Title: Volleyball Coaches 
Keywords: FF/ffff, spank
Summary: Strict coaches deal with their teen girls on a road trip
Author: Naughty Gaffer brndtag at mcn.net
Please use “Story comments” in subject line if you e-mail.

“Those darn girls! They’re at it again!” Miss Dobson said.  She pointed at the group of silhouettes that dashed back and forth on the terrace outside the hotel room.
“I’ve had quite enough, I think,” said Miss Taylor.  “They’ve kept us up every night and you know they’re not getting any sleep.”
“How do they expect to play tournament volleyball this way? We said lights out and settle down at 10:30 and it’s nearly midnight!  Youth and all, of course, but they need some sleep.  It’s the girls in Miss Davis’s room.”
“Of course,” answered Miss Taylor.  “The ones in the next room know we can hear them.”
Miss Dobson looked at Miss Taylor meaningfully.  “I have mine in the bottom of my bag and I think we should use it.” Miss Taylor nodded.
The two women were in their mid-thirties.  They had been teachers and sports coaches at St. Agnes’ School for several years.  The school had once been affiliated with the Catholic diocese but was now strictly private. Most of the girls were the daughters and granddaughters of previous students. Its governing body was made of twelve parents of current students, all of whom certainly had the girls’ interests at heart.  For more than a century, with and without its church affiliation, the school had produced well-behaved young ladies. Punishment was avoided when possible, but all the girls’ parents expected it to be used.  Corporal punishment was an important part of the discipline system.  
As a result, all teachers had light, flexible rulers that were used exclusively for “measuring the bottom”, as one teacher had put it long ago.  They kept them in their desks, they had one in the “monitor’s room” that the duty teacher occupied each night, and they carried one when they took the girls on extended field trips.  The girls on the sports teams often seemed to push their luck and to need a reminder of their limits on these trips.  The speech team coach reported that she had never used her ruler on the road.
This was the varsity volleyball team, however.  Since only juniors and seniors were allowed on trips like this, they were the most independent-minded girls at a school noted for encouraging independence – but disciplined independence.  Now Miss Taylor and Miss Dobson were ready to re-establish the discipline part.
They threw their bathrobes over their pajamas and walked down the terrace to Room 204.  The door was unlocked and they went in.  The room was empty.  Snack packages and soda cans were littered over the room and the beds were completely demolished.  Two pillows were lying ruptured on the floor, their feathers lying like snow on the carpet.  “The girls were headed for the ice machine, I think,” said Miss Dobson.
“Then we’ll just wait for them,” said Miss Taylor.
They only had to wait a minute before giggling and the patter of running bare feet came up the terrace.  Four young girls came tumbling into the room.  Missie Davis, the oldest and supposed to be in charge of the room, slammed the door and spun to see the coaches seated on the less-disordered of the two beds.  Missie suddenly realized that her friends had quit laughing and were standing in fearful silence.  The look on her coaches’ faces told her why.
“Ladies! This is quite disgusting. What have you to say for yourselves?”  Miss Taylor got no reply, nor did she really expect one.  “Look at this room. It’s a shambles.  Look at the time – we ordered lights out and silence an hour and a half ago.  Look at yourselves – running up and down in your nightshirts.  There is no doubt that stern measures are required.”  All four girls blanched under their tans.  They had each had a taste of “stern measures” before.
Tyler Knoll, a junior, opened her mouth as if to protest. “Do you have something to say that will actually justify what you have done, Miss Knoll?” Miss Dobson asked sharply.  The girl’s mouth closed abruptly.  She realized that anything she said would be used against her bottom.
“Now, as to taking turns.  Miss Davis, you were in charge of the room.  You will go last and longest, I think.  Miss Trelaine, I have heard your voice the loudest.  You will be third.  Miss Knoll, you will go first, and Miss Johnson will follow you.”  It was a particular rule of St. Agnes’ School that girls would be addressed formally during punishment.  Punishment was also normally administered in some privacy, but that wasn’t going to be feasible this time and Miss Taylor decided to use the situation to advantage.  “All of you will kneel between the beds where you can see clearly.  Each of you is responsible for your own misconduct.  But Miss Davis and Miss Trelaine have permitted and encouraged this misconduct.  Their offense is the more serious and I want them to see what they have helped you come to.”
The girls were dressed identically in striped nightshirts that reached mid-thigh.  They were all attractive girls with rounded figures in different stages of development.  Kneeling on the floor, they looked like a row of apprentice angels.  Three still had freckles and they all had the high foreheads and open faces of late girlhood.  They were really good girls, of course, but the excitement of their trip had overcome their judgement.  Well, Miss Taylor told herself, this was how they would acquire a little more judgement.
Miss Taylor laid her ruler on the bed beside her as Miss Dobson seated herself on the opposite bed.  The looks on the girls’ faces would have moved her to pity if she hadn’t known that the girls had earned their precarious position.  The mix of apprehension and anticipation was almost comical.  The erect figures, breasts pushing against their nightshirts, hands folded on their round thighs, were as cute as a litter of kittens.  But it was her duty to help raise these kittens and she would do her duty by them if it raised welts on their round little behinds.
“Miss Knoll, come here,” she said after a carefully timed wait.  The shortest of the four, Tyler was the least developed in her figure but still very cute.  She came over as slowly as she dared, eyes downcast and her hands folded in front of her.  She was pressing her hands between her legs and the fabric of her nightshirt was pulled against the small breasts.  Miss Taylor saw that the girl’s nipples were poking against the striped cotton.
“Lie down across my lap,” she said.  Tyler climbed on the bed and lay on her stomach, her hips on Miss Taylor’s thighs.  The girl’s arms were stretched in front of her and she held one of the surviving pillows under her head.  “Hold the pillow tightly, Miss Knoll, so you don’t try to reach back.  You know that struggling will only make things worse.”  The girl’s red braid bounced as she nodded.  Miss Taylor picked up the ruler and looked over at the line of naughty angels.  “Now, Miss Johnson, none of that.  You are to watch and learn while you wait for your turn.”  She raised the ruler and brought it down sharply across the striped cotton of Miss Knoll’s nightshirt.  There was a smacking sound, the girl jumped slightly, and Miss Taylor heard a slight gasp. Miss Taylor gave her about six more swats across the nightshirt as a warm-up.  Then the next phase began.  Miss Taylor raised the nightshirt up the young girl’s back, exposing the black cotton panties cut low across the hips and thighs.  There was a slight tan line around the legs.  The short, round thighs stretched along the bed.  The next slap of the ruler brought a more satisfactory response – a loud gasp and a whimper of real discomfort.  Each swat brought another small yip or whimper, but Miss Taylor didn’t feel like she had finished her job yet.
“One more round, Miss Knoll,” she announced.  The red braid bounced again as the girl nodded.  Tyler had expected this – she had always wound up with a bare bottom and this would be no different.  Miss Taylor put both hands on the waistband of the black panties and pulled sharply, parking the knickers just below the curve of Tyler’s bare bottom.  The skin of her bottom was pale against her tan, except where the ruler had pinked it a bit.
Ten more swats across the bare, soft skin of the rounded bottom left all of it pink, though not reddened or bruised.  School policy was to make the girl think about what she had done and how she had earned her punishment, but that was all.  Miss Taylor pulled Tyler’s underpants back up, gently rubbed her bottom to soothe it a little, and lowered the nightshirt back to position.  “Up you go,” she said briskly and helped the girl to stand.  “Now kneel back in your place.”  Tyler nodded, biting her lip and rubbing her behind as she stepped back into place.
Delaney Johnson’s eyes were even bigger than their usual china-doll size.  She realized that each girl in turn would receive a somewhat longer and sharper punishment.  Well, at least she was second in line. Things would be a lot worse later!  She watched solemnly as Miss Taylor passed her ruler over to Miss Dobson.
“Yes, Miss Johnson,” said Miss Dobson.  The sixteen-year-old stood up and came over as slowly as Tyler had.  Her hands were behind her in an unconscious and futile protective pose.  Her hair hung in two long, black braids.  “You may take up your position,” Miss Dobson said.  But Delaney had always been a difficult girl at these moments and would not lie down.  Miss Dobson gave her a sharp look.  “You may take your position, or I will put you in position and add ten strokes.  Which shall it be?”
The apprehensive look deepened, but the girl still stood silent.  Miss Dobson sighed and reached out for her.  Gently but firmly, she pulled the young girl over her lap and helped her get arranged along the bed.  Miss Dobson decided to skip the first round entirely, the strokes on the nightshirt, and to go directly to the panty-warming phase.  The punishment had to happen – she owed that to Delaney and to the other girls – but she would handle it with dispatch.  She quickly pulled the nightshirt up over Delaney’s slender hips and small, dimpled bottom and swatted her with the ruler.  Delaney jumped, let an inappropriate word slip, and tried to cover her bottom with her hands. Miss Dobson grabbed her wrists firmly in her left hand.
“Now, Miss Johnson, you know better.  The next six will be for that word and for trying to cover up.  Please don’t make this harder than need be.”  She raised her right arm and brought the ruler down smartly, half on the white cotton underpants and half on the tender skin of the upper thigh.  There was a sharp jerk and a whimper, but no more language and no further attempt to cover her dainty bottom.  There was a general relaxation that indicated a resignation to her fate.  Miss Dobson had often had to spank this particular girl and knew there would be no further trouble.  She counted six swats out loud.  “That was your first bonus for swearing.  Now let me get on with the work at hand.”  Miss Dobson glanced over at the other girls kneeling at the foot of the bed.  Their eyes were getting larger and larger – especially Missie Davis.  Missie knew she had helped her friends into this painful predicament and she knew her session would be the worst.
Ten more strokes across Delaney Johnson’s white panties had the girl squirming and whimpering as intended.  Now it was time for the serious work.  “We’re going to continue, Miss Johnson,” Miss Dobson said.  “Please stay calm and just accept your lesson.”  Delaney nodded and bit her lip.  Miss Dobson pulled the white cotton down over the milk-white hips to expose the dimpled, tiny bottom.  Although she was very slim, Delaney was an excellent player with quite a jump.  Her long, thin legs were quite attractive in a coltish way.  The white panties were almost rope-like under the teenager’s hips.  Miss Dobson looked at the pinkened skin of Delaney’s bottom and tut-tutted a bit. It was the girl’s own doing, of course.  Miss Dobson raised the ruler again and the sharp patter of plastic against skin resumed.  She counted fifteen sharp strokes, then paused.  “Miss Johnson, that is the end of the primary punishment.  The next ten strokes are to help you learn to do what you’re told, even when it’s punishment time.”  Delaney nodded and whimpered a moment.  Ten more sharp spanks got the last square inches of pale skin and her delicate bare bottom was now a uniform peach color.  Miss Dobson slipped the white panties back into place, rubbed for a moment and lowered the nightshirt.  She helped the shaking girl to her feet.  “You may go kneel next to Miss Knoll now.”  The tall, slim girl knelt back in place.
Paula Trelaine was as pale as her nightshirt as Miss Taylor looked at her.  “Come over, Miss Trelaine,” the teacher said firmly.  Paula was seventeen, well-developed, with the largest breasts of the group.  They pushed firmly against her blue-and-white striped nightshirt.  The girl’s hands simply hung by her side as she stepped forward and lay down across Miss Taylor’s lap.  She looked over her shoulder for a long moment, then looked away again.
Miss Taylor took the ruler back from Miss Dobson.  She looked down at the bottom centered on her lap.  She was very fond of Paula Trelaine, which would work against the poor girl for about two minutes now.  Paula was only seventeen, but she looked closer to twenty. Miss Taylor smoothed the nightshirt over the round bottom and began her work.  She brought the ruler down with a flat smacking sound.  Paula managed to hold still, but Miss Taylor was only getting started.  Fifteen times the ruler rose and fell.  Paula began to cry at the tenth stroke.  Miss Taylor was putting more heart into the task because of Paula’s role as instigator.  Miss Taylor glanced over at Missie Davis while she was spanking Paula’s round bottom.  Missie’s eyes were almost bulging and her mouth was slightly open.
After fifteen strokes across the nightshirt, Miss Taylor lifted the striped cotton material to expose white panties with pink hearts on them.  They were cut low on the hips and legs, almost like an old-fashioned bikini.  The underpants would offer very little protection, of course.  Miss Taylor raised the ruler and brought it down hard on the center of the tight panties.  Twenty times the little hearts danced as the ruler spanked down and Paula cried softly. 
Miss Taylor was about to reach for the waistband of the panties when Paula beat her to it.  The girl reached back and lowered her own panties as soon as she realized that Miss Taylor had paused.  Like the other girls, she was tanned and her bottom was pale against the darker skin of her thighs and her back.  It was almost like an extra pair of panties, but the smooth skin was pink from the earlier spanking.  Miss Taylor continued with her clear-cut duty. Thirty strokes across the bare skin brought young Miss Trelaine to tears, but the girl took her punishment in good spirit – no kicking, no bad language, no attempt to hide her bottom with her hands.  Miss Taylor put the young girl’s panties back in position and lowered her nightshirt.  Then she rubbed the round, sweet bottom and also the shaking shoulders to help Miss Trelaine calm herself.  The girl got up on her own and returned silently to her place in the line.
“And then there was one,” said Miss Dobson.  She held her hand out to Miss Taylor for the ruler.  Missie Davis stood up gracefully, but she was clearly terrified.  She had seen three girls receive progressively more severe spankings on their bouncy young bottoms and hers was next.  She walked over to Miss Dobson on shaky legs, her fingers gripping her nightshirt and pulling it into the space between her thighs.  She couldn’t even look at her teacher as she stood in front of her.  Finally the frightened girl lay down across Miss Dobson’s thighs.
The ruler made a rhythmic popping sound as Miss Dobson plied it firmly across the striped nightshirt. Twenty times the teacher’s arm rose, twenty times the ruler came down across the poor girl’s round bottom.  By the fifteenth stroke, Missie was crying convincingly.  But Miss Dobson would abate nothing – Missie had helped the others earn their pink stripes and she would get her share of them!
After twenty strokes on Missie’s nightshirt, Miss Dobson paused to catch her breath and rest her arm a moment.  Then she lifted the nightshirt to find – nothing!  Miss Dobson could hear Missie’s gasp as the girl realized what her fate would be.  Not wearing panties under her nightshirt was a major offense, even without the other rule violations that Missie had piled on that night.  Miss Taylor spoke first.
“Well, Miss Davis, the jig went up with your nightshirt, didn’t it?  Miss Dobson, I will lay on twenty for this little piece of work if you need to rest your arm.”  Miss Dobson nodded and Miss Taylor knelt in front of her, taking the ruler.  “Miss Davis, I want you to count out these twenty to refresh your memory of the dress code.”  The girl did as she was told, gritting her teeth and spitting the number out after each stroke stung across her bare flesh.  Miss Taylor returned the ruler to Miss Dobson and went back to the other bed to see the end of the punishment session.
Miss Dobson’s arm was indeed tired, but she would not shirk now. Fifty times she plied the ruler on the bare skin of the disobedient girl.  It was certainly the longest spanking of the evening and the hardest as well.  Missie was crying bitterly before it was done, but finally Miss Dobson helped the girl stand up and the nightshirt fell over her nakedness.  “Miss Davis, put on your underpants at once,” Miss Dobson said and watched as the girl found a pair of white cotton panties and pulled them up over her hips.
“Very well,” said Miss Taylor.  “I certainly hope this was enough for all of you.  I expect no more noise from you and tomorrow night all of you will sleep in the room next to ours.  You will all have to do without pillows, since there are only two.  I will call you at seven in the morning.”  The girls climbed into their beds and nodded sheepishly, none daring to say a word.  Miss Dobson clicked the light off and the two teachers returned to their room.
“That was exhausting work,” said Miss Dobson.  “Especially Miss Davis’ punishment.”
“You do look tired, dear,” said Miss Taylor.  “But we were enjoying it far too much.  Since your arm is tired, shall I do you first?”
“Yes, dear,” said Miss Dobson, stretching herself across Miss Taylor’s lap.  “But not too much, please.”