I woke up realizing three things; My name was Maggie Blake, I was on the couch in Adrian’s apartment, and I had very little time to get back to Cedar Lake if I was going to make it to my first class. Technically, I was not even supposed to be off campus, but if I made class in time it was doubtful anyone would notice. The real problem was when I sat up on the couch and realized the only part of my uniform, only clothes for that matter, still on my body were my panties. I blame Adrian.
Scurrying about the apartment, I searched for my mysteriously missing uniform. Not remembering even taking it off was mildly concerning, but that was a question best left for another time. I found my bra lodged between the side arm and cushion of the couch I had slept on. The rest of my uniform was completely absent. Snapping my bra in place, I found Adrian sipping coffee in the kitchen.
“Where are my clothes?” I asked.
Adrian finished sipping with a smirk on his face and said, “Where did you leave them?”
“I never took them off,” I said.
He looked me up and down and said, “That seems highly improbable.”
“Cute,” I said flashing him an irritated smile, “I have class in a half hour and I’ll get whacked if I’m late. So game over, I need my uniform, now.”
Adrian stood up from the table and said, “I’ll help you look, but I swear, I didn’t touch it.”
I said, “Someone took it off me and it wasn’t me.”
He said, “I don’t think any of my friends would do that.”
“Whatever,” I said, “I don’t care just as long as we find it like right now.”
Together we spent the next ten minutes tearing his apartment apart. We turned up my skirt hanging in his closet, but the rest remained in hiding. I glanced at the clock. If I did not leave in the next five minutes I would be late and if I left in the next five minutes without my blouse, socks and shoes, I would be whacked. The situation was quickly developing into a no-win scenario.
Adrian said, “Why don’t you put on a couple of your spare things and I’ll drive you over to your dorm where you can grab a uniform from your room. We’ll find this one later when you aren’t stressing out.”
I said, “If anybody sees me in that top, I’ll get whacked. That’s why I keep it here.”
“It’s a chance sure, but if you don’t get to class on time it’s a certainty. Your choice, but I’d take the chance,” He said.
“Fine, give it to me,” I said, holding my hand out toward him.
Handing the gray tank to me, he said, “Even if it does go bad, at least you’ll look cute.”
“You really don’t have a clue about my school do you?” I said, pulling the tank on and tucking it into my skirt.
“They just like to keep you girls on your toes,” Adrian said.
I shook my head laughing, “Boys too, Adrian, boys too.”
“Yeah, but I bet they whack a dozen girls for every boy that gets it,” He said and changed the subject, asking, “Are we still meeting up at the game tonight?”
It was Friday. I had completely forgotten in my morning panic. The game was a staple of our weekly routine. We met up at the gym and watched the basketball game together before heading out to the after parties. Those were the real draw for me, though I would never openly admit it to Adrian. It was not the top thing on my mind at that moment, but an evening of fun still sounded like a great idea.
I said, “Yeah, sure. Meet me inside around eight, okay?”
“Whatever you say, babe, “ he said leading me to the door. “Let’s go. I don’t want you to be late or you’ll pout all weekend.”
Walking out the door, I said, “I don’t pout.”
Adrian just laughed. I slapped his shoulder and gave him the warning look, but he pushed past me, still laughing. Feeling ridiculous in party clothes and a school skirt, I followed him to his car. I should have known right then that things were only going to get worse. The sinking feeling in my gut as he raced through the streets should have been enough to make me realize where things were headed. It would have been better to have ditched classes for the whole day. I should have known.
Turning onto the campus’ main drive, Adrian said, “Where do you want me to drop you?”
“Some place not in the shit,” I said.
“We might just be in the wrong place for that,” he said.
“Yeah,” I said, chewing on my lip while considering my options. “Drop me by the gym.”
Adrian gave a sideways quizzical glance and said, “I thought you wanted to get to your dorm.”
I said, “I don’t have enough time and I’ve got exercise first thing. If I can get into the locker room without being seen, I can put on my kit and then where that back to my dorm after.”
“If you’re sure,” Adrian said.
“Not really, but your little practical joke isn’t leaving me much of a choice,” I said.
Adrian said, “I didn’t do a thing, babe. I swear.”
“Right,” I said.
Adrian pulled to a stop next to the curb only a few yards from the gym and the locker room. I kicked my door open and rolled out of the low riding sports car. Glancing around for professors, I smoothed my skirt down all too aware that if I had been seen getting out of the car in such an un-lady like fashion I would have been instantly in trouble. It was beginning to feel like I was destined to get whacked and I guess I was.
I slammed the door closed and turned my back on Adrian. He sped off leaving me to face my fate alone. With no one in sight, I hustled toward the locker room. My hand was on the door when my fantasy world, the one where I actually did not get caught and whacked, came crashing down. I froze in place, heart thudding in my chest and visions of smashing Adrian’s head between the door and frame occupied my thoughts.
“Hold it right there, young lady!” Coach Nelson said from a short distance behind me. “Turn around and explain yourself.”
A deep breath later, I turned to face the music and Coach Nelson. “I was just heading in to get changed for class, Sir.”
In hindsight, it was probably a poorly conceived idea to feign innocence with the contradictory facts so blatantly obvious to all but the blind. I had to try something though. The reality was plain enough; Short of a miracle, I was going to get whacked.
Hands on his hips, Coach Nelson asked, “What on Earth do you think you are wearing?”
I glanced down at my attire. “Clothes?” I said with a slight shrug and hopeful eyes.
Grabbing my arm, Coach Nelson said, “Come with me.”
If I had any choice in the matter, I might have declined. Instead, I walked as slow as I could without angering him further. I was definitely in the shit and Adrian had dropped me right in it. Coach Nelson led me into his private office. I was grateful for that at least. He could have chose to deal with me right there in front of the locker room in plain view of anyone who happened upon us. I hated the situation, hated Adrian, hated myself for the bad decisions, but I could not bring myself to hate Coach Nelson. He was, after all, doing what he was expected to do.
Standing me next to the empty wall of his office, he towered over me and asked, “Tell me Miss Blake, do you consider yourself to be a sex symbol?”
I blushed. “No, Sir.”
“Then explain to me why you are wearing,” He said, pointing his finger at my chest, “ that.”
I glanced down at myself and shrugged. The graphic on my tank, resting on my chest, was indeed a sex symbol. How to explain the appeal to a man old enough to be my father escaped me. It was about fun, flirting, sexiness, but it was not about wanting to have sex with every man who saw it. There were plenty of men, Coach Nelson included, that I would never, ever, in a million, billion, trillion years want to have sex relations. No offense guys, but I am just not that in to most of you.
Coach Nelson grabbed my chin and turned my head to face him. “Shrugging is not answer, Miss Blake. I suggest you drop your ‘whatever’ attitude before you land yourself in more trouble than you’re in already.”
I lowered my gaze for fear he would see the defiance I felt burning in them. “Sorry, Sir. I was off campus and some friends played a joke on me, hiding my uniform.”
Coach Nelson let go of my chin and said, “I don’t tend to think of people who cause me a great deal of trouble to be friends. Perhaps you should reconsider your relationships.”
“Yes, Sir,” I said.
“I am relieved that this attire is not of your free choice,” Coach Nelson said, stepping back from me. “If you had explained from the start instead of throwing around attitude, I would have been inclined to let you off with a warning.”
I blinked. Another bad decision made by me and easily blamed on Adrian. It was just going to be one of those days where nothing went right. I was going to get whacked and things could have gone differently, but just because of Adrian and his idea of a joke, they would not. Coach Nelson was right, ‘friend’ was too kind a word for Adrian.
Coach Nelson said, “As things stand, I cannot in good conscience allow your attitude and this atrocious attire to go uncorrected.”
“I understand, Sir,” I said, looking up at him and offering a sympathetic smile. “I expected to get whacked for this.”
“Whacked?” Coach Nelson asked, raising an eyebrow at me.
I swallowed and said, “Spanked, Sir.”
“I certainly won’t disappoint you, Miss Blake. Rest assured you will be getting,” Coach Nelson said, pausing with the final word rolling around on his tongue before he voiced it, “whacked.”
Turning his back to me, he lifted a wooden stool from beside his desk and placed it out in front. He said, “Take off your skirt and that top. You won’t be needing either for the rest of the day.”
I wish I could say it was unexpected. There was a time his declaration would have left me begging for leniency. It never did any good and eventually, I learned to simply accept the terms of my discipline because whining, complaining, and begging were only guaranteed ways of making things get much worse. I slipped the tank off, over my head and Coach Nelson took it from my hands before I could even think to ask what to do with it. The skirt took a little more work, the zipper caught and refused to come free without significant effort. When it finally came undone, I let it slide down my legs and lifted it to my hands with my right foot. Coach Nelson took it away from there and discarded both items onto his desktop.
Standing beside me, he reached behind my back and unfastened my bra with a single hand. The white straps fell off my shoulders and I half raised my arms up to stop its fall short of baring my breasts. It was a futile gesture and attempt at protecting the semblance of modesty. With his other hand, Coach Nelson reached out and grabbed the shoulder strap nearest him.
He said, “You won’t be needing this either. I think you’ll find your bare breasts are more effective getting boys’ attention than that graphic top anyway.”
I buried my face in my disheveled hair, hiding my glowing shame and he pulled my bra from my breasts and arms. He discarded it on his desk with my other clothes and took a seat on the stool. I forced myself to keep my arms at my sides and my breasts uncovered. It was the first time a teacher had taken away my bra for punishment. I had seen it happen to other girls, but I had always avoided the embarrassing fate in the past. The thought of walking around campus, attending classes, in nothing but a pair of white panties was enough to make me consider falling to my knees and begging for leniency.
Coach Nelson patted his lap and said, “Step out of those flip flops and get over my lap.”
My gaze dropped past my naked breasts to my inappropriately adorned feet. I slipped out of the black sandals and pushed them next to the wall. Barely watching where I was going, I walked the short distance to the other side of Coach Nelson and stood next to him. I leaned over his lap and his hands grabbed my sides, pulling me the full distance over. My legs dangled in the air behind me and my arms did the same in front of me. Coach Nelson held me to his lap, balancing me on his upper legs. I grabbed hold of the stool.
He hardened his hand and smacked my panty-clad bottom. It stung more that it had any right to sting through my panties. My legs kicked in the air behind me. Coach Nelson ignored them and smacked my bottom again. He swung his entire arm through the air, impacting my bottom with a tremendous bounce and leaving no doubt in my mind that I was indeed getting whacked. Most teachers prefer to use a paddle or a strap or some implement, but I had heard rumors about Coach Nelson preferring his hand. The hornet’s nest growing in my backside offered a pretty good explanation as to why: His hand was as fearsome an implement as any paddle I had ever felt.
From about the sixth smack on, I was yelping and crying. Suspended over his lap with his hand smacking my tender cheeks was making me feel incredibly like a little girl instead of the adult college student. I guess that was probably part of his method as well. It was undeniably effective in making me rue the very bad choice of spending the night at Adrian’s apartment. I really hate getting whacked, but I have to admit, it only happens when I deserve it and though I blame Adrian, I definitely deserved the spanking.
At the point my legs stopped kicking, Coach Nelson stopped and said, “I think you’re ready to have your panties taken down.”
His fingers slipped into the waistband and pried my panties down below my burning buttocks. Without any assistance from me, he lifted my weight from his lap and slipped my panties down in front, so that they were low enough to not be caught between me and his leg. Resting me back down on his lap he raised his hand high in the air behind him and resumed whacking my newly bared bottom.
It hurt enough more that I began kicking and carrying on again like it had just started. Coach Nelson was not deterred by my gyrations over his lap. His hand never missed and with each smack, my bottom seemed to bounce higher, burn hotter and sting sharper. There was no escaping. I yelped and cried. My tears turned to sobs and just when I thought I could take no more, that my bottom would burst into flames or simply incinerate into dust, Coach Nelson stopped his spanking. His hands rested on my back, holding me still over his lap.
He said, “I hope you’ve learned your lesson here.”
Sniffling back tears, I said, “Yes, Sir.”
“Good,” Coach Nelson said and spanked my bottom another five, hard whacks. “Now lift your legs up and bend them at the knees.”
Bracing myself with my hold on the stool, I complied confused at his intentions. In a revealing movement, his spanking hand grabbed my lowered panties and pulled them off my legs. He folded the material and laid it against my back, leaving me completely naked over his lap. His hand patted my legs signalling me to lower them once again and I happily complied. Balanced on his lap, I let go of the stool and wiped the tears from my cheeks and eyes.
Coach Nelson patted my blazing bottom and said, “Right, on your feet, girl. Hands on your head.”
I stood shakily before him, completely exposed. My gaze found the floor and searched for the dark pit of despair that surely waited to swallow me whole. Not finding it, I turned me attention to Coach Nelson. He stood up from the stool and returned it to its former place, laying my panties on his desk in the process. Sitting behind his desk he looked me over in silence. I chewed on my lip wishing I knew a formula for invisibility.
He said, “You may stand against the wall, Miss Blake.”
I quickly complied, not wanting to give him any reason to worsen my situation. He pulled open the top drawer of his desk, pulling out a sheet of paper and a pen. I could not tell what was on the page, but it was clearly a printed form. He filled in information as I stood watching, waiting.
Coach Nelson asked, “Are you aware of this evening’s basketball game?”
Confused, I said, “Yes, Sir.”
“Excellent,” He said, turning the paper around to face my side of his desk. “I hope you don’t have any other plans for tonight.”
“Sir?” I asked, wondering what he was planning.
“We’re short a concession girl for the visitor stands. You’ve just volunteered to do the job for the rest of this term,” Coach Nelson said, proffering his pen in my direction.
My eyes grew wide. There were games every Friday and Saturday night. Working the stands would mean no more going out on the only two days of the week without classes the next morning. It was clearly not fair and I was certainly not the sort to volunteer.
“But, Sir!” I said, momentarily forgetting myself and my situation.
“Miss Blake,” Coach Nelson said, “this is not up for discussion. If you need more encouragement to step over here and sign the form, it can be arranged, but I suggest you consider the fact this will be for you own good. With less free time, you will have less time to get yourself in trouble with the dubious individuals you have called friends.”
I quickly walked over to his desk and leaned down to the take the pen from his hand. “I didn’t mean to sound argumentative, Sir. I just don’t really think I’m the right person for the job.”
He held tight to the pen and lifted my chin with his free hand until our eyes met. “You might want to explain yourself.”
“Yes, Sir,” I said, biting my lip while searching for a good excuse. “I’m really a good salesperson. I try of course, but when we did those sales things for clubs in high school, I always came in last place. I would think you would want someone a little better than that since the sports teams get their funding in part from those concession sales.”
Letting go of my chin, Coach Nelson said, “I’m sure you will do just fine, but just to be sure you can wear what you are wearing now.”
“But, I’m not wearing anything,” I said, stating the boldly obvious fact as if it were not.
Coach Nelson smirked and said, “I rather think that should help your sales volume.”
I took the pen from his hand and signed the page, realizing there was no way out. “Yes, Sir.” I said.
Dismissing me, Coach Nelson said, “I will see you here at 7:30 sharp every Friday and Saturday evening for the remainder of the term, starting tonight. You can dress in your proper uniform again as of Sunday morning. Now I believe you have classes to attend.”
“Yes, Sir,” I said and scurried out of his office.
It was a horrible day. Everyone stared at me wherever I went and they made no attempt to hide it either. I got spanked two more times as well for being, if you can imagine it, a distraction during classes. Like it was my idea to attend classes butt naked, not that anyone seemed to appreciate the irony beside me. I arrived early at Coach Nelson’s office in the evening and was handing a wire basket full of small bags of popcorn. The basket came with a neck strap so I could carry it and have my hands free to take money and pass out the goods. Unfortunately, it covered nothing more than my bellybutton.
Sales were quite good as Coach Nelson had predicted. I swear they were making me walk from one end of the stands to the other just for the fun of seeing me coming and going. Then there was Adrian. He and his friends were at the game of course. It was almost like they had planned the whole thing, knowing exactly what would happen to me.
Buying popcorn from me, Adrian said, “I guess you got whacked.”
“You’re a genius,” I said.
“Hey babe, it’s not my fault. I tried to help, remember?” he said.
“Right,” I said, shaking my head at him as his friends chuckled. “Did you find my uniform, the rest of it at least?”
“Sure did, babe,” Adrian said.
Rolling my eyes to the sky, I asked, “Did you bring it?”
“Nope,” he said, “I figured you could come by after the game.”
“I can’t leave campus again until Sunday,” I said.
“I can sneak you off later,” Adrian said, taking my hand into his.
“I can’t risk it. I’m in enough trouble already,” I said, annoyed he was still trying to make my life worse.
“Well,” Adrian said, patting my hand, “I could always turn it into the administration office.”
I jerked my hand away from him and said, “Are you insane? Do you have any idea how much trouble that would cause?”
He looked up at me, not even bothering to disguise his amusement and said, “Yeah, I do. I guess if you want to avoid that you’re just going to have to do what I say.”
“You wouldn’t dare,” I said, my eyes bulging at him.
“Pick you up at midnight right where I dropped you off today,” Adrian said.
I glared at him, but someone was calling for more popcorn behind me. Turning to acknowledge them, I started to walk away from Adrian. Part of me thought if I left without answering him, he would let the whole thing go as a joke. The smarter part of me knew better though.
Before I was out of his reach, Adrian smacked my bottom and said, “Don’t be late or I might have to whack you myself.”
He had me and he knew it. The whole thing had probably been a setup from the start. All that remained was for me to play his game and hopefully stay out of any further trouble or force his hand and risk facing many more embarrassing and uncomfortable days at school. It all started with a bad choice and it looks like it will end that way too. I blame Adrian, but to be fair, the choice was always mine.