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The following story is fiction about discipline of a high school team after official CP is outlawed.  The story contains scenes of spanking, strapping, paddling and shaving.  If these 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 author would appreciate your comments – pro and con, including constructive criticism, and suggestions.  Please take a moment to email.


Mr. Inspiration Gets the Team to Win

By

YLeeCoyote@juno.com

Coach Roy Grindle sat in his office having succeeded his father, the revered Maxwell Grindle, a few years before as head coach at Southside High School.  He was lovingly fondling the well-worn Mr. Inspiration and thinking about all the butts that it had roasted.  His first encounter with it was the summer before he started high school.  Now, almost thirty years later he couldn't remember what he did that so displeased his father that he got his first roasting from it.  However, there are some things that one never forgets and the first paddling is definitely one of them.  He recalled howling for each and every pop and that couldn't sit properly for days but he was a better boy for it then and a better man for it now.

It was quarter of a century before when the state outlawed paddling of students by the school staff that Mr. Inspiration had to be retired (except to be used on his own butt by his father).  One of his fondest memories was of when Mr. Inspiration was called back from its premature retirement for shortly after, he was wielding it at the naked butts of the big seniors.  That was to be the greatest job he every had.  The power to paddle the big seniors!  He couldn't remember all the time he jerked off with visions of tight jock butts turning bright red as he swung the paddle.  Now the only butt he could hit was Ralph's – his own son.

It was a vivid full color dream as he relived the past.

It had become a tradition at Southside High School and even a source of pride among the varsity team.  But this year the proud and usually victorious Ravens were not preforming up to past standards during the first weeks.  The different was that the Coach Maxwell Grindle's paddle was languishing in the bottom drawer of his desk rather than hanging prominently on the locker room wall as 'reminder' to be good.  Good as in winning and following the rules.

The team had a serious discussion.  Not only weren't they winning, but they were getting more detentions and, perhaps most significantly, did not get the fawning admiration of the other students (especially the beautiful air-head babes) that top jocks craved and expected.  Something had to change to get them back on course.  They asked the coach to resume using the dreaded Mr. Inspiration once again.© YLeeCoyote

"Sorry, men," Coach Maxwell Grindle replied, "as much as you need it and I would like to, it's against the law."  Two days later he made a suggestion to the team.  "I can't use the paddle but someone else can.  You can elect a Team Disciplinarian to keep you in line."  The team discussed the matter and voted for it unanimously.  The problem was who to get for the job.  It had to be someone from their community which meant a fellow student.  They did not want a classmate so that meant a lowerclassman.  Of course, it had to be someone that understood the culture and had the muscles to wield Mr. Inspiration properly.  It was fortuitous that the perfect candidate came through the locker room right then Roy Grindle – the coach's son.  They huddled and quickly agreed to offer him the position.

"Yea.  I'll take the job and bust your sorry butts.  It will be a fun job." Roy responded gleefully.  Mr. Inspiration was immediately retrieved from its dark cave and handed to the young Grindle.  Everyone signed the agreement.  The team members were not prepared for what came next.  Roy jumped up on a bench and addressed the team.  "Guys your performance of late has been shitty if not worse to say the least.  It has to improve or you won't be able to sit."  He then called out three of the players by name for particularly egregious performance on the field of honor.  "Hardnick, Muskrat, Stockfisk and Captain Ponton will be getting six pops right now and the rest of you goof-offs three each for generally sloppy performance."

There was a general gasp from the team.  They had created a monster (who sounded and acted exactly as like his father) but none of them would dare chicken out.  "I'll start with the captain and the rest of you line up.  When your turn comes, drop your pants and panties and assume the position."

Roy took up his own position where the coaches over the years had stood and where he, himself, was paddled just a couple of weeks before by his own father who used Mr. Inspiration.  Anxiously, he tapped his palm with the paddle as the captain dropped his jeans and briefs and bent over.  Roy raised the paddle and brought it down hard.  He knew that he had a lot of pops to deliver and he would have to temper his swing to conserve his strength for the long haul but he hoped to get the captain to yell.  Well, his hopes were not realized although the captain certainly sucked in a lot of air to suppress it and his knuckles turned white gripping the bench.  The other five pops were hard but not so extreme but still left the captain's butt delightfully cherry red.

"Next." he cried and the process was repeated for the three named fuckups with similar results.  Then it was on to the remaining team members with three pops each.  Their tails were just turned delightfully red.  Incidentally, Roy hoped that the team members would be so busy rubbing their hot butts that they would not notice that his own jeans seemed to have shrink.  «Yes this was going to be a great job.» he thought.

"OK guys.  That was just a little sample of what Mr. Inspiration can do.  I expect that you will do a lot better next week."  There were several shouts promising that they would.  "We shall see." replied Roy smiling and playing with the paddle, "We shall see whether or not you'll have another discussion with Mr. Inspiration."

After Roy left, the team members discussed how hot their butts were and that Roy could hit almost as hard as his father.  They were well motivated to do more than their best out on the field as sore butts were not any fun.  A couple of them thought that they might have created a monster but there was not anyway to break the deal without seeming like sissy wimps, definitely not an option for macho varsity jocks.

Roy attended every practice session for the next couple of weeks.  After each one, when the team was finishing their showers, he would call out a few names.  Slacking was the most frequent offense although improper plays (that would be fouls in a game) or rule violations were also noted.  Within a week, the number of guys getting pops was down although the average number of pops per guy increased.  The team was very well motivated to play both hard and correctly.  They still lost the next game although the spread was less than the three previous games.  Nevertheless, Roy decided that a reminder was necessary and every team member got three pops and those who had made errors got six pops.

By the end of the season, several things had happened.  The team was doing much better thanks to the frequent discussions with Mr. Inspiration than before the new protocol.  They still did not win the league championship but at least they were in the top third.  The team knew that they had made the right decision.  They also voted that Roy should also get a 'letter' for his efforts.  That confirmed the rumors about Roy paddling the big jocks that had been circulating in the school.

* * * * * * * * * *

The next season the team voted to continue to have a Team Disciplinarian and again Roy got the job.  He wisely decided that he should have an assistant who could take over the next year (as he would be an upperclass man then).  He reminded them that because he was the son of the coach, he knew about team culture and he could train the assistant.  After a few weeks, Kip, the assistant, was qualified to deal with the team most of the time.  In fact he was often stricter than his mentor and swung the paddle harder.

Kip also introduced the belt into the action.  After one particularly disastrous practice there were several players well deserving of several pops.  Both Kip and Roy were in a hurry, and to speed things up Kip took off his heavy garrison belt.  So as Roy paddled some of the chosen, Kip strapped the others.  They were called from the showers and side by side they assumed the position leaning on a bench mooning their team mates still in the shower room.  It was an interesting chorus as the thud of paddle and whack of the belt echoed through the locker room with accents from the selected ones.

There was disagreement over which implement hurt more but nobody wanted to do a proper test.  It was agreed that they both were unpleasant and to be avoided.

The results of this early return to the old ways was that the team did very well being conquering in three out of four games at the start of the season.  The team was quite pleased with themselves.

There was always a little trepidation in the showers after practice for that was when Kip would call out those who had earned some pops.  It was different this Monday.  Over the weekend, he had encountered Norris out past his curfew at the local movie house.  He quickly issued an order: "It is past your curfew and you are to return home immediately.  Your date may do as she pleases including having you take her home, letting me escort her home or whatever.  We'll discuss this further after practice on Monday."  The eighteen-year-old senior blushed in embarrassment as his date smiled at the audacity of the young freshman giving him orders.  Brandi chose to stay with Kip to learn more about him while Norris scampered home with his tail between his legs.

By practice time, thanks to Brandi telling everything to all her friends, everyone in school knew what had happened.  Kip had greatly enhanced status and Norris was worried about what would happen.  He was hoping that he would not get too many pops or cuts and certainly expected to recover in time for the weekend game.  The rest of the team was also wondering.

Well, the time came and, just as expected, Norris was called out for his punishment.  Both Ray and Kip gave it to him.  Ray started with a hard paddle whack and Kip followed with a hard cut of the belt.  After both disciplinarians had delivered six shots Norris' butt was a painful hot red mess.  It was only then that the special punishment was given.  "Norris, stand, face your teammates and put your hands behind your back."  was the order from Ray.

"You have betrayed your teammates," said Kip, "for that you get a special punishment."  With that he turned on the clippers and quickly sheared the offender's pubes off.  "Now you won't think about showing off your junk to the ladies and will get to bed on time."

There were gasps all around but no one said anything.  They all wanted to win the league championship.  With that special extra drive thanks to the Team Disciplinarian they did exactly that.

* * * * * * * * * *

His reminiscing was interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Dad, I need Mr. Inspiration." said Ralph holding out his hand.  "It's time to give team a taste so that they know what's in store when they fuck up."  The coach handed over the paddle.  "Pop, you started the greatest tradition.  I know I'm going to love this job."

"I sure did.  And do a good job, son.  I want to win that league championship again."

"Right, coach." said Ralph as he eagerly headed to assembled team with his eyes sparkling and Mr. Inspiration tightly in his grip.  It was time for him to roast some butt for the first time.

The End

© Copyright A.I.L. October 25, 2013

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