Academy Pt. 07

When Abbi finally emerged from the locker room with Coach Carter in tow, all eyes seemed to be on her once again.

The Sophomores were clustered on the bleachers, still atwitter. The Juniors were gathered by the main doors, standing stiff and sullen.

"Ok kiddos, good session, well played and all that. You are dismissed, have a good rest of your weekend!"

The Juniors went for the door like the building was on fire. The Sophomores were excited to be released but not in the same kind of hurry.

Abbi started after her friends but felt Coach Carter's firm hand gripping her arm.

"Except for you, Miss Abbigail."

Eyes again.

Everyone's eyes on her, again. Abbi didn't like being the center of this kind of attention. The Sophomores stopped in their tracks and turned to see what they could do to save their friend.

"Not a chance, kiddos, not a word. She stays here with me, no whining or talking back, or you are all heading to the 3rd floor, understood?"

The shocked exterior looks were nothing compared to how electrified Abbi felt on the inside.

Dread, Abbi thought. It's called dread and I hate it.

"Go, please. Don't get in trouble again on my behalf."

"Well said, Miss Abbi," Coach Carter said. It was the first praise she'd gotten from the laconic Coach, and she didn't like it one bit.

The Sophomores hesitated, with Kamilla looking downright distressed.

"Go! I'll be fine."

They left. Coach Carter steered her back to his office, a sneer curling on his lips.

"Why are you doing this?" Abbi pleaded. She hadn't talked back to anyone in a while, and it made her scalp tingle, but the scope of the injustice she was about to face made her defiant.

"Because you are a brat."

"What?" Abbi hadn't expected an answer. His blunt and plainly wrong assessment of her was astounding.

"And you deserved to be punished. All brats must be punished."

"I'm...I'm not...I, I, I..." Abbi stuttered. She felt tears welling up again but refused to cry just yet.

"Don't talk back, Miss Abbigail. You are already in deep, deep trouble with me."

"Oh, no," Abbi choked. "What did I do?!"

Coach Carter crossed the threshold of his office pulling Abbi behind him.

"Stand facing the wall while I get the cuffs."

He didn't give her a chance to comply, instead he pushed her in front of the far wall, kicked her feet apart and put her hands behind her head, all a little more forcefully than Abbi felt necessary.

"I'm going to hurt you now, a lot."

Abbi stood speechless and trembling.

This is a game, Abbi reminded herself. Game time, for real though.

"I'm going to hurt you because you deserve it. And I'm going to like it. Hurting you."

Dang, he sounds serious. I better figure out his thing quick.

"Well?"

"Yes, Coach?"

"What do you have to say about that?"

Abbi stalled, trying to get the gears meshed and ticking before she started incoherently begging.

"Miss Abbigail?"

Does he want to play, or does he want to force me to say the safeword? I thought that was a big no-no for the teachers.

"You are a brat. I'm going to hurt you because you are a brat."

Oh boy, this is new and scary, and I don't have a clue what to do.

"What do you have to say for yourself?"

The Coach went over to the metal supply cabinet that sat between his spotless desk and Coach Reagan's messy workspace. The supply cabinet! She'd forever after associate the sight of the ubiquitous tall gray aluminum box and the sound of the two doors creaking open and slamming shut with a sore butt.

"I, I, I...why don't you pick on Delilah? She was bullying me the whole game."

Abbi risked a look over her shoulder. The glimpse of the inside of Coach Carter's bondage supply closet was not encouraging at all.

"Deflection and misdirection. Not going to work."

The Coach returned, dangling in front of her four leather and canvas manacles that looked like they were stolen from Arkham Asylum.

Why not just go ahead and put me in a straitjacket for this craziness?

"These are staying on until I release you from detention."

"I can't go to the 3rd floor, please!"

"You're not," said Coach Carter as he grasped one of her arms and guided it behind her to put on the first manacle. "You'll be suffering here with me until I think you've learned a lesson."

"What are you going to do?" Abbi hated begging this man for anything. Begging so soon and only for some sense of his plans for her seemed like a bad start.

"I'm going to tie you to one of the locker room benches, stick a hook up your ass and whip your butt until it's redder than a Santa Monica sunset."

The Coach muscled her other arm into place, buckled the manacle, and locked them together. This guy's bad cop routine was solid. Now all Abbi needed was a good cop, right?

Wait, a hook?

"A hook? An anal hook?" This was a far greater escalation than when the Coach started calling her Miss Abbigail. She'd gotten quite fond of gentle ass play; skewering her bottom on a hook was a whole new level.

"You know about anal hooks, eh?" Coach Carter kneeled to put on the ankle restraints. "You brats, you all look and act so innocent. But you know stuff, don't you? Stuff you know you shouldn't know."

Abbi thought she might need a map to figure out that sentence, but she got the gist. He seemed dead set on putting her through some scary hard bondage.

"Too bad I don't have time to tie you down properly with rope, but these restraints will do the trick just fine."

"You're so mean," Abbi whined. This was undignified, but it was the only thing that came to mind. "This is so unfair."

"Life isn't fair, little girl, get used to it."

"What can I do?"

"Do? Shut up and take it." The first ankle shackle felt heavy. Added to the discomfort of having her hands cuffed behind her, her sense of exposure was changing quickly from unsettling to unnerving.

"Can I like, change your mind?"

"About what?"

"About me, being a b-b-brat." Game or not, his harsh words had already begun to sting.

"Hah! No."

"About hurting me then?"

"Think about it, would a good little girl be held behind by her coach for corporal punishment?"

With the other shackle in place, Abbi felt close to the edge of something. A weird parallel formed in her mind from when she was on the volleyball court, a vision of pieces lining up in a meaningful but not yet apparent way.

"I guess not," Abbi sighed, so close to admitting defeat. Abbi could feel his eyes all over her as he lurked somewhere behind her.

No safeword yet, girl, Abbi thought. "What can I do to show you that I'm a good girl?"

"I told you. Shut your brat-ass mouth, bend your brat-ass over, and take your brat-ass punishment."

The Coach unbuttoned her skirt and tossed it aside. Her panties went next in a rough downward motion.

"Do you like my little body? Is that why you kept looking at me today?"

He didn't say anything, but Abbi could hear his aroused breathing.

"You can touch me if you want. I can't stop you with these cuffs on. I know better than to squirm away."

The Coach felt close, but the silence made him seem miles away. His lack of reaction to her best material was baffling.

"I like it when people are nice to my bottom. If you're nice to my bottom, I'll let you do other things to me."

"Good try, Miss Abbi," the Coach said, punctuating the faint praise with a vicious swat across both cheeks.

She'd been expecting it, but the impact still made her eyes water.

Coach Carter grasped the link between her cuffs in one hand, grabbed her shoulder tight with the other, and perp-walked Abbi back into the locker room. He swiftly bent her over, forcing her face down onto the wood bench. From this new perspective, Abbi noticed many rings welded to the pipes that made up the bench legs and eyehole screws under the planks, plenty of places to get secured to for just this sort of occasion.

"Hands down, grab the pole," he said. He released the clasp between the cuffs, freeing her momentarily. She complied quickly more out of habit than of fear. The Coach clicked the cuffs into place at the bottom of the pipe and pulled her by the hips past the edge of the bench. He then squeezed her legs together to fasten her ankle bindings. Arms outstretched, the tips of her loafers barely touching the ground, Abbi reveled in her bondage. As threatening as Coach Carter was, it was still thrilling as ever to get tied up for use and (consensual) abuse.

"Don't move. I'll be right back with a spreader for your legs and the hook for your ass."

Abbi held back a scoff. Any attempt to adjust herself into a more comfortable position would end up with her twisting sideways off the bench which would probably hurt like heck.

I think he can be convinced. Maybe he wants me to convince him to go easy.

He returned with the tools of her torment, placing the hook, bottle of lube, and a thin bamboo cane on the bench in front of her. The hook was just as terrifying to behold as he made it sound, like something from a slasher flick. Instead of sharp and rusty, the thing was clean, highly polished steel and had a bulbous end. Either way, she'd just be meat on a hook once it was in place.

What is it? What can I say to get him to ease up?

The Coach freed her ankles and spread them far apart. The position of her arms made it impossible for Abbi to get a good look at what the Coach was up to back there. She kept her legs as slack as possible while the Coach worked. There was just the soft clinking of metal and his breathing to mark his progress.

"You like my bottom, don't you. I love how it looks when there's handprints on it. Did you leave one for me just now?"

"I did," he grunted. "The cane leaves long stripes. Think you'll like that?"

"Yes," Abbi breathed.

"It'll will hurt like hell, though. You like that too?"

"If it makes my butt look cute, yes."

With the spreader in place, her legs felt heavy. The only give to be had from the device came from the single link of chain attaching it to the shackles. A long bit of rope threaded through some free eyeholes and tied to the bench's pipe made sure that she couldn't lift her legs either. Shoot.

"Too bad you won't be able to see your ass with a hook deep in it."

"It is, yeah."

"You seem eager."

"Yes," Abbi moaned theatrically. "Yes, sir."

"Good little girls shouldn't want such terrible things to happen to their bottoms."

"I know, sir. But good little girls are strong for their sirs and take their punishment."

Coach Carter loomed beside her, hefting the hook, tapping it in his hand. Abbi's strained against the mismatch in their styles of play. Nothing she was trying was getting the usual responses.

"This is going to feel awful," Coach Carter declared.

"I know, sir," Abbi said. She did her best to sound resigned. "It's ok, I know you have to do this. I'll be a big girl for you, sir."

Abbi finally got a good look at his expression. Whatever she was doing for him, it was animating Coach Carter's face in a way that she hadn't seen before.

Maybe my schtick is working?

"I'll use lube. Plenty of lube, ok?"

Ah, the first concession!

"Nurse Polk used her finger to make me slippery inside. I didn't like how it felt, but it made it easier for her to put the thermometer and Mr. Harding's machine in my bottom."

"Did she now?"

"If you use your finger before you put in the hook, I'll do something special for you."

"Oh really? What's that?"

"Your peanut is hard, I can tell. I can kiss it, make it feel good."

"My peanut?" he chuckled. "You mean my penis?"

"Yes, your peanut. Good little girls take care of their sir's peanut when it's hard, right sir?"

"Yes, they do." Abbi could hear the grin in his voice.

"I'll do that for you, just make sure my bottom hole is all slippery and ready for the hook thingy, ok?"

"Ok, Miss Abbigail. Ok."

He grabbed the lube off the bench before disappearing behind her.

"Pinky first, just because you are being so good."

"Thank you, sir."

The hook went back on the bench in front of her, a deformed but threatening snake. She closed her eyes rather than let it shake her any further.

The bottle farted a little as he squeezed some lube onto his pinky finger. Abbi forced a giggle.

"Hard to be serious when the lube bottle farts, right?"

It was the first time the Coach's mask fell, giving her a reason to breath and relax a little. Which was good because his pinky finger felt huge when it went knocking on her back door.

"Unclench, Miss Abbi, relax. You're going to let me do this."

"Unnngh," Abbi groaned. "I'll try."

He pressed his finger in just as firmly as he'd handled her so far.

"Oof, ahhh..." she gasped as it slid in. "Am I being good for you, Coach?"

His only answer was a wiggle and a swirl before he withdrew his finger. Another squeaker of a fart from the lube bottle let her know he wasn't done yet.

"Pointer finger now. Relax and breathe."

Abbi took a deep breath, letting out slowly as he penetrated her again. She could feel every knuckle slide past her sphincter. Ass play is so weird.

"Arrgh," Abbi complained.

"The hook will be a lot bigger than this you know."

"Oh, no..."

"This might hurt a little, but you're really tight down here."

"Ooooooh," she moaned as he worked his finger in and out. The filthy, filling sensation never lost its novelty for her. She felt herself squeezing the intruder as it advanced and relaxing as it retreated, her whole body moving around it. As tightly bound as she was, that was only an inch or two in either direction, but on the end of the forward stroke the Coach's finger seemed to bottom out somewhere in the neighborhood of her throat.

"You like this, right?" Coach Carter probed. "You actually love this, don't you?"

"It feels, like, wrong and stuff. It makes my tummy feel gross."

"But you love it, I can tell."

"Yes, sir," she allowed.

While it hadn't been a welcome guest when it arrived, she did miss the finger when it left. Knowing what was arriving next made his flesh and bone far more desirable.

"I should tie the hook to your hair or chain it to a choker."

This scenario just kept getting worse.

"Haven't I been good, though? So far?"

"Yes," Coach Carter admitted. "So far, since I held you back for punishment, you have been good. I won't tie it this time. But it's still going in."

Abbi gulped.

"It's time. Relax as much as you can. Don't hold your breath, don't push against it."

"Ok, sir," Abbi cried, unable to hold it back anymore. Tears were coming soon. Maybe it would earn her some actual sympathy.

"It'll be over soon, kiddo."

Abbi swooned, as much from the kindness of his words as the cold, slippery metal ball that was pressing against her anus.

"Deep breath again, Miss Abbi."

She complied, inhaling as deep as possible.

"Let it out slow, here it comes."

What followed was nothing like Abbi had ever experienced before and few words could describe the sensation of the icy sphere as it forced open the way before it, followed by the tunnel collapsing around the shaft behind it. A wave of pain hit her harder than the worst stomachache she ever had, followed by the end of the hook passing some sort of barrier deep inside her. The pain subsided, but the discomfort had focused her entire being around the hunk of metal plumbing her depths.

"Ow, ow, ow!" Abbi squirmed, straining against her bonds. Coach Carter had restrained and violated her in a way that felt impossible to escape or ignore.

"Shhh, shh, shh..." Coach Carter cautioned, resting a warm hand on the hook, pressing it gently to her lower back. "Quiet, little girl, shh. The hard part is over, for now."

"Did I do good? Am I a good girl now?"

"You did so good."

"Oh, thank you, Coach. Thank you."

"You are still getting the cane."

"It's ok, sir. I was a brat. I know you have to punish me."

"It's supposed to be thirty strokes," as if the Coach had no control over this fact.

"I'm strong. I can take thirty. I'll probably cry though. I can't help it sometimes."

"I'll only do twenty. They have to be hard, but I'll only do twenty." For once, he sounded like he was struggling with real doubt. Or maybe regret? Abbi hoped so.

"Ok, Coach. It's ok. When it's over, though, can we cuddle?"

"You want to cuddle with me?"

"I'll need a long cuddle if you are going to hurt my bottom so much I cry."

"We can cuddle, sure," Coach Carter agreed. "I'm going to gag you now. That way you'll have something to bite when I hit your bottom."

"Wait," Abbi begged.

"And maybe a blindfold, too."

"Wait, sir, please?"

"Aw, Miss Abbi," Coach Carter drawled. "You were doing so good."

"It's not that. You can gag me, but don't you want me to kiss your peanut first?"

"Oh, my goodness, yes! Hang on, I'll be right back."

Abbi couldn't help but wiggle impatiently. The hook was bad but taking away her ability to sweet talk the man somehow felt worse.

Oof, the hook. It had warmed inside her, but it felt bigger than ever just sitting up in there.

Coach Carter returned with a hand towel and a gag. It looked like a black rubber horse's bit, not the red ball gag she was expecting. He had also shed his track suit top and whatever shirt had been underneath. He was hairless and fit but not cut, the barest hint of a belly. It was hard to tell with the hook lodged so firmly up her ass, but Abbi was sure her pussy was drenched back there. Average man-bods were so freaking sexy to her.

"I'm going to free your hands so you can sit up."

"Thank you, sir."

He crouched down and released the manacles from their anchors.

"Do you know what you are doing?"

"Doing?"

"With your mouth. Have you had a penis in your mouth before?"

She pushed up from the bench. Her blouse and bra were stuck to her, soaked with sweat.

"Oh, yes. Have you ever had your penis in a girl's mouth before?" It felt good to turn the tables on him, but she wondered as soon as she said it if it would make her situation worse.

"Yes," he answered, amused rather than offended. "And some boys too."

"Can I take off my top? I'm so hot."

"Not yet."

Progress. Great.

"Come on, little girl," Coach Carter growled. "Take my cock out."

Coach Carter stood up, penis tenting his tracksuit pants. She pulled on the elastic waistband, letting it spring free. The balls came with it, scrunched up tight and completely hairless. Touching his package revealed no stubble, just veiny puckered goodness, delightfully soft skin. His cock was long but thin and slightly droopy.

She was well past teasing; Abbi licked her lips and got to work. She had to play his game, prove to him that she was the good girl that she knew she was. His cock swelled as she took it in, crowding into her mouth and tickling her gag reflex at the back of her throat.

It didn't take long to get him right to the edge. She let it pop out free of her mouth so she could get a better look at his face, get some feedback on how he wanted to climax.

He took the lull in the action to grab the gag, force it into her mouth, and strap it down tight against her head.

"Awww," she whined, champing against the bit. She really wanted to finish him off. Whether it ended up shooting down her throat or all over her face, knowing he'd succumbed to her charms would make the impeding caning easier to endure.

"Quiet now, Miss Abbi. I'm going to cane your ass twenty times. If you continue to take your punishment like a big girl, we'll talk about how you can make me cum."

"Yefff, fer," was all she could manage past the gag. She felt a brief pang of disappointment. The bit's tiny pebble-like surface that her tongue found was a poor substitute

She collapsed against the bench, resigned to her fate. No stranger to impact play, the cane was one of her least favorite toys, but at least she knew there was more fun to be had once that part was over. She just had to bite down on the gag, breathe through her nose, and keep the screams to a minimum.