Spank dancer in the corner

[petergordon]

Dad stands in front of me as I furiously rubbed my brush spanked stinging bright red burning bottom cheeks,and slaps my hands away from rubbing my bum and directs me to that special place where I stand facing the livingroom wall next to his wing back arm chair. “Peter put your hands on your head, and feel the stinging pain. That’s the whole point lad. This half hour standing in the corner is when you are getting the full benefit of your spanking.You can stand there and reflect on why your behaviour has resulted in you getting a properly spanked bottom. Understood?” Sobbing I blub out my yes Dads but he could be saying anything and he would still get the yes Dad yes Sirs. My blazing bottom is my only concern. While I’m crying my eyes out Mum comes from the kitchen to offer Dad a cup of tea as he sits down and packs his pipe. Both Mum and Dad are completely indifferent to the bum stinging hell I am in. For both of them I am just a naughty boy who is suffering the punishment I deserve. There is no Dr Spock book in this home,and if there was, it would be no use me putting the book down the back of my shorts for protection because Dad always has my bare bottom over his knees when I am due a spanking with the back of the wicked clothes brush.

This first 15 minutes is all about my bottom cheeks burning with the accumulated sting of 40 hard searing brush. In these minutes the sting reaches it’s peak intensity. My Dad has spanked me with the clothes brush without anger but those spanks have been methodically administered to produce the excruciating sting I am presently barely able to cope with. My hands are hooked around the back of my neck as I desperately battle the compulsion to grab one buttock in each of my hands to squeeze those cheeks who are burning like a thousand bee stings. Each smack of the clothes brush was a hot poker being applied to my bare bottom and the livingroom was filled with my loud howls in a song of agony.That clothes brush had me reach the scale of a boy soprano but has been replaced by my sobbing. Chest heaving sobs. Hiccuppy sobs and tears. Tears that trickled down my face. Salty tears I taste facing the wall. There is a line in a Blues Brothers song called ‘Shake Your Tail Feather’ which goes ‘Twist it Shake it, shake it, shake it, shake it baby’. Well that’s what I am doing alright,trying to shake the sting away in a vain attempt to push the sting behind my behind. The verse goes Twist it Shake it, shake it, shake it, shake it baby Here we go loop di loo Shake it up baby Here we go loop di lie. My version was Here I go boo hoo hoo, Here I go boo hoo cry. O yes I’m twisting and jiggling up and down shaking my blazing tail.

I’ve been in this position about 4 times a year since I was 12 shifting from foot to foot with my bum blazing and I have never coped any better with the ‘after burn’ even though now I am almost 16. Standing in the corner is plain humiliating because I am almost grown up. Yet here I am with my freshly spanked glowing bottom crying like a little boy. No wonder I am still in short pants.In biology at school we learned that a baboon in an act of submission, turns and presents it’s rump to the other, meaning I know you’re stronger than me. Well Dad is the top baboon and I’m baboon boy. Corner-time after a spanking is a mandatory part of Dad’s punishment, and his boy is getting the full benefit doing his corner-time. That’s Dad’s viewpoint as he sits comfortably in his chair smoking his pipe,reading his paper and drinking his tea. The sounds of my sobbing doesn’t trouble him one iota. In fact I am sure he is satisfied that I am still crying so long after the last brush spank has seared it’s red bloom adding to the hue of my post box red glowing burning blazing bum cheeks.

I am full of regret. Foremost I regret bitterly how much my bum cheeks are stinging and burning. Those cheeks are going to feel like they have been badly sunburned for days on end. The brush spanks low down are going to make sitting hell at school tomorrow and my wincing is surely going to give away the fact that I’ve been spanked again. Once again I’ll be on the recieving end of those school boy jibes and school girl giggles that I hate but dare not show that I do. I long to shout at the top of my voice see how you’d like it to them all. That wooden desk seat is hard enough even when my bottom is white and soft,but even so I always have a numb bum by the end of the school day.I am also regretting getting caught for what Dad has spanked me for. I should be smarter than that. I pride myself my sneaky abilities.Smart boys avoid their bottoms smarting. Like an out-of-work jester I was nobody’s fool with my teenage attitudes. I’ve learned rule number one is don’t get caught,or your bottom pays and, when your bottom pays the sting stays.