textfiles/sex/EROTICA/C/chsurprs.txt

Article 8900 of alt.sex.spanking:
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From: an176641@anon.penet.fi (Solstice)
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Date: Sat, 18 Feb 1995 09:15:04 UTC
Subject: Cheerleaders' Surprise (FF/ff) * S *
Lines: 423


This story is based on a true incident that happened at an 
eastern campus several years ago.  The names have been changed to 
protect the blistered.

Dedicated to Tony, without whose help etc., etc...

                   The Cheerleaders' Surprise

(c) * SOLSTICE *

I was sitting in the bleachers in the gym, trying (as usual) to 
make time with Betty, a lovely blonde freshman like myself.  We 
were relaxing after lunch.  About a dozen people were shooting 
baskets and exercising and four or five other students were 
lounging in the stands, reading or chatting.

Suddenly Miss Harding, the phys ed instructor stormed in.  Her 
voice echoed angrily.  "Where's Laura and Kathy?!" she demanded 
from a knot of girls near the entrance door. I couldn't hear 
the replies, but the teacher immediately wheeled around and 
walked out in a huff.  Apparently, the culprits she was seeking 
were soon located, as I could hear her yelling in the hallway, 
getting louder as she again approached the gym door.  

"...not going to put up with this crap!" she said as she burst in 
again.  Following her, in dribs and drabs, were several young 
ladies in uniform that I immediately recognized as the freshman 
cheering squad.  They had on their blue tunics with the name of 
our team emblazoned across the front and their short little gold 
skirts.

Miss Harding was giving them hell.  "If I've told you once, I've 
told you a hundred times: you clean up that locker room after 
practice.  And I mean every scrap of trash, every piece of 
equipment.  I want everything in its propre place!"

My friend Betty looked at me and smiled.  "It looks like the 
freshman girls are in trouble," she said, then turned her pretty 
face back to watch Miss Harding lecture.  We couldn't hear what 
the girls were mumbling in their defense, but Miss Harding was 
having none of it.

"Well, if you refuse to accept responsibility as adults, I'll 
give you something to think about.  Let's go.  Laps, ladies.  
Start running.  I'll tell you when to stop!"  With that, Miss 
Harding her metal whistle to her mouth and gave a shrill blast.

Reluctantly, one or two of the girls began trotting, then more of 
them joined in, until the whole freshman cheerleading squad was 
strung out in a ragged line, running around the perimeter of the 
large gymnasium.

I smiled and said to Betty, "Yeah, Miss Harding's doing her 
thing."  I watched the girls as they ran past the bleachers on 
the gym floor a few rows below us.  I knew a few of them.  I idly 
noted that gorgeous Kathy Eastman was there.  She was 5'10", with 
long blonde hair and a killer body.  I was often literally 
mesmerized by her perfect ass when I walked behind her in the 
halls.  My male friends and I called her "movie star material."  
I also saw Laura Weston, a very cute brunette.  Then there was a 
tall, pretty redhead that I knew was named Lisa.  There were 
about a dozen of them, one more attractive than the other.  After 
all, only the finest looking young ladies made it onto the squad.  
I had asked about a third of them out already and been shot down 
by every one.  They were all going out with football stars or 
seniors, or at least interested in bigger game than me.  After 
they passed once or twice, Betty and I returned to our 
conversation, paying no more attention to the jogging women.

I don't know how many times they ran around that big gym.  I do 
recall that when I heard Miss Harding's whistle again, they were 
all breathing heavily, hands on hips, walking around and 
coughing.

I will never forget what happened next.  Somehow, word had gotten 
to the senior sorority girls that the freshman cheerleaders were 
running laps for not cleaning the locker room.  The gym door 
popped opened and in walked several of the senior sisters.  They 
were dressed casually, some in jeans, some in skirts, as if they 
had been on their way to class when they were called away.  I was 
saying something to Betty and stopped in midsentence when I 
realized that each senior girl had her sorority paddle with her!
These were real serious implements.  They were at least 18 inches 
long, four inches wide, and a half inch thick.  I think they 
were made of maple wood.  

I said to Betty, "Uh-oh.  I think those girls are in trouble."

Betty twisted around, surveyed the scene briefly, then turned 
back to me and said with a mixture of excitement and surprise in 
her voice, "You think they'll paddle them?!"

"I don't know," I said slowly.  "Can they do that?"  The 
cheerleaders were the best looking girls in the school.  I was 
hoping against hope they could.

"Well, my cousin was in a sorority and she told me she got 
paddled."

We watched silently.  I noticed that the pick-up basketball game 
had stopped and the kids in the bleachers with Betty and I had 
looked up from their books.  Everyone was watching the sorority 
sisters.  They conferred with Miss Harding for a moment, then 
advanced on the cheerleaders.  Most of the girls holding the 
paddles had determined, serious looks on their faces, although 
two or three were grinning in anticipation.

The bevy of armed young women merged with the group of girls in 
their uniforms.  There was earnest discussion and I heard 
snippets of louder conversation from the older women: 
"...embarassed us...can't do anything right...not gonna get away 
with it..."  Miss Harding was off to the side, her arms crossed, 
watching impassively.

A few of the cheerleaders walked out of the tight circle, looking 
downcast and shaking their heads.  To this day I do not 
understand if all the cheerleaders were in the sorority, just 
some of them or what.  But there was no question that the 
sorority sisters had jurisdiction over them.  

Apparently, a decision was made.  The group of young women parted 
and began to separate into two sections again.  The sisters stood 
together.  The freshman looked worried.  The head of the 
cheerleaders started to shout commands in the same loud, booming 
voice I heard them use at football games.  The cheerleaders 
responded instantly.  They came toward the bleachers and faced us 
in an unruly line.  Other commands were shouted and the line 
straightened.  Each girl, looking very serious, put her shoulders 
back, legs apart, then extended her right arm out until it 
touched the shoulder of the girl to the right.   They shuffled a 
bit until they were perfectly lined up.  

I quickly counted the cheerleaders.  There were fourteen in 
all.  I looked down the row of girls, a feast for male eyes, my 
mind racing: there was a brunette, a blonde, then Kathy...next to 
her is that doll I see in History class...let's see...next is 
that girl, Peggy, God! what legs on her!...oh, look at the one 
next to her!  wow, she's pretty!...next is a nice blonde, another 
blonde, there's Lisa...oh! there's that girl with the brown hair 
and green eyes that wouldn't talk to me after English Lit 
class!...next to her is that short cute one with the little round 
ass...

Another loud command was given and they all bent forward, their 
legs perfectly straight.  I squirmed in my seat and really began 
paying attention.  My heart began to race and I wondered if Betty 
could detect my mounting excitement.

At another signal, the cheerleaders reached back and flipped 
up their skirts, each revealing her little gold panties.  Then 
they grasped their ankles firmly and waited.  My breath was 
coming in shallow spurts.  My mouth felt like cotton.

Betty turned to me, blushing, her mouth slightly open in 
surprise, but didn't say a word.  I looked back, equally amazed 
and silent.

One after another I scanned the bending young ladies again.  All 
I can say is, they were a truly mouth watering group.  They were 
all about 18 years old with perfect bodies.  And I was sure I was 
about to see them publicly spanked!  What a treat!

The older sorority girls spread out and walked up to the bending 
girls so that each one was standing to a freshman's left, paddles 
at the ready.

I tried to memorize every detail.  Some of the girls' faces were 
straight out, toward the stands, some looked at the floor and I 
could only see the tops of their heads.  A few were looking 
sideways, perhaps whispering something to the girl next to them.  
They were all different heights bending over, but Kathy was 
definitely the tallest, her beautiful blonde hair cascading over 
her head and down the left side of her graceful neck.  I saw a 
brunette whose wavy hair parted neatly at the back of her head, 
some hanging down on the left, some on the right.  I noticed that 
some of the girls had ponytails.  I was high enough to see the 
tops of their backsides.  Some were fuller or slimmer than 
others, with a couple really sticking out good.  The position 
they were in presented irresistible targets.  Their blue skirts, 
now inside out over their backs, were lined in gold, trimmed with 
blue at the bottom.  

Now one of the senior girls began shouting commands.  "Ready," 
the older girls set their feet, with the paddles held in both 
hands and pointed at the floor.  "Set."  In unison, the sisters 
brought the paddles back and high above their shoulders, ready 
to swing them forward.  I noticed most of them were natural wood 
color, but a few were painted solid blue, gold or red.  You could 
have heard a pin drop in the gym.  Everyone's attention was 
riveted on the show, many of the men with stupid, disbelieving 
grins on their faces.  My eyes nervously swept up and down the 
line, trying to plan what to watch for, what to take in, when the 
spanking started.  Betty said something like "Here goes," or 
something, but I hardly heard her.

"Go!"  

Simultaneously, fourteen paddles whizzed through the still air 
and collided forcefully with fourteen firm, trim, young, feminine 
asses!  The gym echoed with a long, loud, rolling SPLLAAAATTTT!!! 
instantly followed by a tremendous chorus of loud, female voices 
wailing in protest, "OH!" "OUCH!" "AHH!" "EEK!" "HEY!" all mixed 
together in a stimulating, intoxicating cacaphony of noise.  I 
have never heard anything like it!  

I was frankly stunned at how hard they swung.  Mixed in with the 
sounds, I could hear individual pops as the heavy paddles landed.  
I thought that perhaps they would just tap them as a token 
punishment, but that was not the case at all.  This was to be a 
REAL paddling.  

The line of girls moved slightly in response to the first swat, 
yielding in varying degrees to the forces from the paddles of the 
senior girls.  I saw some rise up on their toes.  One took a half 
step forward.  A few heads snapped upward in surprise.  Some with 
their faces toward me opened their mouths, adding to the 
collective shout of dismay.

There were no more commands.  The senior girls were apparently on 
their own now.  The second swats came close together, but not 
nearly with the military precision of the first.  The result 
was a great, echoing, slapping noise that sounded like it went on 
and on forever.  That was followed by another boisterous 
collective cry that rose and fell like a wave in the gym.

By the third swat, all hell had broken loose.  The paddles were 
flying, the cheerleaders' asses were bobbing and the sounds of 
hard, flat wood pounding upturned, vulnerable ass cheeks melded 
with yells, cries, and even some laughter from spectators and 
seniors.  Betty touched my arm and I diverted my attention only 
long enough to see her pretty face, mouth wide open, her big eyes 
crinkled into a big uproarious laugh, pointing enthusiastically 
at the scene below us.

The long double line below us was moving, seething with activity.  
I couldn't drink in enough of it.  Indidvidual paddles would 
shoot high up into the air, catching your eye, only to disappear 
swiftly downward on their burning, painful mission.  I watched 
one senior girl, in jeans and a white blouse, swinging 
frantically, swatting the helpless brunette in front of her very 
rapidly and mercilessly.  The front of the bending girl's skirt 
was flying, her legs quaking, her whole body rocking unsteadily 
back and forth with the powerful rhythm of the blows assaulting 
her squarely in her shapely hind end.

I searched quickly and found Kathy.  Her hair was flying around 
her head, her eyes tightly closed, her mouth a thin, taut 
line, trying to bear the incredible spanking she was receiving.  
Her legs were still straight and she seemed to be holding onto 
her ankles for dear life!  The pretty senior brunette paddling 
her, her own short skirt swirling out and high up around her 
thighs, was energetically bringing the big piece of wood 
backwards and forwards quickly with huge, strong arcs, totally 
unconcerned for the pain she was surely causing the gorgeous 
blonde.  

My eyes moved down the line to a luscious brunette being lifted 
onto her toes every time the paddle made solid contact with her 
rear.  Next to her was a perky redhead, jerking her head back at 
each swat, swinging her ponytail sharply up and down.  Each whack 
gave me a perfect view of her distressed face.

Separate sounds wafted up into the bleachers and I could make out 
individual high pitched cries of "Please!" "No!" "Stop!" and "Oh 
God!"  There was plenty of very sincere pleading going on.

My eyes swept along, treated to a feast of sexy suffering, pretty 
faces truned this way and that, shouting, jerking, the paddles 
rising and falling relentlessly, hard and fast.  My heart leaped 
when I noticed a beautiful brunette, who had rejected my 
advances, being given swat after explosive swat on the seat of 
her panties by a big, powerful looking athletic blonde behind 
her.  The younger female was twisting and wiggling like a rag 
doll as the blonde, swinging like a home run hitter, carelessly 
built up a throbbing, hot fire in her seat.

Another of my would-be dates was right next to her, a succulent, 
petite platinum blonde with slim hips, a tiny waist and big 
breasts.  She was obviously feeling a raging sensation in her 
rear globes as the mini-skirted dirty blonde behind her solidly 
whacked away at her buttocks.  The victim's face was all red and 
twisted into an almost comical grimace as she concentrated on the 
impressions she was receiving from her hind end.  She was gasping 
for breath.  Her big blue eyes alternately closed tightly and 
opened very wide.  She looked like she was drowning.  I felt a 
shameful urge to wave and stick my tongue out at her, but I 
doubted she even saw me.  My gaze danced between the two former 
objects of my desire and watched intently as they shook, bounced 
and twisted, their hair flying.  I felt a deep satisfaction that 
they were, in some way, getting what they deserved.

I found Kathy again and saw her sensuous face had softened.  Her 
head was twisting in little circles and her full red lips were 
formed into a puckered circle, mouthing something that looked 
like "oh!...oh!...oh!" but I could not distinctly hear her.

The noise was building to a crescendo.  The line of girls was 
ragged now, many a foot or more out of position, but the paddlers 
were still working them over.  Slapping sounds filled the gym and 
a loud, general feminine moan was in the air.  Everywhere my eyes 
fell was a scene of serious corporal punishment.  A brunette 
tumbled forward, but was still being paddled on her hands and 
knees, her tormentor giggling triumphantly and quickly following 
her along the floor.  The senior brought the paddle up over her 
shoulder then down below her knees in a tremendous, powerful arc.  
The girl on all fours jumped smasmodically in reaction to each 
swat.  A blonde on the end of the line fell and received two or 
three swats while still flat on her stomach.  

Finally, there was another shouted command and the swats trailed 
off.  There were three or four more hard, individual paddle 
spanks followed by a half screamed "OW!!!" or "OH!!!"  

The whole thing was over in only a minute, but it was the 
happiest, most joyous minute of my freshman year.

There was a few moments of silence, then a loud murmering.  
The seniors were laughing and congratulating each other.  The 
cheerleaders, crestfallen to a girl, stumbled around aimlessly, a 
few openly crying with tears streaming down their pretty faces.  
They were all rubbing their butts.  Some of them rubbed the seats 
of their skirts, others put their hands under the back of their 
uniforms and consoled their battered panties.  Three or four sank 
to their knees, humiliated, hotly and gingerly massaging their 
sexy, enflamed asses.  None of them sat down.  

I saw one girl about 20 feet away twisting around to examine her 
backside.  She momentarily pulled the right edge of her panties 
up to inspect the damage, clearly revealing an incredibly bright 
red, splotchy ass cheek. 

One girl bent over so her friend could lift her skirt and gently 
pull her panties away from her backside.  The friend looked down 
at the scene and shook her head.  Then they switched and the 
first girl inspected the other one's damage.  The examining 
cheerleader slapped her hand to the side of her face, making the 
mistake of letting the panties snap back into place.  The other 
girl winced and bent backwards in pain.  Her friend laughed.  
They then conferred confidentially with each other.  I wished I 
could have heard what they said.

I glanced at Betty.  Her right hand covered her mouth, her face 
reflecting a mixture of total enjoyment and incredulous 
disbelief.  

I wanted to jump down from my perch and walk amongst the girls, 
but I realized I had a tremendous erection and had to be careful 
not to move.

My eyes roved over the girls again and I easily found lovely 
Kathy Eastland.  She was facing me.  Her hair was mussed.  She 
looked weak, her hands pasted firmly on her derriere, her elbows 
pumping up and down enthusiastically.  It looked like she was 
blinking back tears, trying to be strong.  I felt a jolt of 
sexual excitement shoot through me.  Another cheerleader, also 
massaging her ass intently, walked by her, and they smiled wanly 
at each other.

Another cheerleader had her back to me, close by, right at the 
foot of the bleachers.  She had one leg straight underneath her, 
the other extended out to the side, her right hip thrust outward.  
Her small, pale, feminine hands were gliding earnestly up and 
down her nicely rounded ass cheeks, pausing here and there to rub 
her fingers horizontally over a particularly sore spot.  A senior 
girl came over and tried to flip her skirt up to see her butt and 
the girl jumped away, slapping at the senior's hands.

The girls began slowly moving toward the door.  Betty turned to 
me, "Did you see that?!  I bet they won't be sitting down in 
class tomorrow!" she quipped, smiling.   I don't remember what I 
said, but I know my face felt hot and I was terrified that I was 
blushing.  Eventually, all the seniors and the cheerleaders left 
the gym one by one, laughing and talking.  Betty had to go to 
class and soon departed.  I tried to read but I was too riled up.  
I kept looking at the gym floor and saying to myself, I can't 
believe what I just saw happen here.  I was able to calm down 
only after sitting alone for 20 minutes and consciously thinking 
of other things.

I ran into one of the paddled young ladies a few weeks later.  
Candy was her name.  We shared some homework assignments and 
became friends.  As soon as I could, I steered one of our 
conversations to the incident in the gym.

"Oh," she squealed girlishly, "you saw that?!"  She blushed 
furiously.  I loved it.  I asked her what it was like.  She 
leaned forward and put her dainty hand on my arm.  "It was bad, 
Solly," she said, "real bad!  That paddle felt like a hot iron 
slamming me in the seat of my pants.  My ass burned for two days 
straight!  I swear it was like I sat on hot coals.  I was even 
swollen down there.  I couldn't wear tight pants.  I couldn't sit 
down comfortably for a week!"  I felt that familiar charge of 
excitement.

"Well, that IS bad," I teased, "You poor thing.  Your cute little 
ass must have been SO sore!"

"Sore isn't the word.  I had bruises on my butt for the longest 
time."  I tried to feign sympathy, but only managed to stare in 
awe at her pretty, animated face.  "Every time I sat down, I got 
a little reminder of that incident."  I giggled.  "But the 
humiliation was the worst.  We were really surprised they did 
that to us with everybody right there in the gym.  I found out 
later that it wasn't as spontaneous as it looked.  They try to do 
that to the cheerleaders every year at one time or another.  
It's like a tradition."  She laughed delightfully.  "I can't wait 
'till next year," she said, as if we were sharing a secret, "then 
I'll get to wield the paddle and some poor freshman girl will 
have a hot, prickly tush from me!"

"I bet you girls never left the locker dirty again."

She rolled her pretty big eyes and laughed.  Then, nodding, she 
put her right hand on her backside.  "You got that right!" she 
said with a grin.

* SOLSTICE *
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