Academy Pt. 06

Coach Carter cradled Abbi in his lap and caressed her hair. Both of them were naked, shiny with sweat, slightly out of breath, quietly gathering themselves up from a very busy afternoon.

Abbi hung her butt off the side of his lap due to its resemblance to the back end of a sunburned snow tiger. The balancing act was tenuous, which was fine with her. She was looking for an excuse to disengage.

The 5th floor gymnasium was quiet and empty, had been for an hour at least. The Academy Coaches, Carter and Reagan, shared the sparce office that sat between the opposing team locker rooms, looking out across the vast, highly polished hardwood gym floor. All the little Academy touches were present, the secondhand furniture, eyehole bolts with handy carabiners screwed to the walls, dusty trophies sitting atop a gray aluminum storage cabinet, chains hanging from the ceiling, old motivational posters, and a padded hobby horse in the corner.

They were alone, and while Abbi felt physically close to Coach Carter in that moment, her feelings about him were terribly mixed up and confused.

The Coach was the first Academy faculty member that had been unkind to her. Mean, really. Borderline cruel.

They sat in his armless wooden office chair. He would occasionally rock and twist them around restlessly while a long silence widened between them.

The man looked like a more muscular James Spader, an actor that had been on Abbi's mind since back-to-back dorm room screenings of Pretty in Pink and Mannequin. The Coach was the star's doppelganger right down to the thin nose, full lips, and sad, slightly droopy eyes that made him seem less alert that he really was.

He even had a full head thick sandy blonde hair that would have looked glorious blown out and feathered.

He was quite pleasant to look at, but Abbi could barely stand the person she knew lurked underneath the good looks and smooth demeanor.

Abbi decided it had been long enough, so she took a breath and started to let the loose speech that had been winding around her head like an overexcited puppy on a leash.

Before she could get a word out, though, Coach Carter broke the silence in the only way he seemed capable of. "So, Miss Abbi, you should know before you go," he said. "I don't feel sorry about how I treated you."

She peeled her face off the man's hairless chest to look him square in the eyes.

"You don't? You were pretty poopy to me." The aftercare had helped her return to herself in more ways than one. Even though she felt like cussing him out, her better judgment held the profanity back.

"I don't. Not one bit," he reiterated. "I'm sure you are a great person, and the other teachers are always gushing about you, but we're here to play."

"Right."

"And as Academy faculty, I get to play how I want."

"True. You could have been nicer though."

"And you could have used your safeword."

Abbi didn't have an answer to that obvious truth. She twisted her mouth around to chew the inside of her cheek while she searched Coach Carter's hound dog eyes for any signs of sympathy.

"But you stayed. I thank you for that."

"Thank you?"

"Yes, of course. What else do you want me to say?"

"Sorry, maybe?"

"What for?"

"For calling me a brat. For scaring me. For hurting my tushy."

"Why? You were just as turned on by all that as I was."

"But but but" Abbi felt tears welling up as she insisted for the 12th time that day "...I'm not a brat,"

"I know. That's what made it all so fun."

-

The lunch chatter amongst the Sophomores and Juniors was all of the same theme; the afternoon session was going to be different that day. Instead of heading to their private rooms for tutoring and sodomy, the classes would be heading up to the 5th floor for PE.

The Academy's gym was a mix of the Betty Page building's old-fashioned architecture blended with modern equipment, seating, and A/V system. It had been overcast for a couple weeks, so the gray light seeping through the high frosted window was being supplemented by huge fluorescent lights that hung from the rafters like wasp nests.

It seemed perfectly ordinary to Abbi except for the fact that it was on the top of building.

She'd had only been up there a couple times to tag along with Blair. Every Sophomore had taken turns accompanying her to the gym during the free periods, enabling her all-consuming fitness addiction. Kyle was the only other student that Abbi knew of that went up there near as often.

The smell of fresh paint and old sweat was oddly nostalgic once Abbi noticed it. The space was also vaguely fascinating to her due to its amazing utility and adaptability. With the flip of a couple of switches, the space could be turned from a single NBA sized basketball court with bleachers for more than a hundred people, to three volleyball or badminton courts or a dance floor with a banging sound system and light show. There were ping-pong, foosball, and air hockey tables, and there was side room with mats and weights where she'd seen breakout sessions of yoga, kickboxing, and pole dancing classes.

Never being very popular or much of an athlete, Abbi had always found PE trips the gym to be something best avoided, with a doctor's note if necessary. Now she liked coming there with Blair and had been talked into participating both times.

Except for the pole dancing. That was going to take more courage than she'd worked up to yet.

The only thing that kept her from venturing up to the top floor more often was the aftercare required to recover from the day's punishments and penetration. She was usually too sore, tired, and emotionally squeezed dry to be in the mood for a workout.

The reintroduction of PE at this stage in her life was a novelty that she hadn't time yet to sort her thoughts about it out. The rhythm of her education so far had been humiliation in a group setting in the morning, lunch, amazing and orgiastic sexual congress in the afternoon, dinner, and fieldtrips featuring life-changing friendship connections in the evening.

Anticipating the Academy's approach to PE had her on a now-familiar edge, and Coach Carter did not disappoint.

"How does a friendly game of volleyball sound, kiddos?"

The Sophomores and Juniors had already clustered together on either side of the volleyball net and had been chatting and stretching. A hamper of multicolored volleyballs sat near the net poles, but no one had yet grabbed any to start warming up.

Abbi stood up, unconsciously tugging at her shorts into a more comfortable state.

She was dressed, same as all the girls, in the Academy's athletic wear. This was just as utilitarian (and therefore mildly kinky) as the regular dress uniform, and it consisted of:

A white jersey t-shirt with crimson trim on the collar and sleeves, with 'Property of' over Academy Crest and 'Mt. Lee Spanking Academy' underneath silkscreened on the front.

Underneath that was a white sports bra that felt a bit excessive to Abbi because her titties didn't bounce around much even while vigorously working out.

The real treat was the dark red volleyball shorts. These marvels of textile engineering felt like they were both painted on and alive on account of their continuous quest to crawl up inside the wearer's body. Abbi, Kamilla, and Blair's butts looked cute in them, but Ariel's ass won the day; her creamy twin bubbles of bouncy flesh seemed to devour the shorts as she moved around in them.

Gym workouts were the only time the girls were ever allowed to wear thongs, which consisted of a thong of black stretchy fabric that immediately merged at an atomic level with shorts as they were wrestled into place.

Finally, some white socks with the Academy logo and red and white trainers completed the package.

The boys obviously didn't have to wear a bra, but they had been issued red headbands that made them all look endearingly goofy.

Their shorts were something else, though. They were too loose and short to be considered anything other than immodest, the Academy crimson making some of the paler boys' white legs look even more ghostly. Abbi kept looking for dongs or nuts to peek out, but none had yet been forthcoming.

Abbi couldn't help but be reminded of Meatballs, the previous night's movie playing in the dorm before lights out. Clearly whoever designed these getups was a fan of that badly aged flick.

Coach Carter cleared his throat.

"I'm not accustomed to being ignored, so let's try that again or head straight down to the 3rd floor, shall we?"

That got everyone's attention. The Coach was average height, wearing a burgundy track suit that fit him well but would have made anyone else look like a Russian gangster, and spoke in a way that seemed to fill the gym while never really raising his voice.

"Ok, kids. We are going to be playing a game of volleyball, Seniors vs. Sophomores. And considering the Academy's unique educational focus, I believe the stakes should be considerable."

"Yes, Coach Carter," they answered in fair unison. Could be better.

"Strip volleyball, then, with the losers getting spanked by the winners before we head to the showers."

The ratio to raised eyebrows vs. knowing grins was just about even as the students looked around at each other.

"Shall we warm up first?"

"Yes, Coach Carter," in better unison, this time.

"Alright then, let's make four lines."

With the threat of detention fresh on their minds, both classes formed up quickly and got to it.

-

Abbi finally got it, after all these years.

Team sports, that is. But it took a while.

After some basic drills and warmups, Abbi got the hang of getting the ball moving towards more skilled players. A few practice volleys followed, just so the game didn't end too fast, while Coach Carter reviewed the rules. Then it was on!

And while it was some time before the first point was scored, it was clear that the Sophomore team was the best Abbi had ever been on.

She vaguely remembered hating soccer. A perfect storm of having two left feet, no sense of direction, and no real friends on the team to speak of had taught Abbi the power of whining to get her way. This was not in her nature, and she rarely used it since, but a season of wheedling her parents down to an emotional nub ensured that she'd never have to even see a soccer field ever again.

This was different. The game itself fascinated her and she LOVED everyone on her team. They already got along well, and it was easy to see the rival Seniors as enemies to be vanquished.

"I get this now!" she exclaimed after a successful volley (that she actually contributed to!) returned the ball to the Sophomore's side for service.

"You do? What exactly?" Kamilla asked.

"Sports!"

Everyone laughed. Marty served the ball that fell just inside bounds and the Sophomores scored the first point of the game.

"Shirts off, Juniors," Coach Carter declared.

The older team peeled off their slightly sweaty jerseys and tossed them into a nearby hamper. They got their revenge two serves later though, which was a relief to Abbi. She'd been given a shirt that was one size too small, and it had started to itch.

"This is fun!" she said as she tossed hers into the hamper with the others. "Is it weird that I want to lose the next point, so I don't have to wear this bra anymore?"

She got another laugh and a few pats on the back as they returned to their places.

Coach Carter didn't seem amused, though. His face hardened as his eyes found and followed Abbi.

"Focus, kiddos. Game on."

The ball changed possession a few times, no items of clothing being lost until the serving side scored again. Abbi felt charged up every time she hit the ball. No one complained when she miffed it, she got praise when she set it up, and cheers when she once got it over to the other side. By the time Abbi had rotated back to serve for the first time, she was positively glowing. Endorphins are a powerful drug.

Abbi looked at the court, spinning the ball in her hand a few times. Something about the field had changed, but it was hard to put a pin on exactly what. It was like looking at a chess board with the feeling that there was a check in a couple of moves without knowing at all how it would play out.

She served the ball underhand and knew it would come up short before it even left her airspace. She just about collapsed in disappointment when it hit the top of the net. What happened next was astounding, though.

Blair, newly rotated to right in front of the net, took off like a rocket, intercepted the ball high in the air and drove it so hard onto the opposing side that the entire gym rang with its impact.

Everyone froze, dumbfounded, and stared at the newly revealed superhero.

"What? I played two years for Georgia State U." As if that was a given!

"Bras and headbands, Juniors," Coach Carter chuckled.

Abbi had gotten so used to seeing her fellow Sophomores naked and in various states of sexual activity that she thought she had lost the sense of excited titillation that came with seeing someone's bits and pieces. The Juniors were just as diverse and attractive as the Sophomores were, just vile and reprehensible because of their status as the opposing team.

The Junior that Abbi had taken to calling Marsha Brady in her mind, on account of her long blonde hair and pretty smile, took off her sports bra to reveal a chest that was sure to be a distraction for all. Her tits were enormous, perky, and gravity defying in a way that seemed impossible. Abbi felt her attention being dangerously divided between the ball she needed to serve and the glorious rack now on display directly across from her.

Seeing the Juniors topless was magically satisfying for Abbi. They were all so confident and smooth most of the time that having them bared, sweaty, and down on points was just too sweet a moment for her not to savor it. Maybe even rub their noses in it.

"Turns out Blair is a ringer! How do you like that, June-yours?" Abbi drew out the word as derisively as possible.

With a second chance to serve, Abbi was able to get the ball over the net. It went a little wild and was on its way out of bounds, but Marsha Brady intercepted it and clumsily sent it back over.

The ball careened between Joel and Ariel before it somehow found its way near the net just high enough for another vicious spike from Blair.

Instead of harmlessly hitting the floor again, it hit Marsha Brady right in the newly exposed left tit. The visceral smack of the ball followed by her pained shriek was loud, but Abbi's choked laughter that quickly followed was even louder.

No one joined in the fleeting schadenfreude; Abbi covered her face in humiliation.

Blair ducked under the net and rushed over to the stricken Junior.

"That's enough of that, Miss Abbi," Coach Carter drawled, ambling over towards Blair and Marsha.

"I'm sorry!" Abbi cried, paralyzed. "I didn't mean to laugh..."

The Coach and two students huddled, kneeling on the ground, talking softly to each other. Abbi couldn't make much out, but whatever they were saying, she knew that she was heading for trouble.

"I think I want to sit out for a few minutes, Coach," Marsha stood, sniffling. She didn't appear to be crying, just wincing in pain, kneading the sting out of the sore boob with both hands.

"I'm so sorry, Miss Delilah," Blair offered, a frantic edge to her chirpy southern drawl. "I'm sorry I hurt your titties."

Abbi drew her hands down to only cover her mouth and burning red cheeks. She looked at the pretty young woman and was finally able to connect her pained face with her proper real name. Delilah.

"I'll be ok, I just need a few minutes."

"We shouldn't get the point for that one," Blair said. "Coach Carter? I don't think the Juniors should lose their shorts over that spike."

"I agree," the Coach breathed. "To be fair though, someone should sit out while Miss Delilah recovers, make the teams even."

Coach Carter scanned the Sophomores, but Abbi knew what he was going to say.

"Miss Abbi, bleachers if you please."

"Aww, Coach," Blair intervened. "Abbi didn't do anything. I should sit out. I'm the one who blasted her booby."

"No," warned Coach Carter. "Miss Abbi will sit out until Miss Delilah is ready to rotate back in."

Blair opened her mouth to renew the dispute but thought better of it when she saw the Coach's expression.

Abbi left the court, unable to look at anything other than her shoes. She knew better, now 7 weeks into the Academy, than to complain, whine, or even look askance at the Coach.

By the time she sat down, the Juniors had regained service of the ball, and seconds after Delilah joined Abbi on the bench, they had scored.

"Bras and headbands, Sophomores," announced Coach Carter.

"I'm sorry about your boobs, Delilah," Abbi apologized as she returned from depositing her sports bra in the hamper.

"Me too," Delilah smirked. "About your boobs, I mean."

"What? Why?"

"Looks like a pair of mosquitos had a picnic on your chest."

Abbi froze, mouth agape.

"I'm sorry, baby girl, it'll be ok. In a few years puberty will hit, and you'll be all grown up like me."

"Huh?" Abbi asked again, dumbstruck. She looked over her shoulder to see if Coach Carter had caught the exchange. Bullying was instant detention, and this would, no doubt, qualify. "I said I'm sorry..."

"Shorts off now, Sophomores," Coach Carter said, reminding Abbi that the high stakes game was still being played.

Abbi could only chuff loudly and shake her head.

Delilah smiled broadly, crossing her arms just underneath her spectacular assets. The Junior gave them a little lift and squeeze, and rather than being titillating, the display of dominance just made Abbi that much more flustered.

Abbi turned her back on the girl to begin peeling off the sweat-damp shorts. It occurred to her to take her time, bend over, and give her bully a show.

"Coach Carter? Abbi is trying to show me what she had for breakfast this morning."

"I'm warning you Miss Abbi, leave Miss Delilah alone."

Coach Carter's even, clipped speech pattern didn't allow for much emotion to sneak through, so it wasn't the teacher's tone that chilled Abbi to the bone, but the words themselves.

This is SO UNFAIR! Abbi shouted inside her head. Not fair!

She allowed herself to glare at the Coach for three whole seconds as she crossed the space with the others to toss the garment in the bin. It was hard to tell if he noticed; his expression didn't change a bit. Of all the things that were swirling around in her chastened mind that were begging to get blurted out, the only thing that made it to the surface was a frown and a couple of heavy sighs.

Abbi kept moving past the hamper and found a seat on the bleachers opposite her bully, any remaining sympathy gone even though the girl's injured breast had turned bright red.

Enough, forget about her, Abbi thought. Your team needs your support.

Abbi found herself totally invested in every rally and return and close call, jumping up to cheer every good thing the Sophomores did. She never understood why the guys in her life cared so much about the sports they watched until that moment.

It's something else when there's skin in the game, Abbi thought, laughing out loud at her own cleverness. Too bad it slipped out just as Coach Carter was telling the Juniors to take their shorts off.

Everyone looked at her, the golden girl teacher's pet, unsure of the extent of the mental breakdown appeared to be taking place.

Kamilla looked extra concerned.

"Love?" she mouthed, with a stern shake of her head.

"Do you need a lesson in good sportsmanship, Miss Abbigail?" It didn't sound like a question, it sounded like a threat, especially since he had just escalated to using her full first name.