Coach Carter cradled Abbi in his lap and caressed her hair. Both of them were naked, shiny with sweat, slightly out of breath, quietly gathering themselves up from a very busy afternoon.
Abbi hung her butt off the side of his lap due to its resemblance to the back end of a sunburned snow tiger. The balancing act was tenuous, which was fine with her. She was looking for an excuse to disengage.
The 5th floor gymnasium was quiet and empty, had been for an hour at least. The Academy Coaches, Carter and Reagan, shared the sparce office that sat between the opposing team locker rooms, looking out across the vast, highly polished hardwood gym floor. All the little Academy touches were present, the secondhand furniture, eyehole bolts with handy carabiners screwed to the walls, dusty trophies sitting atop a gray aluminum storage cabinet, chains hanging from the ceiling, old motivational posters, and a padded hobby horse in the corner.
They were alone, and while Abbi felt physically close to Coach Carter in that moment, her feelings about him were terribly mixed up and confused.
The Coach was the first Academy faculty member that had been unkind to her. Mean, really. Borderline cruel.
They sat in his armless wooden office chair. He would occasionally rock and twist them around restlessly while a long silence widened between them.
The man looked like a more muscular James Spader, an actor that had been on Abbi's mind since back-to-back dorm room screenings of Pretty in Pink and Mannequin. The Coach was the star's doppelganger right down to the thin nose, full lips, and sad, slightly droopy eyes that made him seem less alert that he really was.
He even had a full head thick sandy blonde hair that would have looked glorious blown out and feathered.
He was quite pleasant to look at, but Abbi could barely stand the person she knew lurked underneath the good looks and smooth demeanor.
Abbi decided it had been long enough, so she took a breath and started to let the loose speech that had been winding around her head like an overexcited puppy on a leash.
Before she could get a word out, though, Coach Carter broke the silence in the only way he seemed capable of. "So, Miss Abbi, you should know before you go," he said. "I don't feel sorry about how I treated you."
She peeled her face off the man's hairless chest to look him square in the eyes.
"You don't? You were pretty poopy to me." The aftercare had helped her return to herself in more ways than one. Even though she felt like cussing him out, her better judgment held the profanity back.
"I don't. Not one bit," he reiterated. "I'm sure you are a great person, and the other teachers are always gushing about you, but we're here to play."
"Right."
"And as Academy faculty, I get to play how I want."
"True. You could have been nicer though."
"And you could have used your safeword."
Abbi didn't have an answer to that obvious truth. She twisted her mouth around to chew the inside of her cheek while she searched Coach Carter's hound dog eyes for any signs of sympathy.
"But you stayed. I thank you for that."
"Thank you?"
"Yes, of course. What else do you want me to say?"
"Sorry, maybe?"
"What for?"
"For calling me a brat. For scaring me. For hurting my tushy."
"Why? You were just as turned on by all that as I was."
"But but but" Abbi felt tears welling up as she insisted for the 12th time that day "...I'm not a brat,"
"I know. That's what made it all so fun."
-
The lunch chatter amongst the Sophomores and Juniors was all of the same theme; the afternoon session was going to be different that day. Instead of heading to their private rooms for tutoring and sodomy, the classes would be heading up to the 5th floor for PE.
The Academy's gym was a mix of the Betty Page building's old-fashioned architecture blended with modern equipment, seating, and A/V system. It had been overcast for a couple weeks, so the gray light seeping through the high frosted window was being supplemented by huge fluorescent lights that hung from the rafters like wasp nests.
It seemed perfectly ordinary to Abbi except for the fact that it was on the top of building.
She'd had only been up there a couple times to tag along with Blair. Every Sophomore had taken turns accompanying her to the gym during the free periods, enabling her all-consuming fitness addiction. Kyle was the only other student that Abbi knew of that went up there near as often.
The smell of fresh paint and old sweat was oddly nostalgic once Abbi noticed it. The space was also vaguely fascinating to her due to its amazing utility and adaptability. With the flip of a couple of switches, the space could be turned from a single NBA sized basketball court with bleachers for more than a hundred people, to three volleyball or badminton courts or a dance floor with a banging sound system and light show. There were ping-pong, foosball, and air hockey tables, and there was side room with mats and weights where she'd seen breakout sessions of yoga, kickboxing, and pole dancing classes.
Never being very popular or much of an athlete, Abbi had always found PE trips the gym to be something best avoided, with a doctor's note if necessary. Now she liked coming there with Blair and had been talked into participating both times.
Except for the pole dancing. That was going to take more courage than she'd worked up to yet.
The only thing that kept her from venturing up to the top floor more often was the aftercare required to recover from the day's punishments and penetration. She was usually too sore, tired, and emotionally squeezed dry to be in the mood for a workout.
The reintroduction of PE at this stage in her life was a novelty that she hadn't time yet to sort her thoughts about it out. The rhythm of her education so far had been humiliation in a group setting in the morning, lunch, amazing and orgiastic sexual congress in the afternoon, dinner, and fieldtrips featuring life-changing friendship connections in the evening.
Anticipating the Academy's approach to PE had her on a now-familiar edge, and Coach Carter did not disappoint.
"How does a friendly game of volleyball sound, kiddos?"
The Sophomores and Juniors had already clustered together on either side of the volleyball net and had been chatting and stretching. A hamper of multicolored volleyballs sat near the net poles, but no one had yet grabbed any to start warming up.
Abbi stood up, unconsciously tugging at her shorts into a more comfortable state.
She was dressed, same as all the girls, in the Academy's athletic wear. This was just as utilitarian (and therefore mildly kinky) as the regular dress uniform, and it consisted of:
A white jersey t-shirt with crimson trim on the collar and sleeves, with 'Property of' over Academy Crest and 'Mt. Lee Spanking Academy' underneath silkscreened on the front.
Underneath that was a white sports bra that felt a bit excessive to Abbi because her titties didn't bounce around much even while vigorously working out.
The real treat was the dark red volleyball shorts. These marvels of textile engineering felt like they were both painted on and alive on account of their continuous quest to crawl up inside the wearer's body. Abbi, Kamilla, and Blair's butts looked cute in them, but Ariel's ass won the day; her creamy twin bubbles of bouncy flesh seemed to devour the shorts as she moved around in them.
Gym workouts were the only time the girls were ever allowed to wear thongs, which consisted of a thong of black stretchy fabric that immediately merged at an atomic level with shorts as they were wrestled into place.
Finally, some white socks with the Academy logo and red and white trainers completed the package.
The boys obviously didn't have to wear a bra, but they had been issued red headbands that made them all look endearingly goofy.
Their shorts were something else, though. They were too loose and short to be considered anything other than immodest, the Academy crimson making some of the paler boys' white legs look even more ghostly. Abbi kept looking for dongs or nuts to peek out, but none had yet been forthcoming.
Abbi couldn't help but be reminded of Meatballs, the previous night's movie playing in the dorm before lights out. Clearly whoever designed these getups was a fan of that badly aged flick.
Coach Carter cleared his throat.
"I'm not accustomed to being ignored, so let's try that again or head straight down to the 3rd floor, shall we?"
That got everyone's attention. The Coach was average height, wearing a burgundy track suit that fit him well but would have made anyone else look like a Russian gangster, and spoke in a way that seemed to fill the gym while never really raising his voice.
"Ok, kids. We are going to be playing a game of volleyball, Seniors vs. Sophomores. And considering the Academy's unique educational focus, I believe the stakes should be considerable."
"Yes, Coach Carter," they answered in fair unison. Could be better.
"Strip volleyball, then, with the losers getting spanked by the winners before we head to the showers."
The ratio to raised eyebrows vs. knowing grins was just about even as the students looked around at each other.
"Shall we warm up first?"
"Yes, Coach Carter," in better unison, this time.
"Alright then, let's make four lines."
With the threat of detention fresh on their minds, both classes formed up quickly and got to it.
-
Abbi finally got it, after all these years.
Team sports, that is. But it took a while.
After some basic drills and warmups, Abbi got the hang of getting the ball moving towards more skilled players. A few practice volleys followed, just so the game didn't end too fast, while Coach Carter reviewed the rules. Then it was on!
And while it was some time before the first point was scored, it was clear that the Sophomore team was the best Abbi had ever been on.
She vaguely remembered hating soccer. A perfect storm of having two left feet, no sense of direction, and no real friends on the team to speak of had taught Abbi the power of whining to get her way. This was not in her nature, and she rarely used it since, but a season of wheedling her parents down to an emotional nub ensured that she'd never have to even see a soccer field ever again.
