The cheerleaders' crime

"This isn't fair," whimpered Anne-Marie, who continued to look a fair bit like Kirsten Dunst in Bring It On, although much prettier and cuter. "We didn't do anything wrong!"

"You don't remember the day the Pinkwhistle girls hijacked the Greenvalley tour bus, drove us all the way to Minneapolis and left us on the street in nothing but our bras and panties?"

"It was before my time."

"We had to hitchhike home," said Samantha, giving Anne a final smack for good measure. "And you try giving a lesbian truck driver directions to a town whose location has been left deliberately ambiguous. One of us ended up in Japan!"

She looked over the girls, smiling. Four bare bottoms, now very red. Four squirming cheerleaders, skirts up and spanky pants around their thighs. Her hand was a little sore, but somehow she didn't mind.

"Okay," she said. "You can pull your spanky pants up now."

Anne grabbed the sides of the undergarment, hoisting it up as quickly as she dared. It felt a little uncomfortable against her hot red bottom, but that was still better than letting the whole town get a good long look at your naked ass. She hated Greenvalley so much! She didn't have time to think before Samantha went down the line, spinning each girl around and cuffing her hands behind her back.

"Back to the station," she said. "Let's walk."

Anne took a step, and stopped Something was bothering her. A feeling. In her spanky pants.

A feeling like thousands of tiny tickling bristles vibrating against her skin, crawling all over her, dozens of hot little prickles tormenting every inch of her red hot sore bottom and her sensitive wet pussy oh my God eeeek! EEEEEEK!

"Itching powder in the spanky pants," Samantha informed her, as she hopped from one foot to the other, suddenly **** to get the pants off. "It's a classic for a reason. You'll do anything to get them off, won't you? Even if it's the night of the big game, and the whole school is watching. But right now, you can't."

Anne fumbled to get a grip on the pants' hem, caring deeply what all the onlookers thought, but unable to stop herself. It was no use. Her hands were cuffed. She couldn't get them off. She was trapped.

"I remember," said Samantha, watching curiously, "the night Pinkwhistle raided the Greenvalley cheerleader summer camp. They came into our huts while we were sleeping, tied us up. Spent the whole weekend playing with us, then gave us to the Pinkwhistle football team as a present. You know, my husband's an old Greenvalley quarterback. I'll invite him over tonight. He'd like to meet you."

She paused.

"But the thing I most remember," she said, "is what they did to me on my first night. Just me and my best friend, naked, oiled, dusted from tit to toe in itching powder and shoved into the same skin-tight sleeping bag. Lip to lip, hip to hip, nipple to nipple. With nothing to do all night but... squirm."

She smiled to herself, looking at the wriggling cheerleaders, remembering. "I think we're going to have a fun few days."