School Girls by Laura Lynn Davis. F/F Spanking =================================== I was sitting in the top row of the bleachers with Ashley Hunter, my best friend, watching the tryouts for the girl's basketball team. I was feeling kind of smug because, as returning varsity players, Ash and I didn't have to try out even though we were lowly sophomores. We were kind of glum because the lack of a true center had caused us to fall just one game short of winning the state championship in our freshman year and the tallest of the new
kids was about 5' 10". I'd been the point guard and Ash had been the shooting guard on a team that went 21-2. I was watching a would-be center make a fool of her self when Ash dug her elbow into my ribs. "Holy shit! Look at the girl that just came in." I glanced at the door and froze. The girl standing just inside was at least 6' 3". She was blonde and slender and impossibly beautiful. I shrugged. " She's too pretty to be any good." As if to confirm my statement the blonde stumbled as she crossed to the bleachers. "Klutz." I turned my attention back to the floor as the blonde began to remove her warm-up pants. A moment later I felt Ash nudge me again. "Jeez, Sal, she's gorgeous." I gave her a sour look. Ash is the only one who knows I'm gay. I leaned close and whispered, "I don't need a girlfriend. We need a center and she's not it. She's a klutz." The blonde stood up and walked to the sideline, stumbling once again. I glanced at Ash and shook my head. The blonde was a beauty. She had long coltish legs, perfect legs. She also had a nice figure. I squashed those thoughts and watched as she talked to the coach. The coach said something and then nodded. The blonde moved out onto the floor and somebody fed her a bounce pass. Then a miracle happened. With the ball in her hand she turned into a vision of grace and beauty. She dribbled twice and dropped in a perfect lay-up. For the next ten minutes we watched in awe as the blonde put on a clinic on how to play the post. Then the coach turned and shouted, "Sal and Ash, get your butts down here. We've got a championship to win." At 5' 7" I was no match for the big blonde whose name was Ingrid, but I was tough and the coach told me to rough her up a little and see if she could take it. A lot of the teams in our league play a very physical game. The first time Ingrid went for a rebound I put my elbow into her belly and she went down hard, the breath knocked out of her. Her green eyes flashed when I reached out to help her to her feet. A few moments later, at the other end of the floor, I went up for a rebound and caught her forearm across my face. I hit the floor hard and sat there for a moment while I checked to see if my nose was broken again. Ingrid smiled sweetly as she hauled me to my feet. Back down at the other end I dropped my shoulder and tried to knock her on her butt. It was like hitting a wall. A soft wall that refused to move. I landed on my butt, slightly dazed. When I got up, I trotted over to the coach. "She's too damn big for me. Can I ease up before she kills me?" Coach rubbed her hands in glee and nodded. "I can smell a state championship already." "Who is she? Where'd she come from?" Coach shrugged. "Her name's Ingrid Larsen. She's from Denmark and she just arrived in this country. She's a sophomore like you. That's all I know." She paused and nodded toward the door. "But she's got to be somebody to have those two following her around." I glanced at the door. A man and a woman were standing there, watching. They were in their thirties and had that same look that you see in the people surrounding the president when he travels. Bodyguards. Expensive ones. As I trotted back onto the floor the woman beckoned and I veered toward the door and stopped a few feet from them. The woman smiled and said, "Don't try to intimidate Ingrid. You'll only get hurt." "Thanks for the advice but I figured that out for myself already." The woman smiled. "She could use a friend here." I stepped closer. "Who is she?" The woman dropped her voice to a whisper. "Her name is Ingrid but her last name isn't Larsen. She's the Princess Royal, heir to the Danish throne." I stuck my tongue out at her. "Jeez, if you don't want to tell me just say so." I shook my head in disgust and went back onto the floor. I heard the woman chuckle as I trotted away. Later, after practice, I watched Ingrid leave with her bodyguards. The next morning I was sitting in my first period English class when she came in. She was wearing the same uniform as the rest of us but on her it looked incredibly sexy. Her shirt was tight across her chest and she was showing a lot of long, sleek thigh. I saw Mr. Brown's eyes glaze over as he watched her walk to a seat near the front. Our school didn't use the traditional Catholic school uniform. Our skirts were charcoal gray and we wore white shirts, white or gray knee socks and black loafers. It was a girl's school so the only males around were teachers or custodians. After class Ingrid caught up with me in the hallway. "Erica told me that she told you who I am. Will you please keep it to yourself? It's going to come out sooner or later but I'd rather have it be later." I glanced up at her. "Don't worry. She told me some zany story about you being a princess. I won't repeat it. I don't want people laughing at me." Ingrid grinned. "Thanks, but she told you the truth." I stopped. "You're kidding? Aren't you?" She glanced back over her shoulder. "No, I'm serious. See you later, Sal."
By the time I got to practice that afternoon I was convinced that I'd been the butt of a joke cooked up by Ingrid and her minders so I was in a bad mood. I took it out on Ingrid and she gave as good as she got. Halfway through practice coach pulled us off the floor and sat us down. "I need you both if we're going to have a good year. Stop trying to kill each other, understand?" We nodded in unison. "Yes, coach." As soon as we got back on the floor I dumped Ingrid on her butt as we went for a rebound. Coach sent us down to her office. "I want you in opposite corners, on your knees, when I get there." Kneeling in a corner was an old punishment that was still popular at Eastern Catholic. So was the paddle. Coach let us stew for fifteen minutes. When she came in she said, "I checked with the office. Your parents signed the consent form for corporal punishment. Get up and bend over my desk. One on each end." We got up and moved to opposite ends of coach's desk. "Get your shorts and panties down before you assume the position." I tugged my shorts down and then my panties. I was blushing furiously when I bent over the desk, taking my weight on my forearms. Ingrid was slightly slower to respond. We stared at each other in silence. Her eyes were barely a foot from mine. Coach gave us ten each. Ten very hard strokes with a wooden paddle. I was first. Coach was strong and the first blow drove the breath out of me. I grunted and I saw Ingrid wince. Her left hand crept out and covered my right hand. Coach took her time, measuring each blow. By three I had tears rolling down my cheeks, by five it was hard not to scream. My butt felt like it was on fire. By seven I was sobbing. Ingrid squeezed my hand whispered, " Hang on, Sal. Only three more." I hung on. Then it was my turn to watch while Ingrid was paddled. Her expression never changed and she never made a sound. I knew she was in pain because I could see it in her eyes. Tears streamed down her cheeks but she never made a sound. Not one. When it was over coach told us to compose ourselves and get back to practice. She left and we straightened up slowly. I rubbed my sore butt and then pulled my panties and shorts up. We walked down the hall in silence and stopped in the locker room to blow our noses and wash our faces in cold water. Ingrid glanced at me as we left the locker room and said, "You've got a cute butt." I stared at her in surprise. "How do you know?" Then I remembered the mirror on the wall in Coach's office. She grinned. "I had a perfect view." I bumped her with my hip and whispered, "Bitch. Next time you get that side of the desk." "No way. Your ass is much cuter than mine." Three nights later, in the back of a luxurious Mercedes, I tasted royal pussy for the first time. Erica was driving. Her partner, Kurt, was back at the house where Ingrid was living. It was Friday night and we were on our way home from the movies. I resisted for a moment when Ingrid slipped her arm around me. "What about Erica?" Ingrid smiled. "Erica sees a lot, but says nothing. Isn't that right?" Erica nodded. "That's right, your highness." Ingrid drew me close and kissed me. Five minutes later we were naked. Erica drove around for an hour while we made love in the back seat. Later, when Erica drove me home she stopped the car along a quiet street and got out. She opened the back door and asked me to step out so she could talk to me. It was short and sweet. "I love that girl and if you do anything to hurt her I'll kill you. Do you understand?" I nodded. "I understand. I love her too." Erica looked at me with an expression of utter desolation. "I know. And that's the only reason I don't hate you." She opened the car door for me and I ducked in. We won the state championship that year. Ingrid and I were lovers until she went back to Denmark for the summer. She never returned. Two years later, in an elaborate ceremony, she was crowned queen. Erica was in the background in one of the news photos, smiling happily. I never saw either of them again. The End.