The Ladies' Man

For the first time in years, Randy actually paid attention in class. It wasn't just because he was afraid of getting kicked out of yet another high school; well, he

was

, but the last time had been for pulling the fire alarm before an exam, not for bad grades. It also wasn't because he had suddenly discovered a passion for learning; Randy had seen little in his nineteen years to make him think that school wasn't a corporate scam. He understood that he needed to bite the bullet and get through one more year to earn his GED, but that didn't make him happy about it. No, the thing that held him captivated was Miss Brookland, or more accurately, the way her ample breasts stood out beneath her white button-down as she turned at a profile to write on the chalkboard. Since the day he arrived at Trask Park Girl's School (which was actually just a few days ago, but its a figure of speech), Randy had been quite taken with the tall, buxom and blonde history teacher, even if she was a real bitch about classroom discipline.

Oh yeah, Girl's School. About that part. Randy had mixed feelings about being sent to Trask Park. On the one hand, it was a little embarrassing to admit he was going to an all girl school. After his last expulsion, his parents had sat down with the board representative and struggled for hours to find an alternative. Unfortunately, Trask Park was the only high school left in the district that would make an exception for him, and his mother - no matter how much his father insisted on it - couldn't bear to send her darling son away to a boarding school. So, here we was. But on the other hand, despite the embarrassment and the stares and the no football team and the knowledge that he really wasn't supposed to be here, the eye candy at Trask Park was phenomenal. Randy was confident that with his looks and athletics and devil-may-care aura, he'd be drowning in pussy by the end of the term.

"Pssst," said a voice from his left. He looked up to see Amanda looking insistently at him out of the corner of her eye. Speaking of eye candy, Amanda was wearing her white school blouse in a way that would never be permitted at most places. Unbuttoned and tied together at the chest, it left her flat belly exposed at the bottom and her small - but delightfully perky - cleavage at the top. Since there were (in theory) no boys around, Trask Park let its students get away with a lot on hot days like this one.

"Take this," she mouthed silently at him. With a mischievous smile and wink, she picked up a ball of paper and tossed it to him. Well, that was unexpected. Amanda was one of those mindless, brown-nosing squares who went to church every Sunday and always got perfect grades and saved themselves for marriage (hahaha, he'd disproven more than one of them in that). She was about the last person he'd expect to see passing notes in class.

Well, let's see what she has to say.

He uncrinkled the paper ball and looked. Instead of text, there was a drawing. A crudely-drawn stick figure standing behind a desk, with grotesquely huge breasts and a comically high-strung expression. Randy almost laughed out loud, as much out of shock as amusement. Amanda had seemed like Miss Brookland's adoring little pet; he must have really misjudged her. He looked back at Amanda. She was sitting back at her desk, eyes on the lecture, but just a soft trace of a grin on her thick, glossy lips.

Randy picked up his pen and started writing his own thoughts under the drawing.

I'll bet she uses her panty drawer to keep ice cream frozen. If she wasn't such a-

"Miss Brookland?"

Randy froze, pen still in hand. Amanda had her hand raised. That was hardly unusual, the little know-it-all, but it was also rather unfortunate in this case. Since Amanda sat right across the aisle from Randy, when Miss Brookland's attention shifted to Amanda she was also likely to notice...

"Just a moment, Amanda." Miss Brookland stood to her full, rather impressive height and narrowed her blonde eyebrows. "Randy, can you give me that piece of paper?"

Randy's blood went cold. No no, he wasn't going to get in trouble already, he couldn't. He felt the eyes of the twenty or so girls in the class all fix on him, roasting him from every angle as he met Miss Brookland's gaze. Somehow, the glasses made her hard blue eyes even harder.

"Sorry," Randy said with a self-deprecating chuckle as he absently pushed some chestnut bangs out of his face, "I kinda spaced out, started doodling. I'll throw it away." He started to tear the sheet in half, but she shook her head.

"Hand it to me."

Shit.

"Look, Ma'am," Randy tossed his head to one side, "its really not that interesting." He finished tearing the paper in half and started ripping it smaller.

"

Mr. Randall Klein

, you will give that to me right now!" Her voice had gotten very calm and very dangerous, and its send shivers down his spine. As she spoke, the tall woman strode into the aisle and stood over Randy's desk, holding out a perfectly manicured hand. Randy looked up into her eyes. They were as hard and dangerous as he had ever seen them. Behind her, Amanda's expression was unreadable. Had she realized it was her raising her hand that had gotten Randy caught? Was she feeling sorry now? Would she admit that it was her who drew the picture?

Slowly, Randy handed Miss Brookland the two halves of the note and tried to put on a cool face. The teacher un-wrinkled the two halves and held them together in front of her face. Behind her glasses, her hard, blue eyes widened. Then they narrowed. She crushed the two scraps of paper in her fists and grabbed Randy by the arm.

"Get up!"

The bottom had fallen out of Randy's stomach. His skin was crawling all over as he got to his feet just in time to stop Miss Brookland from tearing his arm off. The teacher turned around and dragged him to the front of the class. Normally, Randy loved walking behind Miss Brookland in the halls and watching her golden braid bounce around behind her head and her big, round ass roll back and forth under her skirt. Right now though, they were the furthest things from his mind. For all her beauty, she was also a big, strong woman, almost taller than Randy, and despite his football muscles Randy wasn't sure he could get free of her if he tried. He gave a desperate, pleading look at Amanda, still sitting at her desk. Amanda was watching the proceedings, wide eyed, with her hands together under her chin. That little bitch! This was all completely her fault, but she wasn't about to step up to the plate for it. Of course, there was nothing Randy could say to Miss Brookland that would be believed. It would be the delinquent's word against Little Miss Perfect's.

Miss Brookland pulled him in front of her desk and threw the bits of scrap paper in the trash before turning to face him again.

"Take off your pants," said Miss Brookland.

Wait, what? Randy thought. "Um...why?"

The cold anger on Miss Brookland's face was punctuated by a moment's smirk. "I would have read Trask Park's discipline code before coming here, young man. Especially as someone with your track record."

Around the room, a bunch of girls giggled. Randy didn't turn his head in time to see if Amanda was one of them.

"Corporal punishment is given by the teacher, on the spot, and

on the bare

." Miss Brookland emphasized the last three words. "Now, unbuckle your pants and pull them down, or you'll be taken to the Headmistress' office."

Randy looked at Miss Brookland. His Valkyrie of a history teacher was just waiting for him to keep arguing. He looked back at his classmates. The girls were all watching with wide eyes, some embarrassed, some intrigued, some whispering to each other. The cold feeling in Randy's skin turned to heat as his face blushed red. Slowly, he unbuckled his belt and pulled his jeans down to his knees. As he did, the whispering increased a bit. Randy was thinner and lighter than most high school athletes (maybe because he kept getting kicked off of teams). His muscles were hard and well toned, but they lay smoothly under his skin, making him more slender than hunky. The one part of him that wasn't thin and slim was wrapped in a pair of blue briefs, which were now exposed to all the girls behind him. Randy had always had kind of a big butt. His hips were slightly wider than usual for a boy, and since he had started putting on muscle a lot of it had concentrated on their wide, pancakey cheeks and made them bigger, as well as firmer. It pulled his briefs over a wide, square frame, and filled and rounded them out in the back.

Miss Brookland opened one of the bigger drawers in her hardwood desk and, giving Randy a rather nice view down her collar as she bent down were he in the mood to notice, pulled out a rectangular, wooden paddle. It didn't look very thick, but it was long, and wide; each blow would cover both cheeks of a teenaged bottom. Randy's eyes widened as he saw the weapon. He was no stranger to being paddled, but never in front of the class...and never bare! Making him basically strip in front of the class - in front of a class of girls, no less - could that even be legal?

She pointed to the desk. Closing his eyes, face burning with indignation, Randy stepped up to the desk and bent over it, gripping the far side with his fingers. He supposed there was nothing he could do but get this over with. As long as he couldn't see the girls, or the teacher, he supposed he could live with this. He would just pretend he was alone, that there was no one watching. He could do this.

That was when he felt Miss Brookland's sharp fingernails under the waistband of his underwear, followed by cold air on his naked bottom cheeks as his underwear were pulled down to join his jeans, and his stoicism melted away. He gasped. Ass, dick, ballsack, it was all out in the open, presented to the girls in the most pathetic, objectified possible way. Before he could even try to get up, Miss Brookland's hands took his jeans and underwear and pulled them further down to below his knees. She picked up the paddle. Randy gasped. This was not how he had been planning to introduce his classmates to his naked body. He felt his face go red and hot. This wasn't livable at all! this was a nightmare!

"You're getting ten of these, Mr. Klein, and you're going to count them."

Randy almost whined out loud, but he still had too much dignity for that, if just barely. He turned his head back toward the blackboard and waited, heart thumping, muscles tense. Twenty-two pairs of female eyes scanned his naked bottom and crotch. He took his mind off of them when the first paddle swat landed.

CRACK!!

Just like that, his bottom burst into flames.

"AH! OW! OW! OW!"

His feet drummed against the floor, his fingers released the edge of the desk and grabbed them again as he tried to divert the energy to anywhere except his ass. The paddle was heavier than it looked, and there was a broad stripe across both his cheeks that felt like it had been skinned.

"Count it, Randy!"

"Owwww...one!" He managed to get out. As soon as he did, he was rewarded with the second lick, right exactly on top of the first.

CRACK!!

He didn't scream. He didn't stand up. But he did everything short of that before managing to say "two."

CRACK!!

This one hit lower, catching his sit spots from a low angle, but with the top part of the paddle overlapping the earlier swats. He actually jumped off of the floor. These people were insane! This was a crime against humanity! He'd have the UN human rights commission and a war crimes tribunal and-

CRACK!!

The paddling went on, and on, ten licks somehow taking an eternity. After each swat, he was sure his butt couldn't feel any more pain, surely you couldn't keep adding agony and not get diminishing returns at some point, the nervous system must have limits. But with each CRACK, he turned out to be wrong. Miss Brookland, it seemed, was an accomplished spanker; every lick landed exactly where she wanted it, which was usually the exact same spot.

Eight.

Oh god.

CRACK!!

Nine, please please please.

CRACK!!

Finally, yes! Ten!

CRACK!!

The tenth swat was the hardest, and on the sit spots again. Randy was sniffling, fireworks exploding in front of his eyes. He could feel his bottom smoking, he knew it!

"Stand up."

He shot to his feet, grabbing his hindquarters with both hands. Randy had been hoping the damage would be all in his head, but that was not the case. He felt the heat his bottom was giving off before his hands even touched it. When they did, he felt how soft and swollen it was, and how feverishly hot. Like the rest of the class, Miss Brookland watched him dance from foot to foot, bottom bare and bright smouldering red, penis wobbling pathetically around between his naked legs. Her angry expression was mostly gone, replaced with a wry poker face. At her desk, Amanda, her uniform top still tied immodestly above her midriff, was wearing a soft smile, her glossy, pouty lips parted to reveal her perfectly white teeth.

Randy finished his post-paddling war dance and started pulling his pants back up, but Miss Brookland grabbed his arm.

"Not yet. Take off your shoes, pants and underwear and leave them here."

Randy looked at her, blinking through eyes wet with tears above puffy, red cheeks. "What???"

"You're going to stand in the corner by the door," Miss Brookland said sternly, "and face the wall until the end of class. And keep your hands on your head; no rubbing your bottom!"

Randy threw his arms up in disbelief. "You want me to walk down the aisle naked!"

"You're not the first student in this room who's been made to do it. Is there any reason you should get special treatment?"

I'm a boy

, he almost said, but he realized that would be suicide. Clenching his jaw, face nearly as red as his buttocks, Randy finished getting his shoes and pants off and walked down the aisle in his shirt and socks. Girls were staring at him, saucer eyes. Some were gasping. A few were leering. One or two were holding their hands to their mouths to not laugh. When he passed by his own, empty seat, he briefly made eye contact with Amanda. She gave him a gentle smile. He wasn't sure what she meant by it.

Soon, he was in the corner, hands on his head despite every nerve in his body telling him to bring them down, and Miss Brookland's lecture was continuing. Randy looked behind him to make sure Ms. Brookland's attention was elsewhere before clutching his hot buttocks in both hands, hissing a little under his breath; it was hardly any relief at all. As he massaged his wounded ass, however, his thoughts were also on Amanda. On the one hand, he hated her for getting him in trouble. He tended to do that often enough himself, and he sure didn't need help from someone who had probably never seen the Headmistress' office in her life. On the other, he wasn't sure if he could fully blame her for not taking partial responsibility for the note. Its not like things would have been any better for him if they had both been spanked - well, aside from the fact that watching Amanda get her cute butt paddled might have been hot. Still, it rubbed him the wrong way.

But then, calling Miss Brookland's attention to their part of the room. Had she done that on purpose? Had the entire note been some kind of ploy to get him in trouble?

Before his disobediance could be noticed, he reluctantly brought his hands back to his head (owww, why couldn't she let him rub?) and looked over his shoulder at the top of her honey-blonde head. Miss Brookland was asking a question, and Amanda was answering. Randy wondered what exactly he was dealing with in his wholesome-looking seatmate.

Not five minutes later, he would begin to find out.

"Ms. Brookland, can I please be excused to the bathroom?"

"Of course, Amanda. Take the hall pass."

Randy looked over his shoulder. Several girls in the back rows turned their heads quickly away, some of them visibly giggling. Randy felt an anxious tingling all over his naked lower half as he realized they had been peeking at him. His blush was starting to return; he wondered if his beaten ass looked as swollen and blistered as it felt. Somehow, his butt seemed to get sorer and sorer in the five minutes since the paddling and, no matter how he squeezed or clutched it when the teacher's back was turned, the pain couldn't be relieved. He watched discretely as Amanda took the hall pass from Ms. Brookland's desk and made her way down the aisle toward him. As she approached, he made eye contact with her, giving her an accusing glare. Her response would tell him whether she was sorry for this or not.

At first, Amanda showed no sign of having seen his expression. Then, just as she was passing Randy on her way out the door, she stopped and looked behind her. Ms. Brookland was writing on the blackboard, her back turned to the class. Seeing this, Amanda turned to Randy with a mischevious smile on her juicy lips and tilted her head up to whisper in his ear.

"You know, you have a really cute butt."

Before Randy could even process this, she reached over and squeezed his right buttock, clutching the burning sit spot tightly. Randy gasped, his eyes going wide as she audaciously looked him in the eyes, still grinning. Her skin was dreamily soft and feminine; it hurt where she squeezed his beaten flesh, but her texture sent a little electric tingle across Randy's buttocks and into his crotch, which he felt give a little twitch. Her eyes flicked down to his penis before returning to his own. Randy's arm belatedly rose to catch hers, but she had already let go of him and was walking out the door, just in time to avoid being seen by Ms. Brookland.

Randy stared at the door, heart thumping, mouth still hanging open. His hand went to the spot on his bottom where she had squeezed him, which somehow still tingled. Had that really just happened?

Conflicting thoughts ran through Randy's head. When he had first taken inventory of the local hotties at Trask Park, Amanda had been near the top of the list. Sure, she was an annoying know-it-all who lapped up all the high school bullshit and loved it, but Randy had experience in cracking that sort of nut (in fact, he suspected that doing it to the principle's perfect princess of a daughter had been a contributing factor to his expulsion two schools ago, along with the skateboard incident) and she was hot enough to be worth it. On the other hand, what had she actually meant by that? Girls weren't supposed to grope and make lewd comments in public, everyone knew that was men's work. Was she just making fun of him? Had she gotten him in trouble on purpose and then used the opportunity to fuck with his head? Or was she really interested, and this was her weird way of apologizing for him getting paddled? Whatever the case, Randy decided it was time to seriously reevaluate what he thought he knew about Little Miss Perfect.

He felt the pull of gravity down below, and glanced down.

Oh shit.

Thinking about Amanda in this context had gone straight to his most vital organ, and it was now semi-erect, holding itself a couple inches in front of him before curving back down. Shit. Being naked and red-assed in the corner in front of all these girls was life-destroying enough already. If they saw this, he was finished. Randy turned himself to face the corner more completely and brought his legs together, hiding his crotch from view. He decided to stop thinking about Amanda and focus on something less arousing. Like how much his ass still hurt. Randy grimaced and looked back at Ms. Brookland; damnit, she was facing his way, he couldn't rub. It was starting to itch as well...damnit, did that mean he was bruised? Moaning under his breath, he tried to think of a more pleasant subject, like the motorcycle he was saving up for or Ms. Brookland being drawn and quartered.