A young boy's thoughts on corporal punishment

[margtawse]

THE WALK (M/mm, m/m)

The sun shone brightly that afternoon as I walked along the quiet, tree lined, suburban street, cars parked on my right, and low brick garden walls on my left, separated from the two storey homes by short concrete pathways and neatly trimmed lawns.
The homes were very similar, brick facia with two upper bedrooms, and a lower sitting room and what I took to be the main bathroom, due to its frosted glass window, facing out on to the street. The weather being so warm, the windows on most of the homes were wide open, though I could not see inside as curtains were drawn, or blinds lowered to keep out the heat of the sun.
I freely admit that I am an enthusiastic aficionada of the ‘baring and stern fustigation of the human bottom, derriere, buttocks gluteus maximus, or backside’, having much experience of same, first hand, when growing up, coupled with the occasional delight of receiving, giving, or witnessing one. The delicious recollection I have as a boy of the helplessness I felt on witnessing my shorts and underpants being ceremoniously lowered by my mother, or father, the display of my naked, hairless, tiny shrivelled penis and testicles causing me the most acute embarrassment, the softness of the loins of my loving parent pressing on my naked front as I was draped over his or her lap, then the experience of the spanking’s terrible pain is something I now find tremendously erotically exciting.
With this being Saturday afternoon, and the children not at school thus providing them lots of opportunity to get up to mischief, I was hopeful that more than one of these pretty, middle class, suburban homes might house a spanking. Simply put, I saw this as an opportunity, if not to actually witness a spanking being given, to at least hear one. My rational was that since the normal setting for carrying out domestic corporal punishment was in a bedroom, or the main bathroom, if I continued my walk, I may happen upon one, in which case the open windows being so close to the street would afford me a delightful sound experience.

I was not to be disappointed.

As I rounded a corner I saw, three houses ahead, a handsome fair haired boy of about twelve or thirteen, wearing khaki shorts and a white short sleeved t-shirt, sitting on the low brick wall in front of what I presumed to be his home. As I approached him, my heart beat started to quicken, and my penis to stiffen, for out of the top left window at which the boy was avidly staring came the unmistakeable sound of flesh smacking flesh, and the painful yelps, squeals, and cries of a child being soundly spanked.
I stopped to the boy’s left, and as he turned his head to look at me, he gave me a wry smile which I returned.
“Your sister, brother or friend?” I quietly asked the boy, nodding my head towards the open window.
“Brother!....Matthew!”, he retorted softly, his face solemn, his eyes moist, “Younger!”
“Father?” I then enquired.
“Stepfather”, the boy replied, rubbing his bare knees agitatedly with his hands.
“What is your name?”, I asked.
“Mark, sir!”, answered the boy politely.
As we talked the slow steady sound of smacking became louder, the boy Matthew’s cries more desperate, the stepfather’s berating more pointed, and my penis even stiffer.
“Just started?”, I enquired, referring to the spanking to which we were we were both so avidly listening!…. Though for quite different reasons I presumed!
“Yes!....Just!...But lots to go!”, answered the boy gravely, his shoulders sagging.
“Bare bottom, Mark?”, I asked, again nodding towards the window.
“We always get it that way from him, sir!...I don’t remember how my real father did it, or if he ever did, but after he left us, Mom used to spank us over our shorts, or jeans. She met up with stepdad two years ago, and it has been bare bottom spankings in Mom and his bedroom for Matt and me ever since!”.
“Are you to get it next, Mark?” I carefully asked, feeling a little guilty as I hoped he would answer in the affirmative.
Mark’s shoulders slumped even further, he clasped and unclasped his hands, sunk his head to his chest, then slowly raised it and turned to face me, tears coursing down his face.
“YYYYESSSSS!” he stammered.
“What did you do?”, I asked as quietly and sympathetically as I could, notwithstanding the increase to my heart rate, and girth of my penis, his response had caused. I was thinking it must have been something fairly serious to warrant the severity of the smacked bare bottom that I could clearly hear his brother Matthew was receiving.
Mark swivelled his own youthful bottom seated on the top of the warm, sun soaked brick wall, and nodded towards the light blue station wagon parked behind him, where my eyes were drawn to the large dent on its curbside fender.
“Stepdad and Mom were away into town in Mom`s car this morning, so Matt and I decided….Well to be truthful, really I decided, and Matt kind of went along…happy about it mind… to drive stepdad’s station wagon to the local store to buy pop…. With me at the wheel we got there fine, bought our pop and headed home!... All was well until I turned the last corner before my street, and the drink I had placed on the seat beside me started to tip….. I tried to stop it falling, dreading to think what stepdad would do to me if I stained his beloved upholstery, but when I did I turned the wheel and bumped the fender into the back fender of a parked car….. I stopped the car and we got out, but as there was no one around, we hopped back in, and drove home hoping no one had seen us.”
“You don’t have a license do you, Mark?”, I asked, noting that the sound of spanking had stopped and now I could hear, without actually being able to make out most of the words, the stern admonitions of the stepfather’s voice.
“Of course not, stupid!...I am only 13!”, Mark replied sharply, his spine stiffening, a glint in his eye, then realising what he had said, quickly apologised.
“That’s alright Mark!....My question was stupid right enough!...So what happened after you parked the car?”
“Well!....When Mom and stepdad came home he immediately noticed the dent…. Mathew and I acted all innocent saying it must have been a hit and run…. Stepdad called the police, and when they came they saw right away it could not have been a hit and run as the dent was on the curbside, and there was a car parked in front and back of the car….. Everyone turned and looked hard at Matt and me, which made Matt start to blubber, and tell the whole story….. The police were going to charge us with all kinds of things, but stepdad sent us to our rooms so he could talk to them….. I guess he told them what punishment we were in for, plus we would be paying for the damage to both cars out of our pocket money for a long time, since when we came down from our rooms the police actually looked quite sorry for us, saying the punishment we were about to get was much worse than anything the courts could do!”

SMAAACCCCKKKKKK!!...SMAAAAAAAACCKKKKII…’OWWWWWWW!!....PLEASSSEEE!...I’MMMM SORRRRRY!!!.......”…The stepfather’s heavy hand had started again, slowly landing on the young culprit’s bare bottom, accompanied by the boy’s piteous sobs, apologies, and pleas for mercy.

“You must have been terrified?”, I said, one ear listening to the delightful sounds of corporal punishment so expertly delivered emanating from the bedroom window, and the other on my young new friend Mark’s response.
“SHIT YEH!!...Oh I am sorry!....I shouldn’t have said that!”, said the boy, a look of trepidation crossing his face.
“Quite understandable!...I might have said something much worse were it me!”, I responded lightly, “Please continue!”
“Stepdad told Matt to go up to his bedroom and wait for him there!….I had heard stepdad tell Mom once that he never wanted to spank us kids when he was angry, so he would always send us up to his bedroom first, then go out for a smoke, or sit and read the newspaper for a bit, so he was calm when he came to do it….Matt looked pleadingly at Mom, hoping, I guess, that she might save him, but Mom just stood there, that same angry, sad look on her face she put on when, before stepdad came, she was about to spank us… I quietly headed out the front door thinking I could maybe get asylum from the police, but their car was gone, so I thought of maybe simply running away!”
“So what did you do?” I enquired.
“I reckoned running away was just stupid, putting off the inevitable, so I sat down on this wall and listened to see what Matt was in for, knowing , since I am older, I would, for sure, be in for more!…. You see, after he has gotten all the truth out of us, or at least satisfied he has, stepdad always gives us a smacked bare bottom over his lap, then sometimes he has given me the strap, and he has threatened me, if I am really bad, he will also use the cane…… Matt has only ever gotten a smacked bare bottom, but with what we did I am sure he is for the strap as well!...Which means, as well as the strap, I am sure I will be in for the cane too!! …. I can take the strap ok!....But I sure dread the cane!”
“How come, Mark, if he has never used it on you?” I asked, intrigued to find out what had caused the young boy such a fear of one of my favorite corporal punishment instruments.
“Well one time when Mom and Stepdad were away, me and Matt sneaked into their bedroom to explore!”, Mark continued, starting to brighten and sound a little excited at what he was about to relate.
“That was very brave of you!...But a little foolish!”, I responded, noting the quiet once again from the bedroom window.
“Scary good!” replied Mark, his face lighting up at the memory, “We took turns pretending to be stepdad sitting on the wooden armless chair he uses to sit on when smacking our bottoms over his knee….. With lots of giggling and laughing from both of us I slowly bared Matt’s bottom, then pulled him over my lap and spanked him, not too hard mind, then, after he dressed, he did the same for me….. I then showed Matt the cupboard in which stepdad keeps the strap and cane….. He thought the cane kind of chintzy, but was fascinated by the strap, never having been given it, running it through his hands, then slapping it down hard on the bed”.
“What does the strap look like, Mark?”, I asked, trying to keep my tone even, hiding the emotional high, and the almost painful stiffness in my penis I was experiencing on hearing the boy’s erotic tale on my favorite subject.
“It’s real heavy, jet black, at one end the leather has been tapered in for a handle, and it is cut down the middle at the other end to give two fingers……”
“They are called ‘tails’, Mark and the strap a ‘tawse’, or ‘The Belt’….It was used in Scottish classrooms to discipline school boys and girls….Might still be!”

SMAAACCCCKKKKKK!!...OWWWWWWWWWW!!....SMAAAAAAAACCKKKKII…PLLLEEEASE..............PLEASSSEEE!...SIRRRRRRRR!!.....I’MMMM SO…SO..SORRRRRY!!!...…Young Matthew’s eleven year old bare bottom was once again being soundly smacked.

“The tawse!!…On the bottom?...bare?...In front of everyone?...Girls too??” interjected Mark, quite shocked, his eyes fixed on mine, wide, apparently oblivious to the sounds of his younger brothers strict fustigation.
“No!”, I laughed, “that might have happened at home, but at school it was given on the bare palm of your hand….two, four or six times…but yes, in front of the class, and girls got it too!!….. Witnessed by all your schoolmates...You had to hold your hands out straight, palms up, one hand on top of the other…The teacher then folded and placed a yellow chalk duster cloth over your wrist to protect it, stood back, stared you hard in the eye, raised the strap high over his or her shoulder and brought it down with full force smacking on to your exposed palm!.. Each time the teacher gave you a stroke you had to reverse your hands placing the one that was underneath on top to take the next stroke!”
“Her, sir?...You mean women teacher’s strapped you in front of the class as well?”
“Indeed they did, Mark, and some harder than men!”
“Wow!”, the boy replied, obviously impressed at this information…“We used to get the wooden paddle over the seat of our pants given by the Principal, a man, in his office at school, but for some reason they don’t do that anymore!.....But never in front of the class...And never by a teacher!”
“More’s the pity, Mark!...On all counts!.......But, tell me, what’s do you think is happening now in the bedroom?”, I asked nodding towards the window, which was again silent.
“Oh!.... Stepdad’s taking another break, Sir!....I am sure he is not close to finishing the spanking! ...He sure takes his time smacking our bottoms!...Might even have left Matt bare bottomed in the bedroom facing the wall, saying, ‘Now think about if you have anything else to tell me, boy!’, as he goes out back to have another smoke!..Likes to make sure he has every bit of truth out of us!....Or Matt might still be over his lap, and stepdad will probably be rubbing my brother’s bottom before he continues his lecture, then he starts again!.......But tell me, sir, on the tawse, getting it on your hand…What if you pulled your hand away?...I mean you cannot pull your bare bottom away, but you sure could your hand!”
“Not a good thing, Mark!”, I replied distractedly, as part of my mind was envisioning what young Matt’s pert bare bottom must look like now, and how warmly, engagingly pliant and soft it would feel were it my left hand gently rubbing it, rather than the stepfather’s, as the tingling from my right palm caused from frequent impact with his eleven year old bare backside slowly subsided.
“Sir!...sir!”, said Mark, noting my inattention, and wanting a response to his question.
“Oh, sorry, Mark!”, I said, drawing my eyes from the bedroom window and focussing on the young boy seated to my right, “What were you asking?”
“It…it…it was about getting the….the…tawse….on your hand!....What if you pulled it away before it got hit?” Mark asked eagerly, obviously intrigued at this alternate method of dispensing discipline.
“Oh sorry, Mark!...I was miles away!...Very rude of me!...Ok!... To answer your question you would be in for extra strokes, plus, if you dared do it again, the teacher would make you sit on a chair, hands held above your thighs…..Then if you moved your hands, not only would the stroke not count, but the strap would smack hard on to your thighs – very painful, as you can imagine, even if they were covered by trousers, or a skirt!...Made worse because the stroke would be repeated!”
“OUUUUCHHH!”, retorted Mark as he compared in his mind the difference in pain there might be between a strap stroke on the front thighs as opposed to that on the bare buttocks… “I guess getting strapped on your front thighs, even if they are covered, would be worse than on your hands or bottom, wouldn’t it sir?…..I think I would not be moving my hands in the first place, sir!”
“Very wise, Mark…Very wise!”, I retorted with a chuckle.

SMAAACCCCKKKKKK!!...SMAAAAAAAACCKKKKII…’OWWWWWWW!!....PLEASSSEEE!...I’MMMM SORRRRRY!!!.......PLEEEASSSSEE”…Young Mathew’s bare bottom spanking, and his sobs and cries for mercy, had recommenced.

“Is getting the…the ‘tawse’, as you called it, sir… on your palms sorer than on your bare bottom?” asked Mark, again patently trying to ignore the sounds he was hearing from that bedroom.
“I have felt it both ways many times”, I replied, “But I would say the pain from the hand is probably worse….a greater density of nerves plus closer to the surface, I think…. However presenting a bare hand to be punished is a lot less embarrassing than presenting a bare bottom!...So if given a choice I would take it on my hand”
“Oh Yesssss!”, replied Mark thoughtfully, his face falling and his brow creasing as he, no doubt, contemplated how he was soon about to have to present his own bare bottom for the strap.

The steady SLAAAP..SLAPPPPP of hard palm falling on soft buttock tissue still filtered from the upstairs window….. The stepfather’s modus operando in delivering a smacked bare bottom was very measured!...Each time he would start slowly, and lightly, then build up both the frequency, and severity of the smacks, stopping when the sobs and cries of the boy had reached a peak at what I judged to be the boy’s upper threshold of pain.…The spanking would then stop, no doubt to give the stepfather’s hand time to recover as much as to afford a respite to the boy’s bare bottom….There followed a period of quiet, or a stern lecture could be heard, after which the spanking would recommence…. The interval between a spanking session ceasing, then restarting, seemed, however, to vary quite a lot!...With the stepfather being ex-army he was carrying out the punishment unhurriedly, with military precision…Time was most certainly not an factor!

“So you know what being tawsed on the bare bottom is like, Mark, don’t you?” I asked, trying to again divert the boy’s attention from what for him would be the awful, but for me delightful, proceedings in that bedroom.
“SHIT YEH!!!!...Oh no, I said it again!...Please don’t tell my stepdad!”
“Don’t worry” I replied chuckling, “I won’t!.....So when you were in your parent’s bedroom did you give young Matt a taste of the strap?”
“The tawse, sir!....’One must use correct terminology’!”, replied the boy, a lovely impudent look crossing his face!
“I stand corrected, young sir!”, I said, a broad grin crossing mine, adding, “Mind you, if you were my son that cheeky remark might have earned you a bare bottomed trip across my lap!”
“You are just so cool, sir!”, replied Mark thoughtfully, “Could you maybe adopt me?..You are so easy to talk to, you listen to what I say, encourage me to use my ‘long words’, and don’t make fun of me when I do!...So not like my friends!…and stepdad too!...He always says I am showing off and ‘getting too big for my britches, which will be coming down if I don’t watch out!”
“I’m sorry to hear that, Mark!”, I replied sympathetically, ensuring I treated his request for adoption, though quite ridiculous, with all seriousness “But I don’t think I could adopt you!...You see I don’t have a tawse, and with what you did this morning, well you sure deserve it!”
The boy sat for a moment, his brow creased, pondering my response, then, again using his thirteen year old logic, he pointed at the broad leather belt that encircled my waist and said, tentatively, “Well, sir!…What about using that instead of the tawse?”
“No, Mark!”, I responded, trying my best to keep my voice even, quelling my urge to burst out laughing at how ingenuous the boy’s statements about me adopting him were, “My belt is not nearly heavy enough to give your bare bottom the thrashing it deserves!....And besides you wouldn’t want to leave your Mom, would you?...You would have to do that if I adopted you, and you came and lived with me!”
“I guess not!”, replied Mark reflectively after a ruminative pause, “I would miss her!”
“Good boy!”, I said briskly, wanting to get off the subject of adoption, trying to again brighten up the boy, and get back to my favorite topic of corporal punishment, “Now you were about to tell me about tawsing your young brother’s bare bottom!”
“Oh….Yeh!...Ok!...It was something I really wanted to do, but at first Matt refused….. Although he really enjoyed handling the tawse, I could tell he was terrified at the idea of being spanked with it!”
“So what did you do, Mark?”
“Well I decided to draw on some favorsl!... You see we got our report cards home that week and Matt’s wasn’t very good….. a couple of ‘D’s’, plus unexcused absences…... He was real scared about showing it to stepdad, especially about the unexcused absences, so he asked me for help. …I showed him how to photocopy it, change the grades from D’s to B’s and delete the unexcused absences on the photocopy, and give that to Mom and stepdad to be signed….I then helped him forge their signatures on the original which he returned to school!”
“So it was time for young Matthew to pay the piper!”, I said, quite elatedly, really relishing the prospect of hearing about how a thirteen year old boy would go about tawsing an eleven year old’s bare bottom at the same time as I again listened to the delicious SMAACKKKKKKKKK!!.. SMAACKKK KKKK!! sounds of young Matt’s bare bottom being soundly chastised, not by leather, but the hard, unforgiving palm of his stepfather.
“There was no ‘piper’, sir”, replied a confused Mark, a mystified expression on his face, “Just Matt repaying my favor!”
“I know, Mark!...I know!...It’s just a saying!...please continue”
“OK!...But even that was not enough to convince Matt to take a strapping, so I sweetened the deal by getting him to agree if he let me use the strap on him, then he could use cane on me!…. I convinced him, even though I did not believe it to be true at the time, that the cane would be much sorer than the tawse!...You see, sir, I had never felt the cane before, but I reckoned that such a thin little stick could not give me anything like the pain that thick strap could!...So I thought Matt was in for the worst of the bargain!.... WRONG!!!”
“So the cane was pretty sore?” I said chuckling, then enquiring softly and compassionately, noting that there was again silence from the bedroom. “You think you will be getting the cane today, Mark?”
“I’ll know in a minute!”, the boy replied grimly, “I think stepdad has finished spanking Matt, so he either has Matt sitting on his lap giving him his final telling off before making him stand facing the wall, hands on head, bare bottom showing, in which case he will be calling me in, OR, he has left my brother lying on the floor as he goes out back for a smoke, then coming back to give Matt the strap”.
“I see!” I replied softly, guiltily hoping that young Matt would be in for a strapping, thus extending the time I had to talk with his brother, Mark, “So how did you go about tawsing your brother, Mark?”
“Well first I had Matt prepare for the strap er…tawse..just like stepdad makes me do!.... As I sat on the wooden chair, Matt standing in front of me, I first made him agree he was going to act real serious, not like when we were spanking each other earlier….Like I was really stepdad… No laughing and fooling around…And that it would be by ‘Stepdad’s Rules’…He agreed, but really I gave him no choice!...I was happy to see the stupid grin was gone from his face, and he was starting to look real scared!.....Just like when he knows he is in for a bare bottom spanking from stepdad!”
“Stepdad’s Rules, Mark?.....Interesting!...Please go on”, I said
“Ok!....So I first of all had Matt go to the closet, pick up the strap..eh.. tawse…bring it, hand it to me and say, “I have been a very naughty boy!...Please punish me!....”
“So your stepdad has made you do that, Mark?”
“Yes, sir, I have gotten the strap, eh tawse… three times before and that is how he does it!.....After he has bared and smacked my bottom over his lap, then made me dress!….”
“Very interesting”, I thought as Mark talked, imagining what a flood of emotions the young boy must have been feeling as he picked up the heavy tawse, his bottom still freshly tingling from the spanking it had received, and brought it to his stepfather with a polite request the leather be used to punish him further on his bare buttocks!
“…….So I took the tawse from Matt, and laid it on my lap, then told him I had been to the school and saw his original report card!...With my prompting, again just like stepdad does, I had him tell me all about how, and why, he had forged the card, and Mom and stepdad’s signatures, but I was pleased, even when I asked him directly, ‘Did Mark help you?’ that he said it was all his doing, and I had no part in it!”
“Hopefully he sticks to that story!... If your Mom and stepdad ever find out, Mark!....”
“FUCK ME!....YEH!”, retorted the boy, then, realising what he had said, covered his mouth with his hand, and profusely apologised, saying, “Please forgive me, sir!...Saying that would have gotten me a bare bottom spanking from stepdad if he heard me!”
“That’s alright, Mark!”, I said quietly, “We’re friends, and you can say anything you like to me, and I won’t be judgmental!”
“Thank you, sir!...You are pretty cool for a grown-up!...so not like my stepdad!”
“I’ll take that as a complement, young man…Now please go on!....You were at the part where your young brother had bared his soul, but not yet bared his bottom!”, I said, pleased that a call for Mark to come into the house had not yet come.
“That’s a cool way of putting it, sir”, said Mark chuckling, his face brightening, “The Brothers and Sisters at school and the Priest at chapel are always telling us we must ‘bare our souls’ …..The next time they say that I will think of what you said, and imagine them baring their bottoms!!”
Then he burst out laughing, his face, notwithstanding his red-rimmed, tear stained eyes, lighting up like a beacon.
“I am glad to see I am taking your mind off what is about to happen to you, Mark!”, I said, genuinely happy to be able to so do, “Please proceed with your story!”
“Ok!!!...So when stepdad is preparing to smack our bottoms over his lap he takes down our shorts or jeans and underpants himself, but when he is giving the tawse, or I guess the cane as well, he makes you do it…..So, as I sat on the wooden chair, I sternly told Matthew to unbuckle his belt, unzip his fly and slip his shorts to his ankles…. Then fold his t-shirt above his waist and stand with his hands by his sides, as I stared at his underpants…. No laughing from him now!....He looked real scared as I think he now realised just what he had let himself in for, and he could expect no mercy from me……The more scared he looked, the more strict I acted…. I was on a real power trip…Matt was wearing his Buzz Lightyear underpants and he got quite embarrassed at my staring, which I enjoyed…. After a bit, I had him slide his underpants to his ankles then again stand with his hands by his sides….. At first he covered his …well you know, sir…his……..his…’prick’?”
“His penis, Mark!”, I said helpfully.
“Yeh!..His penis!...Well he covered it and his …..his….balls?......”
“His testicles, Mark!.... That is the correct term!”, I informed him.
“Ok!..He covered his penis and his testicles with his two hands!.....Then, just like stepdad does to me I ordered him to put his hands by his sides….. At first he refused but then again, like stepdad does, I threatened to smack his bare thighs with the strap, and this made him slowly remove his hands”.
“Did this give you have a feeling of real power, Mark?”, I asked.
“It sure did, sir!...I had completely forgotten as well that Matthew would get his turn next to do the same to me!”
“Go on, please, Mark!”
“Well Matt’s …eh…penis…looked like mine used to… like a shrivelled little pinky finger, sticking out of a pink hairless bed, and the bag holding his eh…testicles…”
“That’s the scrotum, Mark!”, I said, really enjoying the anatomy lesson I was giving the young boy.
“Yes, sir…er….the scrotum….well it looked like…well…like the little wrinkled ring purse Mom keeps on her dressing table, but pink rather than blue!.....So different from the long thick tube and large ball…er..testicle…bag.. er scrotum… that I see dangling on stepdad when we change at the swimming pool!”……then he paused, his face reddening a little……
“Go, on, Mark!”, I said encouragingly, “Remember confession is good for the soul!”
“That’s what stepdad always says..”, the boy replied, a cloud crossing his face, “…as I am standing in front of him in his bedroom being grilled over the bad things I have done!”
“I know…I know!”, I replied gently, “But remember I am not your stepdad!.. Just a new friend.. My father used to say the same thing to me, Mark…But I always thought confession might be good for my soul, but not too good for my poor bottom!”
“That is so true!”, laughed the boy his spirits visibly lifting, then after a big intake of breath he continued, “Well..I…I..I decided I wanted to feel..you know…like… Matt’s things, so after warning him I would strap him if he moved, I reached forward and carefully grasped his penis and his…eh..his..scrotum in my right hand…..As I gently massaged them Matt began to groan and his penis started to swell and straighten!!...I could tell he was enjoying the experience, even though his face was still red from the shame he felt at having me stare at his privates, and though he was still terrified!...Now, sir, I knew from school about how you could cum through your penis………..”
“Ejaculate, young man!... That is what it is called”, I informed him
“Yeh!...Ee..jack.u.late……But though I have tried on myself I have not yet succeeded!...I thought I could maybe get Matt to cum…. er…. ee..jack..ulate… as I wanted to see what ee-jaculations looked like, so I worked the skin on his penis, which, though still quite thin and small, was stiff and sticking straight out, up and down, but I guess he was too young, for nothing except for what looked like a drip of pee… eh urine… came out.”
“Does your stepdad touch you like that, Mark?”, I asked, hoping his answer would be in the negative, for in my mind that would move a proper old fashioned bare bottom punishment session over the line into criminal child abuse.
“No, he doesn’t, sir….Just stares real hard!...Makes my face go so red…..He does, though, make me pull the skin that covers my penis back over the head of the tube inside…Says it is real important I am able to do that, and I should do it in the bath and shower to make sure it is clean under the skin…Says I should have been ‘circle scribed’ when I was a baby!...Matthew too”
“That’s ‘circumcised’, Mark!”, I replied, desperately trying to keep my face straight, and my voice even, so as not embarrass the boy by laughing, and ruin the real rapport we had developed… ”And that skin that covers your penis is called the ‘foreskin’….You say you saw your stepdad’s penis when you were changing at the swimming pool?”
“Yes, sir!..a huge thick long dangly tube, with a thick blue vein running down its front!....not like my teeny wee thing!...Though mine has gotten a bit bigger, longer and thicker than Matt’s anyways, plus I have grown quite a few curly blond hairs around it……I can only glance though, at stepdad’s…er..penis…because the first time he caught me staring at it, I had gotten a bare bottom spanking when we got home for what I think he called ‘impertinent voyeurism’”
“Good boy, Mark!....Remembering that phrase!....It means it is very impolite to stare at things like people’s private parts, or indeed anything that would embarrass a person were they to know you were looking!”
“You mean like following Margaret Peter’s into the woods when she needs to pee…..”
“Urinate, Mark, urinate”
“Yeh…Urinate..I know that!.. And watch her doing it, sir?” adding hastily, “Not that I have ever done anything like that of course, sir!”
“Of course a gentleman like you would not even consider doing such a thing, Mark!”, I replied, suppressing a smile as I envisioned the young boy, his penis stiff, peeping from behind a tree, ever hopeful that in addition to seeing young Margaret’s knickers around her ankles, he might catch a glimpse of her naked buttocks, or vulva.
I glanced at my watch thinking a long time had elapsed since the last of the spanking had stopped, as I felt a wave of sympathy towards young Matthew, and what he must be feeling awaiting the next phase of his punishment.
The sound of Mark’s questioning tone returned my attention to the boy as I listened to him ask me in a confused tone, “But its ok for Stepdad to stare at Matt and my privates?”
“As long as it is part of you, or your brother, being given a well-deserved smacked bare bottom, it is quite acceptable, Mark!......So at the swimming pool when you were peeking did you notice that your Stepdad had no skin covering the end of his penis, Mark?”
“You are right, sir!”, replied the boy animatedly, “I could clearly see the end of his penis with its little slot cut in the tip!....It looked a little red and sore!”
“Yes, Mark, that means he was circumcised when a baby!....That is the foreskin that covers the end of his penis, like in your case, was trimmed back to expose the head of the penis – It is called the ‘gland’…..It might look red and sore but it is not – But with it being exposed it probably is not as sensitive to being touched as would be yours, or your brother’s, when you peel back your foreskin…..Like you and your brother, I myself have not been circumcised!.....It is done sometimes for religious reasons, like the Jewish people, and also because some people think it keeps the penis cleaner and less susceptible to disease!”
“Should Matt and me have ours ‘trimmed”, asked the boy looking down worriedly at his own penis nestling under the covering of his kaki shorts!”
“It is not necessary, Mark!...Your stepdad is right, however, having you make sure the skin pulls back smoothly over the head of your penis, plus you do that in the shower to keep it clean!...If the skin ever gets too tight to pull over, then you would be best to get circumcised!”
“Sounds pretty painful, sir!”
“It is Mark!...That is why it is mostly done to babies…they cry lots so you cannot tell just how painful it is!...But don’t worry it is very rare that an adult needs to be circumcised so you and your brother will probably be just fine!”
“I sure hope you are right!”, replied the boy his right hand resting between his legs like it were protecting his member.
“So back to the strapping, Mark?”, I asked, thoroughly enjoying the young boy’s revelations, recalling fondly my own first attempts at self-satisfaction
“Ok, sir!...So having failed to make Matt cum…er..ee-jack..ulate, I stood up from the chair and had him fold his t-shirt higher above his waist, bend over the chair back, hold the wooden seat firmly with his hands, separate his feet as much as his underpants and shorts around his ankles would allow, then straighten his legs, and stick his bare bottom up and out…”Presenting your bottom properly” is what stepdad calls it…One of his many “Rules”!””
The more I heard of this stepdad the more intrigued I became.
“So if this were for real, Mark”, I asked, “How many strokes would young Mathew be in for!”
“At least one for each year of his age, sir!..So, since at that time he was 10, he would be in for at least ten strokes!”
“At least, Mark?”, I asked curiously.
“Yes, sir!...Stepdad does the counting, and he only counts a stroke if he thinks the strap landed ‘properly’, you ‘presented’ your bottom ‘to his satisfaction’ before he gave you a stroke, and that you took the stroke without too much noise or movement!... He calls it taking it with ‘quiet decorum’”
“So no leaping to your feet after a stroke and dancing around clutching your bottom as you cried out, I guess?”, I asked, a wry smile on my face.
“SHI…T!!!!…...er… sorry, sir!.....ABSOLUTELY NOT!....Stepdad taught me right away the first time I got the strap that was not a good thing to do!”
“How, Mark?”, I asked, even though I already knew the answer, as I wanted my young friend to tell me in his own words.
“The stroke did not count, plus he told me they would continue to not count until I took one ‘properly to his satisfaction”….That is with ‘quiet decorum’!”
“So what happened the first time he strapped you, Mark?”
“I had just turned 12 and had done something pretty bad!... After he had bared and smacked my bottom over his lap for a long, long time, with lots of breaks, he dumped me on the floor and left the room, telling me to stay there until he got back!…All the other times he had spanked me he had sat on his chair looking down at me until I recovered a bit, then had me stand, hands on head, bare bottomed, facing the wall…. He would still sit on his chair, saying things like, ‘I hope you have learned your lesson, boy!’, then after a bit he would get me to dress and go to my room to ‘reflect on my sins’!....This time was different ‘cos he had left the room, and I was still lying on the floor!”
“You must have been wondering what was up, Mark?”
“I certainly was, sir!....There I was lying on the floor, my bottom so sore and red, and I was so afraid of doing something that might get him to smack my bottom again!”
“I can imagine!”, I said sympathetically, “You certainly would not want a repeat of what you had just gone through!...So what did you do?”
“I just lay there for a while crying, rubbing my bare bottom gently with my hands, feeling a little confused!...When he told me to stay there, did he mean stay lying bare bottomed on the floor?... I was so afraid of doing anything that he might think ‘disobedient’, but I took the chance that getting up from the floor and, and after a quick glance in the mirror to see how red my bottom was, sitting on the bed with my bottom still bare, might be ok!.....”
“And was it, Mark?...OK for you to sit on the bed?”, I asked, picturing in my mind’s eye the delightful sight young Mark would have made, sobbing gently, lying on the floor softly rubbing his bright scarlet naked buttock cheeks!
“I guess so, for when he came back in at least 20 minutes later, he just sat down on his chair, had me dress, then stand in front of him!…..I stupidly still thought my punishment was over, and that I would be sent to my room to ‘reflect’ on what I had done!”
“So you were in for quite a shock, Mark, to find there was more to come?”
“For sure, sir!”, replied the boy, taking care not to swear, “Stepdad told me what I had done was real bad and had earned me ‘a strapping’……”
“And did you know what he meant by that, Mark?”, I asked
“Not really, sir!...I knew what a strap was!…I thought of those that fastened my backpack!...Or those Mom used to fasten round our suitcases when we go on holidays….But I couldn’t see how he would use something like these to punish me!.....So really I had no idea what ‘a strapping’ would be!...He had threatened me a few times with one before, but since I did not get one...Well!!…I never really thought about it!.....I had never dared explore Mom’s bedroom either since stepdad came to live with us…Even to search for birthday or Christmas presents!…Too scared I guess!.....So I had never seen the strap… er tawse…he had hanging in his wardrobe!”
“Fascinating!”, I said, “Please go on!”, silently praying to the gods of corporal punishment that Mark would not be called inside, thus interrupting his delightful revelations.
“OK!”, responded Mark, obviously enjoying the attention he had from an adult, and probably glad at his mind being taken off of the dire consequences he was about to endure, “So stepdad made me go to the closet and fetch the strap….Not knowing what I was looking for, and too afraid to ask, I opened the closet door, and at first could not see it!.... “Hurry up boy!....At the back of the wardrobe, hanging on a hook!”, stepdad growled…I pushed his hanging jackets aside and then I saw it, a long black shiny thing!!.....When I lifted it off the hook I remember thinking how cold, smooth, thick and heavy it felt….Nothing like any of the straps I had been thinking of!.....I brought it to the chair, handed it to him, then like I was at chapel, at confession, he had me say, ‘Forgive me Stepfather for I have sinned…”…then go on and repeat in detail all I had done wrong, as I had told him before he smacked my bottom over his lap!....”
“That must have been quite an ordeal, Mark?”, I stated.
“It sure was, sir!...I tried my best to keep my story the same as I had told him before my spanking over his lap, even as he tried his best to catch me lying, or telling him something more, or different!!...Also I knew the penance I would receive for my sins would not be saying a few Hail Mary’s and things like at chapel, but that heavy, thick black strap, which now lay coiled on his lap like a poisonous snake, smacking on to my bare bottom!"…. As the boy’s face went grave and he shuddered at the recollection, he continued with, “He said I was in for at least one stroke for each of my years, so with me being twelve, that meant 12 strokes…He went through ‘his rules’ about properly presenting my bottom, keeping noise and movement down so as not to get extra strokes, plus that he would keep count and would only count a stroke if he felt it had landed properly!”
“So how many did you receive in all?”, I asked, fascinated at all the boy was relating to me.
“I ended up getting 15 strokes, sir!....One extra for leaping up at the start!...I just could not handle the pain!...So much more painful than a slap from his hand!!... One extra for a stroke he thought did not land ‘to his satisfaction’!...He might have thought it did not land ok, but it sure still hurt plenty!... And one extra for me crying out too loud!......I sure remember that after he had given me the twelfth stroke, with only nine having counted, he again warned me again about moving too much, and touching my bottom with my hand…I pleaded with him as I told him I really thought I could not take any more, but he was having none of it, so I ‘presented’ my bottom, and managed to keep quite quiet and still for the final three, especially when he threatened to call my mother up to hold my hands on the seat!”
“That would do it, Mark!”, I said, “There are some things a boy would never have his mother see!.....So tell me, does your stepfather insist on ‘quiet decorum’ when he has you over his lap smacking your bare bottom?”
“No, sir!...That is different…He doesn’t seem to mind how loud you are!…You heard how much noise Matthew made!...You just have to keep your bottom flat on his lap…No turning it sideways…And absolutely no trying to cover it with your hand!...Like you heard, he smacks you in relays….Stopping every so often to give you a stern telling off, or to rub your bottom with his hand, before starting again!...He seems to know that point when the pain from the smacking is just getting too much and you are about to lose control and try to cover your bottom with your hand, or turn your hips sideways!...It is just at the point he stops! ”
“He seems pretty good at gauging that, Mark!....Judging anyway from how I heard your brother being punished!....Anyway, please go on with how you went about strapping Matthew!”
The boy’s brow furrowed as he recollected the experience, then spoke,“ As Matthew stood in front of me, naked from the waist down, his penis still sticking straight out, I told him the ‘rules’….That he was due 2 strokes of the strap across his bare bottom….That I would do the counting….That when I tell him he must ‘present his bottom’, and when I am happy his bottom is ready, I will give him a stroke…. That the stroke will be counted only if I think he has ‘properly presented his bottom’, I was happy at how it landed on his bottom, and he took the stroke with “quiet decorum”…. Using stepdad’s expression!!…I had to explain that last bit to Matt – that is he must not yell out or move too much, or touch his bottom with his hand”
“Certainly that is an essential of proper corporal punishment, Mark, but difficult to do!” I said, “How did he get on?”
“Well he ‘presented his bottom’ very well, and the strap landed flat and very hard on his bare skin, but he definitely failed on the ‘quiet decorum’ part, for when the pain hit his brain he jumped to his feet, grabbed his bottom cheeks with both hands, and danced around the room, trying desperately to squeeze out the pain, his little penis, still stiff from my hand, wiggling up and down in the air…Just like I had done the first time I received it!”
“So I guess that stroke didn’t count”, I said trying hard not to burst out laughing as I envisioned a younger version of Mark performing what I liked to term ‘The smacked bottom dance!’”
“No it sure didn’t!” replied Mark, but when I told Matthew he just would not accept that!…. So I just said what stepdad would have said!...In fact what he did say to me after my first stroke of that tawse!... I told my brother he either accepts it does not count so he has still two to go, or one will be added to give three!....That threat certainly worked for me when stepdad used it on me, and Matthew was no different, so he carefully bent over the chair and ‘presented his bottom’ once more”.
“I take it”, I said, “You had completely forgotten that Mathew had yet to get his turn on you with the cane?”
“SHIT!!!....Oh sorry…. No!....Me getting the cane was the last thing on my mind!....I was just so much enjoying leathering Matt’s bare bottom…My prick..er…penis was pushing hard against the front of my shorts”.
“So you strapped him again?”, I asked.
“Oh yes!...But not so hard with the next one, so he managed to hold position and give only a little yelp, so I counted that stroke…..After he had recovered a bit I had him ‘present his bottom’ again, and I landed the third stroke about the same strength as the second, between the so clear red, bruised welts of the first two….. Matt then lay over the chair softly sobbing, and as I watched I felt this amazing pulsing in my penis, then a huge on and off pressure inside me just behind my penis, then it felt like my penis was peeing, but the feeling was so much nicer……. …..Making sure that Matt was not looking, I carefully unbuckled and unzipped my shorts, letting them fall to my ankles, then pulled down my underpants at the front to find the insides of them covered with a white sticky mess……With a shock I realised I must have cum er.. e..jack..u.lated!”
“For the first time?”, I asked
“Yes, sir!...I might have cum….eh..ee..jack..ulated once when I was sleeping, cos I remember the inside front of my pyjama bottoms being a little sticky one morning…But this was the first time I had done it for real.. Quite a shock, sir!..but of course I didn’t tell Matthew!...I quickly pulled up my underpants and shorts, then, as Matt seemed recovered, I had him stand and go and face the wall his hands on his head, his sore bruised bare bottom facing me, just like stepdad has me do!”
“A lovely sight?”, I enquired.
“Oh yes!...I lay on the bed, and as I looked at Matt’s sore red bottom, and I recalled how I had gone about making it that way with the tawse, my penis started to firm up again….I took down my shorts and underpants, and, as I thought about how cool ‘tawsing’…I guess that is the correct word… my brother’s bare bottom had been, I began to work my penis with my hand, pulling the skin up and down over my ….what is it called again, sir?.....”
“Your gland, Mark”
“Yeh!!!... My gland!…..Then as I groaned I let loose another sticky white squirt, this time on the bed cover!”
“That ‘squirt’ is called ‘semen’, Mark!....Normally it takes a bit before you can ejaculate again, but I guess with you being so young, and your experience of punishing your brother so exciting that you recovered from the first time very quickly”
“I was kind of stupid though, sir, because I let the er.. ‘see..men’..stain the bed cover which made me panic…If stepdad ever saw that he would know I was in his room, then how much madder would he be knowing I had cum on his bed!”
“Ejaculated, Mark…Ejaculated”, I said softly.
“Yeh!..’eejack…ulated’…what a mess!”, replied the boy.
“So what did you do, Mark?”, I asked, trying my best not to laugh out loud as I imagined the scene of the one boy, probably still sobbing, facing the wall hands on head, his shorts and underpants rucked around his ankles, his t-shirt folded high above his waist, his bare, red bruised buttocks clearly exhibited….And Mark, his brother, equally bare below the waist, his bottom probably still a little pink from the spanking his brother had given him earlier, springing up from the bed in a panic!”
“I pulled up my pants and underpants then got one of the wash cloths from the shower, wet it, then carefully cleaned off the ‘seeemen’ as best I could, while wetting the bed cover as little as possible….I then took Mom’s hairdryer, plugged it in, and started to dry the patch…Matt started to look round wondering what I was doing, but I told him to keep facing the wall or he would be in for another stroke of the strap!...’Remember, Stepdad’s rules!’ I told him…….He did as I had ordered and thankfully my prayers were answered for the stain dried out, and by the time I shut off the hairdryer you could not see it at all!”
“Well done, Mark!...Crisis averted!”, I said, patting the boy on the head.
“You don’t go blind from doing it, do you sir?... You know, like ‘ejaculating’ yourself? ”, asked Mark suddenly looking up at me with a real look of concern on his face.
NO!”, I replied laughing, “That is just an old wive’s tail!....What you were doing, Mark, is called ‘masturbation’ and you just do it as often as you like…..One of God’s gifts!”
“So it’s not a sin either, sir?”, asked the boy
“It is most certainly not, Mark…..Something for you to enjoy with a clear conscience!”
“It’s just the Brothers and Sisters at my school say touching yourself there is…like..well….’self-abusement’ I think they call it….I have done it a few times since, but have not confessed doing it to the Priest, sir”
“Nor do you need to, Mark!...I am sure you have sins you need to confess but masturbation is certainly not one!....You do it as often as you like, son…..Your penis might get a little tender from all the rubbing, so that is a sign to take a bit of a break, but otherwise…just enjoy!”
I could tell my advice had greatly relieved the boy, and he turned to me, a wide smile on his face, thanking me profusely, “You sure are so easy to talk to, sir!...I really wish you were my stepdad!”
“Oh don’t talk so quick, young man..If I were, you would still be in for a sound bare bottom smacking, strapping and, yes, I would give you a caning as well…whether I gave a strapping to your brother or not!”
“That would be fine!...I sure deserve it, and more for what I did…I could have really hurt someone….dented cars can be easily fixed…but people…a lot more difficult…..It’s just you seem so kind, and interested in what I say, yeh..and happy…. And you listen to me without getting mad…and you give good advice….and you don’t make fun of me when I try to use big words….So not like stepdad who is grumpy and angry all the time, and I am afraid to say anything to him cos it usually gets me shouted at, or often a smacked bare bottom!”
“If I ever have a son, Mark, I hope he is just like you!”, I replied warmly.
“He would be a lucky boy to have you as a father, sir”, replied Mark, his cheeks reddening delightfully, real love shining out of his clear blue eyes.
“That’s enough, Mark!”, I said laughing, trying to hide my own embarrassment, “Let’s get back to you and Matthew in the bedroom…You had finished drying off the bed spread, so I guess it was your turn now to be punished?” I said, again hoping that Mark would not be called into the house, and we could continue this riveting conversation.
“Yes!”, replied Mark, “I ordered Matt to come away from the wall, pull up his underpants, and his shorts, then had him sit, carefully mind because of his sore bottom, on the wooden chair, as I stood in front of him!.... I first again went through ‘Stepdad’s rules’ telling him that he should first order me to go to the closet and fetch the cane, bring it , hand it to him and say what a naughty boy I had been and would he please punish me!”
“So was it much different carrying that cane back, Mark, than the strap?”,I asked.
“It is very much lighter than the strap, sir…And quite honestly I thought getting two strokes from it on my bare bottom would be a breeze!”
“Guess you were about to find out how wrong you could be!”, I replied with a chuckle. “Please go on!”
“Matt was a natural for the part!....We pretended that he was stepdad and had found out that I had helped Matt to forge his report card, so he grilled and scolded me about that!...You know, sir, as he had me prepare my own bottom for punishment, it sure seemed to me that it was not my own younger brother sitting on that chair, but stepdad himself….I was real careful though when taking down my underpants, making sure they came down straight, since if they happened to turn inside out, Matt would see the wet stickiness coating their inside front…”
“Of course!”, I said, greatly taken by the revealing open honesty the boy was showing. “That is something you would not like to have to explain to your brother”
“Matt was like a parrot, copying everything I had done on him, but on me, including feeling my privates!…. He thought my little bush of blonde curly hair sprouting around my penis real funny as he ruffled his fingers through it, and he commented on the stickiness on my penis when he pulled back my…eh..what is it called again, sir?...”
“Your foreskin, Mark!”
“Yeh!..my foreskin!...He pulled that back with his one hand , and touched my …Sorry, sir, I cannot remember what the head of the penis is called…I am usually good remembering new words!”
“Your doing fine, Mark!...A lot of new words to remember!...it is your ‘gland’!”
“That’s it, my gland”, said the boy with a grin, “So Matt started touching my gland with his other hand!...It is just so sensitive, sir, and I couldn’t take it, so, even though I knew it would break one of Stepdad’s rules, I brought my hands away from my sides, and pulled his hands away!”
“Not a good thing to do?” I said, greatly amused.
“’Stepdad’s Rules’ Matt told me sternly, “Now get your hands back by your sides, and you are in for another stroke of the cane!”
“Playing the part very well!”, I commented.
“Too well”, said Mark ruefully, “I did what Matt said, but I told him he could play with my..eh.. penis.. but pleaded with him not to touch the end!...Matt can be a bit of a devil, but thankfully he reluctantly agreed, satisfying himself by pulling my foreskin back and forward over my..eh.. gland..and enjoying just how hard and stiff he was making me….I am glad to say that, though he got me hard, perhaps because I had cum…eh ee-jack-u-lated ….twice already, he was not able to get me to ee-jack-u-late again, and he started to get bored when my penis started to go down again, so he stopped!”
“Have you and your brother ever done anything like that again, Mark”, I queried.
“I have master..master..eh what is the word, sir?”
“’Masturbated’, Mark…The word is ‘masturbated’”, I replied gently
“YEH!...Masturbated!...I have done that lots since then, but in private in the bathroom, or my bedroom, but never with Matt….. We don’t even talk about it, either…Matt is just eleven, so I don’t think he is able yet, either!”
“What do you think about, Mark as you are masturbating?”, I asked, fascinated at the boy’s open candor.
The boy looked up at me, his face, and indeed his scalp which I could see beneath his soft blond hair, turning an ever deepening shade of red, “I…I….would rather not say, sir!”
“I apologise for asking, Mark!....There are some things a man should keep to himself!!...and that is one of them!...I am real sorry!”
“You are so cool, sir!....Stepdad would have made me tell him!...’There are no secrets to be kept by children from adults in this house’, he would say!.... You are so different!...Thanks!”
An awkward silence fell between us, and I noticed that young Mark’s shoulders began again to slump, and he stared at his feet, as he no doubt thought about his stepfather’s hand smacking hard down on his naked posterior, and the rest of the thrashing he himself was about to endure.
In an attempt to lighten the situation I spoke softly to him, saying, “Say, Mark!...I know a joke that will help you to remember the word ‘masturbate’!”
“You do?”, he replied looking up at me, the frown on his brow relaxing, and a look of curiosity crossing his face.
“It’s one your friends will enjoy too!....A man is standing outside his garden gate talking to a man and a woman, and their son, when his friend walks up…The man turns to the friend and says ‘John, I would like you to meet my neighbor Mr. and Mrs. Bates and their son Master Bates!”
Mark looked up at me, a quizzical expression on his face as he digested what I had just said….Then as the joke registered, his face lit up, and he started the most delightful giggle.......“Master Bates…. masturbates!”, he said as he doubled up with laughter, relieving all of the pent up pressure that had built up in him as he had been listening to his brother’s bare bottom being soundly smacked by his stepfather’s hard hand.
With tears of laughter, tracking on those already caused by fear and trepidation coursing down his cheeks he said, “Oh thank you, sir..I will never forget the word ‘masturbates’ now!...My friend Johnny at school will just love that one!”
“Glad you enjoyed it, young man…..Please proceed!..You were at the part where your brother had finished masturbating you!”
“Ok!...So Matt had me bend over the chair back, then continuing to sound like a kid–version of stepdad he told me I was due three strokes of the cane on my bare bottom…That being one extra for moving my hands when he was touching my privates!…About how he would count the strokes, and only count if I properly presented my bottom before each stroke, it landed properly, and I took it with ‘quiet decorum’!”….Quite honestly, sir, as I bent over that chair back I was still stupidly thinking the caning I was to get, even with the strokes increasing to three, would be a cakewalk compared with the three strokes of the strap I had given Matt!...Was I ever wrong!”
“So it was pretty sore?”, I enquired knowing the answer would be an emphatic ‘YES!’”
“SHIT YES!”, ejaculated the boy, the intense recollection of pain causing him the forget this time to apologise for his crude words, “I just heard a WHISSSHHH through the air, then the SNIPPPP as the cane hit my bare bottom, then all I could feel was PAIN!!!!!PAIN!!!...PAIN!!!....GROWING! and GROWING!! and GROWING!!!.... Deep, so intense, way inside my bottom!...Way, way sorer than any strapping I had gotten!...I could not stop myself as I leapt to my feet and danced around the room clutching my bottom!...It was like the first time I had gotten the tawse!..But much, much, much worse!...The pain just seemed to rise and rise, and I thought it was going to blow the top off my head!”
“So what did Matt do?, I enquired, recalling my own bitter experience the first time I had been given the cane.
“He just sat on the bed laughing his head off!….Made me furious, so after the pain had eased a little, I just jumped on him, turned him face down and twisted his arm until he cried ‘’Uncle”….. A bit unfair of me, but I hated him laughing at me, and I was not going to take another stroke of that cane!....Not from him anyways!..So with me still twisting his arm, I got Matt to agree to give me six strap strokes instead of the 2 cane strokes that I was still due!. ….He was quite pleased, I think, because I think he had been a bit disappointed that he had to give me the cane rather than the tawse!!!....He joyfully grabbed the tawse and gave me those six as hard as he could, but nothing like as hard as stepdad, and the pain was nothing like the cane, so I presented my bottom properly, and took them with “quiet decorum”, and that is all I got!”
“So you think you will be getting the cane today, Mark?, I enquired softly noting that there was still silence from the bedroom.
“I’ll know in a minute!”, the boy replied as the sounds of a gruff voice now came from the upstairs bedroom, indicating that the stepfather had returned.
Of course selfish me hoped that Mark was in for a caning, and that now I would be able to listen to his younger brother, Matt, receiving a sound bare bottom tawsing!...At least 11 delicious strokes on his already flame red, bare bottom!
“What’s happening now, Mark?”, I asked pointing at the window, interested in what my new young friend might have to say.
Mark gazed up at the open, curtain covered bedroom window, his face ashen, as he spoke, “I’m pretty sure Matthew is in for a strapping!!....I hope for his sake he has learned something from the lesson I gave him about how to take it!...Stepdad will be making Matt get up and get dressed if Matt has not already done so…Stepdad will then sit on his spanking chair and have Matt fetch the er strap….”
“Tawse, Mark!..The tawse!”
“Oh yeh!..The tawse!...Ok!... Mark will have to hand him the tawse, tell him again all about us taking the car and ask him to punish him!..I just hope Matt doesn’t tell him even more!....”
“What do you mean, Mark?’, I asked curiously
“Well when you’re standing in front of stepdad, before he takes you over his lap to smack your bottom, you have to tell him why you are in the bedroom!...Leaving nothing out!...It is so difficult, and he tries to trick you into admitting even more things you have done wrong!...Then when you are standing in front of him, before getting the tawse, you have to repeat your whole story!...and you had better make sure it is the same as when you told him before he smacked your bottom!”
“So your worried about Matt telling your stepdad more than your stepdad knows about already?” I asked.
“Yes, sir!”, the boy replied sheepishly, “You see at the store as well as buying pop…well…Matt stuck a bag of candies in his pocket, and I had Matt divert the store clerk’s attention while I sneaked behind the counter and took a pack of cigarets!”
“MARK!”, I said, feigning shock, “You know stealing is a sin, and smoking is bad for your health?..And if your brother confesses all it will prove bad for your bare bottom as well!...Do you have those smokes on you?”
After a short pause, the young boy reached into his pocket, and guardedly withdrew an unopened packet of Lucky Strikes.
“Hand them to me, Mark!”, I said sternly, holding out my hand, and as I took them I crushed the pack with my hand. “Now, Mark!...I will dispose of these in the garbage, which is where they belong!...Promise me you won’t shoplift again, and will also never smoke!”
“I..I…I…www..ooo..n’t, sir!....Hand on heart!...You won’t tell my stepdad will you?”, stammered the boy, his right hand held flat on his chest, his eyes filling with tears.
“That is a good boy!...And of course your secret is safe with me!...We’re buds, aren’t we?”, I replied, quelling the real urge to take the boy in my arms and hug him.
“Enough said!” I continued lightly, trying to dispel the huge, heavy, cloud of raw emotion that now hung over us, “Please continue describing what you think is going on in the bedroom!”
“Ok, sir”, said Mark, after taking a deep breath and wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, “Once he is satisfied Matthew has ‘confessed all’, Stepdad will tell my brother to unbuckle his belt, unzip his fly and slide his jeans to his ankles…Then fold his t-shirt above his waist and stand with his hands by his sides while stepdad stares at his underpants!...I wonder if Matt changed them when he was sent upstairs?.. I always do, as I don’t want him seeing any stains!”
“A very wise move, Mark!....Bad enough having someone examine your underwear, but much worse if you show them some urine, or feces stains as well!...Will you have time to change yours?”
“I don’t know, sir!!.....But they are clean on today!.....’Feces stains’, you say?...What are these, sir?”
“Oh that is just the proper description for, well I guess you call it ‘shit’, Mark”
“So it I was to say ‘Oh Feces!”, instead of ‘Oh Shit!’, that would not get me into trouble as no one would know what I was saying?”, said Mark, a twinkle in his eye, and such a delightful mischievous expression on his face.
“You could try, I guess, Mark, but it would be taking a bit of a risk as the person hearing you might just know what you meant!...But please go on describing what your stepdad and your brother are doing!”
“Ok!...So after a good stare at Matt’s underpants, he will then tell him to slide them to his ankles, stand up straight and put his hands by his sides!...Oh, sir!....That is almost as bad as the actual spanking!....Having someone sit there and peer at your privates!...You just want to cover them but you daren’t!....It’s a horrible feeling of helplessness!”
“I know, son!...I know!...But obviously your stepfather considers it an essential part of his discipline session!...Quite correctly, I might add!”, I replied sternly, “And I might warn you, Mark, you will probably have to do the same for the cane as well!”
“You think so, sir?…So that will be three times he will stare at my privates?...Before he smacks my bottom over his lap, before the strap AND before the cane?”, said the boy, his face grim, his voice choked with emotion, as we both listened to the stepfather’s loud, stern admonition to young Matt to “Present your bottom, boy!”

Suddenly our conversation was interrupted by the sound of THWAAAACCCCKKKKKKKKKKK!!!!.. …Thick leather slapping hard into soft boy buttock tissue……At first there was silence from the window, then followed by a low high pitched mewling as young Matt, no doubt, tried desperately to come to terms with the awful agony that must have been flashing up his spine from bottom to brain….. The boy’s cry stayed low and steady, and as I thought Matthew had taken the stroke well, and it sounded as if it had landed solidly, I was hopeful it would count.
“That counts as the first of eleven, boy!.... Now raise that bare bottom!..Stick it right up!...and prepare for the second!”

“Seems like that little lesson you gave Matt with the strap has paid off, Mark!”, I told the ashen faced boy sitting beside me, ...”No leaping to his feet!...”Quiet Decorum” I would call that!”
“Yes, sir”, replied Mark, his face chalk white as he stared at the window, a growing patch of wetness staining the crotch of his kaki shorts!.....The poor boy was wetting himself!...He would have to somehow change not only his underpants, but his shorts now!

THWAAAAAAACCCCKKKKKKKKKKK!!!!....Again the sound of the leather’s hard slap, followed almost immediately by a sharp yelp, cut off quickly, then the mewling….I wondered if that one would be repeated!
“A little noisy, Matthew!..But as it is just your second I am prepared to count it!...Now present your bottom for the third of eleven!”

“Mark…”, I started to say to be interrupted by another loud THWAAAAAAACCCCKKKKKKKK!!!!. ...Number three had been delivered!.
“…Eh, Mark,”, I continued over Matt’s mewling and sobbing, as I discretely pointed at Mark’s soiled crotch, “You had better go in and change!”
“OH, right” said the boy, drawing his eyes slowly from the window behind which his brother’s naked bottom was being soundly flagellated, to stare at his shorts, and he started to blush wildly.
“That’s ok, Mark!”, I said sympathetically, “I have done the same, and once right in front of my father”.
“Wow, that must have been so embarrassing, sir!”

THHHWWAAAAAAAAAAAACCCKKKKKKKKK!!....Number four!!!..But would it count?

“It certainly was!,” I replied, trying to concentrate on my response notwithstanding the powerful leathering, and the youthful mewling, I was hearing from the bedroom window…. “I was about your age, and had just come home from school…..Father was waiting for me, and I just had time to drop my school bag, and take off my jacket, before he caught me by the shoulder with one hand, and marched me up the stairs, smacking my bottom with his other hand through my grey school slacks, and white cotton underpants!...”
“Sounds like he was pretty mad, sir”, said Mark, his attention drawn from the bedroom window and now focussed on me.
“To use your expression, Mark…’Shit Yes!!....He took me into his bedroom where he sat on Mom’s seat at her dressing table, and as I stood meekly in front of him, he loudly berated me for what I had done!”.
“What had you done?”, asked Mark really curiously.
“I’d rather not say, Mark!...Let’s just say it was pretty bad, and I knew I was in for a soundly thrashed bare bottom!...Anyways as he continued to scold me, I realised I had needed to go to the bathroom even as I entered the house, and now I was desperate!...I dared not, however, interrupt him, but I just could not hold, so next thing I felt a warm stream coursing down my leg, and pooling at me feet, and as I glanced down I could see a great dark wet stain on the crotch of my school slacks”

THWAAAAAAACCCCKKKKKKKKKKK!!!!....Again the sound of the leather’s hard slap, followed almost immediately by a sharp yelp, cut off quickly, then the controlled mewling!
“Still a little noisy, Matthew!..I’ll be generous and count that as number five, but if you do not take the next one with more control be warned it will not count! ....Now present your bottom for the sixth of eleven!”

“Your father noticed it, I guess?”, said Mark, trying his best to block out the noise from the bedroom.
“He certainly did, Mark!!…My father stopped in mid-sentence and stared at the stain on my crotch and the pool of urine at my feet, then in a cold calm voice directed me to take off my tie, shirt and then my slacks and underpants!...I did as he had told me, and he took my underpants from me and rubbed my face in them as he scolded me over my ‘patent lack of control!.......”
“EWWWWW!”, grimaced Mark, no doubt imagining what it would be like to have your face washed with your own urine!
“Yeh!...Pretty bad, Mark…But worse was to come!.....Even though I was naked as the day I was born, he directed me, after I had placed my clothes in the laundry basket, to go down to the kitchen to fetch a pail of warm soapy water, and a large sponge…..To get to the kitchen I had to go through the family room, and sure enough sitting at the table was my younger brother and sister doing their homework…I tried walking by quickly, covering my privates with my hands, but of course I would have needed an extra pair of hands to cover my pale white, naked bottom…”
“Boy!...I’ll bet they teased you over that for a while, sir?”, exclaimed Mark.
“My sister didn’t, Mark!..I think she was as embarrassed as me!...But my younger brother sure did…Discretely though for he would have been in for a hot bottom if Father ever caught him at it!....So I made it to the kitchen, where, of course, Mom was cooking supper!....She was great Matt!...Acted as if I was fully clothed, as she helped me fill the bucket with water and find the sponge!...Then it was back through the family room the bucket in one hand, the sponge covering my privates in the other, bare naked bottom, still exposed for all to see…”

As we talked I noted from the sounds from the open bedroom window that young Matt had now just received his eighth stroke of the strap, with only 6 counting, so he had at least 5 to go!...I was pleased to note however that the sound from the leather striking the young boy’s bare flesh was progressively less than that from the first!.. Hopefully the stepfather had come to realise from the effect the strapping was having on the young boy, and the pitiful sounds he was now making, that 11 plus strokes, although definitely warranted, more lightly applied a bottom already soundly spanked, would prove more than enough to give an eleven year old boy the sharpest of lessons.

“So what happened when you got back to the bedroom, sir?”, Mark asked curiously
“Father made me sponge away all the urine, then stand in front of him again as he finished his scolding, and I my confession, then over his lap for a soundly smacked bottom, followed by 12 strokes of the tawse, then 12 of the cane with me lying, bare bottom up, on two pillows on the bed!”
“Twelve strokes!...That is what I am in for !”, exclaimed Mark, his face animated.
“I guess you are, Mark!...But before you go in, let me give you a couple of tips on how to minimize the punishment you are due, plus lessen the chances of you revealing further sins to your stepfather!”, I said, trying to distract the boy from the awful sounds emanating from that window, and the embarrassment he must have been feeling at me pointing out the wet patch in his crotch.
“Minimize, sir?..What does that mean?”, he asked, his face turned fully up to mine, the tears from his eyes starting again to flow, as he tried to ignore the awful sounds of his younger brother`s bare bottom being soundly leathered.
“Ok!`, I replied, ``When you first go into the bedroom and are standing in front of your stepfather ask his permission to speak, wait until he grants it, then tell him how sorry you are for what you did, for leading your brother astray, for the anguish you have caused your Mom as well as your stepdad!...Tell him you will gladly pay for the damage for both cars, including your brother’s share, from your allowance, and you would like to go to the person’s house whose car you damaged to apologise!...And that you will never do anything like that again”
“And that will help?”, Mark asked, a quizzical, doubtful expression on his face, as he could not help but hear the continued sounds of his brother’s tawsing coming from the bedroom window.
“Indeed it will, young man!...Spoken in your own words, mind you!..And said like you really mean it!...He might not think as well about asking you questions so you won’t have to reveal anything about the candy or the cigarets!..Can you do that, Mark?”
“Sure, sir!...Cos that’s how I feel!...I sure don’t mind saying that to him!...’specially if it helps in my punishment,,,and he doesn’t find out about me stealing the cigarets or smoking!!”
“Oh!... If you say it right, Mark, it will….You see your stepfather will be thrashing your bare bottom for two good reasons!..The first is that your actions are deserving of severe punishment, and nothing you say will make that less!....and, if you let slip about the cigarets, I guarantee it will be more!!...However the second is to teach you a lesson!....But if you repeat what I have told you properly, well I would say that he will think you have learned your lesson very well, and therefore not require the hand, strap and cane to teach you!
“You mean if I do as you suggest I might not get spanked, sir?”, asked Mark, a look of real hope in his eyes.
“No, young man!”, I replied, permitting myself a short laugh, “I am sorry to say you will still be in for the bare bottom thrashing of your young life, Mark!.. You might convince him you have learned your lesson, but you will still deserve punishment…...However it probably will be less than you would be in for should your stepdad think he has to teach you a lesson as well!...Understand?”
“I guess so, sir!”, replied Mark, “Thanks for your help!”
“Oh!...and Mark!...Quietly crying as you tell your stepdad how sorry you are will help in perhaps lessening the severity of your punishment as well!”
“That won’t be a problem, sir!”, replied the boy somewhat sheepishly, “My tears will be flowing even as I stand in front of him getting my lecture before he even starts baring my bottom!...He always tells me I should be taking my punishment ‘like a man’!..But I just can’t help from crying!”
“Hey, Mark, I blubbered like a baby, even when I was 15 or 16, when my dad thrashed my bottom, so don’t worry about it!...”

As we talked I listened to the delicious sounds of young Matt’s tawsing!... Matt had just received his eleventh stroke of the strap, but according to the stepfather’s stern reckoning only 8 were counting, so the poor boy still had at least 3 to go to make up his official count of eleven!

“Fifteen or sixteen years old?”, murmured Mark pondering my words, realising his own bottom would probably be in jeopardy for a few years to come.
“Yes, Mark!”, I responded, “growing up, me, my sister and my brother got spanked right up until we left home!...So, young man, cry with ‘quiet decorum’!...That is always good!...Actually, Mark, I think your stepdad is secretly pleased at your crying in front of him!...I know my dad was when I did it!...Nothing makes the one carrying out the punishment angrier and more determined to really lay it on than having the culprit appear defiant, or to not show true remorse!..That is showing how sorry he is!”
“Oh I know that word ‘remorse’ alright sir…Stepdad uses it a lot when he is telling me off….Like you suggest, sir, I will be crying, and so, so remorseful!... But with ‘quiet decorum’!” replied Mark, then with a wry chuckle, “I will be baring my soul to him before he bares my bottom!...Thank you, sir!”
“Sounds like young Matthew’s tawsing will be over soon….You had better be going in, so you have time to change, Mark” I said quietly, “But before you go let me give you a couple more tips!”
“That would be great, sir”, replied the boy flashing me a warm smile.
“So you are in for a tawsing, plus a caning I am sure!...A minimum of 13 strokes of each, matching your age!”
“Yes!”, said young Mark glumly.
“Well I have told you how you might lessen the severity of each stroke, ‘mitigate’ is a good word, by apologising properly, and meaningfully at the start!.....Doing that may also cause your stepfather to ease off a little when he has you over his lap smacking your bare bottom!”
“I sure hope so!...His hand is so hard, and his spanks are so very sore!”
“Ok!...So the same should apply to the severity of the tawse and cane strokes you are to receive!..Now, let’s look at how you might mitigate the number of strap and cane strokes you are in for….For sure you will receive 13 of each, but here is how you might limit the count to that!”
Mark now focussed his full attention on me, even though we could still clearly hear his young brothers sobs and cries, and the awful sound of the tawse carrying out its sombre duty.
“There are 3 reasons, I reckon, why your stroke count might increase, Mark – Firstly your stepdad might not consider the stroke to have landed to his satisfaction..That would only happen with the strap as it is almost impossible to land the cane ineffectively…So since there is nothing you can do to stop him from not counting a stroke for that reason we can move on to the second reason…..”

THWAAAAAAACCCCKKKKKKKKKKK!!!!....Again the sound of leather slapping hard into soft boy buttock tissue, followed by a loud scream from young Matthew!…That one would not be counting!

“….That being” I continued, talking over the painful noise and stern admonitions form the stepfather,emanating from the bedroom, “Not presenting your bottom quickly and properly when directed!....So just make sure you do that, Mark!..That is one thing under your control!”
“And the third reason, sir?”, asked the boy curiously, his attention temporarily diverted away from the sounds of the awful experience his young brother was undergoing.
“Not taking the stroke with ‘quiet decorum’….Here take this!”, I said, reaching into my pocket, taking out a thick leather key fob, and handing it to the boy. “Cut off the metal key attachment when you go into the house, Mark, then hide the leather fob in your hand when you bend over the chair back then discretely put it in your mouth between your teeth!...Biting down on it will help you to take the stroke with the minimum of noise!...Also what is the floor of your bedroom like, Mark?”
“It’s wood planking, sir!”
“Good!....So when you are bent over the chair, grip the seat hard with your hands, pick out a spot on the floor like say a knot hole and focus hard on that…..After you have properly presented your bottom, bite down hard on that fob and concentrate on that knot hole for as long as the pain from the next stroke is lancing through you!...It won’t make the pain any less but you will find it easier to keep your body still, and biting on the leather will stop you crying out!”
“Thanks, sir!”, said Mark, starting again to quietly sob as he realised his time was at hand, “I will do my best!....And, sir?...Would you stay outside please!...Knowing you are here listening will help me a lot in keeping ‘quiet decorum’”
“Of course I will, son!”, I replied, feeling just a twinge of guilt at how eagerly I was anticipating listening to my new young friend being so, so soundly thrashed ...”Now, Mark, you better go inside and get ready”
The boy stood, smiled wanly at me, thanked me so politely for my help, dusted off the seat of his shorts with his hands, then slowly walked up the path, the muscles of his pert, pouting buttocks, clearly visible through the tight material.
I diverted my attention from the delightful sight of a boy’s bottom about to be bared and soundly smacked, to where another bottom, this one bare, was receiving such a sound leathering.

THWAAAAAAACCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKK!!!!!!!...oooooohhhhhhhhhhhhhh!..pleeassse sir, count that one…pleeeassseee!

“Still quite hard!”, I thought as I listened to young Matt’s muffled yelps and sobbing, my attention once again on my engorged penis. I had discretely loosened my belt, allowing it to stand straight up, pushing up through the waist band of my underpants, the tip resting just below my belly button.

‘Very well, Matthew!..I will be lenient and count that one as number nine young man, now present your bottom for the tenth of eleven!...Higher, boy!...Straighten your legs!..Widen your stance!!...Stick that bottom out!...Stop your mewling or you will get another extra!’

As I listened to the delicious sounds flowing from that bedroom window, and worked my penis with my hand through the lining of my pocket, I realised I had been so engaged talking to my new young friend, Mark, I realised I had no idea how many strokes his brother had to endure to reach the official count of nine!”

THWAAAAAAACCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKK….followed by a high pitched boyish scream!.....‘Matthew!!!!..That one most certainly does not count!.....Quiet decorum boy!....Now get that bottom up and out!...This will be number ten again!’… then………... …….THWAAAAAAACCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKK!!!!

As the air filled with the sound of leather strap impacting soft boy buttock flesh, and the youngsters`s reaction to it, my penis started to throb, then released a huge discharge of steamy semen, staining the front of my shirt above my belt.
At the same time as the strap hit young Matt’s bottom, and I ejaculated, the front door of the neighbor’s house opened and a short, balding, middle aged man came out carrying a bucket of hot water and a large yellow sponge. He paused, nodded his head, while looking towards the bedroom window where the eleven year old boy was being so soundly scourged, and smiled wryly, as he stood and listened to what turned out to be the final stroke of the leather on young Matthew’s bare posterior.
As I discretely zipped up my jacket to hide the semen stain, the man headed up the path towards me, bucket and sponge in hand, then stopped, nodded towards the bedroom window, and said with a wry smile, “Sounds like one of the boy’s has landed in hot water again!”
After a pause while the boy’s sobs diminished, we could then hear the stepfather ordering the boy over to the wall to stand there with his hands on his head until permitted to leave…..Matt’s strapping was finally done, but poor Mark’s ordeal was yet to start, and the first thing that unfortunate boy would see on entering that bedroom would be his waiting stepfather sitting rigidly on the wooden chair, and his younger brother’s red, bruised, black and blue mottled, strap-striped, bare bottom.
“Yes,!”, I said, “it is young Matt!....Mark is to get his turn next!...he has just gone back into the house to get ready!”
“I saw you talking to him earlier….What on earth did they get up to?...Sounds like Matthew got a real leathering…First time with the strap if I am not mistaken!”
I pointed to the dent in the car behind me and explained to the man what mischief the boys had been up to, but omitting, of course, any mention of the purloined candies, or cigarets.
“You say Mark is next!...I sure wouldn’t want to be in his shoes…or…”, and he chuckled, “My bottom in his shorts!...Mind you, he has earned everything he is about to get!”
“My name is Paul, by the way!” he said, holding out his right hand, after placing the sponge in the bucket, and the bucket on the sidewalk…. “Oh, and mine is David”, I replied, taking his hand in mine and shaking it.
“So you agree with corporal punishment, Paul,” I asked
“Absolutely!”, he replied enthusiastically, “Got the cane on my bottom over trousers at school, and the hand and strap on my bare bottom at home!....Just thinking of getting that stopped me many times from straying off the straight and narrow…It has really helped Matt, and Mark, as well!””
“You say corporal punishment has helped young Matt, and Mark, Paul?...How so?”, I enquired
“Indeed it has, David!....Before their stepdad came into their lives a couple of years ago those boys were real hellions…out of control!...Oh their mother, Ann, she tried to discipline them, but it was overwhelming!...She tried spanking them, but over their shorts and jeans!...No good I told her!…The bottom must be bare for proper punishment, but she just could not bring herself to do that!...Then on to the scene came Ken!... That is the stepdad’s name….Ex-army, real strict, a bit hard to talk to, but he really took those boys in hand…The first time he had them both bare bottomed over his lap at the same time for the smacked bottoms of their young lives!...I was in the front garden at the time, and enjoyed listening to every minute of that punishment!.....About time, I thought!”.
“So that experience changed them, Paul?”
“It certainly did…The boys became real respectful…call me ‘sir’….and real helpful!....Mark offered to wash my car this afternoon…not for any pay even…So when I saw him out here talking to you, I brought out the bucket and the sponge!.....But guess with what he is in for the last thing he will be able to do is wash my car!...So I better get on with it!....Nice talking to you, David!”
“And nice talking to you, Paul!”
The man stood looking at me, obviously expecting me to continue my walk down the road…. It was not something I wanted to do, missing out on how well young Mark would endure his scourging, but I felt I had no option, so with a friendly nod, I headed off, jealous of the sound experience awaiting Paul as he washed his car!
I walked by Mark’s house the next day, Sunday afternoon, in the hope that I might meet up with him again, but no luck. A boy was riding his bike up and down the avenue, and from the look of him I thought it might just be Mark’s young brother, Matthew…..The fact that he looked so like Mark, and that he spent most of the time riding standing on the pedals, and when he did sit on the saddle he did so very gingerly, and stayed on it for a very short time, convinced me I must be right. I know from experience that a hard leather saddle pressing on a well chastised bottom is not very pleasant!
Unfortunately, I never did meet Mark, or Matthew again, and a week later my work transferred me two thousand miles away!... Though, I must admit, sometimes when I lie on my bed quietly masturbating, I let my imagination loose as I envisage it was me, and not the stepdad, punishing the thirteen year old boy for denting that car, giving him an introduction to ‘the joy of the cane’ after soundly smacking, then tawsing, his soft, delightful, nubile bare buttock cheeks.
I am married now, have three children, Amy who is eight, and twins Robert, and Grant, who are ten….And yes, all three, Amy of course included, are only too aware that their bottoms are for more than sitting on!...My wife usually leaves the disciplining to me but is quite capable of delivering a well smacked bare bottom when I am not around…… I employ ‘Stepdad’s Methods and Rules’ as described so delightfully these many years ago by young Mark when I am correcting them, though so far limited to my bare hand on their bare bottom….However I have determined that next year the twins will be introduced to the genuine Scottish Lochgelly tawse I have hanging in my wardrobe, and I am ready also with the English Pubic School senior cane which hangs beside it!...And it won’t be long until my daughter, Amy, is in for the same experience!...Equality of the sexes I say!
And my wife?...She too is a corporal punishment aficionado…Likes receiving as much as giving!...She can take the tawse and cane as well as me, with a strict three dozen of each on her bare bottom a wonderful pre-cursor to being well fucked!...And as for me?...Well, having my wife’s taught vagina gripping tight to my swollen penis feels so much better than my hand, plus it leaves my hands free to fondle those lovely stripes and welts I have carved on her sumptuous bare posterior…And the kids?...Well let’s just say they know not to ask about the familiar sounds of bare bottom chastisement they sometimes hear coming out of Mommy and Daddy’s bedroom…Just glad, I guess, it is not one of them in there!
LIFE IS GOOD

[ddchris21]

Thanks for the story. I really enjoyed reading it. Well written and so engaging. Thanks again, Chris.