The Belt

By Nocti Raven
nocti.raven@gmail.com

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This story is intended for ADULTS ONLY. It contains explicit 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.

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John flexed the belt in his hands, watching the cracked leather bend and breathe.

“I haven’t worn this belt in five years, Junior.”

JJ nodded respectfully. He’d been through so much with that belt, learned so many lessons by it. By now he respected the belt almost as much as the man holding it.

“Do you remember that day, son?” John smiled, revealing his laugh lines. “I took it off, did the deed, and just left it on your bed. It wasn’t even on purpose; I just forgot to take it with me. Then . . . the next time you needed a firm hand, I came into your room and—there it was on the dresser. Like you knew . . .”

JJ nodded again, not sure what to say. His father rarely got this emotional.

“I knew something was different, then. You were growing up, accepting things. You still needed discipline, no doubt about that. But I think you were finally starting to realize you needed it.” He flexed the belt again. “I know it’s been hard, growing up with this kind of discipline . . . not many parents do it like this anymore. But you and I both know it was for your own good. It’s made you a better man than you’d be without it.”

JJ almost gasped. “A . . . a man?”

John laughed, and the telltale glisten of a tear appeared in his eye. “That’s right. Most boys are still boys at your age, but not you. Twelve years old . . . might as well be twenty-one. You’re strong, you’re smart, you got character. You’re more man than half the men I’ve ever met.”

Then, with reverent slowness, John extended a hand to his son, and offered him the belt.

JJ’s eyes widened.

“Go on. Take it. It’s yours now. You’re a man, and a man’s got no business being on the receiving end of this thing.”

Gingerly JJ took the belt, felt the weight of it in his hands . . . flexed it back and forth, felt the old leather breathe. The smell of it was strangely comforting. It smelled familiar, like a childhood home. This thing, this object, had been in his bedroom for the last five years, but he felt like he’d never seen it before. It felt like something new.

And then a thought occurred to him.

“No business on the receiving end,” he echoed.

John nodded. “You catch on fast. It’s for that step-brother of yours. He’s thirteen, but he’s still a little boy in every way that I can see. Part of the problem is . . . life’s been soft on him. His parents never gave him proper discipline. So that’s your job.”

***

JJ walked into his bedroom, belt in hand. Even though he shared the room with Shane, he suddenly found himself thinking of it as “my room” instead of “our room.”

Shane was lying in bed in his boxers, pounding away at a Game Boy with his grimy thumbs. This was how Shane spent his weekends: gaming, eating chips, and masturbating. Occasionally he’d also have friends over to join the gaming and chip-eating, and together Shane and his friends would bitch and moan about not having girlfriends. Once JJ had offered to tell them why they didn’t have girlfriends. They threatened to beat him up.

Shane’s half of the bedroom was plastered with posters of half-naked cover girls—precisely the kind of girls who’d never give a dweeb like Shane the time of day. Why did he torture himself with such unattainable dreams? JJ would never understand.

“Hey,” JJ said. “We need to talk.”

“So talk,” Shane said.

JJ frowned. “Shane. Put down the game.”

Shane actually chuckled. “Go fuck yourself.”

The problem, clearly, was that Shane hadn’t noticed the belt yet. JJ considered using his new instrument on one of his step-brother’s bare thighs, but settled on a desk-chair instead.

The Crack of leather on leather got Shane’s attention.

“Wh-what the fuck is that?”

He was talking tough, but his swear-words were only a mask. He was shaken by the sound, and by the seriousness. JJ liked that; it made him feel in charge.

“What does it look like?” JJ said. “It’s a belt. And now you’re going to put down the game.”

Shane paused the game, but didn’t put it down. He was holding over his bare chest like a shield.

“Things are changing,” JJ said. “Your mom and my dad have already decided. You have new chores—specifically my chores. You are now in charge of taking out the garbage, and mowing the front lawn, and now you clean both halves of this room. And just in case this wasn’t clear, I mean you’re doing all that in addition to the chores you have already.”

Shane looked like he’d been slapped. He was really good at looking indignant, even though he had no real dignity.

“So I’m doing all the chores? And you’re doing none?”

JJ shook his head. “No, I have a new chore too. It’s so important that it’s now my only chore. It’s kind of a full-time job.”

“What is it?”

JJ held up the belt, and ivoluntarily grinned from ear to ear. “Basically . . . I’m the boss of you.”

Shane blinked. “What?”

“This belt,” JJ said, “is for spanking. My dad used it to spank me for years, and now it’s your turn. But you get spanked by me.”

“Are you fuckin’ serious?”

“Watch your language, Shane. From now on, I spank you whenever you misbehave. Which means whenever I think you misbehave.”

The thirteen-year-old shook his head. “This a joke, right? I’m older than you. I should be in charge. I should be spanking you.”

JJ laughed. “I’d like to see you try. I’ve told it like it is, Shane. You better get used to listening to me. When I tell you to do something, you do it. Your mom asks twice, but I won’t.”

“Seriously, JJ, tell me how this makes any sense.”

“Have you ever noticed how both parents yell at you, but they never yell at me?”

Shane had no answer to that. He had noticed.

“And Shane, have you ever noticed that I keep my half of the room neat and tidy, but yours is damn pigsty? How about the fact that I spend my weekends doing homework and going soccer practice, but you spend yours jerking off and playing video games?”

Now Shane was beyond speechless.

“What?” said JJ. “You think it’s a secret that you jerk off? You drop your Kleenexes right on the floor, Shane. The only reason this room doesn’t smell like cum is ‘cause I keep asking your mom for air fresheners.”

JJ took a step closer to his step-brother’s bed. He could see goosebumps spreading all over Shane’s nearly-naked body.

“Bottom line, Shane, is that I’m more mature than you. I’m more grown-up, and I’m more disciplined, and it comes from this.” He brandished the belt right in Shane’s face. “Think of it this way: every kid owes a debt to the gods of spanking, and he can’t really become a respectable adult until he’s paid that debt. Now, I spent my whole childhood paying my debt, but you haven’t. Your parents never spanked you, so your debt has just sat there, gathering interest. Now it’s time to settle up.”

Shane gulped audibly.

“Shane, do you understand everything I’ve said?”

His jaw moved a little, but no sound came out.

“Shane, you’ll answer a question as soon as I ask it. Now, do you understand everything I’ve said?”

“Y-yes.”

JJ stroked his chin, contemplating this new power.

“That’ll be ‘yes sir’ from now on.”

Shane very quietly murmured, “Yes, sir.”

“Speak up!”

“Yes sir!” There was panic in his voice.

“Good. Now stand up.”

Shane jumped off his bed, jettisoning his Game Boy onto the floor.

JJ chuckled. “Pick that up.”

“Yes, sir,” Shane said, and obeyed immediately.

“Put it on the nightstand.”

“Yes, sir.”

JJ felt himself growing bigger by the moment. This was even easier than he’d expected.

“Now drop your shorts.”

Shane froze, eyes wide.

“Please . . . sir. . .”

“Now, Shane. You’re a big boy, so all spankings will be delivered directly to the butt. And they’ll only be longer and harder if you don’t get naked right when I ask.”

Shane winced, and lowered his boxers with trembling hands.

JJ once again found himself smiling involuntarily.

“Truly, truly immature.”

The older boy flushed bright red.

“Turn around.”

Shane turned to face his bed.

“Now bend over, hands on the bed.”

He bent down, presenting his pale buttocks to his step-brother.

JJ marveled at Shane’s posterior, not because it was attractive or in any way remarkable, but because it had never before been spanked. Thirteen years old, and never been spanked. It was smooth, almost white. This ass had not been toughened by discipline—it was weak and thin-skinned, almost baby-like.

Virginal, JJ realized.

And the destruction of that virginity was an event to be savored and celebrated.

To squander the glory of Shane’s first spanking on a mere demonstration would dishonor the holy disciplinary act—it would dishonor the belt itself. Yes, JJ thought, when a spanking was truly necessary, he’d deliver a blistering of epic proportion, and a lesson would be well-learned.

“Take out the garbage,” he said, “then mow the lawn. Then clean the gutters, do the dishes, and clean this entire room. And clean it well, like I do. I want my side to look just like it normally does, and I want your side to be just as tidy as mine.” He looked around, scanning for anything else that needed to be done. “And take down all these dumb posters. I don’t know about you, but I plan on bringing a girl home at some point, and girls don’t like this kind of thing.”

He flexed the belt, felt it breathe, smelled the old cracked leather . . . and set it down on the bed, where Shane could see it.

“Let this be a reminder to you. I’ve got soccer practice in half an hour, and you’d better have all your chores done by the time I get back. Or else.”

He gave the virgin ass a little pinch. It was eerily smooth, just begging to be hurt.

Then twelve-year-old John Junior took a step back, turned, and walked out the door.

The End