping to get the keys from Chris, with his girlfriend following close behind

When they reached the house, Marc opened the door and stepped aside to let Debbie in. Marc closed the door and turned to face his red-faced girlfriend.

“What the Hell is the matter with you, Debbie? You’ve been acting like a child all day. You start a marshmallow fight, you nearly asphyxiate me, you dump a barbecue in Sheryl’s lap, and you spray a Sheriff with Silly String. What are you thinking?”

“I don’t know,” said Debbie softly, her eyes downcast. “I was just trying to have some fun, and I guess I got carried away. I’m sorry, hon.”

“Don’t you ‘hon’ me. Carried away?!? That’s a bit of an understatement. You’ve been acting like a spoiled brat!”

“I said I was sorry,” said Debbie. “What more do you want me to say?”

“I don’t want you to say anything. Remember what I told you when you locked me out of the car in the rain?”

“You didn’t say much. You were pretty steamed.”

“I’m not joking, Debbie. What did I tell you?” said Marc with a scowl.

“You said I wouldn’t get off that easy next time.” said Debbie, her face beet red.

“That’s right. I think it’s high time you learned a lesson. I think you need a good spanking for acting like such a little brat.”

Debbie looked at Marc, here eyes wide. “What?!? Please Marc! Please don’t spank me. I promise, I’ll be good from now on. I said I was sorry.”

Marc looked into his girlfriends eyes. “That’s not good enough, Deb. Either you take your punishment like a big girl, or you’re going to stay here in the house until we leave. I won’t have you embarrassing me, or Chris, or Tom, or Sheryl again. Well, what’s it going to be?”

Debbie scowled at Marc, but withered under his gaze and dropped her eyes. In a whisper, she said, “Your right, Marc. I have been acting like a brat. I’m sorry. I deserve to be spanked for embarrassing you and the others.”

“OK, then.” Marc stepped to Debbie and embraced her. “This is for your own good. You going to get into serious trouble one of the days if you don’t learn to control yourself.

“I know honey. Let’s get this over with.”

Marc took Debbie by the wrist and led her to the couch. Marc sat down on the edge and looked up at Debbie.

“All right, Deb. Take your jeans down.” Debbie slowly unfastened her button and zipper, and wiggled out of the tight denim. She was now standing next to her boyfriend wearing only a pair of tight white briefs, with small rosebuds on them.

“You know what to do, Deb.” Debbie nodded, and kneeled next to Marc, laying forward across his lap. Marc looked down at Debbie’s butt presented to him in the tight panties. He had fantasized about seeing her in this position, but had always been afraid to bring up his fantasies with her. But this wasn’t about a fantasy, this was to teach Debbie a lesson. Still, it was strangely arousing to see his girlfriend’s ass ready to be spanked.

Marc took hold of the waistband on Debbie’s panties and slowly pulled them down, until they rested in the middle of her thighs. Debbie’s butt was tan and smooth. He had given her a tanning table for Christmas the year before, and Debbie tanned in the nude to get that all over tan. Marc laid his hand on her bottom and caressed it lightly.

“Ready?”

“Uh huh.” said Debbie, here voice shaky.

WHACK!! Marc brought his open palm down onto Debbie’s bottom. Debbie yelped slightly. She had not been spanked since her father had caught her and a girlfriend smoking in the sixth grade. And her father hadn’t spanked nearly as hard as Marc now was. Debbie began to regret having such an athletic boyfriend.

WHACK!! Marc brought his hand down again. WHACK!! And again. WHACK!! And again. Debbie twisted and moaned under Marc’s onslaught of spanks. She could feel the fiery sting each time he brought his hand down. Marc’s hands were calloused and tough from moving boxes in the bookstore, and Debbie knew he wouldn’t tire until she had learned her lesson.

Marc continued to spank Debbie at a steady pace, watching her butt bounce under the impact of his hand. As he rained down spank after spank, Debbie’s cheeks began to redden. Marc could feel himself harden at the sight of Debbie’s rapidly reddening butt, but tried to force aside the thoughts he was having.

After five minutes of the spanking, Debbie began to beg for Marc to stop, saying she was sorry, that she’d never act like a brat again.

After ten minutes, Debbie had stopped begging and was crying profusely. Her rump was now a bright shade of red, and Marc’s spanks were not lessening in intensity. And yet, she could feel herself becoming aroused. The fire in her butt was somehow transferring to a tingling between her legs. She desperately wanted Marc to stop slapping her ass, and yet, she didn’t.

After fifteen minutes of hard spanking, Marc stopped. Debbie lay crying on her boyfriend’s lap. Marc looked down at Debbie’s now bright-red bottom. Marc reached down and started rubbing her butt lightly.

“Oh Marc, I’m sooo sorry. I’ll never be such a brat again.” said Debbie, with tears in her eyes.

“I know babe. But we’re not done yet.”

“Oh God, Marc. What else?” sobbed Debbie.

“I have to make absolutely sure you learned your lesson. Stand up, Deb.”

Debbie slowly, painfully stood up from Marc’s lap. Marc also stood and motioned to the back of the couch. “Deb, go lean over the back of the couch. I’ll be back in a minute.” With that, Marc left the room.

Debbie slowly walked to the back of the couch. She had a pretty good idea about what was going to happen next, but didn’t want to think about it. Her butt had never been so sore. Her father had rarely spanked her, even though she had often deserved it, and he had always been fairly gentle. Debbie leaned over the back of the couch and waited for Marc to return. She was surprised at how she felt towards him right now. She expected herself to be angry, and yet, she felt extreme love for him instead.

A moment later, Marc returned, carrying Chris’ fraternity paddle. Chris had rushed Zeta Beta Tau, ZBT, his first semester, and still had his paddle hanging on the wall, which Marc had noticed the night before. Debbie moaned when she saw Marc carrying the heavy paddle.

“Oh, Marc! Please, please don’t paddle me too hard. I’ll be good, I promise. I’m really sorry.”

“I know, Debbie. This is just to make sure. I think 5 whacks will be enough, don’t you?”

“Yes, Marc.” said Debbie, softly. She didn’t want to think about what the paddling would feel like, especially after the spanking she had just received. Debbie could imagine her buns feeling like she had sat on a hot stove.

Marc stepped up next to his girlfriend. He immediately brought the paddle back and let it fly against Debbie’s raised bottom.

“OWWW!!”

Marc brought the paddle down again, not giving Debbie a chance to think about it too much. Debbie yelped again. And again as he brought the paddle down the third time. And the fourth time, and the fifth time.

When the paddling was done, Marc set the paddle aside and helped his sobbing girlfriend to her feet. He turned her towards him and wrapped his arms around her. Marc held Debbie as she sobbed. After a couple of minutes, he lifted her head and kissed her.

“Do you want to rest in here for awhile?”

“No,” she said, “I think I should go apologize to Chris, Sheryl, Marlene, and Tom.” Debbie glanced ruefully at her jeans, which lay on the coffee table. “But there’s no way I’m getting those jeans on right now.” she said, with a small grin.

The next day, Debbie enjoyed the parade, lying on her stomach on her sleeping bag.

The End

This was the first spanking story I ever wrote. It was posted on alt.sex.spanking on December 16, 1994 during my sophomore year of college, shortly after I delurked on the newsgroup. At the time, I actually was an assistant football coach at my high school, which is what led to my eventual nickname of Coach Chris on a.s.s. (I only coached that year and the following year).

The story isn’t based on any particular facts or specific people, but in my mind, its set at my high school, which was not a Catholic school but was a private co-ed school. I believe I came up with this fantasy during a lackluster game that year, considering the possibilities of a bratty cheerleader getting herself in trouble. However, as I mentioned in my original intro on a.s.s., my team won the league championship that year.

There’s one last thing I should point out. This story was written well before I ever played for the first time in real life (aside from one brief single-swat experience in high school), so the spanking part was purely from fantasy and if any of it seems unrealistic to you, chalk it up to inexperience.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy.

—————————–

A Spanking at St. Catherine’s
by
Chris

“Touchdown Harrison. The score is now Harrison 29, St. Catherine’s 25, with 13 seconds remaining.”

Dave Grant watched as the Harrison running-back accepted the adulation of his team mates and the cheer of the crowd. The 27 year old St. Catherine’s coach thought, “Well, there goes our chance for a league championship. Again.” 13 seconds wasn’t enough time to score another TD, short of a miracle. And when Johnnie Daniels fumbled the ball on the kickoff return, right into the hands of a Harrison defender, the whole team knew that the William H. Harrison Patriots would be the league champs.

5…4…3…2…1

As the quarter buzzer sounded and the Harrison fans began to cheer in earnest, the dejected St. Catherine’s Tigers jogged off the field to the team room for the traditional post-game talk.

Later, as he leaned against the gym, Dave thought back to the game. The guys had played a heck of a game. Harrison was the number one school in the area, and their running back was reportedly being recruited by USC, Notre Dame, and Michigan. But it still hurt to lose, especially such a key game.

Nearly everybody had left the school. The Harrison bus was just pulling away across the street. The other coaches had already retired up the street to The Cue Ball, the local bar, where they were drowning their sorrows of another season without a championship. A couple of players walked past Dave with remarks of “See you Monday, Coach.” Dave patted them on the shoulders and mouthed the usual “Good game, fellows.”.

A couple of minutes later, as he was getting ready to go up the street and join the other coaches for a brew, Dave heard voices from around the corner of the gym.

“I don’t know why we even cheer for those guys. I mean, this is the fourth year in a row that they’ve lost to Harrison.” Dave recognized the voice as belonging to Danielle Roberts, a senior, captain of the cheerleading team, and one of the girls in his 6th period gym class. Danielle, along with several other students, was also one of Dave’s mentor group. Every teacher at St. Catherine’s had a group of students whom they “mentored”. Danielle and Dave had always had a good relationship, mainly because Danielle’s older brother, William, had been a classmate of Dave’s.

“C’mon Danielle. They put a lot of time into football. Its important to them. The least we can do is support them. And Harrison’s a tough team”, said Melody Rodriguez, one of the other cheerleaders.

“Mel, be serious. They aren’t that good. I bet we could have won if the guys had really wanted to. Or if the coaches had wanted to. Maybe we should hire Harrison’s coaches. I mean, look at all the bonehead plays they called. And all the dumb things the guys did. Like Johnnie. What a dumb move, dropping that ba… Oh, uh, hi Johnnie.”

Dave had been stepping around the corner to say something to Danielle, and saw Johnnie Daniels coming out of the locker room just as Danielle put her foot in her mouth. Danielle glanced at Johnnie, Dave, and her friends with a worried look on her face, and then hung her head shamefully. Johnnie, who was obviously upset about the game, tried to maintain some composure as he walked past the cheerleaders, but the hurt expression on his face was obvious to all. As he walked past Dave with a mumbled “Later Coach.”, Dave turned and put his arm around Johnnie’s shoulder. “Hey Johnnie, don’t be too hard on yourself. Aside from that fumble, you had a great game. You can’t be perfect every day. Go home and get some rest.” Johnnie said, “OK, Coach.”, and resumed walking.

Dave then turned and walked towards the group of cheerleaders. “Melody, Tonya, would you please leave. I’d like to have a word with Danielle.”

“OK, Mr. Grant.”, said Tonya.

“See you girls Monday.” After the other girls had left, Dave turned to Danielle.

“Danielle! You ought to be ashamed of yourself! That was extremely callous and unprovoked. What the heck (Dave wanted to use a harsher word, but this was a parochial school) were you thinking?”

“Uh, Dave (Dave let his mentor group call him by his first name), I mean, I, uh, wouldn’t have said anything if I had known he was there. But its true! That was a dumb move.”

Dave stared icily at Danielle. “Miss Roberts, that attitude is completely unbecoming in a member of this team’s cheerleading squad. Johnnie did not deliberately fumble that ball. I think you owe Johnnie a major apology. In fact, I expect to have a written apology letter on my desk Monday morning. I will see you then.”

As Dave started to turn to leave, Danielle said “But, Dave, I thought you were coming over for dinner tomorrow night. Will’s going to be home, and he wanted to see you.”

“No, Miss Roberts, I won’t be coming over. Tell Will I’ll call him.”

“Dave. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get you so upset. I mean, what can I do to make it up?”

“Danielle, you were extremely rude and insensitive to a member of this team, to one of my players. And you insulted the coaches, including me. Did you think about that?” Dave asked. At that, Danielle blushed bright red and dropped her eyes to the ground, realizing that Dave had overheard her remark about the coaching staff.

“Dave, I’m really really sorry. I didn’t mean it. I, uh, I was acting stupid. I didn’t mean to insult you. You’re my friend.”

“You’re right you were. That was incredibly stupid. And no, Danielle, I’m not your friend. I’m your teacher.”

With that, Danielle started crying. “Please Dave, don’t be mad. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I acted like such a brat. Can’t you please forgive me. I know I was stupid. I just didn’t think. Please don’t be mad.”

Dave looked at the sobbing cheerleader standing in front of him. “Danielle, I don’t think I can forgive you right now. You’re right, you did act like a brat. I think you’d better go home now.”

“Please Dave. I’ll do anything to make it up to you. I’m very very sorry.”

“What are you going to do Danielle. You can’t take back words you’ve already said. I think you’d better just think about what you’ve done, because I can’t think of any way for you to make this up, to me, or to Johnnie.”

“Well, uh, Dave, you, uh, you could punish me.”

Dave, who had been turning to leave, snapped his head back around at Danielle at this. “God,” he thought, “what does she mean by that?”

“Uh, Danielle, what was that?”

“Dave, you could, uh, you could sp-sp-spank me. Would that make things better?”

Dave’s head was swimming. Did this girl really just offer to let him spank her?

“Look, Danielle, I don’t know. I mean, you probably deserve a good spanking for what you said, but I don’t think it would be right for me to give it to you.”

“Please, Dave. I just want to make things OK. I was dumb, I was a brat. If a spanking from you will make things OK, then that’s what I want. I don’t want you to be mad at me. Please Dave.”

Danielle was crying again. Dave could see that she was desperately sorry.

“OK, Danielle, come with me.”

Dave walked into the coaches offices next to the gym. He glanced around to make sure no one else was in the building, but everybody had already left the school. Danielle came in, shutting the door behind her.

“Danielle, are you absolutely sure this is what you want?”

No, Dave, I don’t want a spanking. But if that’s what it takes to make you forgive me, then its OK with me.”

“OK, Danielle, but this isn’t a game. I’m going to spank you, and I’m going to spank you hard. And it will be over when I say its over. Understood?”

“Ye-Yes, Dave, uh, Mr. Grant.”

“OK, Danielle, take your panties off.” Danielle reached up under her short cheerleading uniform and slid the uniform panties down. Dave pulled his desk chair out from his desk and sat down. He opened the desk drawer and removed a wooden ruler, setting it on his desk. Danielle’s eyes widened at seeing the ruler, and she let out a small gasp. Dave turned the chair and pushed away from the desk.

“OK, Danielle. Lay across my lap.” Danielle said “Yes, Mr. Grant.” and knelt next to the chair, bending across Dave’s lap. After she had pulled herself into positing, Dave reached down and flipped up her short skirt, exposing her firm ass. Dave had caught a glimpse or two of her tight, panty-clad butt a few times during her practices. He always felt guilty looking at a student that way, but he had to admit that it was rather nice. But this was neither the time nor place for that.

Dave raised his arm, and brought his palm down hard on Danielle’s upturned cheeks, right across both of them. He felt her ass bounce slightly under the impact, and Danielle let out a small breath. Dave brought his hand down again, this time connecting with Danielle’s right cheek, then again on her left. He continued in this fashion, alternating between right, left and both, and moving up and down her ass, from the top down to where her cheeks met her thighs.

WHACK WHACK WHACK WHACK WHACK.

Dave brought his hand down again and again across the naughty cheerleader’s bottom. Danielle was beginning to mutter “Owww.” and “Ohhh.” with each slap, and she was beginning to squirm as well. After about 10 minutes of this, her ass was bright red.

“All right, Danielle. You can get up, but we’re not done yet.” As she got to her feet shakily, Dave turned the chair and picked up the ruler. Again, Danielle’s eyes widened.

“Please, Dave, don’t spank me with that ruler. You can keep spanking me, but don’t use that.”

“No Danielle, you will be spanked with the ruler. No arguments. Now, go over to the wall. Lean forward, place your hands against it, and spread your legs. After Danielle had complied and was in position, Dave stood and walked over to her.

Danielle, I want you to tell me how many times you should be spanked with the ruler. And I want you to be honest. Think about how you hurt Johnnie, and how you insulted me.”

After a moment of silence, Danielle meekly said, “20 times, Mr. Grant. I was very bad to both Johnnie and you.”

“OK, Danielle. Let’s get this over with.” Dave raised her skirt, again exposing her now reddened ass and stepped to Danielle’s side, bringing the heavy wooden ruler back.

CRACK!
“OWWW!”
CRACK!
“OUCH!!”
CRACK

Dave brought the ruler across Danielle’s bottom again and again. By the fifteenth stroke, Danielle was sobbing. As Dave brought the ruler down the final time, Danielle was fully crying, both from the pain and from her guilt. Dave took her by the shoulders and stood her up. Danielle threw her arms around Dave and said “I’m so sorry. I was awful. I never should have said those things I did. Do you forgive me?”

“Yes, Danielle, I think we can put this, uh, behind us now. But, I still expect that apology to Johnnie. OK?”

“OK, Dave.”, said Danielle.

“Uh, Danielle, just one question. How long has it been since your were last spanked?”

Danielle looked at Dave and said, “I’d never been spanked before, Dave. That was the first time.”

The End

I’m not what you’d call a prolific story writer. In fact, I’m quite the opposite of my wife, who write so much she has an entire blog dedicate to publishing her new stories and republishing her old ones. Its even organized by year, going all the way back to 1996.

I, on the other hand, have probably written about a half dozen spanking stories in my life, and all during the years I was active on the alt.sex.spanking newsgroup. Story writing was pretty much an integral part of the a.s.s. community. Most everyone wrote at least a couple at one time or another, and it didn’t matter if you were a mediocre writer or the next Pulitzer Prize winner. Sharing stories was as much a part of being active in that group as anything else.

Unfortunately, most of my stories have disappeared in the two moves and five computers since the mid-90s. I know I have a backup disc (or possibly an Iomega Zip disk) floating around here somewhere with those lost stories on it, but its doing a good job of hiding, along with at least a dozen unmatched socks.

All is not lost, however. I did a Google search of the newsgroup archives today, and found not one, but two of the stories I wrote. Not only that, but they happen to be the first and second stories I ever wrote, and two of my particular favorites. So, I downloaded them, did a bit of reformatting and editing (I apparently didn’t have a spell checker back then) and they’re now being reviewed by my Editor-in-Chief…the one who’s probably written one story for every word in these two.

So, in the next couple of days, I’m going to post these to resurrect a bit of my past, when I was a sowing my creative oats and still working out the fantasies I had. I won’t claim either is “good literature”, but I rather like them and hopefully you will too.