“She’ll see you now,” the secretary smiled as I approached the office of the vice principal.

I shuddered for a moment, and with a great sigh, I entered her office. The secretary made sure that our secret meeting was kept confidential, as she rose from her desk and checked the hallway. The last thing I saw before I closed the door was her head peering down either side to see if the coast was clear. She turned back at me and nodded as I closed the door behind me.

Mrs. Baker, our thirty-something vice principal was sitting in a comfy swivel chair as I entered. For a woman of power, she didn’t wear the typical pantsuit, but embraced her femininity with an alluring black dress.

“What can I do for you?” I questioned as I stood in front of her desk.

“Sit down, Fiona,” she calmly invited by waving her arm.

As I took my seat, she stood up and walked around the desk. I tried not to show my excitement as her slinky black dress clung to her body and her large maternal breasts popped out and stared at me. I was eighteen and just coming into my sexuality as a lesbian or bisexual or whatever and still a little nervous as to how I felt. My sweaty palms reached over the length of my tennis skirt as I tried to dry them off.

“It pains me to say this, but you have to withdraw,” she told me, with the slight hint of a tear at the corner of her eye.

“You’re joking, right?” I responded, giving her a raised eyebrow.

“Uhh…” she started to mutter.

“This was YOUR idea!” I started furiously.

“Don’t raise your voice to me, young lady,” she scolded and pointed her finger in my face, reminding me that she was the adult here.

“Sorry, but how am I supposed to feel?” I asked her in a calmer tone.

“I don’t know, Fiona,” she said, caressing my shoulder, transferring her warm compassion over to me.

“There is something you should know. The principal is worried about the game; he thinks that if you beat Victor on Saturday, it’ll look bad for the school. He wanted me to paddle you and I can’t go through with it,” she explained, trying to comfort me.

“Paddle me? Or withdraw from the game on Saturday?” I asked, astounded that he would suggest that to Mrs. Baker.

“Well, he wanted you to be punished. I thought that you could withdraw and save yourself the embarrassment,” she said, cocking her head to the side.

“You think I’m going to lose?” I asked, shocked that she would say something like that to me.

“Oh god, no! You’re going to take him in straight sets; he’s got nothing against that serve of yours,” she lauded.

“I meant the embarrassment of a paddling,” she explained.

When I heard that, something stirred inside of me. I felt like all the great women of history, like a modern-day Maid of Orleans staring into the face of the oppressive regime and I was determined to drive them to the sea. I was effectively rallied, not in inspiration for the woman who wanted to have my back, but to spite that tyrant and his vassal Victor.

“I’ll do it,” I boldly stated, standing up. My skirt flipped, and my breasts bounced, tightly bound in a sports bra.

“What now?” Mrs. Baker said in surprise and bewilderment.

“I’ll take the paddling,” I smiled at her.

“You WANT me to paddle you?” she questioned, looking at me with her face in a knot.

“Well no, I don’t want a paddling. I don’t want to give up this game either. It’s a time to show that we can stand up to them. Stand up to dictatorship! We’ll show these men we are equals!” I railed in the cause of feminism and equivalence even it meant a pair of burning buns.

“I’ll take whatever you can deal out,” I said, still riding an adrenaline high. I flipped my skirt up, yanked my panties down around my ankles, and grabbed her desk in the standard position.

“Haha, easy now,” she laughed, pulling my panties back around my readied backside.

“I’m not going to paddle you on your bare bottom, I don’t want people to think I was inappropriate with you,” she explained, tapping me on the butt with a couple of gentle smacks.

“Okay, but I don’t want you to go easy on me,” I looked back at her with my hands still on the desk.

“Why not?” she quizzed me again.

“I want people to know. I want people to see me wince when I sit down in class, I want them to hear the sounds of you giving me a thorough paddling, and with any luck some bruises they can still see on Saturday during the game. I want them to know what I had to endure to get there. We won’t let them win,” I spoke again like I was quoting some manifest or thesis on the struggle of women’s equality.

“Alright then, but remember you asked for it,” she said, walking over to her desk and removing her administrative paddle from the top drawer.

When she held it in her hands, it reminded me of an angler holding a prize largemouth bass. It stretched about ten inches and had an unusual hourglass-shaped handle. She wielded it like she had many times before for naughty students, and in a strong walk, she went over to her office door.

“I’m going to paddle Fiona now,” she said to the secretary with a wink and an almost-fake loud voice, enough so any passersby could hear her.

“Are you ready?” she asked me right after shutting the door.

“As ready as I’ll ever be, I guess,” I said taking a deep breath and retaking my position.

She didn’t speak as she took up a stance behind me. I wasn’t sure when it was going to start until I felt her check her aim by patting me on the ass with the paddle.

Whack!

The first strike sent a shockwave through my body. It was painful, my knees buckled, and I couldn’t quite keep myself in position. I’d never been paddled at school before but spent a few times over my mother’s lap. This was vastly different from a parental spanking.

Whack!

While I was trying to gather my thoughts, she hit me again. It wasn’t just painful, and it wasn’t just to prove a point to those macho jerks, it was erotic. This mature cougar had me at her will. Even though it might have been the principal’s original suggestion, and goaded by my intent to make a point, it was something different altogether.

Whack!

I was taken away to a new place. It was a place of intense sensual arousal. My mind painted a rosy picture, like I was watching myself in the third-person.

Whack!

Ohhh!! I had the feeling that I was on the brink of an orgasm. My slit started to drip right through my panties. What if she notices? I had this forceful feeling of fear and embarrassment at first. Although, what if she notices? I asked myself again, imagining a different outcome in mind.

Whack!

The paddle struck hard and I was brought back to reality.

Whack!

“Alright, that’s six,” she stopped and stood back. I started to rub my fiery backside. The gentle soothing of my hands increased the eroticism, and I let out a slight moan. I took my seat again as she put the paddle away in the drawer.

“I’m sorry about that, Fiona,” she mentioned, teary-eyed, as she noticed me grimace slightly when I sat down.

Well, I guess she didn’t. I thought, realizing that the actual pain of the paddling helped sell the charade.

Our plan worked perfectly though; the principal got what he thought he wanted, which was my beaten butt. The whole school knew about it too, which turned out to be somewhat of icing on the cake.

“That poor girl,” I could hear them mutter and whisper in barely audible tones.

They were a little bit correct, but I wasn’t in the mood to rectify it. After all, it was ridiculous I had to do this in the first place. It was ridiculous that even in this day in age, that a member of the administration would try to sabotage a game between two students to protect the school’s image. It didn’t even preserve the image; it was sexist, it was a sexist image he wanted to maintain.

For the rest of the day and throughout the day on Friday, I was a heroine. I was lauded by my fellow females and ostracized by parts of the male population. Most of the guys were fine or neutral in the matter, but some of them were over-compensating for the fact that we were still going to have the match.

It all started when the principal announced that the boys’ tennis team were state champions and the best tennis squad in the state. They lost twice during the regular season but managed to win the championship. However, we were undefeated, state champions as well, but a girls’ team. Apparently, we weren’t good enough to be the best team. Most of the girls just shrugged; it was common for the women and their sports to be second fiddle to the men.

He got even more fiery when I challenged the top player on the boys’ team to a one-on-one game. I don’t even pretend to be the best player on our team, I was just the most vocal. Victor, being the over-masculine guy he was, couldn’t refuse. For this challenge, he deemed it ‘unsportsmanlike’ and ‘petty’ and when I protested he thought I deserved either the paddle or a Saturday detention, which would have eliminated me from the game.

Saturday came quickly, and when the alarm woke me up, I felt inspired. I saw my ass in the mirror and although it had mostly healed, there was still a little bit of red and some light bruising. I rifled through my drawers and selected a special pair of panties for the occasion, a thin pair of white lace. It covered the important bits but left my cheeks bare. I gave them a little squeeze before I put on my team skirt. Go Clippers ha-ha! I joked with myself as I gave the mirror a little twirl and a bit of a show.

I left the house and I wasn’t sure anyone besides my semi-older sister Samantha knew about it. She was all excited for me to compete and even brought a sign to wave during the match. Like most of the girls at school, she united in the cause of equality and was ready to show her support.

Our tennis courts were near the arts building of the school, so It wasn’t like I had a locker room to rest in beforehand. Mrs. Chamberlain, the ceramics instructor, let me use her classroom to ‘get in the zone’.

I sat in the lonely art room, surrounded by half-made ashtrays and slanted pottery. I used one of the sinks to wash my face as game time approached. The classroom was about a hundred feet from our asphalt tennis courts and I could barely recognize the outline of them through the shades. I could, however, hear the chanting and the cheering from all the students that had gathered to watch the game.

“You know there’s no way I can win this,” I heard a voice say as the door opened.

It was Victor, the pompous asshole himself. He strutted through the door like he was McEnroe at Wimbledon or something. He was sporting a pair of short white shorts that were tight enough to show the giant bulge and a white nylon shirt that tightly clung to his abs. He was a dick as far as I was concerned, but I’d be lying if I said he wasn’t a piece of eighteen-year-old man-candy. His hair was probably the only turn-off about his appearance; he had an afro tied up with a white headband.

“Are you afraid I’m going to embarrass you out there?” I said sloshing my red ponytail around in a tease.

“No. I honestly think you’re a better player; if I lose to you it would suck, yeah, but not because you’re a woman,” he calmly explained as he sat in one of the chairs next to me.

“You’ve already been burnt at the stake for a heresy you never committed. The whole school knows it too. There’s no way out for me. I can play you and win, and my victory will be tarnished by the principal or those guys out there with the ‘make me a sandwich’ signs (there were actually guys out there like that). I can play you and lose and be the Bobby Riggs of the twenty-first century. Or I could withdraw and be called a ‘coward’ or a ‘sore loser’ for the rest high school,” he said in tears.

“Oh, no!” I sarcastically started. “I got fucking paddled because of this nonsense!” I shouted at him.

“I’m sorry, I never meant it to come to that,” he consoled. He sounded genuine in his sorrow. Maybe I was wrong, maybe he wasn’t like the principal. Maybe, just maybe, he was pressured into a bad situation. To his credit, I’d never heard him talk badly about our team, and he even congratulated us on our undefeated season.

“I have an idea to even the score, if you’re interested,” I said, scratching my chin in a diabolical plan.

“Anything I can do to make it up to you,” he stated, looking up from the hands clutching his face.

“Give me a minute,” I said, quickly getting up from my seat and leaving the room.

I didn’t even wait for his response as I bolted down the hallway and out near the tennis court. The hundred some-odd students and scattered faculty were cheering me on as I approached. I gave them a slight little wave as I scanned the crowd for Mrs. Baker. She smiled at me from the bleachers and I scrambled through the crowd to get to her.

“Are you ready?” she asked with a grin.

“Not quite. I need your help with something first,” I said to her in a faint tone.

“Okay,” she agreed as I led her by the hand back into the school.

When we reached the ceramics room together, Victor was sitting there in anticipation.

“So, Victor. I had an idea of how we could even this out,” I said to him with a mischievous smile.

“What? I’ll do anything,” he urged to satisfy me.

“I figured we could follow the Code of Hammurabi, ‘an eye for an eye’,” I continued.

“I had to take a paddling, and I think it would be fair if you had to take a paddling too,” I proposed.

“I g-g-guess that would be o-o-okay,” he nervously stuttered.

Mrs. Baker revealed the paddle from behind her back. She grinned with the thoughts of bending him over and whacking his ass soundly.

“Alright, you heard him, Mrs. Baker; it’s all you,” I said to her.

“Everyone is waiting for a game, so let’s get this over with,” she said, walking over to him, letting her curvaceous hips swing.

“Grab the desk and bend over,” she ordered him as she pointed at Mrs. Chamberlain’s desk. He easily complied and took his position with dignity.

His muscular form was impressive, and I could see that Mrs. Baker noticed as well. I think she gave his firm buttocks a couple of practice swats just for fun.

Whack!

The paddle impacted his ass with impressive force. He twitched a little but still took it like a man.

Whack!

She paddled him again, letting his shorts float a little as they settled from the effect.

Whack! Whack!

She gave him two in quick succession without any pause in between. My pussy started to drip like a leaky faucet as I witnessed the female domination happening before me. I desperately wanted to rub my clit but restrained myself out of necessity.

Whack!

This time he felt it. He shivered a little with his knees weakening. Before she hit him again she faked him out, going for the swing and pulling her arms back before she struck the target. He flinched at the threat of the last stroke.

“Two for flinching!” she laughed as she gave him two quick whaps with the paddle.

“That’s all, ha-ha. You can get up now,” she chuckled, twirling the paddle around in one hand.

When he rose, we both observed his enormous erection. His shorts did a pretty good job of holding it back but we could both tell he was sporting a good eight inches below the belt.

“Having fun?” I jokingly asked as I pointed to his embarrassing boner.

His face turned redder than his buns and he tried to hide it a little bit.

“You can’t go out there like that,” Mrs. Baker said to him.

“Fiona, I’ll leave you two alone for your ‘reconciliation’. But hurry up, you guys have a crowd out there waiting for you,” she said, making a speedy exodus.

“So… you like getting spanked by a woman?” I asked as I made my way over to him.

“Well, um, maybe,” he said with a twinge in his voice. He didn’t seem like quite the overly-masculine boy-prince I was used to seeing him as; he seemed like any ordinary teenage boy, maybe a bit submissive.

“It’s okay, Victor, I do too,” I revealed to him.

“Well, it might be anything though. This thing gets rock solid if I find out Steam is having a sale,” he explained, trying to avoid my assertion.

“Alrighty then. Either way, I can help you out with that,” I said, motioning toward his still-bulging cock.

“Really? But I thought...” I didn’t let him finish, yet.

“That I was a lesbian? Yeah, so do most people. And they’re not entirely wrong. I love women and I’m attracted to women.” I saw his smile fade.

“But I have nothing against dick, especially one like this,” I said, gripping his solid member in my hand.

Without a word from him, I pulled his tiny shorts down just below his cock. It sprang out and kept its rigidity. He groaned a little as I moved my fingers around the tip and felt it pulsating in my hand. I held it firmly in my palm and stroked it back and forth. I honestly didn’t expect it to get even harder, but it did. I was even getting more turned on.

The dew gathering around my mound was increasing as I continued to crank him harder. I could see in his face that he was almost about to come, and I maneuvered to the side to avoid any of the splash. He burst, and I could feel myself on the edge as well. His load shot out on the floor in front of us, and I think we were both a little amazed.

“That was amazing,” he said in shock before passionately kissing me on the lips. I wrapped my hands around the back of his head and kissed him back.

Unfortunately, he didn’t return the favor right there. Mrs. Baker was right; we had a game to get to, and the fans had already been waiting for about twenty minutes. He pulled his shorts back up, and we walked out of the school holding hands.

I won’t tell you how the match ended, because it doesn’t really matter who won. That day we struck a blow to the oppression displayed by the principal and some of the other male students. I had been disappointed by recent events, but that day, I felt better. I was confident in the future and confident in guys like Victor.

Later that day, he thanked me for forgiving him and showing my appreciation afterward. In a show of his understanding of equality, he repaid the favor.