I’m Angela, I’m seventeen, quite sporty and slim with long blond hair. As a teenager, I showed promise as a tennis player, so my dad decided that I should be coached by a professional to see if I had what it takes to succeed. I enjoyed playing tennis but not as a profession but he was one of those dads you don’t say no to.
I was sixteen when dad hired Mike to coach me and train me hard to see if I could make it. Mike was about thirty, incredibly fit with a washboard stomach to die for. He had his own secluded tennis court surrounded by tall conifer trees.
Dad dropped me off and had quite a long chat with Mike before leaving.
“What was that all about,” I asked.
“Your dad was just giving me a few tips about how to get you to do your best,” he replied mysteriously.
So the lessons began and I enjoyed being helped to improve my game. Mike entered me in some local tournaments and I did quite well but I was not setting the tennis world alight.
I turned seventeen and Dad had another long chat with Mike before leaving me for the day.
“Right,” said Mike, “time to step up the training and start talking about consequences.”
I was nervous as this was a ‘dad phrase’ that I didn’t like the sound of.
“For example,” he started, “your forehand is inconsistent. Sometimes excellent but often lacks punch. Let’s work on that and consider the consequences of you hitting weak shots.”
Now I was pretty sure I knew where this was going but I couldn’t believe I would be punished by a stranger the way my dad punished me at home.
Mike took a deep breath and I could see he could hardly believe what dad had encouraged him to try. “If you hit three rubbish forehand shots, you will remove an item of clothing and at the end of training, I will spank you with this tawse three times.” He had the decency to blush.
I didn’t really want to hear but I murmured, “What if I hit more than three?”
“Let’s hope you don’t because the punishment increases step by step.”
I lost concentration and began to worry about the knickers I was wearing in case he did end up spanking me. Of course, this was the worst thing I could have done and in no time he was berating me for the third rubbish return.
He stood at the side of the court and called me over. “I did warn you,” he began. “Remove your top.”
Reluctantly, I removed my T-shirt. bent over his knees and touched the red sand court. I felt my short skirt lifted away from my bottom and then, horror, he pulled down my knickers to my ankles.
I shrieked, but he just warned me that it would be much worse if I resisted and I was to receive six spanks with those strong arms of his.
The spanks hurt, but the embarrassment of being spanked by this hunk was worse.
He reminded me that I would get three strokes of the tawse on my backside at the end of training. We went back to the training.
“You said the punishment increases step by step. What’s next?”
“Let’s hope your game improves but if you hit another three duff shots then it’s bra and skirt off and more of the tawse across your bottom.”
“You mean if I hit another six bad shots?”
“Please don’t ask me to explain each time. No, if you hit another three bad shots, that is six altogether. Now, let’s play and concentrate.”
It was all very well for him saying concentrate but all I could think about now was his strap and him seeing my bottom close up.
I did well and hit some really good shots which received high praise. Then I must have lost focus for a moment and hit one useless shot. Now it was back in my mind and quickly another two followed.
“Right, Angela, you were warned. Come over and take off your skirt and your bra.”
“Please no, I’ve played some good shots.”
“Your father warned me about your attempts to avoid punishment and suggested extra strokes to discourage you. Eight strokes of the tawse”
I undid my skirt and dropped it on one of the chairs. I turned away to remove my bra and dropped it behind me on the chair, only it fell off so I was obliged to turn to pick it up giving Mike a full view of my tits.
My game just went downhill as my breasts swung around and my concentration gone. I saw Mike adjust his shorts a few times watching me run around the court in just my flimsy knickers. Not surprisingly within the next twenty minutes, I had played so many poor shots I knew I was up for step three on the punishment scale.
“Time for those to come off,” he pointed at my remaining garment.
Reluctantly, I slid down my panties, trying to cover my trimmed pussy.
“Bend over the chair, legs apart, and stick out your bottom”
I was mortified and weirdly aroused as I took up the position, knowing just how much of my open slit he could see.
He parted my legs just a tad more. “Eight strokes with the strap.”
I was determined to stay bent over and take the punishment but I was shocked at the sting of the belt. Thwack, thwack, thwack, thwack!
I put my hand across my bum.
“Do that again and it’s another two strokes.”
Thwack, thwack, thwack, thwack. It was over and I rubbed my bum hard, feeling the tramlines.
I reached for my panties and skirt but Mike reminded me that I had reached level three, so it wasn’t over yet.
I tried to cover my boobs but Mike was having none of that and I had to put my arms by my side. I was proud of my body and I was getting aroused being admired by this fit guy. Then I noticed I was not the only one getting aroused as a strong tent was growing in his shorts.
Nervously, I asked what level three meant. He reached down into his kit bag and pulled out a riding crop which he swished through the air.
He moved me to the centre of the court, naked, and spread my legs wide then told me to bend over and hold my ankles for six strokes.
He stepped up close and I felt his erection through his shorts push between my legs before he stood back to punish me.
Swish. “Aaargh!” I stood up.
“Don’t move again or you will get more strokes.”
Swish, swish, and I felt tears well up as each stroke left lines across my bum. Swish, “Aaargh!” I leaped up, his eyes locked on to my swinging breasts. “Shit, shit, shit,” I cried, “that caught me between my … on my… er… on my privates.”
That didn’t seem to bother him at all and he bent me over again reminding me that I would get one extra stroke for getting up. Then he seemed to notice my slit was oozing juices and he gently rubbed his fingers along before probing inside with one finger.
The sensation was electric, there I was, bent over, naked, legs apart in the open and this man was stimulating me, sending shivers down my spine.
Again he moved up close behind me and now his erection was pushing against me. Then he began again, Swish, swish, swish, swish, and the punishment was over. He told me to stand up.
I had a different idea. By now I was fully aroused so I knelt in front of him and pulled down his shorts. He wasn’t wearing pants so his erection sprang out hitting my face. It was big and rock hard.
I took him deep into my mouth and swirled my tongue around the tip of his cock making him groan.
He took off his T-shirt and pulled me to my feet before returning me to my punishment position, telling me to hold my ankles. Was I to be punished again? Juices were flowing from my slit as I waited, legs apart and so on show. Then I felt the tip of his rigid member opening my slit before he pushed in deep. I wasn’t very experienced but this was amazing, feeling this hard, thick member sliding into my quim. He had to steady me as he pushed harder thrusting till he came.
I stood as he wiped his softening penis on his T-shirt.
“Right, time for some more tennis,” he said matter-of-factly. “No need to put your kit on, no one can see us here.”
So we played on for another half hour or so, both of us stark naked. His cock and my boobs swung around as we continued.
I couldn’t help admiring his fit body and that wonderful cock and I began to plan how I could turn the tables on him and have him bent over next time. It was almost as if he knew what I was thinking. As I admired his body, his cock began to thicken and grow, until eventually, he suggested we stop for the day before he turned away and quickly donned his shorts.
Just wait, I thought….
