The choice is yours
Original Fiction – for adult eyes only
Jason and Chris stood awkwardly, hands behind backs,
eyes downcast. The principal was mad – if not, he was a pretty good actor.
“Senior boys acting like juniors!” he raged. “Fighting
in the corridors!”
Jason looked at his partner in crime through the corner
of his eye. “Too true,” he thought. “And if that faggot looks at me that way
again, I’ll cripple him.”
Principal Golightly rose from his chair. He was an
elegant man in his fifties, with premature silver hair. He was lean and fit,
which is more than could be said for most of the other teachers at Rosewood
College. Golightly took care of himself.
He ambled across his office and stopped by the far
wall where his eyes ran along the shelves as if he had never seen his books
before. Jason hopped from one foot to the other. His legs were tiring. He
wished Golightly would just get on with it. What would it be? Detention? An
essay? Why it is wrong to settle our
differences with violence - a title like that.
Golightly turned his attention away from his book
collection and faced his two eighteen-year-old students. He paused, weighing
his words carefully. “I shall give each of you a choice,” he said, his voice
sonorous. He paused again as if for dramatic effect. He had both teens’
attention. “You may take swats or attend Saturday morning class.” He paused
once more before reiterating, “The choice is yours.”
He delighted at their shocked expressions. Jason’s
eyebrows arched. Principal Golightly could read the boy’s eyes. “What the
fuck?” they said, but Jason himself remained silent. Chris was the first to
speak. “It’s against the law.”
“I am the law at Rosewood,” Golightly
drawled. He delighted in the ensuing silence as Chris’s face blushed scarlet.
“Well Manor, what’s it to be?” the principal stared
intently at Chris although he already knew the answer. What eighteen-year-old
would submit himself to the principal’s paddle. Taking a spanking was beneath
their dignity.
“Saturday detention,” Chris croaked, and then after a
beat or two, he added the obligatory, “Sir.”
Principal Golightly’s nose wrinkled. He turned his
attention to Jason. “And you Taylor?”
Jason mind whirled. Saturday morning detention. No
way. He had discovered a neat little bar off Main Street where the university girls
went. Jason was five-feet-ten, with broad shoulders and trim waist and the most
beautiful ass. The girls loved him. He could have his pick. He would be
screwing some girl on Friday night and be in no fit state for school on
Saturday.
His choice was not as the principal put it. For him it
was not detention or the paddle; it was sex or no sex. A no brainer. Jason took
a deep breath and as confidently as he could, he said, “I’ll take the swats,
Principal Golightly.”
The principal hoped he didn’t look as astonished as he
felt. This hunky eighteen-year-old was prepared to offer up his ass to the
wood. To let a much older man blister his buttocks. Well, well, well, he
thought, and he had supposed that Chris Manor was the gay boy here.
Principal Golightly straightened his shoulders. “Very
well,” he intoned imperiously. “Manor, you should leave us.” He needed no
second telling and within seconds Chris was on the other side of the door.
Realising he was quite alone in the corridor, he put his ear to the door.
Inside the office, Jason stared ahead, determined to
go through his ordeal with some dignity. He had never been paddled before; nor
to his best recollection had he been smacked. Not ever. Not even as a little
kid.
Principal Golightly walked slowly across the office to
a long, narrow table. He delved his hand into his pants pocket and found a key.
Jason watched intently as the silver-haired man unlocked the drawer, opened it,
reached in and withdrew a heavy wooden paddle. It was awesome; easily eighteen
inches long and maybe four wide. And drilled into its blade were a dozen holes.
Jason wouldn’t know this (not yet, at least) but the holes were there to combat
wind resistance and make the paddle fly faster through the air. The holes would
also add to the blisters that he would carry on his backside for some time to
come.
Principal Golightly caressed the wood, rubbing the
tips of his fingers along its entire length. It was as if he had never before
seen it. Then, he tested its weight and seemingly satisfied, he held it in his
right hand and smacked it firmly into the palm of his left. Jason watched
transfixed. It needed little imagination to conclude this was a mightily
effective punishment tool.
“Put that chair in the middle of the room,” Principal
Golightly nodded to an ordinary office chair. The command startled Jason and at
first he was unsure what had been said. “That chair. There.” The principal
waved his paddle at an area of rug. Jason fully awake now took hold of a small
straight-backed chair. It was very light and he had it in place in no time.
Principal Golightly caressed the paddle some more.
Jason watched him closely. The old man seemed to be contemplating. Was he
having a discussion inside his head? Perhaps he was, and very soon Jason
discovered the outcome of the interior dialogue.
“Stand in front of the chair.” Jason did as he was
told. Why was his heart thumping? The palms of his hands were sweating too.
“Now take down your jeans and bend over.”
“What the …” Jason’s mouth formed the words but no
sound passed his lips, but his astonished look spoke volumes.
“Take down your jeans,” Principal Golightly repeated,
slowly. “They are far too thick,” he said. “Besides, you are a senior boy and
you deserve a senior boy’s punishment,” he added, but immediately regretted it.
He owed this boy no explanation. He was the principal of Rosewood College, one
of the most prestigious educational establishments in the state. He answered to
nobody.
Jason blinked hard. Jeans down. Stand there in his
underwear. And he thought Chris was the faggot.
“I am waiting,” Principal Golightly, intoned. “Or do
you wish to change your mind and take Saturday School,” he sneered. He knew
Jason would not back down. His pride would be hurt.
The eighteen-year-old bit his bottom lip and with
fingers that trembled more than he wished, he unbuckled his belt. He felt the
principal’s glare burn into him as he fumbled with the metal buttons and
allowed the front of his jeans to fall open. He paused, summoning the courage
to go further.
“Take them down. Right down. To your feet,” Principal
Golightly waved his paddle menacingly. Jason released his hold on his waistband
and the jeans slithered over his thighs and down to his knees. The weight of
his belt and the denim cloth took them further south where they puddled at his
feet.
Principal Golightly’s eyes shone. The teen wore rather
old-fashioned white cotton briefs that were tight enough to demonstrate to him
that Jason was no boy. “Bend over. Take hold of the seat of the chair. Make
sure you stick your bottom out.”
Principal Golightly took the paddle in his right hand,
stood close up to the boy and tap-tap-tapped it across the centre of Jason’s
rear end. The term “buns of steel” might have been invented for the boy. His
muscles stretched to present a solid target. There was no “give” anywhere. The
principal lifted the heavy blade away from the cotton-covered ass and with all
the strength he could muster – which was considerable – he returned it at speed
pounding it into the proffered buttock cheeks. The crack!! echoed around the
office. Its intensity startled Chris who stood on the other side of the door.
He heard Jason’s startled yelp as the pain shot through his buttocks and raced
up and down his legs. Chris touched his own backside with his fingertips in an
involuntary act of solidarity. His dick stiffened.
Inside the office the paddle rose and fell once more.
Now, every square inch of Jason’s buttocks seemed on fire. He wriggled his
hips, stomped his legs and gripped the seat of the chair as if his very life
depended upon it. Principal Golightly pressed his left palm firmly into the
small of Jason’s back to steady the boy. He was going nowhere; not until the
principal said so. Swat three landed lower and a red mark imitating the paddle
blade instantly formed on the back of Jason’s thighs. His wailing was terrific.
He did the wriggling and the stomping thing again and this time wrapped his
left foot around his right ankle in a desperate bid to stop himself from
jumping up to rub away at the terrifying agony. It felt like Principal
Golightly had poured boiling water over him.
Tears flowed with the fourth swat. Jason despised himself,
but the tears and the wailing were his body’s way of coping with the enormous
battering it was getting. He gripped the chair’s seat and waved his head
backward and forward, rather like horses do when they neigh. Snot dribbled from
his nose, his heart raced and it felt like blood would burst through his ears.
“Last one,” Principal Golightly announced quietly. He
pushed his left hand firmly into Jason’s back, steadying the teen. Then he
raised the paddle high and with tremendous force landed it across the underside
of the cheeks. Bam!! He let go his grip and Jason shot to his feet jumping up
and down rubbing furiously at the seat of his briefs, tears soaked his cheeks.
He hopped from foot to foot in the
traditional spanking dance. Principal Golightly pretended not to notice Jason’s
dick has swollen and was staring against the front of his cotton underpants.
“Get dressed.”
Jason pulled his jeans up, wincing as the heavy denim
rubbed against his scorched flesh. Soon he had the belt securely fastened.
“You should leave now,” Principal Golightly spoke
softly, “And no more fighting.”
Jason hobbled to the door, opened it with shaking
hands and exited. The corridor was empty, he did not know it but Chris was at
that moment locked in a lavatory cubicle furiously jerking off. Jason ruefully
rubbed at his rear end. The agony had gone, replaced by a dull ache. Within
fifteen minutes or so that would become a tender throbbing. The pain would
disappear quite quickly, but Jason did not yet know that it take until after the
weekend for the bruises to disappear. Friday would be devoid of sex after all.
Picture Credit: Man’s Hand Films
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