Lazy McGuire's Sweat Day

Another erotic story from the FLOGMASTER!

Copyright 1985-2020 by the Flogmaster. All Rights Reserved. Free distribution via electronic medium (i.e. the internet or electronic BBS) is permitted as long as the text is _not_ modified and this copyright is included, but _no_ other form of publication is allowed without written permission. This document _may_ contain explicit material of an ADULT nature. ***READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!*** Anything offensive is your own problem. This story is for **entertainment** purposes only, and it does _not_ necessarily represent the viewpoint of the author or the electronic source where this was obtained. All characters are *fictional* -- any resemblance to real people is purely coincidental.

Lazy McGuire's Sweat Day

(****, FM/f, Edgy, nc paddling, caning, gym torture)

An over-the-top severe punishment day for a teenage TV character. (Approximately 7,824 words. Originally published 2006-08.)

"You aren't even trying, Lazy McGuire," growled the tough Ms. Benkins, the gym teacher.

"That's not my nam--"

"Shut up when I'm talking!"

"But Ms. Ben--"

"You need a sharp lesson, young lady. Your attitude is terrible!" The gym teacher rummaged on her desk for a blank piece of paper. She quickly scribbled out a message. "Now I want you to take this Principal Maler. I'm asking him for permission to give you a Sweat Day."

The blonde teen gasped. She didn't know what a Sweat Day was, but it didn't sound good. "A Sweat Day? But Ms. Benkins, that's not fair!"

"And ask Principal Maler if you can borrow his paddle. I'm going to start your lesson right now."

"But Ms. B!"

"Enough! Hurry up, right now! I'm adding swats for every minute you take."

Lizzie hurried down the deserted corridors of the school, her heart pounding in fear. She was about to be spanked! That was just ridiculous, wasn't it? Wasn't she a good girl? But Ms. Benkins had been dreadfully serious and it was true that Lizzie had lately been zoning out a bit during gym. She was spending too much time dreaming of the dreamy Ethan Craft.

Arriving outside Principal Maler's office, Lizzie told his secretary she'd been sent to speak with him. She refrained from mentioning it was a discipline situation; she hoped the woman would just think she had a note for the principal. A moment later she was in the man's office.

The room was cool and dark, with burgundy carpet, cherry bookcases, and a huge mahogany desk. The principal was a large man with graying hair and a grim expression. He always looked that way, even at assemblies when he addressed the student body.

"What is it McGuire?" She handed him the note. "Ah," he said, "a Sweat Day. You slacking off in gym?"

"No sir."

The man frowned. "Of course you are! Why else would Judy Benkins want to give you a Sweat Day? I'll put you down for this Saturday."


"Your Sweat Day will be this Saturday. You'll come to school at ten and go home at three o'clock. I'll have my secretary call your parents and make the arrangements."

"But I can't do it this Saturday, I've got plans."

"Well, that's just tough, isn't it."

"This isn't fair!"

"If you hadn't slacked off in gym you wouldn't be in this situation. Remember that." The principal wrote something on the note and folded it up and returned it to Lizzie. "Anything else?"

Lizzie shook her head and turned to go, then stopped. Her cheeks went pink. "Oh, I almost forgot. Ms. Benkins wanted me to, uh, borrow your, er... paddle."

"Oh? I guess you've been a very naughty girl, McGuire."

The man opened a drawer in his desk and took out an oak paddle. It was about four inches wide and a foot long, not including the stout handle wrapped with black tape, and it was perhaps a half inch thick. He paused, not giving it to Lizzie. "This paddle requires rent."

"Excuse me?"

"Rent. Three strokes of the cane." The principal stood and took down a short thin cane from a rack on the wall. "Touch your toes, please."

The girl was horrified. "Oh sir, you can't!"

"The price of that paddle will go up by one stroke every ten seconds it takes you to get in position..."

For a fleeting moment, Lizzie considered bailing. But what would Ms. Benkins do if she returned without the paddle? The consequences would not be good. She was wearing sturdy jeans, so that gave her false hope that the denim would block the sting. She quickly arched over, her plump buttocks presented for the rod.

There was a sharp Thwuck! as the cane impacted across the seat of her jeans. For a second Lizzie thought it hadn't hurt much, and then an intense sting bit into her ass and she let out a gasp. Before she could scream, however, the rod cracked across her rump again.

"Ahhhh! Oh that stings!"

"Stay in position... one more to come."

Groaning, Lizzie bent back over, willing her hands not to dart back and protect her fiercely tingling bottom. Thwack! The third stroke was the hardest of all, and low, right into the underbum. The flesh there must have been especially tender or something, because Lizzie's eyes were watering when she rose up.

"All right. Here's the paddle."

She took it and ran. She was so eager to escape the cane she forgot to hide the paddle from the secretary, a hot blush crimsoning her cheeks as she saw the woman eying the instrument of discipline in Lizzie's hand.

Ms. Benkins was taping her watch as Lizzie came into her office. "Where have you been? It's been nearly twenty minutes!"

"I, uh--"

"Lazy McGuire, that's your name for sure. Twenty extra swats when we're all done. You remember that!"

"But Ms. B--"

"Give me that paddle. And take those jeans off. You'll never feel anything through jeans."

There was something in the woman's eyes that told Lizzie it would be wise to not argue. She reluctantly kicked off her shoes and took down her jeans. Her panties were simple white cotton briefs, flimsy and a little snug. Lizzie decided she had been sort of filling out lately, especially in the hips and rear. It was probably time to start buying underpants the next size up. These left half her ass-cheeks hanging out.

Ms. Benkins had moved from behind her cramped desk and was seated on the guest bench, the paddle in her hand. She smiled wickedly at Lizzie. "Get that big butt of yours over here, young lady. I'm going to sizzle you good!"

Lizzie flushed with embarrassment as she laid down across the big woman's lap. A heavy hand settled in the small of her back, pinning her to the bench and holding her in position. Her butt was the highest point of her body, and in this precarious position it felt huge, a can't-miss target.

The paddle tapped her rump a few times and then, suddenly, whacked down hard. Even as Lizzie felt the flesh of her ass ripple and bounce from the force of the blow, she felt an intense sting begin to blossom. The paddled whacked again, and then again, and suddenly Lizzie cried out in pain. Holy heck that hurt! she thought miserably.

"Ow! Ow! Oh Ms. Benkins, please!"

Whack! Smack! Pow! Pop!

The paddle ignored her cries and pleas of mercy and continued to berate her rump. Within seconds the smooth, tan colored flesh was a hot pink, flushed from the fierce beating. Lizzie howled and wiggled frantically, gasping and moaning. But nothing stopped the spanking.

Ms. Benkins lectured as she paddled. It was routine stuff, comments like "I hope you're learning your lesson!" and "There, that ought to teach you!" and "Sloth hurts!" Lizzie didn't even register the sounds at first, but as the paddling went on and on with no sign of stopping or even slowing down, her initial overwhelming terror faded slightly -- at least the pain she was suffering was no longer an unknown -- and she was able to focus on what was happening other than her buttocks sizzling at a hundred-and-eighty degrees. Soon the lecturing was just extra humiliation on top of what she was already suffering, and she pleaded with Ms. Benkins to stop.

"Stop? Why I'm just warming you up, child! I haven't even taken down your panties yet!"

Such a horror had never occurred to the mind of the innocent teen and she shuddered in terror. "No, you can't, you can't."

But it was out of her control. After another dozen or so agonizing swats to her rump, the paddle was put down for a moment and a strong hand slid under the waistband of her panties and carefully dragged them down her smooth thighs. When they were in a bunch around her knees the paddle was picked back up and began assaulting her rear again.

"Ow! Oh no, please! Ow!"

Lizzie couldn't believe how much her bottom was hurting. As the spanking went on, Ms. Benkins was hitting harder, not softer. Every blow seemed to knock the wind out of the girl. The fierce stinging was so intense she couldn't even scream or protest. All her energy had to go into figuring out how to cope with the pain.

After an eternity or two the pain reached a plateau. It didn't stop hurting, but it wasn't building any higher. Lizzie's butt was a little numb, perhaps, for what bothered her most now as the paddling continued was the humiliation of lying half naked across an adult's lap as her bare ass was repeatedly flattened with a hard wooden board. Would this punishment ever end?

Finally, it did. Sort of. As Lizzie fell off Ms. Benkins' lap and rolled, her hands furiously rubbing her blistered buttocks, the teacher quickly reminded her she had an extra twenty whacks coming for taking so long in the principal's office. Groaning and blinking back tears, Lizzie got into position bent across the gym teacher's desk. Behind her, Ms. B held the paddle with two hands and prepared a three-step run-up.

"Stay in position or the swat won't count!" she ordered, then darted forward with the paddle up somewhere by her shoulder. She brought it down as she ran, timing her run perfectly so the paddle impacted the bare buttocks of teen right as she arrived.


Lizzie howled. This was fresh pain, that was a certainty. A flood of fire spread across the cheeks of her rump like burning gasoline. Lizzie was up, dancing, clutching her ass.

"That one doesn't count, you stupid girl. Now get back down!"

The twenty-seven wallops that followed -- Lizzie had trouble staying in position -- were pure murder. In retrospect the paddling over the teacher's lap had been a gentle massaging. This was a royal pounding. Lizzie sobbed and writhed, wiggling her poor battered tush frantically, trying to douse the sting. But the hard paddle kept thumping into her butt with a fury that was overwhelming. It lifted the underflesh of her cheeks and set it bouncing, the bottoms shivering as though in terror.

But finally it was over. Ms. Benkins put down the paddle reluctantly, saying with a sigh that she relished "really" giving Lizzie a sore rump. "Such a lovely plump bottom," she said patting the object in question, ignoring Lizzie's soft gasp and bitting of lower lip. "Positively made for the paddle. I shall enjoy our Sweat Day, that's for certain."

Lizzie wasn't thinking about Saturday yet -- she just wanted to get through today. Her punishment was not quite over, however. First she had to return the paddle to the principal, who, contentious administrator like he was, insisted on seeing the effects of the instrument. So a blushing Lizzie had to bare her bottom yet again, showing off the crimson flesh and burgundy bruises.

Then Mr. Maler insisted on another three strokes of the cane, a sort of rental return fee. Lizzie was too defeated to argue, suffering the sharp sting of the rod in pinched silence, her face pale and frightened. Since her panties were conveniently down, the caning was on her bare bottom and hurt much worse than the earlier three.

Unfortunately for the poor teen, her torments were only beginning. Arriving home she discovered that Principal Maler had, as promised, telephoned Mrs. McGuire about Sweat Day -- and apparently inadvertently leaked the news that Lizzie had been paddled. Lizzie's mom wasn't about to let her daughter off that one and insisted on administrating her own dose of punishment before Lizzie went to bed: ten minutes of squirming across her mother's lap, bare buttocks spanked with hand and hairbrush, followed by a dozen licks of her father's heavy leather belt.

Ah, the regenerative powers of youth! By Saturday, Lizzie had physically recovered from her ordeal. The orbs of her bottom were virgin white again, a couple faint pink lines from the principal's cane the only trace of her discipline. All soreness was gone and Lizzie was determined to keep her bottom spank free.

Her mother dropped her off at school promptly at ten o'clock. She went straight to the gym where she found Ms. Benkins busy setting up a number of apparatus on the gym floor.

"Ah, right on time, Lazy McGuire! Ready for your Sweat Day?"

"That's not my--oh, never mind." Lizzie gave a deep sigh.

"Let's get you changed into your Sweat Day outfit."

"My gym clothes?"

"Not quite. Today you'll be wearing something special."

Lizzie couldn't believe it when she saw what the teacher was handing her. It was a skimpy yellow skirt -- by far the skimpiest Lizzie had ever seen. From the waistband to the end of the cloth couldn't have been more than eight inches. Surely her panties would be visible if she bent over the slightest bit!

"There you go. Put that on, your gym socks and shoes, and we'll get started."

Five minutes later, Lizzie emerged from the locker room self-conscious about the skimpy skirt. It was even worse than she'd feared: her panties were visible even when she wasn't bending over! Unfortunately, the jut of her prominent rear used up a lot of the skirt's length so that the skirt concluded much too soon, leaving the base of Lizzie's rump peeking out beneath the skirt.

"What on earth? Why are you dressed like that?"

"It's the skirt you gave me! It's much too--"

"No, I mean why are you wearing that shirt?"

"It's my gym top. You didn't give me--"

"I didn't you give a top because you're not going to wear one. I told you _exactly_ what you were going to wear: that skirt, shoes, and socks. Nothing else. Got that? Now get that shirt off immediately! I suppose you're wearing a bra?" the teacher asked. Lizzie was young enough to still be proud of her bra-wearing ability and she nodded shyly. "Get that off, too, then!"


"Come on, hurry up! I'm adding punishments for all this wasted time."

Frightened, puzzled, and embarrassed, Lizzie reluctantly obeyed. It felt very strange going topless in the gym. It made the girl extremely conscious of her breasts. As she turned to place her bra and shirt on a bench near the locker room door there was a cry behind her.

"Lazy McGuire! You don't listen to instructions, do you?"


Ms. Benkins crossed the gym floor, a long yellow cane in her hand. With the tip she lifted the bottom of the tiny skirt up. "Panties! Did I give you panties to wear?"

"No, Ms. B, I--"

"Always have an excuse, don't you, Lazy? Well no excuses are acceptable today. I'm going to thrash you for your insolence, and for not following instructions."

"But I didn't know!"

"Are you still wearing those underpants? Get them off, child, get them off!"

Hastily, Lizzie removed the offending garment, placing the white panties next to her shirt and bra. Now she felt really uncomfortable, naked except for the flimsiest of skirts, a slight piece of cloth that would flip up at any breeze.

"Touch your toes, McGuire. I'm giving you two for cheek, and six for not following my precise directions. Two for your shirt, two for your bra, and two for your underwear. That's six for a total of eight."

"But Ms. Benkins!"

"All right, three for cheek. That's nine. Would you like to argue some more?"

Lizzie shook her head, her cheeks pink with resentment and embarrassment. At least her anger made her a little braver, though it didn't make the cane hurt any less. When she reluctantly bent over, the skirt rose up, completely exposing her bare bottom. It was humiliating.

"See how convenient this skirt is? It gets out of the way for the cane. They ought to make you wear these all the time."

"Oh, just great," muttered Lizzie sarcastically.

"More cheek! Well I never! We'll make it an even ten, then."

What followed was two minutes of agony. Lizzie wasn't unused to spanking -- her mother seemed to love to take the teen over her lap at every opportunity -- but she'd never felt such horrendous pain before. The thin cane seemed to slice right through her, leaving a thick sizzling welt that throbbed miserably long after the stroke was complete. The fierceness of the pain was astonishing, and it kept mounting with each succeeding stroke. Lizzie couldn't help but shed tears and feel incredibly sorry for herself.

"There, now that's done. Do you think you can follow instructions now?"

"Yesm," mumbled Lizzie, rubbing her blazing butt furiously.

"I won't hesitate to cane you again if you disobey. Now remove your hands from your ass."

Lizzie didn't at all want to lose the relief from the pain that her hands were giving her burning seat, but she wanted more of the cane even less, so she reluctantly obeyed.

"We'll begin your Sweat Day with some stretching exercises. Let's have you stretch your arms to the ceiling as high as you can."

The girl obeyed, her face turning pink as she felt a cool breeze cross her bare cheeks: the rising of her shoulders had caused the tiny skirt to rise, exposing her butt again!

"Now touch your toes, all the way down, and keep your legs straight. No bending the knees."

Lizzie had had enough toe touching already, but did as the teacher instructed. These two exercises were repeated nine more times, then it was on to the next one. Ms. Benkins had Lizzie stand on one leg and bring the other one up high, attempting to do vertical splits. This was awkward and painful and Lizzie didn't succeed, but the point wasn't to necessarily do it, but to stretch the legs.

Next Lizzie was required to -- ouch! -- sit on the gym floor (the cold wood cool against her bare buns as the skirt failed to cover anything) and touch her left foot with her right hand and alternate that with touching her right foot with her left hand. She did this exercise ten times.

Now it was time for some aerobics, beginning with jumping jacks, which embarrassingly made the skirt flap up and down, alternatively showing and obscuring Lizzie's round bottom. This exercise had the unfortunate effect of making Lizzie's bare breasts jiggle up and down humiliatingly. Normally in gym class, the class did 25 jacks and stopped, but this was a Sweat Day and Ms. Benkins kept Lizzie jumping for an exhausting 100, then told her to do 100 more.

"But Ms. B, I'm exhausted!" Lizzie panted, pausing to catch her breath.

"If you'd rather, I can exercise your bottom with my cane!" snapped the teacher. Lizzie hastily resumed jumping, though the effort was wearying. Her arms and legs were starting to ache, the stripes on her bottom throbbed, and even her breasts hurt from all the bouncing. Worse, she was starting to sweat, her half-naked body developing a sheen of moisture that was uncomfortable to the normally not too athletic Lizzie. As the sweat built up, it dripped down her front and onto her breasts, flicking off as she bounced. It was the oddest sensation.

"Touch your toes," ordered Ms. Benkins when the 200 jumping jacks were complete. Lizzie obeyed, breathing too heavily to argue. There was a dreadful slice of air that perked up the teen's ears, followed by a fiery bite of pain across her ass.

"Yow!" screeched Lizzie, twisting her hips and shooting up. She grabbed her flaming buns and rubbed furiously. "What was that for!"

"We're finished with jumping jacks," said Ms. Benkins. "The rule for Sweat Day is if you do your exercise well, I give you a single cane stroke when we're done. If you don't do it well, however, I'll give you more.

"Come on, let's move to the next task."

What followed were 25 deep squats, 25 push-ups, 25 sit-ups, and 25 chin-ups. Lizzie wasn't very good and struggled through the exercises, several times earning herself an encouraging flick of the cane on her rump. After each set of 25 was completed, Ms. Benkins had her touch her toes and another stingy lace from the cane. Lizzie's eyes watered furiously and when she had to do the sit-ups she found sitting to be distinctly uncomfortable, especially the constant movement offered by sitting up and lying back down.

The chin-ups were the worst, however. Lizzie's upper arm strength was weak and she had a difficult time getting through ten, let alone 25. She learned the hard way that if she let go of the bar, she earned a slice of the cane. Simply hanging on the bar was also dangerous, for if she didn't at least make an effort toward lifting herself, she'd eventually feel some of Ms. Benkins' "encouragement," namely a stingy cut to her exposed legs or behind. It took Lizzie ten minutes to complete the exercise, and her bottom burned from nine encouraging stingers.

"That was awful, Lazy McGuire," clucked Ms. Benkins shaking her head. "I'm going to give you three strokes to remind you to try harder."

"Oh no, please!" begged Lizzie, but she had no choice but to bend and offer her round rump for the cane. The little skirt rose up, her bare bottom was exposed, and the cane sliced in for an intense fire. Unlike the little flicks given during the chin-ups, this was a real punishment stroke, making Lizzie gasp and howl and stamp her feet at the fury of the pain.

"Stay in position!" cried the teacher, and calmly slashed the rod across the presented haunches again. Lizzie squealed in horror, grabbing her ankles as hard as she could to prevent herself from rising up.

The third sizzler was the worst, down low, right above her thighs. It felt like it had taken the skin right off. Lizzie screamed and grabbed her butt, squeezing her cheeks as though she could wring the pain out.

"Stop that play acting," growled Ms. Benkins. "Let's go to the rope climb."

"Noooo," moaned Lizzie. She hated that rope climb. She could never get to the top.

"You'll get to the top today, Lazy," said the teacher sternly. "Each time you come down a failure, I'm going to cane your butt. So I suggest you climb because we aren't moving on until you reach the top."

Lizzie groaned, but bravely went forward. She grasped the thick, rough hemp rope and began to pull herself up. She quickly discovered an infuriating discomfort. As she climbed, her bare breasts would brush against the rough rope. Soon her breasts were burning and she was only half-way up!

The odd thing about the struggle to go up the rope: the higher Lizzie climbed, the farther away the top appeared to be. Her arms ached and ached and her strength waned and she began to slide downward. A little flick of the cane across her rump urged her upward with a gurgle, but gravity was too much and a moment later she was in a heap on the gym floor, panting heavily.

The punishment stroke was a hard one, a real biter that gnawed at her ass as she went up the rope again. Unfortunately, the result was the same. Once she got to the halfway point she was exhausted and couldn't go any higher, eventually sliding downward. This time Ms. Benkins gave her two slicers that brought tears to her eyes.

"Please, Ms. B, I can't do it, I just can't!"

"We've got all day, Lazy. We're not moving on until you reach the top."

Groaning, it was time for another attempt. With a burst of energy Lizzie quickly made it to the halfway point but again the going slowed, each arm pull harder and harder. Ms. Benkins encouraged her with a few light flicks of the cane to her butt, then to her bare legs as she moved higher. But Lizzie froze about three feet from the top. She just couldn't go any higher. She was afraid of falling, afraid of going back down and facing the gym teacher's cane, so she just hung on and prayed.

The slide downward rubbed her breasts raw. Lizzie wept as she looked at the rope burned flesh of her chest as she bent over for three jaw-dropping cracks of the rod. She squealed and danced and begged for mercy, but Ms. Benkins would have none of it, simply pointing up the rope with the cane.

Her head slumping, Lizzie tried again. She was up for nearly four minutes this time, grunting and straining, trying her best, but all it earned her were the irritating flicks of Ms. B's cane on the back of her calves and four punishment strokes when she fell exhausted to the gym floor.

"I need a rest, please!" gasped Lizzie, rubbing her right cheek where one of the cuts had been particularly brutal. The cane had wrapped to the right side of her buttock where the tip had dug in deeply. The welt was as thick as her dad's thumb and quite inflamed.

"Sure, no problem," said Ms. Benkins with a grin. "One stroke per minute. Take as much time as you'd like."

Lizzie was on her knees, breathing deeply, and didn't have the energy to rise. She'd take a cut for a rest. Of course the cane stroke made her writhe and wiggle, using up energy, and then she decided to take a second minute for another rest. As she knelt on the floor, she realized she only had enough strength for one final go. She just knew that no matter how much she was beaten, she just didn't have enough for further attempts. So this next one would be her final chance. She just had to get all the way to the top. She took another rest cut, then another. If this was her last chance, she wanted to be well-rested, despite the stingy motivating cuts.

After five minutes rest, Lizzie decided she was ready. She'd caught her breath and her arms felt strong again. She stood, wincing as the flesh of her buttocks stretched, enlivening her weals. Up the rope she went like a squirrel. In less than ten seconds she was halfway up. After twenty seconds she was three-quarters. Now it was starting to become difficult. Already she was too high for Ms. Benkins' cane to reach her, but she no longer needed such motivation. She was determined to succeed or die in the attempt. Four feet. Three feet. Two feet. Her arms trembled. Her whole body was in pain. She ignored everything and pulled herself up another few inches, then another. A foot and half to go. She pulled, gritting her teeth at the sensitivity of her breasts as they rubbed the coarse rope. A foot, six inches, three, done. She'd done it! She'd done it!

Lizzie rang the bell at the top and quickly made her way down the rope. She didn't care about the rope burns on her breasts now, she was ecstatic just to have accomplished something.

"Much better, Lazy. Now stand up. I'm giving you five cuts, one for each attempt at the rope climb."

"No please, I made it, I did it!"

"Yes you did and I'm impressed and pleased, but this still a Sweat Day, and on Sweat Days, you're spanked every chance I get. If you'd climbed the rope on the first attempt, you'd only be getting one swat."

Wincing, Lizzie touched her toes again. Her butt was a ball of fire and she had long since lost count of how many times she'd bent over for the cane today, but the good feeling of successfully climbing the rope had her on a high even the cane couldn't completely wash away. At least the first few strokes, anyway. By the time she'd grunted her way through the eye-watering fifth oucher, she was not feeling so good.

Ms. Benkins checked her clipboard. "All right, Lazy, we're making progress. There's still lots to do, however, so let's move on."

Lizzie felt worn out, but there was nothing to do but follow the teacher. Ms. Benkins unlocked the school's small weight room and led the teen to a stationery bike. "Ten miles," she said, adjusting the controls. "You've got thirty minutes. A stroke of the cane for every mile you fail to complete."

Ms. Benkins then settled into a corner with a fitness magazine and began to read.

With a deep sigh of despair, poor Lizzie mounted the bike. She immediately gasped and leaped up, for she'd forgotten about her sore butt. (How could she have done that?) Oh Lord, this bike riding was _not_ going to be easy. How was she supposed to ride ten miles on an ass that looked like raw hamburger?

But there was nothing for it, unless she wanted to take a ten-stroke caning right now. So she eased herself onto the bike seat the best she could, wincing and hissing, and began to pedal. As she rode, she watched the display which showed her miles-per-hour and distance. Pedaling moderately had her going five or six miles per hour. At that rate, it would take her over an hour to go ten miles! She pedaled harder, soon creeping her speed up to 15 MPH. This pace was exhausting and she concluded with horror that even at that rate she couldn't go ten miles in thirty minutes. She wasn't especially good a math, but she did eventually figure out that she needed to ride at 20 MPH for the full 30 minutes to meet the teacher's requirement.

"You've really got yourself into it this time, Lizzie," she muttered to herself. There didn't seem any way her tender hams were going to escape another sound thrashing.

She bravely set out to try, though, pedaling as fast as she could. It wasn't too hard to get the bike up to 20 MPH, but it was bitch keeping it there. Lizzie managed it for several minutes, then had to slow down, panting heavily. Her butt ached, for when she rode fast she put more weight on it and rocked back and forth a little, rubbing her weals into the black leather seat. It was most uncomfortable. She was sweating again, too, but she kept pedaling until she was dripping.

With her whole body aching, Lizzie looked at the distance gauge with a groan. It'd been ten minutes and she'd barely gone two miles. At this rate this she wasn't going to trim many strokes off the promised ten. Unfortunately, as the ride continued, Lizzie was going slower and slower. When the thirty minutes were up she saw with deep sadness that she'd only gone four miles. She was exhausted, sweaty, and sore, and now she was going to be caned.

"Six it is," nodded Ms. Benkins with pleasure. She flexed the cane as Lizzie, white-faced, looked on with a sick expression. "Plus, of course, the standard one for completing an exercise."

"Oh come on!" cried Lizzie, exasperated. "Why not just beat me all day and be done with it?"

"Now what would you learn by that? Today you're gaining exercise, learning to do things you didn't know you could do, like that rope climb, and getting a nice tanning to boot. All in all, I think it's a splendid thing."

That was so ridiculous Lizzie didn't even bother with a response, though she thought of several that no doubt would have gotten her some extra strokes of the cane.

Touching toes was getting easier, and Lizzie was hardly aware any more of the way the flimsy skirt rose to uncover her bottom. She'd completely forgotten that she was topless, too.

Swish-Thwack! Swish-Thwack! Swish-Thwack!

Lizzie gritted her teeth and writhed for a full thirty seconds before bursting into tears with a "Owwwwww!" The three-in-row lightening bolt that had destroyed her ass was like nothing she'd felt before. One cane stroke was hell, but three practically at once? That was playing dirty!

Swish-Thwack! Swish-Thwack! Swish-Thwack!

"Arrgghgghh!" Lizzie moaned and thrashed, rose up, went back down, then came back up again. Her buttocks did their own little dance, independent of her. They jiggled furiously, gyrating as though on fire. "Omigodomigodomigod!"

"One more," laughed Ms. Benkins, "and the last one is always the hardest, of course."


It hurt so bad Lizzie couldn't even scream. She flung her mouth open but no sound came out. Her eyes bulged and tears flowed and she was hopping around the room clutching her inflamed buns in utter silence. Ms. Benkins watched her for a while, then checked her watch.

"All right dear, enough of that silliness. It's time for a lunch break. Let's get you showered and washed."

Getting naked in front of Ms. Benkins wasn't a problem now; Lizzie was used to it. She hoped in the shower and squealed as the icy water struck her. Ms. Benkins hadn't turned on the hot water so cold was all Lizzie got. She didn't realize it, but that was actually a mercy, because the cold numbed her fiery ass whereas even mildly warm water would have been murder on her welts. But all Lizzie could think about was getting out of the water as quickly as possible; the freezing spray felt like steel needles piercing her flesh.

Unfortunately, Ms. Benkins insisted that Lizzie be "clean," and that meant thoroughly washing every part of her body under the watching eyes of the strict gym teacher. The rough cloth the woman handed to her felt like steel wool as it rubbed her flesh raw, but she scrubbed away, the long cane ominously close in the teacher's hand.

The cold had made Lizzie's nipples stiff and Ms. Benkins insisted Lizzie lift her breasts by the nipples and clean underneath. The teen's fingers were numb as she struggled to grip her nipples and obey, the rough cloth like sandpaper against the sensitive flesh at the base of her breasts.

"Now down there," came the command, the tip of the cane pointing between Lizzie's legs.

"Oh you can't be serious!"

Lizzie broke into fresh tears, but she was beyond shame now. She squatted, her thighs scissoring apart, the sandpaper cloth finding its way between her legs. She gasped and moaned as she soaped and rubbed the secret flesh of her divide. It hurt but felt wonderful, the cloth scraping the small projection of her clitoris until it thickened and dripped.

"Between your buttocks as well."

It was agony to split her buttocks so she could ever-so-gently run the wet cloth between the welted cheeks, but she did it. The abrasive cloth was murder across the tender rim of her asshole, but she obediently soaped and scrubbed, even pushing a piece of the cloth and her finger inside a little to really get herself clean. Ms. Benkins' threat to use the cane as a plunger and clean her properly had Lizzie terrified and eager to do the job herself.

After all that, using the sandpaper cloth to massage the weals and welts that crisscrossed her bottom was almost a pleasure. Her butt was numb from the streaming icy water and she could only feel a dull throb of pain deep inside to remind her of her punishments.

Lizzie staggered from the shower after twenty minutes of awkward, painful cleaning. She was no longer crying. She was exhausted and her whole body tingled with feeling. Her butt was a numb, dull mess of dimly throbbing pain and felt heavy like lead. Between her legs her sex and asshole stung with fire, while her breasts and bare flesh felt raw like she'd been whipped.

"Now for some lunch," said Ms. Benkins pleasantly. "No need for you to dress; it's just the two of us."

She led naked Lizzie to her office where she produced a small cooler. From inside she removed a thermos bottle and two paper bowls and poured each of them a cup of steaming tomato soup. Plastic spoons appeared and Lizzie sat her sore butt down and ate hungrily. She was freezing after the icy shower and the warm creamy soup was heaven.

Ham and cheese sandwiches were next. They were plain, with no mayonnaise or mustard or frills like pickles and lettuce, but to Lizzie they were better than candy. She ate all of hers so quickly Ms. Benkins scolded her lightly but seemed amused at her hunger. Dessert was chocolate pudding -- sugar free, of course, but even that tasted delicious to the punished teen. Plain water was the drink of choice and Lizzie was so thirsty she had three glasses to wash down her meal.

"Excellent," sighed Ms. Benkins when the meal was over. "Tell me, Lazy, have you been learning today?"

Lizzie gulped fearfully and nodded. "Yes ma'am!"

"Good. A Sweat Day is a special thing and should hate for it to be wasted on someone who does not appreciate it."

"Please, Ms. B, are we almost done? I... I don't know how much more of this I can take."

The gym teacher frowned. "You're here until three o'clock, young lady, so don't think you're getting away with only half a Sweat Day! Now it's time for a rest. You can curl up on that sofa for thirty minutes. We'll begin again at one o'clock."

The "sofa" was the thinly padded guest bench, but Lizzie wasn't about to complain. She had no blanket and shivered in her nakedness, but the bliss of a thirty minute nap was too good to resist and she was asleep in seconds. Unfortunately that meant the time passed in seconds, for she'd hardly closed her eyes when Ms. Benkins was poking her with the cane and urging her to rise.

"Wake up, Lazy! You may use the toilet, then we must get going with the rest of your Sweat Day," said the teacher.

After peeing, which was painful with the welts across her ass and awkward with the woman watching, Lizzie put her skirt back on and followed the gym teacher into the weight room. They started with simple hand weights, doing various exercises like arm curls and overhead lifts. Ms. Benkins insisted on twenty reps of each exercise and after just a few Lizzie was sweating again and getting tired, but the ever-present cane was motivation to not lag. She gritted her teeth and worked hard, concentrating on just getting through the ordeal.

When the weight-lifting portion of the program was finally finished, Lizzie had only received a few strokes of the cane, one for each successful task completion. Was Mrs. Benkins was getting soft or was Lizzie improving her athletic ability?

The rowing machine was next, and it was particularly arduous not just because it was grueling work, but because it put Lizzie's full weight onto her tender buttocks. She bore it, though. The alternative was worse.

Then it was the treadmill. Lizzie was already tired, but knew this was going to challenging and she just had to buck it up or else she'd be punished. Mrs. Benkins started the machine at a slow pace, a rapid walk, and stood watching Lizzie work for ten minutes or so. She occasionally "encouraged" the girl with a light warning tap of the rod to Lizzie's rump, but fortunately no hard strokes.

But then, when Lizzie was starting to sweat, the teacher cranked the speed to "jog" and Lizzie began to pant trying to keep going. Her legs were starting to feel leaden and breathing was becoming difficult. She'd been running for ten minutes or so and it was getting painful.

"How. Much. Longer," she panted. Mrs. Benkins shrugged. "We'll see. You should be fit enough to do at least thirty minutes at this pace."

Lizzie groaned. Over the next ten minutes she earned two cuts for sluggishness, which helped motivate her into keeping up her pace for a little while. But eventually she just had to stop and catch her breath, earning a stroke for each minute of rest, plus one for stopping, but she decided the three slices had been worth it.

When it was finally over, she was given three strokes for mediocre performance and then Mrs. Benkins announced "Two minutes of sprinting." and Lizzie had to get back on the treadmill as the woman turned up the dial to the maximum speed.

The two minutes were pure hell because not only was Lizzie exhausted and panting, but the teacher whipped her ass constantly during the run. They were mostly little flicks and taps, but occasional hard lashes to the back of Lizzie's thighs were mixed in. She squealed and ran as fast as she could, barely keeping on the machine. The two minutes felt like twenty and she was ever-so-grateful when finally allowed off the treadmill.

"Oh God, that was awful!"

"You're out of shape, McGuire! We should do a few more of these Sweat Days to get you fit."

Lizzie did not like that idea at all and resolved that even if she had to take up jogging on her own time that would be infinitely better than spending another Saturday with Mrs. Benkins. "That won't be necessary," she pleaded. "I'll work harder in gym class, I swear I will!"

"I hope so. I'll be keeping my eye on you, McGuire. If I don't see significant improvement, perhaps some more Saturdays here with me will motivate you."

Next was a little break where Lizzie drank a couple glasses of water and rested. Then there were some exercises on a large stability ball. Lizzie actually enjoyed these for the ball was soft and comfortable and the exercises were mostly stretching and limbering.

Some of the positions were embarrassing, though, like the one where she was lying on top of the ball with her hands and legs spread wide, balancing. Her skirt had ridden up and covered little, so she was showing everything she had to the teacher, but she couldn't worry about that as she had to concentrate to keep her balance. Then Mrs. Benkins decided this was too good an opportunity to waste and delivered several juicy cuts into Lizzie's up-thrust rump while the girl struggled not to wobble off the ball.

But then it got worse. They went to the gym machines next, where Lizzie had to lie on her belly on a bench and bend her legs at the knee pulling up on a weight with her ankles. This was difficult to do and made even worse by the teacher's frequent spanks to Lizzie's exposed ass.

She had thought that was bad, but it was nothing compared to the hyper extension bench. On this device Lizzie's legs were held behind her, on the bench, and she was bent forward over a cushioned bar at her hips. The machine was high in the air so even all the way bent Lizzie's head couldn't reach the floor. She was instructed to lift her torso up to bring her body level, hold it for two-seconds, and then slowly bent forward and relax. It was a sort of upside-down sit-up. It was horrible and Lizzie was terrible at it.

But worst of all, her ass was completely exposed for the lady's cane and Mrs. Benkins didn't fail to use it. She had flipped up Lizzie's tiny skirt and each time Lizzie went down and her ass cheeks relaxed, the cane would slice into the fatty rump with a sharp "Zip!" and make Lizzie squeal.

"You're doing twenty reps," Mrs. Benkins ordered, delivering a cut for each successful rep. Lizzie yelped and moaned and finally wept as she struggled to complete the exercise. It was hard work and Lizzie earned numerous extras, including a whole series one time when she just hung there, panting, trying to gather energy for another lift.

When it was finally over Lizzie's ass was on fire, tingling all over with fresh welts, and she was somberly wiping tears from her eyes. It took her a while to realize that Mrs. Benkins was occupied writing on her clipboard and that there was nothing required of Lizzie for the moment.

So Lizzie rested, breathing deeply, and trying not to think about how much her body hurt. Actually, she was surprised to realize that she felt pretty good. Sure, her ass throbbed something awful, and she was exhausted and sweaty, but she felt stronger and healthier than she had in months. She hated to admit it, but the exercise had done her good.

"Well, we're almost done," said Mrs. Benkins, and Lizzie was surprised. She looked at the clock and was surprised to see it was nearly three already. Hope flared in her breast. Was the horrible day really almost over?

Back in Mrs. Benkins' office, the woman complimented the teen. "Not bad, Lizzie, not bad at all. I had thought you were a bit of a wimp, but you actually worked hard today. I'm impressed and pleased."

"Thank you, Mrs. B."

"Still, there were a few faults today that need correcting. I think one last punishment caning is called for, then you can shower and get ready to go home."

Lizzie didn't even have the energy to argue. She merely stripped off the skirt and bent naked over the gym teacher's desk and waited for the pain. The cuts were extremely tight, solid lashes into her bare seat, and she wept bitter tears and moaned. It was a dozen of the hardest and she was gasping and crying when it finished. Her ass was covered with fresh, thick welts but she was so happy the day was over she hardly cared.

The shower was bliss, ice water not withstanding, and within a few minutes Lizzie was dressed in her own clothes and ready to go home. After a day of nudity it felt strange to be dressed. The day's activities seemed surreal, as though they'd happened to someone else. Except that Lizzie's blistered ass was real.

At three-fifteen Lizzie's mom arrived, and she wanted to hear all about her daughter's day. Lizzie told her about the various exercises, but left out the abundant corporal punishment. She wasn't sure if that qualified under the "spanked at school, spanked at home"" rule and wasn't interested in finding out.

Lizzie slept on her belly that night, but wasn't too sore the next day. She decided that though that cane had felt awful, it was a lighter rod, and most of the strokes had been mere stingers, not true welt-makers. All in all, not so bad. But Lizzie immediately started walking to and from school every day and vowed she'd go running on Saturdays. She did _not_ want another Sweat Day.

The End