By Aldric
This story is intended for ADULTS ONLY. It contains depictions
of sexual activity involving minors. If you are not of a legal age in
your locality to view such material or if such material does not appeal
to you, do not read further, and do not save this story.
Comments may be sent to pietar_the_fearless@yahoo.com . Note that the
underscores (between pietar, the, and fearless) are part of the name
and must be included.
This story depicts minors in unusual conditions that may include
unprotected, unsafe sex or extreme humiliation. Obviously, this does
not describe real life and should not be taken as such. In the real
world, behaviors as described in the story are not acceptable,
tolerated, or legal. The reader should never confuse the difference
between fiction and real life. This story is fictional.
The Spanking
I am standing in the ‘parade
rest’ position in the center of the room. Parade rest means that the
feet are shoulder width apart, hands clasped behind back but with upper
body half still in position of attention (chest out, shoulders back).
My father was a drill sergeant and my brothers and I have had several
opportunities to practice this position.
I am naked, because
spankings are always received without the benefit of clothing. The
standing order to receive a spanking is to go to your room, remove all
clothing, and then go to the den. Fill out your book, including the
manner and number you feel you deserve, and then stand at parade rest
until father is ready to administer it.
My two brothers and I
each have a book that lists every spanking we have gotten. I’ll be
starting volume 2 soon as there are only two pages left in my current
book. It goes back to my first recorded spanking when I was six. James,
my eleven-year-old brother, is already about half way through his first
volume. Scotty, who is eight, only has about 20 of the pages in his
book filled out.
We have choices to enter. Hand, spoon,
paddle, or cane. Once after I turned twelve I entered hand but father
said I was too old for a hand spanking, so that’s no longer an option
for me. I entered cane once, after punching James in the stomach
because he took my bike without asking. It was the most painful
spanking of my life. Even James cried as he watched, but not as much as
I did.
When it was over my father told me not to select cane again unless it was for something really bad.
“Like punching James?” I asked.
“Yes,” he answered. “You’re the oldest and you know better. The cane was the right choice for what you did.”
The number is the easiest because it is two times our age plus the
number extra ones that we think we deserve. Father generally ignores it
and gives us what he thinks we deserve anyway, which often is less than
what we entered. Unless the number entered is far too few. Then we get
it worse. It’s much better to err on the high side.
Two years ago when I was eleven I asked father why my brothers and I had to be naked.
“Because I don’t ever spank hard enough to harm you,” he answered.
“Removing your clothing removes your dignity. Besides, boys don’t need
to be so modest.”
“But it’s so embarrassing,” I complained.
“If you find it too embarrassing than stop doing things that earns you a spanking,” was his simple response.
That’s easier said than done at my age. I earn a spanking about once a month.
The worst part about the spanking is the waiting. Knowing it is going
to hurt and trying to be stoic, especially since I’m the oldest. It’s
especially bad to be standing there naked where anyone in the house can
see.
And not just in the house. The blinds are open, and the
den is in the front of the house. Once, when I was about 9 or 10, one
of my friends saw me and got a bunch of other kids. They crowded around
the two windows, boys and girls. I expected my dad to chase them off,
or at least close the blinds, but he acted as if they weren’t there.
Today, my friend Dave is here. He is trying to look at my erection
without me seeing him look. He’s moved to slightly behind me and off to
the side and I know he’s looking and comparing me to himself. I can’t
blame him though. I stayed and watched him get spanked a couple of
months ago. He wasn’t hard though. I still did my best to make a
comparison between him and me.
I’ve got a boner because a girl
from my class is here. Sara Livingstone. She’s a friend of my older
sister and I have a crush on her. But she doesn’t seem to like me much.
She has seen me naked on two other occasions. Both times she described
my privates to the other girls in our class. She actually had to nerve
to pull out a ruler and measure it once! I should have told, but, well,
having her touch me there felt good. I hope she will do it again and I
hope she won’t. I don’t want Dave to see her measure me. And I don’t
want Dave to have the number, just in case he’s bigger. He probably is,
he’s got more hair, his balls hang lower, and his prick looked thicker
than mine.
Sara and Julie, my older sister, have been in and
out. When they hear dad coming they’ll hurry in to get a good seat. My
youngest sister will also come to watch, as will James and Scotty. I
don’t know why, but they never miss an opportunity to watch. I watch
James get it, but most of the time not Scotty.
The girls never
get spanked in the den. I’m not sure if they get spanked at all, but if
so, it’s done in private. Boys don’t have such privileges.
The
others all come running in and take their seats, so I know it’s finally
time. After a minute or two my father enters and I come to attention.
He picks up my journal and reads the entry.
“Twenty-six plus
ten more with the spoon,” he says out loud. “That’s an unusually light
amount Nathan. Why do you feel you deserve so few?”
“I bumped into Julie and she fell onto the couch. She didn’t get hurt.” I was now greatly worried that I had entered too few.
“But you and Dave were running through the house chasing each other.” I
saw him glance at my best friend, but I kept my eyes forward, so I
don’t know how Dave reacted. He turned back to me after a few seconds.
“You could have run into her anywhere and she could have been hurt. Or you could have hurt her guest.”
As soon as my father mentioned Sara my prick twitched up and down
wildly several times. I couldn’t help it, and I knew she saw it because
I heard her and Julie giggle. Father ignored it.
“Yes sir, I’m sorry, I didn’t think of it like that,” I said. “I should have entered more.”
“I’ll take care of that,” he pronounced. “But I won’t use the paddle,
although I think this comes close to deserving it. Get in position.”
I bent at the waist and grabbed my ankles. Up until age ten we went
over his lap, but after that we’re expected to stand on our own and not
interfere with the spanking. Interfering once gets a warning but twice
means it gets repeated in an hour.
“Two times your age is 26,”
he began. “The extras are as follows: For running through the house,
you’ll get five. For not realizing how your lack of control could have
resulted in something more serious, another twenty.”
He didn’t
make me wait any longer. As soon as I was in position he started,
swinging rapidly and hard, harder than I’ve ever had it before.
Somewhere around thirty I broke and stood up and grabbed my butt. That
should have been enough to require repeating the punishment the next
day, but perhaps my father had some pity for me.
He let me rub for two seconds before he said, “Get back in position or this will be repeated tomorrow.”
I got back in position. I was crying, sobbing actually, as he
continued, but his swings were delivered with less force than
previously. I stayed down until he was done.
Now I had to
apologize to Julie. I was still crying as I told her I was sorry for
knocking her down. I avoided looking at Sara who I know is enjoying my
humiliation. Tomorrow she will tell all the girls at school about it.
Father left, but the rest of us remained in the den. Next comes
reflection time. That’s the name Dad gives it. We’re supposed to stand
there, again a parade rest, and think about how to behave so as not to
have to repeat the spanking. It lasts for 12 minutes plus a minute for
each year of our age up to ten, and 2 minutes for each year starting at
age eleven. Thirty-eight minutes for me now. And I know that for each
second of it Sara and Julie will be looking at me. Dave too. My dick
stays hard, and each time I hear Sara it twitches several times again.
The moment the timer dings, Julie leaves. It’s part of the ritual of
the spanking. Julie will choose what I’m to wear for the rest of the
day. With me she always chooses white briefs. I have to keep an old
pair around just for this purpose even though I now wear boxers. For
James she normally brings his boxers and a shirt.
When she
returned, I could tell that she wanted to extend my humiliation. She
had an old pair of James’ briefs; lord knows where she found them. They
were torn and he probably hadn’t worn them in over a year. I put them
on and couldn’t fit my still-erect prick inside -- it poked out through
one of the leg bands. My balls squeezed out the other side. She and
Sara laughed, adding to my misery. But I had to thank her for the
‘gift’ of clothing following my spanking.
I once refused to
thank her because I believed I had been spanked for something she had
caused, so I remained naked the rest of the day. But that time there
were no guests in the house. I didn’t want to remain naked a second
longer than necessary with Sara and Dave here. “Thank you for these,” I
said with no sincerity at all.
Dave had a smile that covered
his whole face at the sight of me wearing a pair of torn briefs that
were several sizes too small for me. I ran for the bathroom—not to pee,
but to take care of something else that I very much needed to do. It
was surprising that I thought of Sara seeing me as I jerked off.
Surprising, because it made the orgasm even better. And surprising
because I’d hated having her see me naked.
But once my father
saw me, he called to Julie and took her upstairs. Fifteen minutes later
she came back with tears in her eyes, but she had my old pair of briefs
with her.
“Father said to throw those away,” she said,
referring to the briefs I was wearing. I quickly stripped them off and
thankfully put on something more decent.
“Dad says you and Dave should go outside and work off some of the energy you displayed by running through the house.”
I knew it wasn’t an option. I was also 100% positive she wasn’t lying.
If our father saw me outside in briefs and hadn’t ordered it, he’d have
asked me why. So outside we went.
“Did you enjoy looking at me?” I asked Dave, some of my anger spilling over into my voice.
“Hey, I’m sorry. But I know that you looked at me a couple of months
ago at my house. True, I didn’t have a boner, but still, you looked.”
I hadn’t known he’d seen me. I lowered my eyes and my voice. “Yeah, you’re right. I did. How do I compare?” I wanted to know.
“I’m a little longer. And I’ve got more hair. But without the boner
we’re pretty much the same. Don’t worry about it. How are you going to
deal with the kids at school? You know Sara is going to tell everyone.”
“Yeah, she will. There isn’t much I can do. I’ll have to listen to them
laugh and try not to get angry. If I lose control and hit someone, it
will be a far worse spanking for me.”
The next day at school,
I did hear the laughter. I almost lost it when Toby Miller said, “I
heard you cried like a baby. I don’t cry when I get spanked.”
I think I would have lost it except that Dave, and to my total
surprise, Sara, grabbed me and pulled me back away from him. Toby is
bigger than me and I probably would have gotten my ass kicked if not
for Dave and Sara. And then the spanking once I got home for fighting.
I thanked them both.
I'm not in his gym class, but I heard
about it before the school day ended. Somehow his gym shorts and boxers
ended up around his ankles. Twenty girls got to see it. For reasons
that I hadn’t heard, they got a good five minutes to look at him. All I
heard was that he got a full-blown boner during that time, and even
after he pulled his clothing up there was a tent in them for the rest
of the gym class. I kind of wish I had been there to see it as well.
The End