Each summer there is a Short Story Contest in the newsgroup soc.sexuality.spanking. It is only a contest in the general sense since the only strict rules are a limit of 500 words and that the stories are related to spanking. Sometimes there are categories but with such brief stories it is not very significant.
All my stories are fiction and are spanking related. If such subject is offensive, uninteresting or if you are a minor (i.e., child) please leave now.
These works are copyright by the author and commercial use is prohibited without permission. Personal/private copies are permitted only if complete including the copyright notice.
My twelfth through the twenty-first entries are on this page. My first eleven stories are at SSC 2002 – Part 1.
- Spanked by the Babysitter (t/b, spank) Child
- Be There Tigers? First/last
- Eligibility (t/t, spank) Child
- Alfie – Version 1 (T/b, spank) Child
- Alfie – Version 2 (M/b, spank) Child
- Alfie – Version 3 (b/b, spank, sex) Child
- Alfie – Version 4 (M/b+, spank) Child
- Alfie – Version 5 (spank) Child
- Alfie – Version 6 (bbb/b, spank) Child
- Visit with the Guidance Councilor (M/f, spank) First/last
Spanked by the Babysitter
Mickey was not happy with his parents, again, this day. He was almost twelve (just a couple of months to his birthday) and insisted that he didn't need a babysitter. His parents almost agreed but the law required one. Alejandro was a compromise. Mickey was more than adamant about being left in the charge of some teen girl who was, well, into girl things. The weekend came, promises repeated and final instructions were given and Mickey was alone with Alejandro.
Although the two got along well, Mickey was constantly pushing the envelope of acceptable behavior. He was not really naughty but just went a bit further that he should have time after time all day long. By dinner time, Alejandro had more than enough. "Mickey, I've warned you several times. Now I'll have to tell your parents what a naughty brat you have been all day."
"But dad will spank me; please don't tell. I'll be good; honest; promise. Please!"© YLeeCoyote
"You said that before. Several times, young man."
Mickey stood before the older, larger, stronger youth with a very sad look while searching for the right words.
"You earned a spanking and when your dad returns you're going to get one."
The boy looked at the floor more, dejected. "Would ... you ... spank ... me ... and ... not ... tell? ... Please." he stammered.
Alejandro smiled but made excuses.
"Dad says that prompt punishment is best."
Alejandro, still smiling and beginning to like the idea replied: "It will be for real, Mickey."
"Yes, sir. I understand." agreed Mickey signing the verbal contract.
"Drop your pants and get over my knee."
"Dad always strips me himself. He says it's more effective."
Slowly and deliberately Alejandro started to undress his charge. He pulled off his shirts and sneaks. Opened his jeans and pulled them off getting the boy's socks in passing. Then he put his thumbs into the waistband of the briefs and slipped them down and off. Micky was naked. He pulled the lad across his lap and held him tight.
As he caressed the smooth cute buns he realized that he was hard. He raised his hand and brought it down hard. The lad yelled and he saw his hand print forming in pink. Again and again he spanked the lad who, between yells, was promising to be good and then he was crying.
A few minutes latter, Alejandro left Mickey lying prone in his own bed, crying, rubbing his red-hot bottom and contemplating what had happened.
Later Mickey got up and went to the guest room. "Alejandro. Alejandro!" he yelled until he woke him up. Alejandro saw that the lad was shivering and pulled his charge into his warm bed.
"I have a confession." said the lad simply. Alejandro held the lad close to get him warm.
"Dad doesn't spank me. He never did. I've wanted to know what it's like since Kevy told me how his cousin spanked him and...." Mickey's heart sped up as he flexed his hips pushing his hot butt against Alejandro's crotch in anticipation.
© Copyright A.I.L. July 19, 2002
Be There Tigers?
In the great green room, there was a telephone and a red balloon. Pat sat watching the sunlight dance on the green walls as the red balloon flittered about on its string in the breeze coming through the open windows. The redder than red telephone, without a touch pad or a dial, sat silently on the tiny table between the two green doors.
The garden was so beautiful but Pat could not be there. The pond was so very inviting but Pat could not be there either. Pat was confined to the great green room with the telephone and red balloon. Pat had been waiting for hours; worrying that it would ring with its summons. Worrying that it would not ring with its release.
Behind one door was the exit to the garden and release.© YLeeCoyote
Behind the other....
Behind the other was the strapping bench and the heavy, thick, wide strap and the brute with the black hood and big bulging muscles.
Upstairs the board was deciding Pat's fate.
Pat stared in dread at the red telephone; the silent telephone.
Pat stared with hope at the red telephone; the silent telephone.
Pat's butt twitched as the red balloon flittered about in the breeze.
Time crept very slowly although the great Ra still galloped along his heavenly path.
Eventually the telephone rang. Pat continued to stare at it as if it hadn't.
It rang again. Pat picked up the handset.
"It is time." was all the mechanical voice said. A light over one door blinked. Slowly Pat replaced the handset and got up.
Slowly, with a racing heart Pat approached the door.
Pat paused a long time before turning the knob, pushing the door open and stepping through.
© Copyright A.I.L. July 19, 2002
Esteban Guinn was in shock. He was horrified. As he left his home room the end of the school day he was handed a letter from the vice principal. Only one word really mattered; the operative word: INELIGIBLE! and the big match was less than three weeks away. He nearly bust into tears except that boys did not do that sort of thing if they wanted to survive and avoid the scorn of their peers.
Esteban knew even without reading the entire letter which course he was deficient in and went off to see Mr. Lackey. He was sure that his was not a unique problem and there must be some way to make up the poor work and regain his eligibility that was so important both to him and the school. Mr. Lackey was very committed to such extracurricular activities and surely would be sympathetic to his plight.
"I take it that you will work hard; very hard to regain your eligibility, Guinn."© YLeeCoyote
"Yes, Sir, absolutely."
"Good. You know Shuckman?" Esteban nodded. "I saw him a few minutes ago going into the library; find him and bring him back here."
A few minutes later Esteban returned with Shuckman and Mr. Lackey asked: "Shuckman, could you help another student to regain eligibility by tutoring him an hour a day, three days a week?"
"Sure, coach. Who?"
"Guinn here." Mr. Lackey then explained what was needed. The program was to start immediately with a ten-word "discussion" with Mr. Inspiration. Esteban gulped as Shuckman took the big heavy paddle off the wall and Mr. Lackey ordered him to "drop 'em and assume the position".
After Mr. Inspiration spoke his ten words, Guinn understood the name for he resolved to work very hard so as to avoid further such discussions.
"Guinn, you're in good hands with Shuckman and I expect that you'll work hard. Remember that he has the right to ask Mr. Inspiration for assistance."
"Yes, sir. Thank you."
After a week of working hard under the tutorage of Shuckman, Esteban was no longer failing and regained his eligibility.
The next week he lead the math team to the local championship and was looking forward to the state regionals. Although he never spoke of it he was also pleased that he could now dribble a basketball, make a basket occasionally and swim without imitating a dog.
There was even a bonus for after Shuckman had paddled him publicly in the locker room and he took it like a man, the jocks stopped picking on him as a geek failing PE.
© Copyright A.I.L. July 21, 2002
15: This a 'what going on here' story. I was inspired to write this story by this image: /images/BoyBentOverMusicStand.jpg which I found in several places on the web without attribution. You can enlarge it with a mouse over or a touch on the thumbnail image. He looks apprehensive. This is my first interpretation of the image. Each version is a different story.
Alfie – Version 1
Alfie was fearful. Alfie was worried as he watched the Master and Prefect talk. Yes, he should not have said what he had said, never in a million years, but he had. And everyone had heard him; everyone including the Master. He hadn't meant it the way it came out but.... What was said was offensive and required punishment.
Alfie continued to watch the Master and the Prefect discuss his punishment in low tones as he awaited his fate. Some possibilities raged though his young mind. His imagination did not have to search very hard for possibilities for there were many implements neatly hanging in the cupboard; the now open cupboard near the Prefect. There was a senior cane, a junior cane, a large tawse, a small tawse, a riding crop, a slipper and even an old plimsoll – more than enough to turn him into a bloody pulp.
They had already lectured him and he had apologized as best he could.© YLeeCoyote
"Very good, Sir." said the Prefect and the Master left. Alfie felt a little relieved for the Master was bigger and stronger than the Prefect.
Alfie gasped as the Prefect lifted one after the other of the implements of chastisement and torture and swung them. He already knew how the slipper felt but not how the others did. The upper form lads told stories of the havoc they caused to a boy's bottom.
Alfie was very fearful.
The choice was made and the Prefect approached him with the junior cane. Alfie relaxed a little bit for the items he most feared remained on their hooks. He grabbed the support with both hands and stared at the floor. Then he was looking at the Perfect's shoes.
"Four, Dickens. You are to count and not move."
"Yes, sir." They were not going to be on the bare.
The Prefect took his position and let the cane touch Alfie's seat before drawing it back.
It was like a red hot bar slammed into the centre of his butt.
"One, sir." he squeaked. He was ashamed at how high his voice was.
The second one hit above and the third below. He gripped the stand even tighter. One more; only one more, mercifully.
Alfie yelled as the white hot rod struck him on his bare thighs just below his shorts. "Four, sir." he gasped as the initial pain faded.
"You may go, Dickens."
"Thank you, sir."
He returned to his dorm room. His mates wanted to know what happened. "Four cuts." he said doing his very best not to let the pain show. He was quickly turned around and his shorts yanked down for inspection. They all felt the marks with admiration for he was the first in his class to get the cane. They were especially impressed by the tracks on his thighs.
© Copyright A.I.L. July 26, 2002
Afie – Version 2
Alfie was staring at the clock on the far side of the room. Time was of the greatest importance both to Alfie and his mates hiding in the cupboard under the clock. Alfie had lost the bet and his forfeit was to remain bent over the stand for a full hour. That was not a hard thing to do. The risk was that the Head would drop into the room during that time.
The school's procedure was that young gentlemen deserving of punishment would wait in this room and without discussion receive six-of-the-best from the Head. The masters would inform the Head that a young gentleman would be waiting. Occasionally, the Head would miss a visit and a miscreant would get off scot-free. That might happen if a master forgot to tell the Head or he was otherwise engaged. It was also the Head's practice to check out the school frequently.
Alfie had ten minutes to go. This was the most critical time for it was now five minutes to the official report hour. If anyone came into the room during the next five minutes, the Head certainly would be stopping by.© YLeeCoyote
"CLICK." went the door latch.
Alfie turned his head to see who it was. It was his best mate who gave him a swat on the arse as he rushed to the cloakroom. "I want to watch this."
The second hand crawled ever so slowly around the clock. Then the hour struck. Alfie was relieved for no other student had appeared. The odds were significantly better.
The second hand continued to creep about on its never ending rounds.
Five circuits to go.
A half circuit.
It was almost over thought Alfie. He was almost free. His heart was racing. If heart beats were seconds, it would have already been over.
"CLICK." went the door latch again. Alfie's heart was in his throat before the sound could echo.
Alfie was afraid to turn his head to see who it was. Was it a late boy or the Head?
He heard the scrape of the cane as it was lifted from the table behind him. Then the swoosh as a practice cut was made. He thought he saw the cloakroom door flutter and thought he heard a faint giggle.
"Ready, boy." it was more of a command than a question. He grabbed the stand and braced for the first cut.
It tore into his bottom like a white hot steel rod. He let out a cry.
The Head did not hit this hard.
The head did not have such a deep voice.
SWACK!! SWACK!! SWACK!!
Alfie was hurting. The cane was put down and the caner left. Alfie was in agony as his mates popped out of the cloakroom and surrounded him.
"You did well!" said one.
"Henderson hits a lot hard than the Head!" declared another. Henderson, the sports coach, was a big ex-marine with oversized muscles.
"Thanks." said Alfie.
© Copyright A.I.L. July 26, 2002
Alfie – Version 3
John was laughing; Carl was laughing; and so were Stephen and George. Alfie was definitely not laughing. He was the new boy and they were putting him to the test. As he watched they were each selected a card from the deck to determine what order they would collecte their pound of flesh. The one thing they had promised is that they had survived similar trials according to strict rules and he would not be injured.
"Alfred do you want to join us?"
"YES, SIR! I want to join you? Please put me to the test."© YLeeCoyote
"STRIP and resume the position." Alfie did as he was told. He felt more venerable now. More conscious that he had just started to grow a bush. Of course, they all had been naked together in the locker room but this was different.
John stepped forward and pulled his belt from his jeans. Alfie gripped the support tightly and resolved – again – to be brave; to them that he was a man and not a boy. The belt struck – hard.
Alfie could not help himself and yelped. "Gag him." Suddenly George stepped in front of him and pulled out his cock and stuck it in him.
WHACK!! WHACK!! WHACK!! WHACK!! WHACK!!
The belt stopped but his arse was being handled. A finger, then two and three were forced in and quickly replaced by John's shaft. Alfie was no longer a virgin and the two thrust away until they filled him.
They gave him a couple of minutes rest and them Carl and Stephen had their turn. Carl used a small paddle while Stephen kept Alfie quiet.
THWACK!! THWACK!! THWACK!! THWACK!! THWACK!! THWACK!!
It was no surprise that Carl then rammed his rod into Alfie.
Soon it was over. The four of them congratulated him on passing the part 1 of the trial. On proving that he could take it. That he was a man and not a baby boy. But there was one more thing he had to do: could he give as well as take. You got five minutes. They stepped back to see what Alfie would do.
Alfie then decided. "Carl, strip and into position." To his surprise, Carl immediately complied without a word. He picked up the paddle. He did not like how the paddle felt. He applied six hard ones to Carl's arse. He felt much better.
He repeated the command to John who also obeyed. He got six with the belt. He hadn't liked the belt very much either.
Alfie picked up the tube of lube and began to work on John's hole. He realized that he had never been harder as he lubed up his own cock and then drove it in. As he fucked away, the timer went off and he exploded into his mate.
They congratulated him on passing both parts of the test and becoming a member of the band.
© Copyright A.I.L. July 26, 2002
Alfie – Version 4
The music class was whooping it up like they were in the Malamute saloon with a jag-time tune rather than the dull sedate piece they had been assigned to practice. They never heard the door open nor the maestro enter. However, the room got deadly silent when he swung the cane in the air. Even before the swosh faded they had all rushed to switch back to the assigned piece but it was too late. Not only was the cat out of the bag but its guts had been squealing loudly from the strings for all the world to hear.
Maestro McGrew rapped on his podium for quiet. He noted how much faster the class responded now that he was using the cane rather than his baton.
"Blah, blah, blah." he ranted telling the lads what terrible hooligans they were. "Blah, blah, blah." All of this ran off them, like water off of a duck's back. "Blah, blah, blah." Everything that is until he said: "Two strokes each."© YLeeCoyote
Alfie Atkins was first. He leaned over the music stand. His face showed the trepidation he felt. Depressingly he knew that being first meant that the full force of McGrew's anger would crash into his butt untempered by either repetition or fatigue.
But, there was also an advantage of being first. He would be able to watch each of the others get it knowing that he was not going to get it himself. There was a stirring in his crotch as he remembered times past.
The Maestro got into position and then raised the cane.
It crashed down hard searing Alfie's butt. It seemed like a flash lamp exploded in his head with the intensity of a supernova for all was white glare and then all seemingly dark. Both the past and the future disappeared and only the pain of the instant remained in his consciousness
Again the white hot iron, the flash and the dark. It was over.
Trying not to show how much pain he was in, Alfie returned to his seat as the Master called the next boy: "Baston".
SWOSH! CRACK!! SWOSH! CRACK!!
Alfie stopped worrying about the pain in his own ass but was concentrating on the risings in his own crotch. And how gratifying it would be to be swinging the cane; like he been hearing for years: better to give than receive.
By the time the master got to Knapp, he had a large tent to hide and as Trude, the last lad, got his two strokes, Alfie almost creamed in his shorts.
Alfie knew that he had better take a towel to bed this night.
© Copyright A.I.L. July 30, 2002
Alfie – Version 5
Alfie was worried as he leaned over the music stand with his butt in the air. He did not want to be here in this position at all. He could stand up, walk to the door less than three meters away and leave. Chris, Pat and Terry had been most clear that it was totally his decision and that he had thirty minutes to decide.
The choice was a tough one. Either he could agree to accept punishment from them or from the head. He had vivid memories of the last time he had been disciplined by the head and they were not pleasant. That and what happened to Thackeray less than two weeks ago for this same transgression had convinced him to take his chances with his fellow students.
He had been in position for about ten minutes when they walked in and smiled at him. They looked much bigger now that they were back in their uniforms particularly since he was bent over. They were actually bigger as they were sixth formers and he was only a first former.© YLeeCoyote
Alfie watched as Pat opened the bag with the fencing foils, extracted a junior cane and walked over to him. As Pat tapped the target, Chris announced that he was to get two from each of them.
Alfie bit his lip and gripped the pole tightly. It would not be good to show how much it hurt.
The second one hurt as much.
Pat handed the cane to Chris. A lefty; the approach was on the other side. The cane was raised and
SWOSH! CRACK!! SWOSH! CRACK!!
in rapid secession. Chris hit hard and in new places. Alfie hurt but he continued to put on a brave face. It would never do to cry or yell.
Alfie was surprised that Terry was also a lefty.
It was almost over. Terry then walked to his other side and delivered the last stroke.
This was the hardest of them all. Fortunately it was over. He was pleased that he had not shown any weakness before them.
He shook hands with each of them (just like if they had been masters) and Terry even gave him a little smack on the cheek as he walked out of the room.
His mates were just around the next corner and wanted to know what had happened. He did his best to be macho and nonchalant as he mis-reported "six but not of the best" with a laugh.
In the bog, the red mark on his cheek was noticed. Alfie looked in the mirror and laughed. "Terry's lipstick." and dropped his shorts and pants so his classmates could examine the marks. Silently, he wondered how he could get another look at the girls showering without being caught.
© Copyright A.I.L. August 1, 2002
Alfie – Version 6
Alfie, bent over the lectern watched intently as his roommates played rock-scissor-paper to decide who would get first crack at his butt. Since afternoon Friday they had been confined inside and for these sixty hours Alfie had been whining continuously.
His roommates suddenly rebelled, conferred and presented him with an ultimatum. If he so much said another word about the weather etc., he would be evicted from the room – permanently. He was quiet for only an hour when he opened his mouth again. The three pounced on him and pushed him into the hall.
Alfie begged them for another chance as they blocked his return to the room. They stared at him silently for a long time. He continued to beg.© YLeeCoyote
"You got a big mouth." said Travis.
"Slowgrove would cane you for it." said Ned. Slowgrove was the master best known for sharing his love of the cane.
In desperation, Alfie blurted out: "OK, cane me instead."
Travis, Ned and Damion looked at each other and then at the desperate Alfie. Three smiles appeared as they said: "Yeah."
Five minutes later they were in the study hall where Slowgrove kept one of his many canes. Alfie, having been ordered to wait over the lectern, watched as they slugged it out for several rounds.
"I'm first." yelled Damion as his 'rock' crushed Ned's 'match' and shattered Travis's 'scissor'. He picked up the cane and started practicing as Ned 'incinerated' Travis in the next round.
Alfie suddenly realized that bounds hadn't been set and he was at the mercy of his roommates but even to say a word, was not an option. The SWOSH as Damion practiced with the cane sent shivers through Alfie.
Damion took his position. Then Travis spoke in a commanding roar. "Drop them, Alfie. We're not going to thrash your shorts."
Already in a daze, Alfie stood up and pushed his pants to his ankles and resumed his position. He did not have to wait long for within just seconds Damion raised and lowered the cane.
He yelled as much in surprise as pain. "Good cut." said Ned. If he hadn't been the recipient Alfie would have agreed. Damion's other three were just as hard.
"Have fun" said Damion as he handed the cane to Ned.
"I will. I certainly will." said Ned practicing with the cane. He gave Alfie four brutal strokes that left him with tear filled eyes and a death grip on the stand so he would not start begging for mercy.
Travis was the strongest and Alfie tried to put his mind elsewhere. Travis made sure that he remained focused by putting one on his thighs, one in the crease and two diagonally over the first eight. Alfie was crying.
It was an hour before Alfie returned to him room and collapsed on his bed. Within the hour he started to whine about the pain in his butt.
"Sounds like he needs another lesson." said Ned. Alfie shut up instantly.
© Copyright A.I.L. August 12, 2002
Visit with the Guidance Councilor
The Professor sat behind his desk, dwarfed by his vast red leather armchair. He was still an imposing figure to the petit freshie as when she first saw him in his cluttered office a few weeks ago. In one hand was her backpack heavily laden with books and in the other was a single sheet of cheap paper, crumpled as she had been carrying it in her tightly clenched hand for hours. It was that single sheet that was hard to bear for it was her first college test and the grade was far from satisfactory. The big red F practically illuminated the universe. Having been at the top of her high school class this was a shock. She was still in a daze even though it had been hours since she had gotten it. She had known immediately what she had to do. It had taken her a long time to actually do it.
"Come in, Miss. er, er."
"Helmer; Sir, Nora Helmer."© YLeeCoyote
She sat in the side chair, her backpack by her feet, her nervousness showing everywhere. The talk of working harder was standard. Eventually, the discussion got to her past and she confessed what happened four years earlier. What her father had done and how it had helped. Then with some hesitation what she needed now.
He wanted to be kind to her but what she suggested was quite improper. He tried to imagine his own daughter talking to his counterpart at her college the same way. He was not certain she would have.
"Father said I should expect a reaction like yours, Professor Krogstad. He gave me a letter." She dug in her pack and then handed it to him. It granted permission for what she had asked. She was certain that he would never suspect that the signature was forged.
They both stood and he turned the chair so that it faced the only open space. After sitting down, he gently, he pulled her across his lap and lifting her skirt before gripping her waist. He though of his own daughter and surprised Nora by putting his hand into the waistband of her panties and yanking them down. He admired her shapely buns for a while and then lectured her about being a diligent student and studying long and hard. As he lectured her he methodically spanked her enjoying how she turned pink, red and finally cherry red.
He held her for a long time after as she cried and promised to be a good girl; a good student. He wanted to be kind to her.
© Copyright A.I.L. August 10, 2002
The End of Collection
© Copyright A.I.L., Summer, 2002
The URL for this page is: https://yleecoyote.asslr.org/SSC20022.html
Last updated: September 15, 2023