Taking One For The Team 5

The Ladies Regional Basketball Tournament game was not going well. The basketball just wasn't falling for me. this was my senior year and I was eighteen years old. My shots were bouncing off the rim and I even had two air balls. I wondered how this could be happening to me. I was the darling of the tournament and my picture was on the front page of our hometown newspaper. The more shots I missed the more perturbed I got. I started taking low probability shots which angered my coach and my teammates. However none more than my dad the sportswriter who had headlined his story "Star Guard goes Swish To Lead Team to Regional's."

I just couldn't figure out why my accuracy tonight was off. All the towns people had driven three hours to support the team excited to have an outlet from the mundane jobs. As I looked over in the stands I could see the disappointment in their face and heard their groans as I missed an easy fast break lay up I made all the time. The week had been filled with college scholarship talk and I was feeling invincible before the game started. Now, I was having trouble making one of two free throws instead of my team best percentage of 76% for the season. And, then there were the dumb fouls that I knew better than to commit. I tell you I was becoming a frustrated basketball case stomping my foot and yelling at my team mates instead of calmly running the plays. While I was not scoring points I was not gold bricking either. My sweat had permeated my white shorts and I knew that meant the audience could see my visible panty line from the stands.

The buzzer for half time rang and w exited the hardwood court. I was told my dad wanted to see me out back in his trailer. I jogged out to the travel trailer in the parking lot and entered the deserted press trailer. There was no one there, but my dad and he looked mad. He waved the newspaper with my picture on the cover and told me I had let y success go to my head. I nodded my agreement embarrassed about my performance and my temper tantrum on the court. He said I had shown poor leadership and sportsmanship and he was going to use the newspaper to settle me down.

I wondered what he meant by settle me down. I got my answer soon enough as I watched him tightly roll up the newspaper and put rubber bands around it. I looked up at him wiping my long brown hair out of my face and hitting him a look from my doe eyes. That really did not make a difference as he grabbed my wrists and pulled one shocked basketball player, all five foot eight inches over his lap on the trailer's couch. It now dawned on me dad's motivation technique was going to be a spanking. However, I did not have much time to think about the last time I was spanked when I was ten as I felt a hard spank from the rolled newspaper, quickly followed by dozens more. He was using the elastic seams across the seat of my shorts to pepper my bum with his improvised spanking implement. The swats kept coming and bottom was beginning to heat up. He lectured me about believing my own press as he kept spanking me even harder!

He stopped just long enough to pull my basketball shorts and panties down and then really laid into my ass. I could feel the heat in my seat and tears fell down my face more in disappointment of letting my team down more then the considerable pain of the spanking. One particular swat across the top of my butt crack sounded like a gun shot and filled my bottom with a new extreme burn. I sounded a fart it just comes out when I can no longer deal with the pain. Dad never mentioned it as my spanking came to a blistering conclusion. He rubbed my hot, red butt, patting it and telling me he knew I could do it. I felt at ease ready to tackle the world and to make my mark on the basketball court while I sported red marks on my hot bottom. Lovingly he pulled up my panties and shorts popping the elastic around my waist and popped me on the butt urging me to go rejoin my team with my new focus.