The following story is fiction about an unfortunate youth who racks up an impressive number of whacks to his butt in just one day. The story contains scenes of paddling and strapping. 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 e-mail.
I sensed that it was not going to be a good day the first thing in the morning for not only did not my alarm not sound, but I hadn't any clean clothes to wear because the laundry had not been done because I forgot. If I had noticed last night then I would not have balled everything up and tossed it onto the laundry pile. But better rumpled and ugh than going nude all day. Not that the school would allow that even though we are forbidden swim suits in the pool although the girls may watch us guys but not vice versa.
It was when I got to school after all those cleaver snide comments and scrunched noses on the bus that I remembered that I did have some clean clothes stashed in my gym locker. Since it was before the first period, I had to trek all around the school to near the gym offices to get into the locker room. Anyway, I got in and changed and hot footed it to my first class.
It was important to get there on time because Mr. Borowski was a strict bastard and did not tolerate lateness. That was no longer possible for the bell rang before I had finished changing. I needed to run but I could not because there were teachers in the halls who would have snared me and issued a pink slip. I did not even make it within the three-minute window Mr. Borowski allowed. Actually, that was somewhat of a misnomer because he kept track of those lesser infractions and increased the penalty for the next major one. I was four minutes late. However, it was not Mr. Borowski but Mr. Richards who was there in his stead at the front of the classroom. I just heard the end of the explanation that Mr. Borowski was delayed in a meeting with the Principal and a member of the school board and would be here in a couple of minutes.
Mr. Richards was not amused by the disturbance my late entry made and immediately wrote out a pink slip for tardiness and sent me off to see the VP and, of course, his big, hard, mean paddle. He multitasked for he mumbled a ridiculous mantra about missing the golden words of knowledge generously given by the teacher and the inconsiderateness of disturbing everyone else. Mr. Richards was known as a sadistic asshole and would add insubordination for any backtalk. I went off to the VP's office.
The VP charged for disputing pink slips so unless you won your case which was essentially unheard of. He was brief and to the point just barking as me: "Tardy. That's three pops. Get into position Synder."© YLeeCoyote
I knew what I had to do. I emptied my back pockets and assumed the position over the chair conveniently located right by the window. The VP took his position and quickly let me have it. One! Two! Three! It was quick but they hurt to say the obvious. "Back to class ASAP, Synder."
"Yes, Sir." I stuffed my stuff back into my pockets and headed back to class.
The period was half over by the time I got back. As I entered the room I saw that Mr. Borowski was now lecturing. He did not appreciate my interrupting him and causing him the horrific and arduous extra work of changing his attendance book notation of absent to tardy. He immediately welcomed me with a sarcastic comment worthy of a second grader. I could ignore that since he had used it many time before and nobody thought it was worth hearing again. What I could not ignore was the pink slip he filled out and handled me. There was not anything to do but to take it and my sore ass right back to the VP.
"You again!" was his smart ass greeting even before taking the pink slip. "Tardy again and Mr. Borowski has called for five this time. Very well." He picked up the paddle and pointed at the chair. I tried to explain that this was for the same class but that got me nowhere as the pink slips were from different teachers. Worse he even charged me two pops for his trouble to tell me "No way". I got into position and could not take this longer second round in silence. For the last four I yelped – loudly. The VP chuckled. He advised me to get to classes on time in the future so as to tend to my education.
As I left the office the bell rang so I hurried off to my double-period class – PE. I stopped to wash my face and pee which was a mistake. I was late again have had to encircle the school once again. The coach did not bother with pink slips but had his own implement. When I got there, he yelled at me to change into my gym outfit pronto and join my squad. Of course, you will get your due at the end of the class. Again, I tried to explain why my lateness should be excused. The coach actually responded with a "Zip it, boy!"
At the end of the class, the coach caught up with me as I was leaving the showers with a batch of my classmates. They had been doing two things. Admiring the bright red spots that were the mark of the VP's Best Friend and giving me false sympathy as they enjoyed my misfortune. The coach liked the way things had been done back in the old country and did not use a paddle. Instead he had a heavy tawse. Frankly, both instruments of torture hurt a lot although the two men argued about which was most effective.
As I left the shower, still wet, the coach stopped me. "OK, Synder, get into position." Everyone else jockeyed for a good place to watch. I wished they had just gone back to their lockers and got dressed but they razed me rather than being supportive. The coach stopped the squad captain and handed him the tawse. "Give him four for being tardy and causing your squad to lose today."
"Yes, Coach. It will be a pleasure." the squad leader replied. I'm sure he was grinning and there were some chuckles. Everyone was having a great time – everyone else that is. My already sore butt was not looking forward to this although it was stuck up and shining bright red (thanks to the VP's paddle) in anticipation.
"Let us help." was a cry from the mob along with murmurs of approval. There nothing like the support of your peers. I sighed.
The Captain was up to the leadership post he had. "OK, everyone on the squad gets one shot at the fuckup." The crowd ate it up. He handled the tawse to the first guy who gave me a hard whack. I howled and the crowd laughed. The tawse was passed on and the second guy let me have it. He was not to be outdone by the first and swung just as hard. Of course, I yelped again. This was repeated a couple of times and I started to get up.
The Captain pushed me back into position. "Everyone on the squad gets a shot, fuckup." I got two more raising the count to six. I was just about to burst into tears when the Captain said it was his turn. I jumped up just as he swung and got a grazing shot. That was a terrible thing to do for I was grabbed and held down. The Captain let me have it – extra hard – noting that his first stroke did not count because I moved and it hit my legs rather than my ass. "And for getting up, an extra." he said and fired away. I screamed and bust into tears from the nine whacks.
I dressed with my ass on fire and rushed to my next class. I would die if I was late for I was already sore enough for a week. I did manage to make it to class just as the late bell sounded. Mr. Battomfield was obviously in a bad mood for as I entered he yelled at me even though I just squeaked in with the bell. "Take your seat Synder so that everyone can get to work."
"Yes, Mr. Battomfield." I said, biting my tongue to keep myself from making any remark. I sat down very carefully for the obvious reason that my ass was on fire.
A few minutes later, Mr. Battomfield interrupted the lesson. "Synder – SIT STILL. You're fidgeting like you got ants in your pants." I responded like I had before but it seemed that I really did have ants – fire ants – in my pants. I tried; I really tried to be still but I couldn't. Then the awful thing happened. Mr. Battomfield said: "Synder out into the hall. I'll give you something to fidget about and kill those ants."
I emptied my back pockets and followed Mr. Battomfield into the hall. He summoned the next room's teacher to be his witness and ordered me to lean on the wall. He took a swing with his paddle and I saw stars. I howled. There was laughter from both classrooms. I did the same for the remaining of the three pops and we returned to the classroom. I asked permission to stand at the rear of the classroom but Mr. Battomfield just ordered me to sit down. It was more agonizing than before. I prayed that I could make to the end of the period.
The next period was lunch. I was terribly glad that the morning was over. That I ate standing up should not be a surprise. I attracted a lot of attention; unwanted attention mostly from those wanting both a count and a look see of my worn out butt. I did my best to ignore all that. I'm happy that my friends helped stave off the mob.
What they could not stave off were Resto and his enforcers. I had finished lunch when Resto approached me. "Got that Jackson you own me, Synder?"
I had prepared for this because Resto expects his money on time or he extracts a harsh penalty. I opened my wallet and reached for the twenty I had prepared to pay him. The twenty that I left on my dresser yesterday to be sure that I did not spend it. The twenty that I forgot in my rush this morning to put into my wallet. Yipe! I was in trouble. Resto saw that I did not have it just like I saw. "I forgot it at home. You'll have it tomorrow." I said hoping, "Please…"
"I'm sure you remember tomorrow but now you have to pay the penalty for lateness. Come along now or it will be worse." My friends had backed off. Resto had his two goons right there and they were big, strong and mean. He lead me off to the back stairs and down to the basement. I knew things would get worse if I resisted. Down in the basement, Resto pulled out his belt. "OK, drop 'em and bend over."
Slowly I complied and gripped the railing tightly. One of his goons stuck a rag into my mouth and they both held me. Resto raised his doubled over, thick, heavy wide Garrison belt and brought it down hard on my already super sore ass. I screamed as best as I could with the rag in my mouth. He repeated the action until he gave me six shots. It was agony. They let me up. Better rush to your next class so you don't get a pink slip for tardiness and have to see the VP. I just made it to my next class.
I did not fair so well in the john after the class. I made the mistake of using a urinal rather than a stall and was quickly surrounded. My belt was opened and my jeans yanked down. My boxers quickly followed and I was glad that they have a loose fly rather than a tight one like briefs for they were also unceremoniously yanked down. I must have been quite a sight for there was silence for a minute before the comments on how red, hot and swollen I was. I was left alone immediately and went off to my next class.
By the end of the school day just two periods later I was an infamous celebrity. I got a text that said to follow a specified hash tag. I checked it out. My red, hot and swollen ass was on millions of screens around the world with the hash tag: #28WhacksDay.
© Copyright A.I.L. February 1, 2016
The URL for this page is: https://yleecoyote.asslr.org/MyPersonalWorstRecord.html
Last updated: September 15, 2023