under a cloud

[petergordon]

At home when I had been caught out doing wrong a sort of cloud would come over me.I would detach from what was going on and be lost in my thoughts which centered on my forth coming trip over Dad's knees. To misquote Dr. Johnson the prospect of being spanked concentrates the mind wonderfully. I had my head in the cloud and under this cloud I would tremble thinking about how much his spankings with that clothes brush stings. My hands tremble and wander behind giving my shorts clad bottom some rubbing. Why o why had I been caught. Other kids had got away with it. Yes self pity... why me.. why me again.. other boys are worse than me... why do I have to get the brush. It stings so much and hurts for so long... yes that was my thinking.... my cloud of self pity, a cloud that will bare a lot of rain in the form of tears. I'm a teenager and I should be able to take my punishment like a man.

Dad puts me over his knees bottom uppermost, with my head well down. I am able to see my grey short pants and yfronts around my ankles on the other side of Dad's sturdy legs. He wants complete access to the under side of my bottom cheeks so he can effectively spank my sit spots, that soft flesh on the under curve of my bottom. That area is where boy bottom meets seat. This is the area he knows I have to sit on and Dad wants to make sitting a very uncomfortable experience for me for a good day or two.

He gentle pats those parts of my bare bottom with the clothes brush. The first smack of the brush brings me the harsh reality very quickly as I feel it burn my right bottom cheek with it's searing sting. What follows is a slow methodical administration of a brush spanking that brings a high volume of OOOHHHS and AAARRGGHHHS and OWWWWSS as each one is felt individually and a few seconds pass before the next spank is administered. Slowly and deliberately the brush is applied to bouncing bottom cheeks and scissoring thighs deepening the redness of my buttocks skin and imparting a continuous burning stinging sensation throughout the punished area. When I try to move out of the way by turning slightly one way or the other on Dad's lap, he smacks the side that is lifted up higher. So I twist this way SMACK and that SMACK.The brush SMACKS sound like a cap pistol going off as the unforgiving hard wood lands on my blazing bum cheeks. When I buck up my legs to make my bottom cheeks squeeze together Dad spanks the thighs proffered up to him. I am SORRY,of course I WILL NEVER DO IT AGAIN PLEASE DADDY PLEASE. Every time before a spanking I mentally determine this time I won't be doing any pleading and everytime it's NOOOOOO PPPPUHLEEEAZE DAD NO MORE NO MORE PLEEEEEEEASSSSSSSEEEE . I pleaded I begged, I promised. I would do anything to make the spanking stop as tears streamed down my face.

Then Dad pauses around 20 brush spanks which is the half way mark and is about to bring me to a completely higher level of stinging agony. feeling of desperation which is when the lesson starts to be driven home. I am renewing my squirming across his knees knowing that the spanking is about to re-commence. I am frantic as I reach back to get in the way of the brush. This feeling of desperation is when the lesson I am being taught is so well learned. Dad takes a firm grip on my right wrist, pushing me down more forcefully to ensure I am held in position. Swiftly, soundly, firmly and thoroughly Dad and his brush spanks my bare bottom and thighs. The loud ‘cap pistol’ smacks echo through the room in steady fashion. Each of the smacks overlap alternating from side to side and down the area between my upper bottom cheeks and the tops of my thighs and back up again, over and over and again and again. I am twisting desperately attempting to avoid the stinging brush and my legs are all akimbo.

So when Dad lets me up, once again I become the SPANK DANCER as I do my modern moves of the stomp with both hands back. I dance around the room, rubbing my bum cheeks and thighs in a vain attempt to ease the stinging agony and without concern for the spectacle I am making of myself. Like it or not this teenager is once again just a naughty little boy that has got spanked by his Daddy. Maybe short pants IS the only trousers a 15 year old boy like me should be allowed.

[petergordon]