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The following story is fiction, but it is based on fact.  It depicts the utter humiliation of one high school jock – and while lots of things can embarrass you in high school getting paddled was about the most embarrassing thing that could happen.  Back not that many yeas ago, a lot of kids got pretty embarrassed.  In fact, as I grew up, lots of kids got paddled in my high school, including me.  While I made this story up, what happens here happened to more than one teenager, maybe not exactly like this, but close enough that it doesn't matter.  One thing is for sure, stuff like this did happen, and on more than one occasion.  Back then, that's just the way it was.  The link to YLee's sequel is at the end.

This work is copyright by the author and commercial use is prohibited without permission.  The author has given explicit permission for his story to be posted on my site.  This story originally appeared in the MMSA and is reposted with the author's kind permission.

If you like the story, or dislike it, I'd appreciate knowing.  It's through the feedback of the readers that I decide to write.

Paddled at Springfield High – Part 1


Nathan <>

The year was 1972, and Springfield High School was like a lot of schools, full of kids from all kinds of backgrounds with all kinds of aspirations.  Seventy-five percent of its graduates went on to college, and the teachers were considered some of the best in the state.  Like most schools of the time, the principal was authorized to use the paddle as one of many forms of discipline, right along with the usual in-school and out-of-school suspensions for those times when a kid dared to cross the line.

Timothy Bennit was a pretty good student, and his grades reflected it.  He was popular too, in fact, he was one of the most popular sophomores in the school, and he had his share of girlfriends to show for it.  Most of the guys liked him too, and he was just one of those in the "cool" crowd, with the longer wavy hair that was popular then, and he had the attitude to match.  His hair was light brown, and bounced as he walked, his bangs off to the side, but occasionally falling down and getting in his way.  He was vice president of the Key Club, one of the hotter basketball players, and he had the tall thin adolescent body that girls crave.  His eyes were as bright and as blue as any blue eyes can be, and he liked to jerk his head to the side and flip his bangs back with the motion.  He wasn't a kid to mess with, and he didn't screw around.  He also wasn't the kind of guy that tended to get in trouble, and if you had been a betting guy back then, he was just about the last guy you would have figured that would be heading into the principal's office to get his ass turned cherry red.  But lately he had been getting a little sassier, and he had pushed a few buttons with his teachers to make some points with his friends.  This time, well, he had pushed things a little too far and his English teacher, Mrs. Krammer, had sent him to the office with a glare in her eyes that the entire class would never forget.

And so, while he was normally a pretty well behaved student, that wasn't the reality of this Thursday afternoon.  No sir, it wasn't.  He was sitting in the main school office, in a chair next to the main entrance, waiting to see Mr. Chandler.  He knew he was in trouble and so did everyone that came into or left the office.  Damn!  He was analyzing the possibilities, and he figured he had a 50/50 chance of avoiding the board.  Yep, 50/50, at best.  Hopefully, he could beg his way out of it.  One thing he knew, was that the board of education was in there, in the principal's office.  Yeah, it was in there all right, waitin', waitin' for HIM maybe, and getting sent to the principals office was a good way to get to meet the damn thing.  God!  He had never been paddled.  Never.  His parents were of the 'new school' and when he screwed up at home he got grounded for a few days, and occasionally missed a weekend of fun with his friends.  But paddled – he never even gave that much of a thought.  But here he was now, and getting paddled was definitely a real possibility.  His ass twitched with the thought, and he squirmed within his jeans as he found himself tapping the seat armrest from his nervousness.

Marie Henderson was working the counter, where the students would come in and drop off a pass or come by to check on a message.  The school office was busy, bustling with the sound of typewriters, an occasional ringing of a phone, and lots of paper shuffling back and forth.  Marie was one of the hottest chicks in the school, and spent one hour a day working as a student aid and administrative assistant in the office.  Tim had even taken her out to the Valentine Day's Dance a few months before.  Yeah, he smiled at the memory, and how hot she had looked in that bright red dress, his white carnation pinned proudly to her dress and her tits bulging underneath.  God!  She was sure staring at him now, knowing, KNOWING, he was sittin' there waiting to get paddled, and Oh God he was embarrassed, and his face flushed red with the thought.  She smiled at him, then giggled, and he looked away in shame.

Paddled!  God!  He was fifteen for God's sake, and at fifteen getting paddled was just about the most embarrassing thing a fifteen year old teenager can possibly imagine.  There was no way to act cool as he sat in that chair, waiting for IT and knowing that everyone knew what he was sittin' there waitin' for.  Or, would know it – he knew the rumors were already starting and would be flying all over the school before the day was over.  That was a certainty.  Yep, for a fifteen year old sophomore it was just a nightmare, only he wasn't sleeping and it wasn't a dream.  No sir, it was not.  He let his thoughts move to the student body election.  There were posters all over the school with his name on them, the big vote scheduled next Monday and the campaign speeches scheduled for tomorrow's student body assembly.  Oh God, why had he run?  Shit!  He was doomed – he knew it.  He would be laughed right off the stage tomorrow, sure as shit he would.  Yep, laughed right off the stage and everyone would know by then.  Hell, they would know by the end of the today!  Yeah, by the time the buses came today EVERYONE would know he was the guy with the bright red ass!  Oh God!  Hopefully…oh please…maybe, maybe he would get lucky and…© YLeeCoyote


Timothy Bennit jumped in his chair, and as he jerked himself around in the direction of the voice his eyes met Mr. Chandler's and he could tell immediately by his expression that the principal wasn't in a good mood.  Shit!  He stood up, literally feeling his legs shake from the anticipation, and he moved toward the principal's office and the fate that awaited him.  Just by the look in his eyes Tim figured the odds were no longer 50/50.  That was another reality that he couldn't do anything about.  Mr. Chandler was ahead of him, and he was already sitting down at his desk as Tim came through the door.  He saw it immediately, THE PADDLE, and it was there, THERE, on his desk, and it was longer and thicker and scarier looking than anything Tim had ever seen.  His Adam's apple bobbed as he gulped, his bright blue eyes resting on it.  Yeah, they called it the board of education and it was one lesson he didn't want.  It was covered with signatures, and he knew, just KNEW it was waitin' for HIM.  Oh God!  He swallowed, more scared than he had ever been before about anything.  He stopped at the principal's desk, staring at the paddle, then shuffled his feet.


His eyes flew to the principal, almost instantly.  As he stared at the man who controlled his fate, the boy's mind raced with a thousand jumbled thoughts.  He felt a sudden feeling like he was going to cry, and his eyes watered almost with the anticipation.  His ass twitched again, and he swallowed.  Then, Mr. Chandler spoke.

"Bennit, I am ashamed of you.  You've got potential young man, but you are gonna screw it up big time if you don't figure out school isn't a joke.  There are times to show off in front of your friends and there are times to keep your big mouth shut.  You seem to confuse the two!  What in the hell's wrong with you?"

Not waiting for an answer, he continued, "I've got half a mind to expel you for two weeks over this.  Listen kid, I don't care if you like your English teacher or not.  It doesn't matter to me.  But I will not tolerate your attitude, and I will not tolerate that mouth of yours.  What do you have to say for yourself, anyway?"

Tim swallowed again, and he looked down at the desk, down at the paddle, and as he began to speak he looked at it and stared at it and thought about it, his eyes noticing the holes for the first time.  He gulped, and then said: "I'm sorry Mr. Chandler – I really am.  I don't know what I was thinking, I mean, I don't know.  I didn't mean it, but it just came out, and well, I really am sorry Mr. Chandler.  Please sir, it won't happen again, I swear it won't!  Please…"

The principal cut him off: "You're damn right it won't happen again.  Your comment wasn't cute and it wasn't cool and if you're trying to impress your friends by talking like that I suggest you find other buds." You really upset your English teacher, and I don't blame her.  Tell me the words again cause I want to hear them from YOUR mouth."

Tim was shaking.  Sir…I callllled her a name…didn't mean anything sir…please sir…I don't want to say it again…"

"YES YOU CAN AND YOU WILL!  I KNOW what you said Mister, because she has already told me!  Say it.  What did you call her?  I want to hear you say it again when your friends aren't around to make you think you're being cool."

Tim swallowed.  Oh God!  He looked at the paddle, then back at the principal, then back to the paddle, too ashamed to look at the principal.  Finally he whispered "I…uh…I…called…I called…her, I called her a PMS infected bitch sir…" His face flushed crimson, and his eyes stared at the desktop, knowing he was screwed and knowing his fate was sealed.  He clinched his ass, without even realizing he was doing it.

Mr. Chandler then spoke: "You enjoy looking at the paddle BENNIT?"

Tim quickly looked up at the principal, his eyes snapped open and he locked eyeballs, eye to eye with the man who held his fate: "NO SIR!  Oh God sir, I'm sorry SIR.  PLEASE, please don't hit me with it sir.  Please!"

The principal then said: "Know why it has holes in it Bennit?"

The teenager gulped, and then whispered "No sir…"

"Well Bennit, the holes do two things.  They let the paddle move though the air faster, and the faster it moves the more it burns when it hits that little smart ass of yours.  More than that, normally when you swing a paddle just before it makes contact there is a little tiny cushion of air that gets trapped under the paddle, softening the impact.  The holes BENNIT, are there to make sure that doesn't happen.  This paddle burns mister, and for what you called your English teacher you deserve to get that ass of yours burned completely off.  You understand me?"

Tim looked down in total shame.  "Yes…sir; I'm sorry sir.  I really am.  It won't happen again…sir..PLEASEEEEE don't PADDLE me!"

"Paddle you?  Oh your ass is mine Bennit.  MINE.  And believe me, its going to be one very sorry ass when I finish with it.  And when I do, you are going to go right back to Mrs. Krammer and apologize.  You understand me mister?"

"Oh God – yes…oh yesssss SIR."

Then, suddenly, the principal stood up, and went to the door, sticking his head out into the main office.  In a loud voice he said "I NEED TWO WITNESSES IN HERE – I'VE GOT A BOY WHO NEEDS A PADDLING!"

Oh God!  Tim swallowed, all hope for reprieve gone instantly.  He felt his eyes water, felt his ass twitch, and he looked at the board and the desk and then he looked out the window and he saw it was open.  OPEN!  Oh God, EVERYONE would know!  He gulped again, his Adam's apple bobbing with fear, and his eyes locked to the paddle.  Sixteen.  There were sixteen holes in the paddle.  Yeah, he noticed that of all things.  God!

Just then his already bad nightmare took a turn for the worse.  In walked Mr. Pace, one of the schools history teachers, along with Marie Henderson!  No!  Oh God no!  She was grinning from ear to ear, and obviously thrilled to be a witness!  Tim's face flushed red with embarrassment, and his eyes watered as he felt his doom closing in.  Mr. Chandler walked back to his desk, and pressed some buttons on his intercom.  There was static from the little speaker, and then he heard that familiar little "bing-bing" that was used whenever the office would signal a classroom.  Suddenly, he heard Mrs. Krammer's voice – OH God, he was calling HIS CLASSROOM!

"Yes…this is Mrs. Krammer…go ahead please."

"Mr. Chandler here.  Sorry to disturb your class, but I've got Timothy Bennit here and I am about to paddle the boy for his rudeness to you.  If you'd like, I can send Mr. Pace to take your class so you can witness his paddling.  Would you like to be here when his punishment is applied Mrs. Krammer?"

His English teacher answered: "No, but thank you sir.  That won't be necessary–I'm certain you will deal appropriately with his misbehavior.  We are reviewing for a test tomorrow, and I can't break away.  But thanks for asking.  When you are done with him though, please send him back if there's any class time left as he needs the review."

Tim stared at the paddle, and felt like crying, realizing that the conversation he was listening to was being heard by every student in his class.  Oh God!

Mr. Chandler: "All right Mrs. Krammer.  Sorry to disturb you – bye."

And with that, Tim watched his principal push a button on the intercom and the room went instantly silent.  He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, his face flushed red with shame.  He bit his lip, and tried to stop his knees from shaking.  He knew, before he even heard the words, that it was time.


Reluctantly, Tim Bennit did what he was told.  The teenager pulled a wadded dollar bill and two quarters from his pockets, then removed his wallet, knowing as he did so that he was removing the only real protection he had had.  He placed his hands on the desk, fairly wide apart, and his legs were out and behind him.  He was scared, and as he looked out across the desk he was looking out the open window, staring out to the basketball courts where one of the gym classes was in progress.  God, they were playing just fifteen feet from the window!  He watched William Burns make a great lay-up shot, and he wished with all his heart he was out there with him.  Mr. Chandler grabbed the paddle, a look of pure disgust on his face, and sweeping it off the desk he moved around behind him, out of his direct sight.  Time seemed to stand still, and Tim felt his eyes water.

Mr. Chandler then directed the witnesses to move "OVER THERE" and both Mr. Pace and Marie Henderson walked around until they were in front of the boy and he was staring at them.  They were between the window and the desk, watching his face and his expression and his fear.  Mr. Pace crossed his arms over his chest, his face hardened with a look that meant business and obviously pleased to be watching justice about to be served.  Tim gulped, and as he looked at Marie, she giggled.

Suddenly, he felt the paddle, shoved between his legs, tapping his inner thighs, and Mr. Chandler said "WIDER…  Spread those legs mister, and get that butt OUT!  I want that butt OUT MISTER, and READY, right where it belongs!"

Oh God.  Slowly, Tim complied.  He spread his legs out some more, exposing his ass and his crack, covered only by the cotton fabric of his jeans and the inner, thin layer of his cotton briefs.  His rounded adolescent ass was sticking out, jutting almost eagerly, almost as if it was just waiting, begging to be paddled.  He couldn't believe what was happening.  He was being forced to stick his butt out, perched and ready, the fabric of his jeans stretched so tight the crack of his ass was visible.  The lines of his jockey shorts were showing through, and the legs of his underwear had ridden up his ass slightly as he had bent over, decreasing the material between his lower ass and the paddle.  He looked down, down at the desktop, and tried to prepare himself for the sting he knew was coming.

His principal then said "LOOK UP BENNIT – AT THE WITNESSES.  And DON'T MOVE!  I'll tell you when you're done.  If you move, you will receive extra, do you UNDERSTAND?"

Tim gulped, and nodded, his eyes jerking up and locking with Marie, who was staring at him with an eagerness he would never be able to forget.  She was just SO EXCITED!  Oh God.  He tried to answer "Yes Sir" but his voice cracked, and only a high pitched squeak came out, his face flushing red as it did so.  God this was sooooo humiliating!

Then, he felt it.  The board.  Against his ass.  Resting there.  Tim swallowed again, and he looked out, and Marie's tits were bouncing with her eagerness as the boy stared at them.  He felt his dick stir, his teenage dick mindless about what was pending and seemingly with an agenda of its own.  Suddenly, there was a movement, and the paddle was flying, whipping through the air with a rush, the holes catching the air and making a sound, a sound like no other sound on earth.  Just then, the hard oak paddle impacted the teenager's ass with a CRACKKKKKKKKK that reverberated throughout the room and carried outside across the basketball court.  Tim lurched forward and screamed out "AHHHHHHHHHHHHGGGGG…".  The sophomores eyes went wet with tears, and the burn ripped through his pants, across his ass with a fire that was more intense than anything he could ever have imagined.  Like a scalding hot iron, it burned its way across his ass.  He felt his bladder convulse, and he almost pissed his pants, the shock so great and the burn so intense that it defied description.  He screamed "Oh GodDDDDDDD" as it began to register, the heat rising with each second that past.  Oh shit oh God oh damn or no it hurt oh it did it did it did!

Then the paddle was there – again!  Against his ass, against his flaming hot ass.  He started to open his mouth, to beg for forgiveness, when it was moving again.  Faster this time, faster than before.  A blur now, the principal moving it so damn fast that the eye couldn't follow it.  CRACKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK!!!!!  The teenager was shocked at the impact, his mouth still open and his eyes flushed wide as the board of education laid on its lesson.  "AHHHHHHHGGGGGGG OH GodDDDDDDDDDD!" the boy screamed.  He felt his dick squirt – he really didn't piss more than a squirt, but he felt it shoot out without control, and he struggled to maintain control of his bladder.  The burn was infinitely more intense with the second crack, much more agonizing, deeper, and harder and his entire ass was on fire.  ON FIRE!  He struggled not to move, then lost it, suddenly grabbing his ass and rubbing it, the tears beginning to flow and he turned to face his principal and began begging "No…pleaseeeeeee, SIR, no, no more…please…Oh God IT BURNS!"

His principal answered: "Get back into position NOW Bennit – I'm not fooling around here.  I know it burns, and it's supposed to burn, and it will burn you a lot more if I have to tell you to stay still again.  Get in position NOW!"

Slowly, with the tears already streaking his fifteen year old face, Timothy Bennit somehow got himself back into position.  With his legs spread wide, his ass on fire inside of his pants, he was almost in shock.  He had never anticipated anything could burn like this, and he started to whimper like a little kid, even as he stared into Marie's chest and watched her tits bounce, all the while jutting his ass outward like it was begging for more.  Suddenly, he was sobbing like a little boy.

"I'm sorrrrrrry Mr. Chandler.  I am.  Pleaseeeeee, I'll be gooo…" The blur, yet again, and the CRACKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK – once again reverberating across the room, the third stroke as hard as the second, cutting the words off from the teenager like an ax cuts a log in two.  He was slammed forward into the desk from the impact, his ass twitched and spasmed from the paddle and his mouth flew open, wide open, from the shock and from the burn.  He felt his dick squirt again, the piss literally paddled out of him.  He shut if off in mid-stream, but it squirted one more time on its own.  The burn was just totally consuming him now, seemingly to cover his entire ass, radiating down his legs and even his balls twitched from the feeling that made him more sorry than he had ever been.  He GRUNTED, a long grunt that reflected his desperation and it was immediately followed by heaving sobs that he could not stop and not control.  He felt something dribbling down his leg, his thin cotton underpants having absorbed all they could, and as he felt the dribble he just tried to ignore it.  He looked past Marie, no longer able to look at her, too ashamed to be seen and nothing he could do about it.  Oh God!  No!


He concentrated, willing himself not to move, to somehow someway keep his butt stuck out and perched, almost like it was begging for more.  It hurt so fucking bad, the feeling burning into his brain and God no more no more no more!  Oh God!  Out the window Tim noticed the game had stopped, the players all mesmerized by the cracks of the paddle and the sounds he was making.  The entire team had moved a little closer to the window, peering inside, and with the lights on it was obvious they could see everything!  Oh, God – they were smiling and cracking jokes and it was also obvious he had been recognized.  Then William Burns waved at him.  Shit!  Oh, God – and he was laughing too.  Hell, they were all literally laughing at his misery.  Tim's face went beet red with embarrassment, matching his unseen ass that twitched within his jeans, the muscles in his bladder twitching with it.

Suddenly, the paddle was moving again – the wooden board a blur, the holes screaming a sound like a freight train, a sound that stopped only when the wood impacted into the boy's rear, the wood this time almost burning its way right through the boy.  His reaction was immediate, the fourth blow too much for him and all pretext of coolness gone completely.  He was suddenly bawling like a baby, the tears flowing out his eyes and literally running down his cheeks.  His ass was burning like a nuclear furnace, and as he totally lost all control he hopped up and down, his hands clasping his rear and trying to rub the burn out.  Marie's eyes opened wide as she noticed the wet spot that accentuated the tip of the boys dick that seemed to be bulging in his pants.  He had pissed his pants!  Too embarrassed to care any more, and humiliated beyond anything he would have believed, Timothy Bennit cried like a little boy.  The snot ran from his nose, and he sucked it up and fought to control it, as Mr. Chandler watched with satisfaction.

Then, the principal spoke: "OK young man, I'm done with you.  I hope you have learned a lesson, because if there's a next time, you won't have an ass left.  So watch your mouth from now on!  Do you understand me?"

Timothy Bennit looked up at the principal, and nodded he did.  He tried to answer, but his voce cracked again, and instead all he did was nod and suck up another drool of snot still dripping from his nose.  He wiped his face with his hand, and then fought to somehow regain some semblance of composure.  Marie was all smiles, seemingly thrilled to have watched him take his paddling, and there wasn't any doubt that she would be talking to her girlfriends later that afternoon.  The game outside had resumed, and Mr. Pace walked out, almost laughing as he did so.

Taking the cue, Marie left then too, and Mr. Chandler dropped the paddle on the desk in front of Tim and simply said "SIGN IT."

As Timothy Bennit signed his name across the paddle, Mr. Chandler smiled.  The little teenage jerk had learned a lesson, and he was pretty confident that the next time the boy would be a lot more careful when he thought about trying to impress his friends.  He sure wasn't impressing anyone now!  As he stared at the boy, he saw what the girl had seen, the teenager's jeans were spotted, the dark wetness forming a not so little circle on his jeans that was clearly visible, the bulge of his dick pushing up below it.  Had the teenager peed his pants, or ejaculated?  Something had sure happened, that much was obvious.  The principal almost laughed, but contained himself.  Yeah, this was one teenager who knew he had been paddled – that much was for sure!

Tim looked at the principal, biting his lip and standing there, his eyes still wet and the tears still streaked down his face, completely oblivious to the spot on his jeans.  He had signed the damn paddle, and his face was flushed crimson from the humiliation of his experience.  Suddenly Mr. Chandler looked at the clock, and there were fifteen minutes left in the period.  Then he spoke.

"OK Mr. Smartmouth.  You have exactly five minutes to get that red ass of yours back to class, and I better hear that you apologized to Mrs. Krammer when you get there.  And make sure it's a PUBLIC apology, in front of everyone.  And it better be a SINCERE apology too!  Do you understand me Bennit?"

Tim looked at the principal, and nodded.  Then sensing more than a nod was required, he whispered "Yes, yes SIR!"

His principal then said "OK, make sure you do.  I'm going to check, and if you don't apologize and make it good before the bell rings I swear to God I'll have you back in here next period and we will do this all over again.  And if that happens, you'll get six next time–you understand Mister?"

Tim's eyes went wide, the very possibility of six more almost too much to fathom, and his eyes flew to the clock.  He said "Yes Sir!!!" a little louder this time, and then with a nod from his principal he rushed out the door, literally in a race with the clock to get back to class and apologize before the bell could ring.  As he passed through the outer office in a run, everyone stared, and a few giggles were heard as he headed down the hall, hurrying to apologize to his English teacher.

Tim made the room in three minutes, and literally burst in the closed door.  The entire class stared at him, and he started babbling his apology almost before the teacher could stop talking.  He was babbling it out, begging for forgiveness, all smugness gone completely.  He was almost desperate to apologize, and as he was doing so the class literally snickered at how he had changed!  His face was tear-streaked, his eyes wet, and his hair, usually bouncing and wavy, was unkempt and wet with sweat and he made no attempt to even jerk his head to move his bangs out of his eyes.  The boy's apology was one of those high school memories that would sort of linger forever.  His classmates wouldn't remember the exact words he used, nor would the boy who made them or the teacher he made them to.  No, the words would not be remembered, and exactly what he said isn't very important anyway.  But his expression, and his red face, and the eager and almost desperate way he apologized would never be forgotten, not by his teacher and not by his classmates.  Everyone would later laugh at the memory of the way he had left the class a defiant show off and returned, less than an hour later, bursting into the classroom and blurting out his apology with such an eagerness that the class has been almost embarrassed to listen to him.  God he had looked SO UNCOOL!

As he was begging for forgiveness, he had suddenly noticed the eyes of his classmates, staring at him, and at IT.  Some of their mouths were open, even gawking.  He glanced down, down THERE, where all the others eyes were looking, and as he did he saw the SPOT and OH God it shocked him to the core!  The wet spot marked the front of his jeans, and as he looked at it, STARED at it, he could even make out the outline of his circumcised dickhead through the wet fabric.  It was too much, and as his faced flushed crimson, so red and so bright it matched his bright red ass, the tears just started flowing all over again.  Oh yeah, they would never forget any of that.  And as for Timothy Bennit, he would never forget this day, and the burn in his ass and shame of his apology or the spot in his pants.  No, his friends would never let him forget any of that.  In fact, he would never forget those things for as long as he lived.

The End;  Go to the sequel by Y Lee.

© Copyright Nathan, July 19, 2001

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