Just like Nascar and Boxing

Just like Nascar and Boxing
By Sir Cum Sizemore

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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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I was the eleven year old eldest of three. My sister was two years my junior and my youngest sibling, Max, was only seven years old when our mother died of cancer. My father was a hard working man who spent many hours at his office. He took Mom's death very hard and spent a lot of time reminiscing with us about their times together. It was a very emotional and trying period for the four of us.

Like Mom, Dad was a very strict disciplinarian. Before my mother got sick she could wield a belt on our bare bottoms as hard as any man. As I recollect, she was almost so good at it you'd wish Dad was doing the honors instead. That said, there were really only two behaviors that warranted a whipping—disrespect or defiance toward any authority figure. That included them, teachers, any other adult, or babysitters. They were fair but strict when it came to other misbehavior, but if you were in violation of either of the two greatest commandments, you would be stripped naked, bent over the arm of the sofa or a chair and soundly whipped with a two inch wide belt that was kept in plain view on a rack in the kitchen. That is, unless you were my sister. She usually got scolded and sent to her room for three or four hours. Both my mother and father were somewhat old- fashioned about gender and discipline—boys only learned if their bodies were hurt and girls did alright with having their feelings hurt.

Now with Mom gone, my father was at a point where he couldn't keep an eye on us, keep house and still earn a living. He assigned extra chores to each of us, especially me. Among my responsibilities were cutting the lawn weekly, weeding the gardens, washing the kitchen floor (always on my hands and knees), and keeping the car vacuumed. It did cramp my space. Something had to give and it did.

Two weeks after the funeral he informed the three of us that he had contracted a neighbor girl to stay with us and supervise the chores and keep us in line. Though she was a neighborhood favorite she was barely thirteen. I remember resenting the fact that such a young girl was more my age mate than a superior. Dad didn't agree. His perspective was aligned with his old-fashioned gender view. Girls were more mature than boys and she was old enough to be in-charge during his absence.

I remember the day Kathy arrived. She brought her mother with her. I guess the mother had some questions and wanted to get to know us too. The discussion was basically an introduction of the three of us and an outline of what he felt the responsibilities of the position were. He and Kathy's mother chatted about those things and seemed to hit it off from the get go. Then a bomb dropped.

"Kathy, we don't let the children talk back, refuse or ignore what they're told to do, or in any other way show disrespect. When Susan does, she's to be sent to her room and must stay there from three to eight hours and may only come out to go to the bathroom. Can you do that?"

Oh, but then it got worse. After she agreed that she could, he continued.

"If the boys are disrespectful or disobedient they need to be whipped. You just tell them to strip naked, and after they have, put them over the arm of the couch and let 'em have it. You should never hear anything but leather on skin. Do you feel you can do that?"
She nodded her understanding and he continued, "When you do this, you need to keep going until their bottoms are deep red, not pink, but deep red. They should be crying uncontrollably and begging for you to stop before you even consider it. When I get home the stripes you made should still be clearly visible. If you do it right the first time or two, they'll think twice before they try you again."

But then her mother interrupted and for a moment I thought I was safe. "If Jack's eleven, he's only a couple of years her junior, isn't it a little much for him to have to be naked in front of her?"

"The humiliation of it is part of his well deserved punishment, should it happen". That was my Dad, and even my Mom's reasoning, God rest her soul. There was no understanding of male modesty for my brother and me. We weren't allowed any. But, my sister was treated like a goddess on that account. "Girls are supposed to be modest." Anyway back to the predicament.

You could see the gleam in Kathy's eye. I don't know if it was the new found authority or the anticipation of the body shows that were inevitable. But she was smiling and her mother was satisfied so far.

"Now, Kathy, if you should have any problem either with finding your way around, wondering what punishment to use, or with them not cooperating, you can call me at this number and I'll help you get your message across. Susan shouldn't be a problem and really I don't anticipate a problem from Max other than testing some limits. Jack," and he pointed right at me, "I fully expect to be cooperative, but it wouldn't surprise me if he doesn't test you because of the closeness in age." Then with his finger still pointed at me he made eye contact and sternly said, "And I wouldn't try that, because you will regret it."

After all that was solved, she got the expected hours of her employment and other incidentals like bed times, including mine, and having to inspect my brother Max after his shower to make sure he cleaned every where (I'm glad he didn't try to have the same procedure for me, I wouldn't have been too cooperative), and making sure my sister helped with the dishes and I did the lawn.

We lived very close to a state park and I used to ride my bike down there often. I was really a nature buff and that park was my boyhood paradise. My friend Eddie and I used to skinny dip in a secret place well off the trials. Besides the unbridled feeling of no clothing at all, we kind of liked the suspense of the possibility we might get caught by passing hikers. At times we'd dare each other to stand exposed, hands on our heads, facing an opening which could be seen from the road just to get the rush of the possibility of being seen by some passing cyclist or motorist.

On Kathy's second day, I asked if I could go to the park with Eddie. Dad had told her it was alright for me to do so, but to make sure she set the parameters, not me. She made a point of telling me to be home by four. I'd never had to be home until dinner which wasn't until six as Dad had to be home before we ate. (It was the old-fashioned, "we eat as a family" thing). I balked. I tried to reason that I'd always been allowed to be out until five thirty and it always worked out well. She was insistent on four. I can remember thinking she was just trying to be bossy and prove she was my superior. Words, however, are not how boys set pecking order. They need to know who is stronger than whom more than who can out talk the other. Maybe that's why Mom and Dad were sold on whipping the boys and not the girls. Girls used words and boys reacted to physical prowess. Anyway I left and met Eddie. I remember telling him about four o'clock and even he thought it was a bummer.

We rode our bikes down the paved road in the park and decided to be semi-naughty and skinny dip in the stream at our 'private spot'. We locked our bikes to a tree and walked the quarter to half mile into the woods, stripped naked and jumped in. I remember losing all track of time as we waded and splashed. Eddie was up on the shore holding his shorts up and digging through the pockets. I remember him glancing at his watch and hollering, "Jack, if you have to be home at four we need to go. It's already three thirty."

It was then that I hollered back, and I remember, to this day, my words, "Screw her. Let's just swim a little longer and I'll get home by five thirty. She doesn't run our family."

Eddie shrugged and came back in the water with an iffy "Okay".

I got home at about five fifteen. Kathy had a smirk on her face as she noticeably looked at the kitchen clock. Then the bomb fell. She asked me when I was supposed to be home. I told her "four". Then she said, "And, what time is it now?" And I told her "five fifteen". She instructed me to go to the living room and take my clothes off and that she was going to give me a well deserved reminder of who was in- charge.

Shit, I wasn't about to expose myself in front of a girl who was just over two years my elder. I remember telling her it wasn't going to happen and she could do whatever she wanted about it, but I wasn't going to be naked in front of her. She told me if I didn't go that minute she'd call Dad. Even though I knew Dad would probably beat my ass until it bled, I'd rather that than expose my dick and balls to this girl. I do remember her picking up the phone and as she started dialing, I tried to negotiate. I offered her unbridled access to my clothed butt by telling her she could whip me over my clothes. She'd have no part of it. I knew she was anxious not only to whip me but to see my package, and that wasn't on the table as far as I was concerned. She finished dialing and began discussing the matter with my Dad. Then she handed me the phone, "He wants to talk to you."

Dad told me to get in the living room and to strip completely naked and let her do what she had to do. He told me that whatever she did was just a warm up for what he had in mind when he got home. He also said I'd better be totally naked when he did get home. Now, comes a time when every boy has to admit he's been licked in these battles. My penis on display for Kathy was pushed back on the mental priority list by the words my father had just spouted. I was scared and thought it best to comply and not make matters worse. I remember Kathy standing there and watching me strip. When I got to my underwear, I again tried to negotiate. "Can't you just whip me on my underwear?" I do remember the point at which she let slip her true intentions. She flat told me that that wouldn't do she wanted to see my boy parts as much as she wanted to whip my ass. I slid my underpants down and was at the time fully erect at the thought of her inspection. I remember my penis slapped my pubis right under my navel as it sprang loose from the elastic. She told me to put my underpants over on a chair with the rest of my clothes. As if that weren't enough, she then summoned my brother and sister to the living room to watch.

That girl was smiling with her new found prowess over my complete condition. My little sister just laughed and told her this was the first time she got to watch. Mom and Dad usually sent the others to some other place. In fact, I don't think my sister or even Max had seen me naked in years. They both were smiling in anticipation of the spanking. Funny how other kids love a good ass whipping as long as it's somebody else's. It's kind of arousing.

Kathy began her spanking task. The first hit was pretty good for a novice I remember the snap it made as it made contact with my butt. I also remember it hurt. The second was kind of whimpy and glanced off my hip. Then she got her rhythm and landed one every ten seconds or so. I remember wondering during the first few if she needed that time to take aim or was just trying to make them more memorable for me. On the sixth or seventh my butt was warmed up quite well, on the ninth or tenth it stung badly and was hot, on the fifteenth I was crying and telling her I'd had enough and she stopped. Then true to instruction, she took me to the kitchen and put me in the corner Mom had dubbed the "little boy jail". Unlike Mom she made me put my hands on my head and face out instead of facing the corner. I was, and to this day, am still sure she did that to watch my genitals.

I was there until Dad got home. He was cool, calm and collected. He glanced at me and said something like, "I see he got the message!" and Kathy nodded her smiling agreement. When it was time to eat, I started to the living room to retrieve my clothes. Dad then told me to eat naked. He said I wouldn't need my clothes for awhile. I knew what that meant. He was going for his sloppy seconds probably right after we ate. But it got worse.

"You know Jack I got to thinking about today. Your mother and I always felt boys didn't need to be so modest and we treated you and Max like you should be proud of your bodies. Today, I think being naked in front of Kathy here was a problem for you. Am I right?"

I started to expound how she was the same age as I was and…

"I didn't ask you that. I asked you if the idea of having to strip naked in front of Kathy was the problem."

Kathy spoke up. She told him she thought it was. She commented on my failed negotiations to have her whip me over my shorts or even my underwear. She also told him how embarrassed I was when she invited Max and Susan to watch.

He responded with a smile and a nod and then the ax fell. "Let's get you to where being naked isn't such a big issue. Let's get you to where your penis and testicles aren't so much of a problem for you. I've decided you will stay naked all week long. You will play naked, you will do your chores naked and you will present yourself to anyone who comes here naked. You will be naked if Kathy wants to take you somewhere and then if she has to spank she won't have to argue. How does that sound?"

I remember begging with the promise never to argue with her again. But, I also remember the smiles all around the table at the idea I would be on display for a week. It wasn't just Kathy, it was my brother and my sister too. I sat there, teared up and pouted for the rest of the meal. I couldn't eat. I just bawled. Then, it got worse.

My sister asked if she could touch my 'things'. I couldn't believe she would be so brash. I knew Dad wouldn't agree to that. But, I was a little mistaken. He told my sister that was up to Kathy to decide. I was to allow whatever she decided and if I didn't I'd get spanked from both of them. It was very apparent who the new "alpha dog" was in our house—Kathy. She sat there with a grin on her face which told me she intended to make my boy parts toys for anyone who was interested in exploring them. And true to form, it turned out that was the case.

The next day, Kathy purposely planned to walk with us to my sacred park. Not a bike ride, not a run but a walk. She was going to take us to play. I knew she was going to put me on display to the general public. I tried the excuse that I had to cut the lawn, but she said she couldn't allow me to do that without someone else being home. It was a safety issue. Yeah, right!

I then made mistake two. I told her I wasn't going to the park naked. She just stood there with a gaping mouth as I ran upstairs and put on a pair of gym shorts. When I got downstairs she told me to take them off. I refused and the phone got another work out. This time when Dad spoke to me he just said I'd earned another spanking and now a month of nudity. He also said if I intended to get my clothes back anytime soon I'd better not push the issue again. It was clear he'd make me be naked any time I wasn't in school for the next year, if I balked again. I wasn't going to push the issue. Off came the shorts. But before we left she took me in the living room and whipped me again in front of the mini audience for defying her. She also told me the belt was coming with us to the park, just in-case.

We walked down the sidewalk slowly. Kids passing on their bikes laughed and pointed and many playing in their yards ran down for a closer look. I remember all too well the boner I had nearly all afternoon. Kathy in her teacher voice would ask the younger kids if they wanted to "touch it". Most did. Her facial expression reflected her joy at my humiliation as what seemed like hundreds of four to ten year old hands manipulated my penis and testicles. She took special pleasure in the interest of the little girls. As I recall many of them said they'd never touched a boy's 'wiener' before. Some admittedly had never seen one before. It truly was an educational process for many.

At the park, and I remember this vividly, when we arrived at the playground, I was going to try and stay seated on the bench and hopefully close my legs so my genitals were shielded from view, but no way. Kathy made me go play on the monkey bars and the merry go round and she reminded me she'd be watching that I didn't cover up even for a second. Again, my body was the hit of the gathered crowd. One mother even took several photographs of me while her two little cherubs held my dick and/or balls.

That night, I pleaded with my father to lift the naked thing. I told him he could whip my butt every night if he wanted to, but the naked thing was too much. He then calmly reminded me I was in for another butt whipping that evening anyway as I didn't do what I was told, but he also said it was evident my naked state was far more punishing so he thought both were still in order. As with the night before, after dinner Kathy and the two little ones gathered to watch big brother get his ass beaten to purple by Dad. He didn't disappoint. When he was finished I couldn't talk and there was snot and tear moisture over the cushion of the couch. Kathy loved it she just kept that smirk.

"You know Mr. Cummins, I think I need to get as good at it as you are. I need to be able to make more of a point." She remarked as I was positioned in the corner for my hour.

He just reminded her she wasn't strong enough to swing with his force, but that she could offset the quality shortcomings with more quantity. Actually, if memory serves me, he said if I had to be whipped she should stop at nothing less then twenty swats. She agreed to do that.

For some reason Max hadn't had one spanking and I'd already had four. I couldn't understand how he managed to stay out of trouble. I was getting deeper in trouble and he was getting more angelic. He didn't even balk at Kathy bathing him every night, and, yes, after his bath he was stiff as a board. His little peter stuck out about three inches and bounced to and fro as he went to the living room to get his pajamas on. He did tell me Kathy had a special way to clean his butt hole and he didn't like it at first, but it was okay now. Curious, I asked what. He said she put soap on her finger and stuck it in him—all the way in him. I asked if he'd told Dad about that. He said Dad was in there shaving once when she did it and he didn't say anything, he just told her to 'make sure he's clean all over'.

Now, Max was a good looking little kid. Mom loved boy legs and always bought short shorts for us when the weather got warm. The styles were getting longer, like Bermuda length, but not for us it was athletic short shorts with the wide open legs. Shoot even when the knee socks were in style, we couldn't wear anything longer than ankle length. That was embarrassing enough but she often made Max go without underpants so his little boyhood was on display to others. She even made him go to school like that. Tell me again girls and women don't like having their little boys exposed. Nobody complained. When I wore those shorts, always with underwear after fourth grade, I couldn't help but think if I was a girl they'd send me home to change. But I wasn't. And no one, not teacher nor principal ever made a remark about how short my shorts were. They did stare up my legs though, even when I did have underwear on. I watched them do it. In fact, Mrs. Emerson in third grade made me sit with my legs spread apart. That was the last year I had to go without underpants. Mrs. Emerson knew and enjoyed the view. She told Mom it would toughen me up if she made me wear those shorts all year round. So that year many times I trudged to school in six or seven inches of snow with my bare legs and lightly covered genitals open to the cold air. I don't know why she waited but she didn't stop the winter thing until shortly before she died. Who knows?

My teachers and the principal used to paddle me when I misbehaved and they'd take me to a private area, make me pull my pants down and tear up my bare bottom. My mother and father were never ones to complain. They expected them to do it. During my childhood, parents didn't complain when their kids were spanked at school. They only complained if they weren't. Man, how times have changed.

Anyway, back to my predicament. As the summer went on, Kathy used the strap on me every chance she got. I was completely nude for two months. She decided I should stay that way an extra month and Dad agreed. She loved bringing her girl friends over and making me succumb to their examinations and touching. She also loved to find some reason to whip me while they were there. She loved showing off her power over me.

And that, my friends, is the story of one boy learning that spanking isn't anything when it comes up against humiliation. Don't let anyone tell you they are embarrassed at the sight of nude eleven year old boys, they secretly love it. Watching their firm young scrotums and smooth young dicks and hoping for an erection is akin to going to NASCAR and watching expectantly for wrecks. Don't let anyone—especially females of any age—tell you that witnessing a young boy getting his ass torn up isn't exciting. It's akin to the thrill watching boxing. Thankfully, there's some sadistic part of human nature that loves both.