Nothing seemed to be going right in the game. Shots weren't getting close to the net; there were too many turnovers being made and the Sabres seemed to be able to do nothing at all wrong. As the team made their way back to the ice for the third period, they found out they would be doing so without their starting goalie, one of their prominent defensemen and their captain. The coach had decided that he'd seen enough of their lack of hard work on the ice and instructed them to take a seat on the bench for the final 20 minutes of the game.
"But keep in mind - all three of you - if we don't come back and win this game, each of you will be grateful for the chance to sit down for twenty minutes comfortably." Dave Tippett said his eyes cold and hard as he stared at the three players he kept from heading for the ice. "If we do not win or tie this game, Sergei, you will get 5 swats for each of the 10 turnovers you had; Marty, you will be getting 15 swats for each goal you allowed; and, Mike, you will get 9 swats from each of the other 11 forwards that played today."
Rather than question their coach's authority, the three made their way to the bench to hopefully watch their teammates pull off a practically impossible win. As the minutes ticked off the game clock, their hopes got higher as the team rallied to pull to only a 4-3 deficit. Unfortunately, that was how the game ended. Granted, the season was young and this was only one loss, but Mike and Marty knew what they were in for even if the concept has pretty much escaped Zubie.
Most of the guys immediately hit the showers while Mike, Marty and Sergei got ready per Tip's instructions. When the others started filing out of the shower, they were greeted by the site of their three benched teammates wearing nothing but their jockstraps bent over the side of a training table. Mike shifted nervously from his left foot to his right as he heard the snickering and whispers of his teammates.
"Gentlemen, before you we have three of your teammates who did not perform up to their potential in today's game." Tip began to explain to the others. "Therefore, it is up to you - their peers - to show them how much you expect the lesson they will be learning today to impact their performance in the future."
"So, what are we supposed to do, Tip, spank them for not being good players today?" Billy asked - his sarcastic tone was impossible to ignore.
"That's exactly whats going to happen." The coach replied as he picked up a thin wooden paddle. "Okay, on display before you in case you can't recognize this side of them are Zubie, Turks and Mo. Sergei is going to receive 5 swats of this paddle for each of his 10 turnovers from his fellow defensemen. Marty will get 15 swats for each of the 4 goals he allowed from Tugger and the defensemen. Mike will get 9 swats from each of the forwards who had to pick up the slack for him today. I will keep count of each so no one loses their place. Zubie, you're up first."
Sergei took a deep breath now fully aware of exactly what was going to happen to him as Matty took his position behind him. The paddle whizzed through the air before making firm contact with its target. Marty and Mike both winced when they heard Zubie groan in pain. His sobbing and swearing in Russian echoed louder and louder as the strokes were applied to his reddened behind. When the last stroke was counted, he was excused to go take his own shower to get ready for the flight home.
Marty then moved into position to take his dose of the paddle. He stared straight ahead at the wall directly in front of him and willed himself to not make a solitary sound while he waited for the paddle to be applied. He felt Tugger's calloused hand rest on the small of his back and then heard the sound of the paddle cutting through the air before making impact on his ass. It soon became more than obvious that Ron had given a paddling or two before. He knew exactly how long to wait between strokes to allow the initial sting to just wear off before applying additional pain. Surprisingly, Marty remained completely silent during the entire 60 strokes. When he was allowed to go shower, his ass was a deep shade of crimson and looked as if it must be hotter than the desert in the middle of August.
Mikes face was already burning hot from humiliation as he took his position for his spanking. Unfortunately, things were about to get even worse for him. Tip told the forwards that how they gave Mike his licks were entirely up to them. If they wanted him to remove his jock or have him lay across their laps they had free reign to do so. He could hear the hushed whispers of the guys as they decided exactly how they were going to apply the 99 licks to his bare ass. He was just about relaxed - completely resigned to his fate - when he felt a pair of hands tugging his jock down and off of him.
"Come here, Mike." Billy commanded sharply smiling almost sadistically as he watched Mike slowly moving toward him.
Billy pulled Mike across his lap and then carefully positioned him so that he couldn't get away. The nine strokes that Billy applied to Mikes ass left him panting and whimpering, but not yet crying. In order, he was draped across the remaining forwards and finally got a short break before Jason and Brenden got their turns. Tears were streaming down his face and he was almost certain that a few of the strokes had drawn blood even though the slight rubbing he could manage to do gave no evidence of that. After allowing the burning to subside for a few minutes, Mike was pulled down across Brenden's lap. Brenden rapidly applied the strokes and then wished he could've taken them instead when he looked into Mikes eyes as he got up to get into the position that Jason wanted him in.
Jason had Mike bend over the table again. He rubbed the paddle over Mike's abused and burning flesh for a few agonizing moments before he reared back to land the first blow. As much as he didn't want to and hated himself for it, Mike screamed when the first smack from Jason crossed the center of his ass. Jason took his time to make sure each swat he landed hit just enough of a different area of Mike's ass to leave him with a not so gentle reminder of this event for days to come.
"Well, gentlemen, I think that will be all." Tip said as he dismissed the others to finish getting ready to leave for home. "No, Mike, you stay in position for just one more minute; I can't let you go to the shower with an uneven number of strokes, so I'm going to give you one more."
Mike took the last stroke from the coach and then limped off toward the showers. As he walked by, he caught a glimpse of his thoroughly punished ass in the mirror. Angry red welts, dark purple stripes and several blisters covered most of the area from just below his waist down to the tops of his thighs. He'd been standing beneath the comforting beat of the warm water of the shower for just a few minutes when he felt a hand stroke the back of his left shoulder gently.
"Bren, what are you doing here?" Mike asked his voice hoarse from crying and pleading. "Shouldn't you be getting ready to catch the plane?"
"I had to make sure that you were okay." Brenden replied. "I didn't want to be a part of it, Mike. It hurt so much to see you looking so defeated and humiliated. It's not right Tip shouldn't make us torture each other."
Mike stroked the side of Bren's face softly as he forced a smile for the younger man's benefit. He gasped in surprised when Brenden placed a feather-soft kiss on the inside of his wrist. Brenden placed a finger over Mike's lips - he could feel the protests forming in Mike's head and he wasn't going to listen to them - as he moved closer and eventually replaced his finger with his lips.
A soft moan escaped Mike's open lips as Brenden's mouth traveled down his neck, across his chest and down over the taut muscles of his stomach.
"You don't have to do this." Mike whispered as he felt Bren's hot breath tickling the skin of his straining erection. "Brenden, I'll be ...ohhh."
Mike's words melted into a stream of incoherent moans and gasps as Brendan took every inch of him down his throat. He was unaware of the fact that his entire backside was firmly pressed against the hard tile wall of the shower as he felt Bren's tongue flagellating against the underside of his cock so skillfully. When he came, he released a deep guttural moan as he felt his fluid spurting into Brenden's mouth.
"Finish your shower." Brenden whispered as he brushed his lips against Mike's cheeks softly. "There will be more of that when we get home. "