A Baseball Tale: Blake's Spanking

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This work is intended for ADULTS ONLY. It may contain depictions of sexual activity involving minors. If you are not of a legal age in your locality to view such material or if such material does not appeal to you, do not read further, and do not save this story.
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1

Blake was their only hope. Baseball season 1994 at Watertown High School created legends and rewarded the school with its first championship. For the first time in years, the town rallied behind a common cause, united together for one goal. Repeat. First page headline for the local news posed a question which excited the small town. Could they repeat championships? After all, Watertown seldom had excitement. Hell, the last major front page story involved a famous blueberry pie recipe and before that involved rescuing a cat from a tree. Now, Watertown desired the spotlight for high school sports. Blake, starting pitcher, unhittable, untouchable, captain of the baseball team and high school senior hoped to return the title to the school and leave his mark in town history.

“Striii-ke three” The umpire yelled at the top of the 8^th inning. The batter stumbled back to his dugout, head down. Blake had retired 22 straight batters, most by way of the strikeout. His fastball touched 83mph, almost unheard of for a high school picture. He dealt heat all afternoon, unfortunately his offense behind him could only muster one run to this point. Most of the star hitters were seniors and moved onto college and in order to repeat championships they would have to rely on excellent pitching.

The lanky lefty stared in from the mound, intimidating the next batter to step into the box. His eyes fixed on his catcher, waiting for his pitching sign. Few high schools had reached Blake’s height, even at 17 years old, he almost reached 6 feet 5 inches tall. Well the doctor measured him at 6 feet 4 inches and a half, but Blake always gave himself the extra half an inch. The lefty towered over the mound, glaring down upon every hitter from above. His curveball was mean, and slider meaner, but his fastball was dynamite. The batter, Ryan Shipping, from the opposing team stepped to the plate.

Blake started his motion, lifting his right leg to his chest, leaning back and unleashed a screamer, almost 85mph to the plate. Blake barely broke a sweat, his body felt good. The ball rushed to the plate, the batter began his swing. Keep your eye on the ball. Watch the ball all the way to the plate. Solid contact. Don’t try to do too much with the pitch. The thoughts echoed in Ryan’s head even faster than the pitch. He just wanted to break up the no-hitter and rally his team. Down only one run was doable in the eighth inning. The barrel of the bat whooshed across the plate, his timing – almost perfect – made contact with the ball. The baseball launched away from the batter, high into the air. Bam. The ball raced fast and deep. Very deep. Out of the ballpark. Ryan Shipped just tied the game with a long ball homerun. The Watertown Pirates baseball team were in shock. It was the first homerun Blake had given up during his high school pitching career. The stadium stood silent.

2

The Pirates rallied in the bottom of the ninth inning to win the game by a score of two to one. Blake on the other hand did not complete the game. The coach pulled him after the homerun. Pulled in front of the hometown crowd, in front of his family and friends. Blake always finished the game, always won the game for that matter. Today marked his first no-decision. The baseball team hit the showers. Blake’s mind was absent, focusing solely on the embarrassment, trying to figure out what happened. How could he loose? The legend. He was supposed to be a legend. Blake stood outside the gym showers, naked, except for the white towel tied around his waist.

“Blake can I see you for a moment in my office?” Coach Thomas asked.

Blake did not respond, but walked through the locker room to the coach’s office. Still speechless almost 30 minutes later. Blake could not celebrate his team’s win. That one mistake pitch replayed in his mind, over and over again like a video stuck on repeat.

“Blake, what has been happening to you lately? Even at practice you seem out of it. Like you aren’t here. And then today, you lay a pitch right over the heart of the plate? I need you out there, we need you. If this team is going to repeat, we need you to be the star of the team. The whole town is counting on you.” Coach said.

“I... I’m sorry coach” Blake responded, still replaying the mistake pitch over. “I, don’t know what is happening.”

“And to top it off, Mrs. Fletcher tells me you might be failing her class. You know if you don’t maintain at least a ‘C’ in every class, you won’t be able to pitch. If we lose you, we cannot win a championship. You need to get your act together.”

It was easier last year for Blake. He had a solid group of senior players to support the team. This year however, Blake was the only star. In the spotlight. The 17 year olds knee’s buckling under the pressure. He had the responsibility to lead the team now. “I’m sorry coach.”

“Sorry isn’t good enough. I spoke with the faculty and we are assigning you a tutor to help you. Her name is Heather Stromberg. She is very good from what I hear. She will tutor you every night until your grades improve. Pick up your head Blake. I know you can do this. Now hit the shower.”

Blake left the office in disgust. A tutor? He thought to himself. Everyday? I need to be perfect. I might not be able to do it. I might not be a legend. I just want to be a boy. Blake desired to become the hero the town wanted. He wanted to bring happiness to his family and his team. But part of him also just wanted to be just your average high school student too. It was a lot of pressure for a 17 year old boy. But he could handle it.

3

By the time Blake reached the showers, most of the team had dressed and gone home for the evening. More time passed then Blake realized. The passage of time had slowed to a turtle pace. Although the gym showers were communal, small plastic panels were inserted between each shower head. These plastic panels left a gap at the bottom so water could pass beneath. The paneling started about the height of the ankle and traveled up to about chest height. They were open from behind. Though you could still see everyone in the shower, the panels provided some privacy to the boys.

Heather Stromberg entered the nearly empty locker room. She gazed around, seeing no boys, but hearing running water of a shower in the next room over. Heather’s high-heeled shoes rung around the empty room, clicking with each step. The sound intensified, bouncing off the tiled floor and walls. She carried a leather briefcase with her at all times. It made her feel important and powerful. Heather had just turned 27 years old and although she was young, she was a damn fine tutor. Everyone she helped became an A student almost overnight. Her methods were tough and sometimes cruel, but they worked. She never failed.

Heather entered the shower room, heels splashing down on the wet floor. Trying not to slip, she strolled over to Blake’s shower stall. The rest of the room was empty. Blake’s head rested on the wall, looking down, eyes closed. Hot running water sprayed his back. Droplets poured down his brown hair and onto the floor. She stood at the entrance of the stall. His bare back facing towards her. Blake had no clue someone watched him from behind. Heather had never met student naked before, but she enjoyed the circumstance nonetheless. Her eyes scanned the boy’s naked body starting from his neck. The water on his butt sparkled from the light overhead. Two very nice cheeks she thought to herself. She stood there and stared for a while.

That stupid homerun Blake thought to himself. He tried desperately to stop the video of the early incident from playing in his head to no luck. I screwed up the voice in his head said. He stood there in the shower for nearly ten minutes, letting the warm water soothe the sore muscles in his back. His eyes closed. A hot shower always calmed the nerves. Blake sometimes took 20 minute showers at home. It was his time to be alone and think. His skin began to wrinkle from the shower. He had showered long enough. He lifted his head from the wall, turned the knob to turn off the water and turned to grab his towel. He did not expect anyone to be there, let alone a woman. He jumped, startled at the Woman watching him. “Who the fuck are you?” he asked. “This is a guy’s locker room” Almost shouting.

“My name is Heather, I am going to be your new tutor” She smiled. Her gazed traveled down, peaking at his uncovered penis.

“I don’t care who you are, this is for guys only. And I’m naked.”   At this moment Blake realized his hands were both to his side. He looked down as if to confirm, yes she could see his penis and all his glory. As quickly as possible, he moved both hands to his crotch, cupping his genitals. He knew it was too late to prevent her from seeing it, but he wanted to prevent further peaks. “Can I have my towel?” he asked, nodding his head to his towel hanging on the wall.

“May you have your towel?” she responded, correcting him. “I am not your servant Blake, just a tutor.” She could see the embarrassment in his eyes.

“Whatever.” Blake strolled out of the shower stall like a penguin walking on ice. He kept both hands in front of him. Her eyes took another peak at his ass as he passed by. He grabbed his towel and promptly tied it around his waist.

You have nothing to hide she thought to herself watching intently as the boy fumbled with his towel. “Are you ready to get started?” She asked.

“Get started? Are you kidding? I’m naked and we are in a locker room. Can’t I, you know, get dressed first?”

“You listen to me Blake.” She stepped forward to the boy, her right index finger raised and poked Blake in the chest. “I don’t put up with attitude. We do things my way when I tutor, do you understand.”   Blake nodded. “Now the coach filled me in with your situation. We are going to get your grades up, all of them. Even the grades that are decent. You will be getting all A’s. To be honest, I don’t care about baseball, or your pitching career. To me your grades matter more. If you don’t do exactly what I say, I will make sure you never pitch again. Do you understand?”   Her fingernail now piercing his chest causing him to wince slightly at the pain.

“This is stupid. I don’t need a tutor. And I don’t have to put up with this.” Blake swatted her hand away and began to walk away.

“Oh yes you will Blake. Cause if you don’t, I will personally go to your teachers and tell them you cheated so that you could stay on the baseball team. You will be suspended and thrown off the baseball team. You will become a disgrace. Star of the town. Yea right. You will become a faded memory, a forgotten high school athlete who never went anywhere. People will look at you with shame. You will do exactly what I say actually Blake. And what I say is I want you to get all A’s”    She called his bluff. Blake was defeated.

“You wouldn’t” He responded.

“I most certainly will.” They stared at each other, waiting to see who would give in first. Blake glanced down, sighed and agreed. She reached for his towel around his waist and yanked it to the ground instantly leaving Blake naked.

His hands once again rushed to his crotch. She reached for her suitcase, opened it, and pulled out a wooden paddle. She dropped the briefcase to the ground and looked at the boy. His eyes widened at the sight of the paddle, confused and shocked at the situation. “What’s that for?” he asked.

“Your ass. I am going to show you what I do if you give me any attitude young man. Oh yes. I am gonna show you.” Her toothless grin would frighten even the bravest of men. “Now, I want to see what I am working with put your hands behind your head.” She looked up at the boy. He was tall, and an athlete, but she could still handle him. She could still intimidate. “Or do I have to go to your teachers and tell them about you.”

“No, you don’t” Blake put up little resistance. He raised both hands to his head, and locked his fingers behind his head. She stepped within reach. His penis hung limply in plain sight. Though only three inches long, it had girth to it.

“Thought a tall boy like you would have a longer one.” She said. She used to the paddle to tease his penis, flopping it up to his stomach. “Those are nice though” referring to his testicle. “Now turn around, bend over, and grab your ankles. You are going to get ten solid strokes.”

He followed her orders. She kicked his feet shoulder length apart. Because of his height, his butt checks were at her chest level. His balls, dangling within sight, excited her eyes. Her free hand reached between his legs.

Blake squirmed as her cold hand touched his body between his legs. His feet planted on the ground bracing for impact of the paddle. His whole body shivered, still covered in droplets of water from the shower. He had never been hit or spanked before, not even by his own parents. The paddle raised to the air, pointing to the sky like Babe Ruth calling for a homerun. The paddle swung like a bat, raced towards his unprotect cheeks. (Blake was fortunate she wasn’t aiming for his balls with the swing).  The wooden paddle smacked against his wet buttocks with a vicious whoosh. The air sucked out his lungs leaving him short of breath. His stomach and chest grew heavy.

“That’s one” she said. By the second stroke, Blake jumped forward trying to frantically escape. No luck. She gripped his testicles, pulling them down towards the floor. Squeezing them enough to reinforce her control. The third stroke turned his cheeks rose red, followed by a bruised purple. He tried to scream, but his vocal chords could not muster enough air to produce sound. She yanked on his balls some more. The fourth paddle landed, and his butt muscles contracted. He clenched, squeezing tight. His thighs tried to clamp shut. She extended her index finger from her grip, her fingernail digging into the boy’s uncircumcised penis. “Keep those legs apart.” She ordered.

The fifth stroke landed. The paddle slapping across the fatty flesh of his upper thighs. Time stood still. His ears no longer heard sounds, except for his own inner voice screaming for the pain to end. His mouth gaped open, eyes fastened shut. His nerves fired from multiple points throughout his body. Nausea filled his body. She gave another good squeeze to his testes. Her index finger still teased his penis.

The sixth and seventh stroke caused the boy to almost faint. Darkness crept up from his feet, slowly passing through each muscle. He lost control; he felt pins and needles from his waist down. Tears and snot gushed from his face, dripping to the shower floor, mixing in with the sweaty watery mess from the baseball team. He could no longer breathe through his nose. The eighth stroke cause the boy to fall forward, only remaining standing due to her firm grip on his genitals. The ninth and tenth stroke moved further down leg, hitting right above the back of his knee.

She released her grip on his testicles. Blake fell to his hands and knees, regaining his composer. He cried out. She let him stay on the ground for several moments before pulling him to his feet. She admired her work; every square inch of his buttocks glowed. He reached back with his hands and tried to soothe it, instantly wincing at any touch. “Under the shower head boy.” Blake walked back into a shower stall. She turned the water on, pointing the nozzle to C, ice cold. “Stand here for ten minutes than meet me in the locker room. Keep it on ice cold, do you understand? If I even suspect you don’t stand under this water for ten minutes, or turn it to hot, I will give you another ten.”

Blake nodded. He wrapped his arms around his torso, giving himself a hug, trying to keep warm underneath the cold water. His penis and balls shrunk to the size of peanuts. His penis, only one inch under the cold water, resembled a 6 year old more than a 17 year old and was barely visible under the brown pubic hair.

After roughly ten minutes passed he called out. “Can I come out yet? I mean... May I come out yet?” No response. He waited a few moments. “Please?” After hearing no response, he decided to turn off the water and head to the locker room. He exited the stall. His skin as pale as frost. Hypothermia would have set in if he spent another minute under the water. His teeth chattering, legs shivering. She had taken his towel.

He poked his head into the locker room. It was now completely empty. The naked boy entered. My clothes?! She took them. And my towel. He said to himself. He looked everywhere, no clothes or towel to be found. What do I do? He asked himself. He stumbled into the coaches office attached to the locker room. The coach sat across from an older woman, roughly his mother’s age. The two of them looked at the naked boy. The coach seemed panicked. The woman stared at the boy’s crotch, at his penis. He didn’t cover up. He was too cold and in too much pain to worry about the lady seeing his penis.

“Heather took my clothes and towel sir.” Blake told his coach.

“What? What are you talking about?” The coach responded.

“Heather Stromberg, the tutor you got me, spanked me in the shower and took my clothes.”

“Blake what are you taking about.”

“Sir, I’m not making it up.” Blake’s voice raised.

“Blake. Heather has been sitting here in my office with me for the past ten minutes. We were waiting for you to get dressed.”

“Wait” Everything coming together now. He glanced towards the middle age woman sitting down, who was staring at his privates. “You are Heather?”

She nodded and smiled.

“Then who was the person in the locker with me?” Blake asked. Scared to death. Nervous. Panic setting in. The coach and tutor glanced at Blake with both confusion and shock. He began hyperventilating and passed out.

4 Aftermath

Blake and his high school team went on to win the state championships, winning every game. The lady who spanked impersonated a tutor, spanked him with a paddle and embarrassed him were never caught or identified. Blake has shared his tale to a few close friends and school officials. Some believed him, others do not. To this day, she remains on the loose.

The End

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