Sunday, May 01, 2005

Kentucky Pete - Spanked for Horsing Around

by Kentucky Pete

WHAT FOLLOWS IS A SPANKING STORY. IT IS A TRUE ACCOUNT FROM MY YOUTH. I AM NOT ADVOCATING ANYTHING TO DO WITH CHILD REARING. I AM JUST TRYING TO TELL A PIECE OF MY STORY

As you may recall from reading some of my earlier spanking accounts, my father's father was kind of a surrogate care giver for my brother and me since our mom worked outside our house during some weekday afternoons. We would spend afternoons at his house till my dad could come and get us after work (my mom did not drive).

Anyway, one afternoon when I was about 11 or so, grandpa had to leave us alone to run to the store. Something he didnt like to do, cause he felt we were always up to mischief, but he did it anyway. My brother Tony was about 13 and really pretty responsible so grandpa felt it was pretty safe leaving us alone.

Well with grandpa gone we got to goofing off a bit. We had watched some TV show where these women were walking with books on their heads to improve their posture. Tony and I decided to try it. Books not being good enough for me I decided to pick up some other stuff and Tony kind of followed suit, but was getting a little nervous. He got really nervous when I picked up this glass waterglobe type thing that my grandpa had. It wasn't a snow gobe since it had no snow in it, but it did have this rose perfectly preserved in the water. Dumb me I jokingly put it on my head and tried to stand there balancing it. It was pretty heavy and it kept slipping, but I kept trying to see if I could keep it up there. All the while I had a hand sort of on it, so I didn't think anything was gonna happen, but then OOOPS! It slipped off my head and jinked outta my hand and CRASH! it fell to the floor, breaking into a thousand peices of glass and getting the water all over the place.

Tony and I stare at the mess and are screaming "Holy shit!"

"We are in for it!" I say.

"'We?'" Tony says. "I aint taking the fall for this! This one is all yours, little brother!"

Next thing you know grandpa's key is turning in the lock. He steps into the apartment's living room and immediately sees the damage. His face is a mask of fury! Now grandpa was not a big guy, maybe 5'7" or so, thin and wiry he hadn't an ounce of fat on him and was muscular in that small skinny guy way. He was probably in his mid/late 60s. He was balding and had a full, but well-trimmed beard and stash. A couple of Navy tatoos completed the look. He wasn't mean exactly, but he was stern and strict! You were never supposed to get into things you werent supposed to. And he was a spanker! Oh, boy, was he a spanker! Right up there with mom and dad!

Right away Tony gives me up: "It wasn't me, Grandpa! It was Pete!"

Grandpa is ignoring Tony he is making a beeline in my direction.

"Grandpa, it was an accident!" I squeal.

"Accident my foot!" he snarls, now right up in my face.

He looks around surveying the damage. It looks a mess. I try and shrink away. He grabs my arm and swats my butt with some stinging smacks.

"Please, Grandpa! I'll clean it up!" I plead.

"You? You can't clean the piss off the toilet after you pee!" he roars, smacking my ass some more.

I try and get away, but the man has a grip of iron, he has me half bent over spanking my boy butt. "Owww!! Ouch! I'm sorrreeee! Don't!! OWW!!"

He pulls me back up so we can look each other in the eye: "What would mother or dad do if you broke something like this at home?" he asks.

I don't answer him, I am too scared to speak. Besides the only answer I know won't do me any good!

Shaking me some, he answers for me: "You'd get a good beating! And you know it!"

I burst into tears.

"Your dad would spank your hiney black and blue and so would your mother!" he hollers at me.

I find a little feeble voice inside me: "Not if it was an accident."

"What?" he asks curling his lip in a sneer.

"If it wasn't an accident . . . I mean if it was an accident, I wouldn't get a spanking!" Boo hoo! Boo hoo! hoo! I cry in my misery, really pretty scared where this is going and hoping desparately to avoid getting a licking from grandpa, and, in the back of my mind worrying about my mother and father and how they will react if they find out about my latest misadventure.

"Pete, that was no accident and you know it!"

"But Grandpa, it was! {Sniff!} I wanted to see how pretty it was and it slipped out of my hands, honest!"

"Really?" a big wolfish smile on his face. He's not buying this!

"I could ask your brother . . . "

Tony was standing there watching this like a tennis match, now he's being drawn in and he wants no part of it! He kind of shakes his head and works his mouth, but nothing comes out.

". . . but I saw you!"

What? I think. My eyes must be open like saucers.

Again, grandpa has a big grin on his face, like it's all very funny, but he is dead serious.

"I came home through the alley out back and looked in the window . . . "

He lived in a ground floor apartment and he gestures to the window and spins me around so I can see it too.

" . . . and I saw you put that decoration on your head!" Spank! Spank! Spank! goes his hand on my boy butt!

"Grandpa . . . !" I squeak, my mouth working faster than my brain can supply an explanation.

"I rushed back in to stop you and then from the hallway I heard the crash!" He wheels me around, bends me over and spanks my butt a few more times to help make his point.

All I can do is sob in response: "Awwwww! Haw! Haw!!!"

"I didn't see Tony do anything . . ." he starts.

Tony flutters his hands in front of him, looking like an umpire making a small gesture to indicate the batter is safe! I start to stammer "He . . . he . . . ." but let it go. What good if I arrange it for us both to get a licking! Tony would only kick my ass later for it!

". . . maybe he knows better . . ."

"Honest, grandpa . . . ! Tony starts, but gramps cuts him off.

" . . . or maybe he caught a break, but you are going to pay for this, Pete!"

"PLEASE! I WON'T DO IT AGAIN!" I wail.

But grandpa is no mood to listen to me beg. He grabs my ear . . . "Oww! OWWW!! OWWWW!!!" I stage scream for effect but also in anticipatory terror of the price I am about to pay. And he leads me away towards his room, sweeping up under his arm a kitchen chair to take with him. It was an old plastic covered wrought iron chair, straight backed and armless. I was going OTK over him sitting in that chair!

As he sweeps me out of the kitchen he announces "We'll see how much horsing around you feel like doing when I am through with you!"

I am propelled into his bedroom and he shuts the door behind us. Normally, Tony and I are forbidden to enter this room. It's like our parent's room at home. We have "no business" being in there. (Of course in our boredom we sneak in all the time!). The room is dark. The lone window is covered by heavy drapes. Grandpa was a widower for many years and lived alone. The lighting is dim. There is one overhead light fixture that gives off a yellowish light. The furniture is all old and heavy wood. The bed is a queen size, very high off the floor and covered with a thick white/off white/dingy(?) bed spread. Sometimes I got the impression that grandpa slept on the living room couch and not in that bed, it was always made just so. I am feeling kind of smothered and very far removed from the world in this room with him right now.

Now he is ready for my punishment. No long lecture or scolding. We both know that I had misbehaved, done wrong and was going to be spanked for it. I am a little light-headed at the prospect, I am going on all cylinders, the adrennilin pumping, but for no good effect. A million thoughts bounce around my head, most of them nonsense and none of them useful at preventing the inevitable. I cannot (at this moment at least) recall one instance where I talked anyone out of spanking me. This day was no exception.

I am standing around shifting from foot to foot. Waiting for instruction. My grandfather seats himself in the chair.

"Come here!" I get the command and trudge over to him on heavy sockinged feet (no shoes at grandpas or my parents, you took them off at the door!).

Once I am within reach, he grabs me and pulls me the last foot or so. As if to say, you have no free will in this. I whimper.

"Let's get the naughty boy's pants down!" again adopting a kind of mocking breezy tone! His fingers unhook the snap on my pants, and then work my zipper down. All of a sudden I feel like I have to pee, but say nothing. I just stamp my feet nervously, the butterflies in the pit of my stomach swooping and dancing like never before. Oh, those terrible momements as a bad boy anticipates the spanking he is about to get!

My pants opened and my zipper down, grandpa just has to let go of them and they fall off my slim hips and belly to puddle around my ankles.

He grabs my arm and settles me over his lap, thankfully my underpants still on. Fruit of the Loom, not quite tighty whities, they are most likely Tony's hand me downs and they are neither tight nor particulartly white. They gap in the legs, the elastic having been worn from washing, the same washing that has turned them from white to a whitish grey. We were not a rich family by any means, but my mother was very clean.

So I am lying there, my breath gone for a bit as it has been forced from my lungs as my chest makes contact with grandpa's right leg. I look down at the threadbare carpet and can see my grandfather's thin ankles encased in an pair of dark nylon socks, still wearing his shoes, buckle jobs with more polish than leather on them!

I stare down. It is the quiet before the storm. I wonder if my underpants will come down like my pants did.

Then the spanking begins. Grandpa doesn't have a really big hand, but he has a hard and bony one and I have a small ass so each smack hits home good. His fingers seem to fan out like the tails of a whip stinging the edges and sides of my butt or curling into the crease betwen my ass mounds. My threadbare underwear offers little protection and I am set to bawling in no time. "AWW!! Haw! Hahhhhh!!"HAWWWW!!!"

Like his son and his son's wife, my grandfather was a determined spanker. He spanked with a purpose and that purpose was to make sure it hurt! Sometimes when he spanked me in this room his closet door would be open. It had a mirror hanging on the back and on occasion I could catch a glimpse of his face as he spanked me. Grim fury would best describe the expression. In this he was like my dad. Like father like son!

Well I got a good and thorough handspanking and got yelled at plenty to boot. I cried up a storm and wailed and pleaded for him to stop all the while struggling in his grasp. The guy was strong though and he held me down and did a good number on my underwear-clad ass. A good several minutes worth.

Finally he stopped the spanking and relaxed his grip. I slid down off his legs and landed on the floor at his feet, rubbing my bottom and raising myself up and down. One hand would rub my ass and the other would rub the tears streaming off my face. All the while I was sobbing out loud, mindless of my dignity.

Grandpa lets this little scene play out a bit and then he pulls me to my feet, me half stepping out of my pants. I continue to furiously wipe away the tears that just won't seem to stop flowing.

"You think you learned your lesson, Pete?"

"Yuh . . .yuh . . .yuhhh . . . {SOB!}"

"You're not going to touch the things in this house again, are you?"

"Nuh . . . nuh . . . nooooo! Waaaaahhhh! {Sniff! Sniff!}"

He stands up, "You better not!". With that he marches across the room to his tall dresser and opens up the top drawer.

With his back to me he says "And what do you think you deserve for lying?"

"I dunno" I mumble through my tears, looking down and scared to face him.

He wheels around "You dont know? Well, I'll tell you," Grandpa is holding a hairbrush and he waves it in my face, "A good, hard spanking on the bare! That's what you are gonna get!"

In a sec he is back over to me and seats himself in the chair. Quickly, he tugs my underwear down and they ball up at my knees. I stand there quaking, semi-nude in front of the seated man who is gripping my arm to make sure I ain't goin no where!

"Nooooo! Please, Grandpa!" He starts to turn me back over his knees. I try pulling away and wail, "NOOOOO!!! PLEASE! GRANDPA! NOOOOO! IM SORRY! I PROMISE! I WON'T DO IT NO MORE!!!"
PLEEEEASSEEE!!!"

But all that begging and pleading is having no effect. I am back where I was a moment before, twisting and turning my hiney, my whole body really to avoid what's coming, my hands fluttering behind me and even trying to grab grandpa's arm to stop him. I was no stranger to the hairbrush but had yet to learn to take it like a man!

As I said, grandpa was determined, so he pinned my legs down with his own left leg and held my two hands in one of his up my back.

"PLEASE! NOOOO!!! PLEEEE-----EEEEEEZZZZEEEEE!!!" I wailed, but no matter -- the smacking of my buttocks began!

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! The spanks were applied firmly and in stinging fashion to my boy rump. They acheived the expected reaction.

"OWW!! AHHH!!! HA! HAAAHHHH!" Shit! It really hurt!

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

"OH, PLEASE GRANDPA!" If I thought his hand had burned my ass . . .

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

"OWWW!!! NOOOOOOO!!!! AHHH HAHHH! AHH! HAHHHHH!!!!" . . . it was nothing compared to the stinging heat of that monster wooden hairbrush!

"This will teach you, but good!" SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

Aiiiieeeeeee!!!! OWW!!" I bucked and screamed unsure that I could take it.
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

"OWW!! AHHH!!! HA! HAAAHHHH!" Convinced that I would go insane or maybe even die before it was over!

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

"Awwwww! Haw! Haw! HAWWWW!!!" How long would he beat me for?

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

"YEEAAAGGHH!!! PLEASE PLEASE!!" I wanted it to end!

Then grandpa started lecturing me while he spanked: "You gonna touch my things and lie about it again, Pete?"

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

"No, Grandpa! NO!" So I sorta knew the end might be near!

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

"Owww! WOWWW!!! I WONT! I PROMISE!!!!" Maybe I could make it through it.

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

"I PROMISE! UHHH! HUHHHH!! OWWWWW!!!" A little more pleading never hurt!

"You better mean it!"

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

"PLLLEEEAAASSEEE! GRANDPAAAA!!!!" A lot of pleading might be better!

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

"PLEEEASSEE!!!! I DO MEAN IT!!!!!" I got to convince him!.

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! "NOW YOU BETTER BEHAVE!" My grandpa bellowed over my own caterwalling and the resounding smacking of his hairbrush on naked boy rump.

"Aiiiieeeeee! AWWW!! HAWWWW!!!I'M SORRYYYY!!!! Owww!! Wow! Wooooww--WWWW!!I will! I willll!!!"

That was it. And so he sorta dumped me off his lap onto the floor, my naked ass hot and sore making contact with his scratchy carpet. My bottom hurt so much! I was outraged!

I expressed that outrage by doing a little dance while sitting there on my knees, with the bottom of my legs under me. My pants had long since been flung off me during my struggles and my underwear was half off, just looped around one white sock-covered ankle! I was so mad at getting hit like that and I howled out in protest to let my nasty grandfather know how bad he had hurt me! Really mean thoughts would flood through my head at times like this when I had gotten a real good hiding. Especially at this age. In my head I would be screaming at my grandpa (or my dad or mom if it had been them) "I hate you, I hate youI hate you!" A very childish reaction! What do you expect? I was a child! Of course other than my cries and wails I said nothing.

My grandfather looked down on me still holding the brush. He managed to get a long look into my tear-streamed face, further humiliating me by his scornful look that seemed to say, "Yup! You got just what you deserved!" That superior sense really would piss me off. Why didnt they just leave me the fuck alone? I should have learned contrition and genuine shame for what I did to deserve getting a beating, but instead all I usually felt was pissed off. At least at first.

Grandpa sneers down at me "You think you had enough?" waving the brush at me.

At the time I didn't know what came over me, but I answered him with a defiant "No!"

Looking back now I have no idea where that came from. Part of it had to be the the huge rebellious streak that was always inside me that caused me to repeatedly to test and often defy authority, even my parents and grandfather who I knew would enforce their will in painful fashion. There may have been a sense that I felt cheated, like I wanted him to spank me some more. Or that he had in fact let me off too easily when I had gotten myself steeled and prepared for more. I dunno. Maybe I was already a spanko at that age!

Whatever the answer was, I got my wish -- or at least what was comming to me. In seconds after I utterred the word "no", grandpa was hauling me off the floor, seating himself and pulling me back over his lap to resume his butt blistering butt work, this time with renewed force and effect.

As soon as he started up again I was back to bawling and pleading and soon simply sobbing as he blistered my bottom but good. When you are getting licked fast and furious like that you really have no idea of the the passage of time, just the searing hurt and the hope that it will simply end. As the spanking wore on, I am sure I struggled all the more and made it worse on myself. As a top I learned never to let up until I was sure the spanking was sufficient and that the lad got all the he had asked for and deserved. I suspect my grandfather and parents were no different. Basically my spankings were not over until they said they were over.

Eventually my grandfather stopped. He had turned my ass to a bright shade of red. Not quite blistered, the skin was hot and bumpy and really inflamed. I remember painfully pulling my underwear and pants up, feeling not only the sore skin, but deeper ache where the smacking had really pounded my ass.

Ordered back to his kitchen I was told to sit in a chair and "Keep still!" Until my Dad came to collect us. I cried for a long time sitting there. Partly to make my gramps feel bad for me. Tough old guy that he was he never let on that he was at all moved by my sobbing. My brother, Tony, periodically told me to shut up, adding his lecture to my grandfather's, the essence being: I got what I deserved.

When my dad came to get us. He immediately saw me looking all sullen and tear-stained at the table. Instantly he summed up the situation and was loudly quizzing me about what I had done. The injustice of his assuming that I was in wrong (even tho I was!) brought me to a fresh round of weeping. Out of earshot my grandfather summarized the activities of the day. Finally having got the whole story, Dad stepped over to me and slapped the back of my head a time a two while yelling at me and asking "How could I be so stupid?" or words to that effect. Dad barked out some sharp orders to get our books and our coats on as it was time to go home.

My dad bustled us into the car. I recall it was a cold day, probly late fall. I immediately sat in the back, making sure Tony sat up front with him. We rode a bit in silence. I sat directly behind my father to make it hard for him to reach around and cuff me. Every now and then I got a glimpse of his eyes in the rear view mirror. They were cold and hard. He looked pissed! At one point our eyes met and he half turned but kept his blue eyes on the mirror riveted to mine: "You are going to get a good shellacking when we get home, Pete!" he announced. That was a favorite expression and I knew I was sunk.

I just turned away and stared out the window, turning thoughts feverishly over in my mind, thinking, How could I get out of this? What could I say? But nothing came to me. I knew I was going to get beat again at home. It wasn't long before I was crying in the backseat dreading my fate. My tears didn't escape my father's notice. Heck they were part of some ill-conceived plan of mineto garner sympathy.

"Go ahead and cry! You wait and see how I make you cry when we get home!"

"SOB!"

"You fuckin' kids can never learn, never cooperate and do what you are supposed to!"

"BOO HOO!"

"I'm gonna teach you good!"

"Waaahhh! Sniff! Sniff!"

So my father set his face back into that mask of grim determination and fury and we rode the rest of the way home. This was no scene out of Ozzie and Harriet. Instead it was the Real World, 60s style.

We pulled into the driveway and into the garage. I dont think I even waited for the car to stop before I bolted out of it, running up the path to our back door. Thank God the door was open, I came crashing through, prepared to turn to my mother to save me! She was right there in the kitchen.

"Ma! Ma! You gotta stop him, Daddy is gonna kill me!"

My mother is looking at me concerned but also suspiciopuly, "What's going on, Peter?"

I tear into my explanation: "I broke something at grandpa's house, but it was an accident and he didn't believe me and he . . . ." My father and brother enter the kitchen. Mom and I look at them, Dad says nothing just turns his burning gaze on me. I stammer on " . . . and he, and he, he spanked me for it real hard! But Dad is still mad and he, and he . . . Don't let him, Mom!" I wail and literally hide behind her, crouching down between her and the counter.

My father makes a feint to grab at me, I dodge and he lunges in the opposite direction turning my Mom in the process. "C'mere!" he snarls grabbing at me.

"Tony! What is going on?" Mom asks my dad.

Dad launches into a short narrative of what went on at grandpa's letting Mom know how fed up grandpa was with my misbehavior and how much of brat and handful I could be and how he, grandpa, wasn't going to stand for it and how he said maybe he shouldn't be watching my brother and me. My mother is getting the picture. This isn't looking good for me! Whatever I have to say is not saving the day. My parents were always very grateful for my grandfather looking after us, Mom especially since it was for her convenience. They were upset that he was having second thoughts.

My father ends with "I'm gonna teach him a good lesson today!" With that he pulls open a kitchen drawer or two and roots around looking for the wooden spoon. Out it comes into plain sight, him brandishing it in my face, sort of sneering at me, letting me know that yes, indeed I am going to get it!

Holding the weapon in his right hand, he reaches for me still quivering behind my mother. My mother having been clued in simply steps aside to give him access, I half grab at her skirt, but Dad has me by the arm and pulls me away to the center of the room. He immediately starts whacking away at my butt and legs with the spoon producing howls of protest. This beating continues as he drags me out the kitchen and down the hall to my room, slamming the door behind us so he can thorougly punish me without being disturbed.

I am pushed down on the bed on my back. My father quickly unbuttons my pants and pulls down my zipper. Like most of my spankings I knew this one would be on my bare bottom. I am problably kicking and screaming up a storm. My father was very mad and was yelling at me. I didn not want this to happen. He grabs my legs down close to my feet to hold them together and to stop me from thrashing around. With his other hand he takes hold of the waistband of my pants and underwear and starts tugging them off me. As he does so my ass slides off the bed and up into the air. By the time he has pulled my pants down they are bunched up around my ankles which he is holding up in the air, my ass is off the bed as is my lower back with only my head and shoulders really resting on the mattress. From this vantage point I am heels over head so to speak! My Dad struggles a bit to pull my pants and underwear off me but they are stopped up by my sneakers. So with my feet up in the air and my ass presenting itself just the same (the "diaper position" its called), he picks up the spoon and starts licking my bottom fast and furious. Spanking me good and hard causing me to whelp and blubber out in pain and shame from being beaten on my bed like naughty whipped puppy!

Getting punished with the wooden spoon was very humilaiting. It was an especially "girlie" punishment. The spoon is something you spank a girl with. I was a boy, a toughie to boot. To get spanked with a kitchen utensil which didnt really hit hard but just stung like fire was so embarassing!

Over my cries of pain and shame I hear my father's voice boom: "WE'LL SEE HOW MUCH HORSING AROUND YOU'LL FEEL LIKE DOING WHEN I'M THROUGH WITH YOU, PETE!!!"

WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!

I am getting a murderous series of licks!

WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!

"PLEEEEASE STOP, DADDDDDD!!!!!!!" I caterwall in between my wails, gasps and sobs!

WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!

Dad's not giving in!

WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!

I am getting beat for like the fifth time that day!

WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!

"DAAAA-----DDDDYYYYYYY!!!! OWWWWW!!!! WOWWWWW!!!!!! WAAAAAA----HHHHHHH!!!!!!!"

WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!

All the while my dad has me trussed up my legs way over my head, I am flailing and wailing around on the bed taking a good hard licking from my old man!

WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!

It wasn't the first! And it was sure wouldn't be the last!!

WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!

"Please!!! I'll be good!" I gasp, twisting my hips to avoid the blows.

WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!

Dad just yanks me up harder, making sure he has a good grasp so he smack my boy hiney and legs but good!

"UGGGHHH!!!" I sob, still trying to twist away.

WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!
"HOLD STILL!!!" he commands redoubling his efforts to keep me in place, smacking me harder, hitting not only my coolie but the backs and sides of my legs which throb hotly from the assault.

WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!
"OWW!! AHHH!!! HA! HAAAHHHH!" I cry out, no longer capable of forming words, i surrender to the beating and just sob it out.

WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!
"AH!! Awwwww! Haw! Hah! HAHHHH!!"

WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!
"HAWWWW!!! Aiiiieeeeeee!!!! OWW!!"

WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!
"AHHH! HA! HAAHH! AHAA!"

WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!
"No! OWWW!!! WOWWWW! WOWWWWW!!!"

WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!
"OWW!! OW!! AAAAHHH! HAAAHHHH!!"

WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!
"HAHHHH!!"HAWWWW!!!"

WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!
"Aiiiieeeeeee!!!! OWW!!"

WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!
"HAHHHH!! HAWWWW!!! Aiiiieeeeeee!!!! OWWWWW!!!!!"

WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!
'OWW WOWWW WOWWWW!!!"

"BRAT!" I hear my father bellow out.

WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!
I AM GOING TO SHELLACK YOU GOOD AND TEACH YOU A LESSON TONIGHT, BOY!!!"

WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!
"Ow! OWW!! Haw! Haw! HAHHHH!!"HAWWWW!!! Aiiiieeeeeee!!!! OWW!!"

Tired maybe from having to hold my legs up over my head he finally flips me over onto my belly, holding me down onto the mattress by my neck. I cry hard, my face pressed into the sheets.

WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!
"DISOBEDIENT BRAT!" I heard that a fair amount in my youth.

"Awwwww! Haw! Haw! HAWWWW!!! I'm sorrrreeeeeee!!!!"

"You had this coming but good, Pete!!

WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!
"NOOOOOOO!! Owwww!! Owwwww!!!" My protests resume. I WANT THIS TO BE OVER!!!!

WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!
"Aww haw haw hah haaahhhh! Daddy! Please!!"

WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!
"You cant mind your grandfather for a couple of lousy afternoons a week?"

OUCH!!! Nooooooo!!! I will, Daddy, I will!!!"

WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!
"Owww!!! OWW!!! OWWWWW!!! PLEASE!!! I'LL BE GOOD!!!"

"ALWAYS FOOLIN' AROUND . . ."

WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!
"Waaaaaa-----AHHHHHH!!!!"

". . . INSTEAD OF BEHAVIN' LIKE YA SUPPOSED TO!!!"

WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!
"Ahhh! HAAAHHH!!! AHH! AHH! AHHHH!!!"

WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!
"You learnin' your lesson, Pete?"

WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!
"OWWW!!! YES, DADDYYYY!!! YESSSSSS!!!!"

WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!

"You'll get this and more if you dont walk a straight line at your grandpa's . . . ."

WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!
"PLEEEE-----EEEEEEZZZZEEEEE!!!"

" . . . . AND IN THIS HOUSE TOO!!!!"

WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!

"Owww! PLEEEEASSSEEE! I'M SORRRREEEEE!"

WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!

"WAAAHHH!!! AHHHHH!!!! I PROMISE!!! {sob!}"

WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!

"Please, Daddy! Oww!! OWWWW!!! OWWWW!!!!"

WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!

"I learned my lesson!! {boo hoo hoo!}"

WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!

"You better have learned it!!"

"I have! I have!"

"This is what you will get if you forget!"

WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!

"OWWWW!!!! NO MORE!!! I'VE LEARNED!!!! OUCH! OUCH! AIIEEE!!! AIIIEEEEE!!!! NO MORE!!! DADDY, PLEASE!!!"

"We'll see!"

WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!

"YAAOOOOWWWWOOWW!! STOP! PLEASE STOP!!"

"I want you to remember this a good long time!"

WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!

"OWWWW!!! YEOWWWWW!"

WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!

"OWWW PLEASE!"

"When you are at your gradfather's you sit there like a soldier!"

WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!

"UHHHHH! HUHHHH! HUHHHHH!! HUH! HUH!"

"Or the next time I really will give you something to cry about!"

WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!

"Oh! Daddy, NO!, Daddy, NO!!!"

WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!

And then it was over. And, oh how my tears did flow I had clutched and pulled at the sheets till they came loose from under the mattress. My ass and the tops of my legs felt like they were on fire, like dad had been pouring hot water on them. He left me exhausted sweating and sobbing on my bed. I tossed and turned for some moments rubbing my boy bottom, till I finally flipped over to sit up. OUCH! I saw stars as my ass connected with my scratchy sheets. I stood up and rubbed my hiney and sobbed loudly for the whole house to hear. I was hurt, felt violated and knew no shame!

I could cry forever so it seemed after one of those beatings. As much from the pain as from the sense of outrage I felt at having been laid so low and treated so badly. The certain knowledge that I was not in control and was subject to my parents' utter domination, no matter how tough and smart I tought myself to be.

Eventually my mother came to my room. She saw me sitting there on my bed, the bedsheet wrapped around my juvenile frame. With only a bit of pity she made up my bed, all the while giving me a tongue lashing for putting her, my father and grandfather through all of this. Continuing to scold she ordered me into my PJs and to bed. There would be no supper. I had a lot to think about she said.

Once in my pyjamas I slipped under the sheets and blanket. My hand would chance upon a wet spot or two where my tears had spilled and my eyes would brim over and the tears would spill again. I huddled myuself into a fetal position and cried myself to sleep that night, as I had done before and would do again.

I learned this: get caught horsing around and you are in for it! Still as I drifted off to an exhausted sleep I kept thinking about that candy that I knew my grandfather had locked in his nighttable drawer. If only I could get to it . . . .!!!! But that is a story for another day!

STOURFIELD

by El Chasqui

CHAPTER ONE

My name is Mark A. Legg. I want to tell you about my first year at Stourfield Public School, and how I came away from Stourfield with 8 GCSE passes against all the odds. This was due, as you will see, to an exceptional Housemaster with a teaching philosophy that may seem new and unusual but in reality is as old as time. I was just 13 when I arrived at Stourfield; a pretty callow lad really, small for my age, blond hair, and I thought not bad looking. I already knew, from prep school experiences, that I preferred the company of other boys and men rather than the more usual girls.

For a good deal of my first term I had a Housemaster of unredeemed ordinariness, with no kind of flair. Never either encouraging or discouraging, and although he seemed quite satisfied with my progress, I knew I would never make the grades that my parents had sent me there to attain. This made me feel pretty fed up, and the only bright spot was when, towards the end of the term I began to notice a lad named Timmy Parker, about the same age as myself but a success at all he attempted.

Timmy was dark haired, with what I considered a gorgeous body, one that I often took the opportunity to admire in the showers after games. He was just into the throes of puberty, developing a little hair above his circumcised cock, and his muscles were already bulging in all the right places. It wasn't long before he noticed my interest and returned it by making sure that I had the best view of his important parts while he soaped them in the showers. Shortly before the end of the first term we arranged to meet together in the old stables on the far side of the playing fields.
After a long dull history lesson, it was a relief to be alone with a boy I already considered myself in love with. At Stourfield it was known as having a "pash" and as long as it wasn't flaunted too openly accepted as part of life at an all boys' school. He didn't say a lot as I undid the snake belt that held up his shorts and let them slide into a puddle around his feet. His underpants were, of course, white but when I peeled them down I was confronted with a pair of buttocks carrying an angry looking pattern of red stripes. He responded to my astonishment by telling me he'd got them from a caning delivered by his housemaster, one Hugo Newsome.

The name meant nothing to me apart from bringing to mind the face of the housemaster involved. Timmy explained that he was a brilliant housemaster but had a bit of a sadistic streak and believed in regular corporal punishment to get the best out of his boys. Timmy added that Newsome often took on boys from other housemasters if he fancied them and thought they had some academic potential.

"But Mark, I'm sure you'd have no trouble getting on his list." Timmy said.

Anyway, the upshot was that after we had a wonderful wank together, Timmy agreed to ask Newsome if he would add me to his list of boys.

So it was that early the next term Timmy and I set out to visit Newsome's room. I had made sure that my uniform was clean and correctly worn, but decided to wear a pair of shorts that were, perhaps, a little too tight and should have been discarded at the end of the previous term. Timmy said that they showed off my bottom perfectly and he had with him an essay on "Bismark and German Unity" for Newsome's attention. I'd had a glance at it the evening before and thought he had a good chance of a hot arse before the day was out.

Timmy performed the introduction and Newsome nodded at me and said he'd talk later, as he settled down to read Timmy's effort. He was a big man; with the build of a rugby player, he had an Oxford blue, I believe. His large well proportioned body looked good in a Polo neck sweater and olive cords.

When he finished reading, he said, "Really Parker! This is just a collection of ill digested superficialities. You'd be a lot better off doing some proper studying instead of spending so much time with Legg's cock in your hand."

Obviously Timmy had told him something, and at least he didn't seem to be going to report us to the Head straight away. He went on, "On second thoughts, I might have made the same choice as you." As soon as he said that I knew we were safe and that there may well be a lot more than just corporal punishment going on in his rooms. He had said it with a funny glance in my direction and the comment, "I'll deal with you later."

So saying he rose and came over to me, walking round behind me and running his hand over the tightly clad buttocks in my shorts. "OK. Then Legg, I'll take you on if you want me to, I'll arrange it with your housemaster if you bring me one of your recent essays round tomorrow evening. Meanwhile, you can stop and watch me deal with Parker here. Perhaps that will change your mind.

"Take your shorts down Parker, and bend over that chair."

He indicated the arm of a large leather chair, and while Timmy slipped his shorts down and curved himself over the arm of the chair, Newsome took a heavy leather tawse out of his desk drawer. Walking behind Timmy yanking down his white regulation underpants to leave his bottom beautifully displayed, two white globes tightly stretched and about to be punished. Thwupp! ... The leather slammed across the naked cheeks.... Thwupp! ... The three leather thongs left their marks blazed across the buttocks .... Thwupp! ... Harder ...THWUPP! Whatever his mental powers no one could call Timmy a coward ... THWUPP! ... Not a sound, just a squirm and a gasp or two .... THWUPP!... THWUPP! ... Timmy gasped, his cheeks now scarlet under the leathering ... THWUPPPP! ... Ooaarggh!

At last a strangled groan ... twelve times the leather kissed my pash's bottom before he was told to get up off of the leather chair. As Timmy rubbed his scorched flesh tenderly, I was conscious of the erection that pushed stiffly at the inside of my own underpants. As Timmy gingerly dragged his shorts and pants up over his scorching cheeks, Newsome grinned at me he must have noticed my bulging flies.

"I'll still be seeing you tomorrow night will I Legg?" He asked.

I nodded agreement and we left, with Timmy walking very carefully, returning to the dormitory. Before going to bed we spent a while inspecting the damage to Timmy's bottom. The spanking had raised livid stripes of purple and red across the whiteness of his bum. As I ran my fingers across the wounded flesh, my heart came into my mouth as I considered the distinct possibility that my own posterior would be in much the same state in 24 hours.

As I stroked, I felt my willie begin to respond, pressing against the cotton material of my underpants, reaching around Timmy's thighs I could feel his own prick was responding to my caress and bulging up with the influx of blood. Deftly I pulled the rigid pole out from under the restricting cloth and ran my fingers up and down the firmness of his shaft. The velvet skin of his knob, unencumbered with a covering of flesh felt smooth and even a little slippery as his juices began to leak out of the eye at the end of his cock. I loved the feel of it, and still found myself slightly jealous of his ability to produce in abundance those fluids with I was only beginning to make.

It was only a moment before we were both standing next to each other, shorts around our ankles and underpants at our knees, fondling with increasing urgency the wooden stiffness of each others' penis. Timmy always adored the looseness of my foreskin, repeatedly sliding it back and forth across the sensitive glans beneath. I was first as I groaned and felt my boyish spunk rise up the shaft of my cock and spill out over Timmy's rubbing fingers. Then he began to move his hips in unison with my massaging fingers, he writhed more fervently and then the cream erupted from his prick, shooting out over the floor of the toilet we had chosen for our wank. The last few weaker spurts dropped onto my fingers that I raised to my lips so I could taste the fruit of my 'pash's' loins. After a minute or two we cleaned ourselves up and as quietly as we could slipped into our beds in the darkened dormitory for a nights rest.

The next evening found me setting out alone, again dressed as smartly as I could in my uniform, for Mr. Newsome's room. He greeted me in a friendly manner, poured me some lemonade, and told me to sit down to enjoy it while he read the work I had brought with me. It was heavily marked with my previous housemaster's scribbled comments.

Newsome read on, occasionally muttering, ".. The man's a fool..", Did he mean me or the housemaster? I wasn't left wondering for long, "Pretentious tripe," now that had to mean me, finally he threw down the papers and looked straight at me.

"Plainly, you've got a good brain, Legg, and that twit Robson's too dim to see it," he said. "But, you've also got a lazy mind; if I'm going to make anything of you that will have to be cured. I want you to redo this whole thing for me by next week, and we'll know more then."

For a minute I thought I was going to escape any punishment, and strangely, I found a feeling of disappointment begin to well up in me, but it didn't last for long. "Meanwhile, I'm going to warm that neat little bottom of yours, just to encourage you to put your intellect to some real work. Come here!", so saying he sat himself on his leather sofa, and indicated his knees. I hadn't lain across a man's lap for punishment since before I had gone to Prep School but somehow it excited me to put myself back into such a vulnerable position.

I lay across them, my legs dangling down, and gripped the arm of the sofa whilst my head buried itself in the deep cushion. His right hand slowly traced circles over my bottom, first encircling the right cheek and then the left. He also squeezed the mounds of flesh as if to assess their ability to receive his attentions. Then his left hand insinuated itself under my thighs and probed at the bundle of organs between my legs. I could feel his fingers undoing the buttons in my grey shorts and then slip inside to feel my willie through the thin material of my underpants. As it began to rise to the occasion, he transferred his attentions to my balls, now I wondered if he was weighing them to see how much spunk they could produce in the moments ahead.

Smack, his left palm came down onto the seat of my shorts. A quick yank caused them to fall around my knees, leaving my bottom covered only with a flimsy veil of white cotton. Smack... Smack... two blows in quick succession drew some heat into my bum while between the blows his fingers pressed my underpants deep into the cleavage between my buttocks. Strangely, I found myself concerned less some stains from an earlier shit would stain their pristine whiteness. Then my underpants followed the path down my hairless legs and joined my short trousers around my knees. Smack... SMACK... the blows rained down upon my defenceless flesh. My cheeks were beginning to glow warmly, and I wriggled more with delight than pain as the fingers of his left hand continued to massage my rigid willie. SMACK... SMACK... it began to hurt and I let out a soft groan. SSMMACCKK... fifteen times that large palm struck my tender cheeks, before he set me up on my feet again.

The tails of my school shirt fell down around my cock, it poked out a full three inches as if making it's bow on a stage. I looked down to see the tip of my glans pressing its way out of the restraining foreskin and a drop of clear fluid oozing out of the hole in its tip.

"I've gone easy on you Legg," Newsome's voice jerked me out of my reverie, "as you didn't do that stuff for me, but be warned, it won't be spankings you'll get in the future." He stopped and looked down at the protuberance between my legs, "Now let's see what we can do with that!"

Reaching out his right hand he took the shaft of my willie between his thumb and forefinger and gently began to masturbate me, it was the first time an older man had touched me there and at first it felt quite strange. Of course other boys in Prep School and even at Stourfield had their sweaty little fingers around my willie, I suppose that's just normal for any Public School. Newsome however, knew a bit more of how to pleasure a boy, for sure I wasn't the first, as he rubbed me up and down his left hand cupped my balls which were tightly up against my crotch. I could feel the spunk coming up the shaft of my prick and knew I was going to spurt it out all over his fingers. Then he moved his finger tips up into the crease between my buttocks and began to let one fingertip play around right at the entrance to my bottom hole. Well, that finished it off and I spunked quite a little bit over his fingers and on to the carpet. Of course I was beyond caring were it went and felt really weak at the knees as my cock began to shrivel back to its more normal size.

"So, Legg everything works well, and no doubt you'll remember to put more into your work now?"

"Oh, um, yes Sir, I suppose so," I said as I pulled up my underpants and tucked my still sticky cock back into pouch, my short trousers were soon in place so I thought it was time to leave. "Thank you Sir, um, for everything."

Newsome caught my eyes and smiled slightly, "I've given you something to think about Legg. Now you know what you'll get if your work isn't up to standard."

"Yes, Sir."

"Off you trot now, and be careful what you get up to with Parker tonight."

Briefly I wondered if he knew what we had done, but then I figured that he was just using his years of experience of dealing with boys in the throes of puberty. As a final parting he ushered me out of the room, with a final slap on my bottom. I felt I'd got a good reason to work hard on my essay for the next week, and all the more so after Timmy showed up one night with his buttocks really well reddened after getting two dozen with the cane across his bare flesh. Although I didn't ask, I was sure he was getting another kind of relief after his punishment was well.

Friday, April 29, 2005

First of Many with Lyle

by Gabriel Maggs




Lyle was about seventeen when our paths first crossed in our high school German class. He was probably around six feet at that time. Tousled black hair lay messily upon his head and his black eyes had the ability to pierce through the very center of your soul. More often than not, he was dressed very casually in a t-shirt and jeans that hung just above his well-formed buttocks.

Perhaps one of the most intelligent people I’d met in my short journey through life at that point, my sense of amazement never diminished in the fact that he was so very intelligent, and yet such a biased and ignorant individual. Much of the time that I was in his presence was spent listening to him rant on such topics as homosexuality, race, and the place of women in what he considered a “man’s world.”

You can probably imagine my surprise then as I wandered aimlessly through our small town, only to discover him behind a municipal building that was closed for the day, masturbating to a group of young men playing basketball in the nearby courts, although he wasn’t visible to them. His jeans and boxers lay beside him in the grass, as he lay on his stomach with his eyes closed, pumping quickly away at his increasingly hardening penis with his hand, and doing swift humping motions to the ground.

A slight smile spread across my visage as I slowly crossed the stretch of grass between us, the sounds of the nearby game and his whimpers and grunts filtrating through my ears. His movements had begun to be faster and before I had realized what a stupid thing I was doing, I had picked up his clothing and carried it off with me, but I was unfortunately not quick enough, as I had barely made the corner when I heard someone quickly coming behind me. I turned quickly, only to discover Lyle towering over me, his penis still as hard as could be possible.

Grabbing my left arm, he dragged me back behind the building and held onto my arm as he finished his climaxing, although it probably wasn’t as much of a pleasurable experience as it would have been, had I not interrupted. Quickly he pulled his clothing on and dragged me off toward a nearby parking lot.

Through all of this, nothing was said aside from a few grunts; however, it was terribly obvious that as each second passed, he was becoming increasingly angrier. A ball of fear grew steadily in my stomach, as he shoved me into the beat-up Chevy truck he’d owned since he was fifteen. When he’d finally started the motor, he turned to me, his eyes filled with tears that must have been a combination of both anger and fear. As he spoke, each word seemed to be filled with venom, “God, Trey, you moron! Why would you be wandering behind those f***ing buildings anyway? You realize I have to make sure you don’t tell anyone right? God.” As he said these words, his fingers caressed the black leather belt beside him softly, and he didn’t look at me.

For a few seconds, there was complete silence in which this action didn’t seem to click with me, and when it finally did, I immediately pleaded in protest, “No, Lyle, please...no, I won’t tell anyone. Why would I? It was none of my business anyway!” I fumbled for the door, but by this time he had already started the truck and drove quite rapidly so I couldn’t jump out. Tears streamed down his face as we began the short drive back to his home near the top of a nearby “mountain.” Shifting to the very edge of the seat in fear, I began to whimper nervously in anticipation. At this point, I had realized that there was absolutely no way for me to get out of this, and I wasn’t sure that I wanted to anyway. Throughout my entire childhood, I had fought off the need for some masculine discipline, and I was finally going to get it.

It seemed like a matter of hours before we had reached his house, but in reality it had been only about fifteen minutes. He stepped out of the truck and walked to the side where I was seated, opening the door and pulling me out, wrapping me tightly in his arms. Carrying me into his cabin “house,” he threw me down onto the wooden kitchen floor and locked the door to the house. Sweeping past me silently into the kitchen, he poured himself a glass of water and drank it quickly as he sat on a scrubbed wooden bar stool. He opened a drawer beneath him on the counter and pulled out of the “odds and ends” drawer a wooden spoon. He turned the utensil over in his hand as I lay upon the floor shivering with expectancy.

Finally, I heard the screeching of the stool being backed up and the quick hollow steps of his boots as he walked toward me. Reaching for my wrist, he pulled me down the hall and into his bedroom, where he sat down on the bed and forced me to stand in front of him. “You understand this is for your own good, right?” I nodded nervously, and the corners of his mouth twitched with delight, as he reached forward and unbuttoned my jeans as though I was a small boy. After they had been removed from my ankles, he turned me slowly around with his hands, stroking the tender curves of my butt softly. Finally, he slipped his fingers into the elastic band of my boxer-briefs and tugged them down as well, revealing a hardened third leg that merely caused Lyle to laugh. These were tossed down the corridor, as Lyle said that I wouldn’t be needing them until tomorrow.

He leaned forward and kissed my cheek before pulling me across his lap where I shook with fear, clinging to the leg of his jeans, awaiting the first slap.

“Ready?” his commanding voiced inquired.

“I...I guess so,” was my response.

SMACK! “What was that?” he said with a tone of malice.

“..I meant yes sir, sir.” I said nervously.

“Good,” was his complete response, and with that last word so started the scolding and spanking process.


YOU..*SMACK*..ARE..*SLAP SMACK*.. A *SMACK* VERY *SLAP* NAUGHTY *SMACK SMACK* BOY, AND *SMACK SMACK SLAP* YOU DE *SMACK* SERVE EVERY *SMACK SMACK SLAP SLAP SMACK* SLAP YOU GET *SLAP* DON’T *SMACK SMACK* YOU?


“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO,” I shrieked, cursing and attempting to wriggle free, however at this point he was enjoying himself far too much to simply let this go at that. He reached for the wooden spoon, clicking his tongue disapprovingly. “Cursing is only for naughty boys, and I won’t have that, Trey.” His voice has taken on a tone of egotism and arrogance, but I couldn’t protest as he was so much stronger than me. Without warning, the second part of the punishment started.


TREY *POP POP* YOU ARE *POP* SUCH *POP POP POP* A DISAPP-*POP* OINTMENT, YOU *POP* KNOW THAT, *POP*, RIGHT? I’M *POP* SO-- *POP POP POP POP POP* ASHAMED OF YOU RIGHT NOW. *POP POP POP* OH, *POP POP* YOU DESERVE *POP POP POP* MUCH MORE THAN THIS! *POP, POP, POP, POP*

The spanking seemed to last for hours in my mind, but in reality it had only been twenty minutes before he let me roll off his lap onto the floor, where I lay whimpering and sobbing for much of the evening until later, where the other half of my punishment was to commence, in which I was to perform certain “duties” for the boy that was to become my “master” for the next two years.







Male/Male Spanking Archive

Now is open!

This page is powered by Blogger. Isn't yours?