by Firmhand<>

Rodney waited nervously in the outside office of the vice-principal trying to avoid the slightly bemused look of the elderly secretary, Mrs. Greenfield. She didn't really smile, but from her frequent glances in his direction he couldn't help but imagine that she was actually enjoying watching him sweat and squirm. Since Rodney could hear Mr. Turner clearly from the outer office as he spoke on the phone, it was obvious that Mrs. Greenfield would be able to hear everything that went on once Rodney w as called inside, especially if that included a paddling. His face grew hot at the thought of her sitting at her typewriter listening to the sound of the paddle landing on his rear end and whatever sounds he made while it was happening.

Rodney half hoped for detention or even a suspension, but he knew there wasn't much of a chance of that. He'd gotten in trouble too many times recently and was in line for the paddle; besides Mr. Turner usually didn't give suspensions to kids who di dn't have a parent at home to supervise them and Rodney's mom worked full time. His dad had left a long time ago. Jeez! How had he let it go this far? Turner was supposed to give the worst paddlings in the whole school district! Rodney had been given two swats by his PE coach once last year with a thin strip of plastic, but from what the other guys said, that was nothing compared to Turner and the heavy wooden paddle he used. Rodney winced at the thought.

Suddenly the door opened and Mr. Turner called him in. He was very tall, dark-haired, with a light beard and mustache, and lean, but from what the other guys said he must have arms like iron. As soon as he went in, Rodney's eyes fixed on the paddle lying on Mr. Turner's desk -- his fate was already decided. The paddlewas easily two feet long and more than a half inch thick. Turner addressed him in a businesslike tone. Did he have anything to say? No? Well, in that case they would get on with it. Rodney's record was clear enough that there seemed no cause for discussion. If he would just step over the the desk please and turn around.

Rodney's heart was pounding. He had thought he would be able to do this fairly calmly but now his heart was racing and he could hear his own breathing, fast and shallow, almost panting. As he walked over to the desk and turned around he lost track of Mr. Turner's voice till it suddenly grew louder and sharper: "Answer me!" Rodney mumbled something incoherent and Mr. Turner again asked whether he had any questions as to why he was about to be paddled. Rodney whispered, "No, sir."

Mr. Turner ordered him to bend over the desk. Rodney leaned forward and gingerly placed his hands flat on the desk. Mr. Turner's hands grabbed him firmly by the waist and made him take a step backwards so that he was further away from the desk. Th en his hands seized the insides of Rodney's thighs and forced them a few inches further apart. Rodney gasped as he felt himself suddenly being shoved down until he was resting on his elbows. Mr. Turner's big hand took hold of the back of his neck and tu rned his face downwards towards the desktop. Now Rodney couldn't even see what was going on. While one hand held his head in position, the other pushed down on the small of his back so that he arched upwards, his rear end high in the air. Having place d Rodney in position, Mr. Turner stepped back to evaluate his work.

He moved back to the boy's side and Rodney felt his shirttail being pulled upward out of his pants. He could feel Mr. Turner almost delicately turning back his shirttail until an inch or two of his lower back was bared. Then he felt his wallet being extracted from his back pocket and heard it land on the desk beside him, and then those same hands roughly frisked his backside for any other obstacles. Finally, Mr. Turner jerked up on Rodney's waistband till his jeans were tight and taut across his a ss. Rodney trembled and tried to control his breathing throughout these preparations. He closed his eyes and clenched his teeth. Instead of the paddle, he next felt Mr. Turner's firm hands smoothing the seat of his pants, pulling the material even tigh ter. The hands brushed over the sensitive parts of his asscheeks, his upper thighs, between his legs, and even, very briefly, the back of his balls. He kept his eyes closed and sighed ever so softly. "Six swats, Rodney," he heard Mr. Turner's voice announce.

He could sense Mr. Turner's body movements and could tell when the paddle was being raised into the air in a wide back swing -- WHACK!! Rodney's head and upper body jerked upward in pain and surprise. He had imagined being paddled by Mr. Turner, ma ny times in fact, but somehow he had never really imagined how much it would HURT! He was pushed firmly back into position before he could even catch his breath and the second swat landed immediately below the first -- WHACK!! He cried out, he simply co uldn't help it, but Mr. Turner didn't take any notice.

There was a long pause and then a horrendous swing. The paddle landed squarely on his right cheek -- WHACK!! Rodney's whole body curved sideways in agony. Seconds later the next swat landed on the center of his left cheek -- WHACK!! -- and Rodney realized he was about to break into tears. He squeezed his eyes closed tight trying to hold them back. But he began trembling with effort of holding back the sobs.

The fifth swat landed across both cheeks and was even harder than the previous ones -- WHACK!! Rodney rocked back and forth from leg to leg with the pain. He couldn't take this, he couldn't! He started to stand up, but the last and hardest stroke landed before he could make a sound of protest -- WHAAACK!!!!! It knocked him onto the desktop where he lay sobbing and gasping across Mr. Turner's writing pad and pens.

Mr. Turner left him there for a few moments and then ordered him to stand up. This was where, in Rodney's fantasy punishments, Mr. Turner became warm and friendly. He would tell Rodney that he had taken his punishment like a man and perhaps give him a hug. Oh, Rodney wanted that hug!

Instead, Turner told him in serious tones that if Rodney ended up back in his office anytime in the next month he could expect even more severe punishment. Finally, Turner did offer Rodney his hand and as they shook he said, "Rodney, you're a good kid. There's no reason for you to be getting into this much trouble all the time. I don't want to see you back here, you understand?" Rodney nodded. Just as Rodney turned to leave, Turner reached out, rumpled his hair and said, "Don't disappoint me, okay?"

As soon as Rodney was outside Turner's office the sobs burst out and he rubbed madly at his backside with both hands to alleviate the burning. Suddenly he remembered Mrs. Greenfield and to his horror, there she was at her typewritter watching him! And this time she was definitely smiling! He flushed deep red and rushed out into the hall. As he made his way red-eyed and a little dizzy down the hall, the burning sensation across his ass, the handshake, Mr. Turner's hand smoothing out the seat of his pants, and Mr. Turner rumpling his hair and smiling at him, all melted into one warm, confused feeling that rushed all over him but centered in his crotch. Embarassed and still a little dazed, he turned into the boys restroom and entered one of the stalls, his _c_o_c_k_ now unexpectedly hard and erect. He wasstill breathing hard from the burning sensations licking across his backside. He undid his pants and slipped his hands down inside his underwear and started gingerly to rub his asscheeks. The bare skin was hot and tender to his touch.

Friday: Four days later

Mr. Turner was shouting. "I CANNOT believe that you are back here in less than a week!" His eyes were fierce and furious and Rodney could only hold his head down and wait out the tirade. Eventually, Mr. Turner paused and caught his breath.

"I have just gotten off the phone with your mother."

Rodney looked up in surprise.

"Yes, I had to call her at work. And she reported that your behavior at home has been no better than it has been at school. Do you have ANYTHING to say?" The anger was creeping back into his voice.

Rodney mumbled a hesitant, "No, sir."

"Your mother asked me to do whatever it takes to turn you around, Rodney. And believe me, you don't want to know what that `whatever' might include!" He walked over to the side table and picked up the paddle. "Go over to the desk," he ordered gruffly.

"In all my years of teaching and being vice-principal, I have never had to do this."

Mr. Turner took off his jacket and hung it on the coat rack and then took off his tie. His movements were rough and angry. Rodney was momentarily distracted by Mr. Turner's muscled chest, how it pressed through the pinstripe shirt, how it rose and fell with Mr. Turner's deep angry breathing.

Now Rodney was terrified. What was Mr. Turner going to do?

"Take down your pants, Rodney!" Rodney's eyes grew wide. He put his hands out in front of him and as to push something away from him and his head shook `No!' though he didn't actually utter the word.


Rodney was overcome with fear. He couldn't help reacting to a command so forcefully given, but his hands fumbled at his belt buckle. No one he knew had ever been paddled with their pants down! Later he could scarcely remember this part, how he mumbled please not to make him take down his pants, how he promised he would be good, how he pleaded and begged. But in a few moments his hands were releasing his jeans and letting them slide down his legs to his ankles. Mr. Turner spun him around to face the desk and thrust him into the position he had been in only four days earlier. Rodney's sobs started, though quietly, long before the first swat.

Then the unthinkable happened. Mr. Turner's fingers slipped into the waistband of Rodney's underpants and slowly began to pull them down over his asscheeks exposing bare skin. Rodney jerked up and spun around desperately clutching at the front of his briefs. "No, pleeeeez!" But Mr. Turner manhandled him back into position and pulled his briefs down to his thighs in one final tug. Then he lifted up the back of Rodney's shirt all the way to his shoulders, and suddenly Rodney was there bent over the desk with his bare bottom completely exposed.

Rodney was too terrified to move. He could tell Mr. Turner was behind him but he didn't dare turn around to take a look. After what seemed like an eternity he heard the sound of Mr. Turner slapping the paddle against his palm. Over and over again. Rodney was trembling. Then Mr. Turner drew near him and Rodney felt that big firm hand running roughly over his bare asscheeks, over his upper thighs, even between his legs. Next he felt the wooden paddle being drawn slowly across his bare bottom and he could hardly take the waiting any longer, he was ready to burst into tears right then.

When the first stroke landed on his bare skin he rose up and threw his hands behind him in an effort to protect himself. But Mr. Turner grabbed his wrists and pinned them behind his back, forcing him back down into position. Rodney didn't know why, but all he could say, over and over again, softly, was, "Help, O Help!, Help!" Then the second swat landed. The sensation was so different than being paddled with pants on, it stung so bad! But slowly Rodney began to realize that Mr. Turner was not swinging as hard as he could, not swinging nearly as hard as the paddling he got earlier that week. He realized it stung like the devil and burned like fire, but that Mr. Turner wasn't out to brutalize him, he was holding back...a lot. Each stroke made him gasp but even after the first two swats he could tell he was going to be able to take it after all.

The next swats landed slowly, each with an awful sting. By now Mr. Turner had let go of Rodney's hands and had reached one arm under him around his waist and was holding him in place. Rodney felt a dizzying, sinking feeling as he let himself melt into that strange embrace even while the last whacks licked across his bare bottom. When it was over Mr. Turner stepped behind him and pulled him to his feet. The arm that had been around his waist now clutched him around the chest. He felt himself pulled backwards till he lost his balance and was held up only by leaning against Mr. Turner's chest. The boy sighed and a couple of tears rolled down.

Mr. Turner whispered "Sssssshhhh" in his ear and stroked his hair. Rodney turned his head so that his cheek brushed up against Mr. Turner's beard. One of Mr. Turner's hands was now massaging Rodney's hot asscheeks. Rodney wanted the moment to last forever. The hand slowly worked its way around to his stomach, just above Rodney's pubic hair. With a start he realized that he had a full erection and it was waving around in the air. Mr. Turner grabbed it firmly and whispered, "I know your secret, Rodney. After your paddling on Monday I followed you down the hall and into the restroom to make sure you were okay. I thought you might need a good cry, weren't crying..."

Rodney's face flushed beet red as he realized that Mr. Turner had overheard him masturbating in the toilet after his last paddling!

They were both silent for a long moment. Mr. Turner cradled Rodney in one arm and caressed him with the other. Soon Rodney let out a gasp that signaled that he was close to his climax and Mr. Turner abruptly righted him onto his feet and let go of him.

"Pull up your pants, Rodney." His voice was suddenly businesslike and authoritarian again. "Now that we both understand the situation, we are going to make sure that you stay out of trouble for a long, long time!"

Rodney was completely confused and still gasping from the unexpected and sudden end to Mr. Turner's caresses just as he was about to cum.

"You will report to my house this afternoon at 5 pm. And DON'T be late!"

"But I have to be home when my mother gets home from work."

"No you don't. She knows exactly where you'll be." He voice dropped to a whisper, "And DON'T jerk off beforehand!"

Rodney blushed again and left wondering what Mr. Turner and his mother had agreed to....and what lay in store for him this evening!

Five o'clock

When he reported to Mr. Turner's house, Mr. Turner had obviously been waiting for him, for the door swung open instantly. He was ushered inside. Mr. Turner took no time getting down to business. He began lecturing Rodney about his misbehavior in school and at home. He had clearly had a long talk with Rodney's mom because he brought up a long list of infractions that only his mom would have known about. Rodney was nervous but he still could not tell where all this was going. Mr. Turner asked if he had anything to say in his own defence, to which he answered that he did not.

Mr. Turner grabbed him firmly by the back of the neck and steered Rodney into a bedroom. Mr. Turner took a large pillow and placed it at the foot of the bed. Then he spun around without a word and reached for Rodney's belt buckle. Rodney hated the thought of being punished with his pants down -- he was scared of how much a bare bottom spanking would hurt -- and without thinking he reached down briefly to stop Mr. Turner's hands. But Mr. Turner barked at him, "Hands at your sides, Rodney!" Rodney reluctantly obeyed. "And if you give me any backtalk or resist in any way young man, I can tell you that I will be twice as hard on you! Do you understand?!" Rodney nodded uncomfortably.

To Rodney's surprise, Mr. Turner did not take down his pants, but began to slip the black leather belt out of the belt loops of Rodney's pants. Rodney's breathing got a little heavier and faster. He had fantasized about being spanked with that belt when he bought it. He'd seen it at the Army Surplus store and it had seemed so intensely erotic that he had bought it and had worn it often since then.

Mr. Turner turned him around and told him to lie over the pillow. As Rodney slowly began to lower himself down over the large pillow, Mr. Turner doubled up the belt and snapped it loudly it the air. Rodney scrambled back to his feet at the horrible snap of the leather, but Mr. Turner soon pushed him into position and spread Rodney's legs. Rodney clutched handfuls of the bedding and clenched his eyes closed.

The first stroke of the leather belt across the seat of Rodney's jeans made an awful sound -- SMACK!!! -- and he couldn't help but let out a little cry and jump a bit. The sting spread across his bottom. SMACK!!! SMACK!!! SMACK!!! The sting turned into a hot burning, but the pain was far less than the first paddling he had taken on the seat of his pants four days ago and less even than the mild paddling he had received on his bare bottom earlier today. Slowly the combination of the sound of the leather on his levis, the stinging and burning across his bottom, and the very act of surrendering his ass for punishment to this strong, handsome man began to meld into a erotic, _s_e_x_ual sensation more powerful than any fantasy he'd ever had.

His _c_o_c_k_ was hard as a rock and Rodney began to rub himself back and forth against the pillow, losing all sense of embarassment, he moved his ass from side to side and moaned out loud. He knew Mr. Turner could tell exactly what was happening to him. SMACK!!! SMACK!!! SMACK!!! SMACK!!! Rodney was getting close and his moans intensified. Suddenly the spanking stopped! And Rodney let loose a gasp of disappointment. He stopped moving and lay there stunned trying to think of what to say or do next.

"Get up, Rodney," he heard Mr. Turner's voice intone.

Reluctantly Rodney slide down from the pilloe till he was on his knees at the foot of the bed. Mr. Turner tossed aside the pillow and the belt, sat down on the bed and pulled Rodney towards him so that Rodney was kneeling between Mr. Turner's legs. Once again Rodney yearned for Mr. Turner to hug him, but again he was disappointed.

Mr. Turner pulled Rodney's head close to his and began talking in a dark whisper. His voice was oddly warm and intimate; Rodney found it reassuring and seductive. But what Mr. Turner was saying embarrassed him, his whole face went deep red and he tried to turn away.

"Now, Rodney," Mr. Turner said in his deep voice, "since you insist on behaving like a bad little boy...(his hands unbuttoned Rodney's jeans)...I am going to treat you like one...(his zipper was pulled down)...I'm going to turn you over my knee like a little boy...(the waistband of his jeans were pulled down till his pants slid over his cheeks and down to his knees)...and spank you on your bare bottom. Do you understand?" Rodney murmured yes. A sharp smack landed on the seat of his briefs. Somehow he knew exactly what that smack meant. "Yes, sir," he said little louder.

"Your dad wasn't around to give you the spankings you deserved when you were a kid...(his underpants were pulled down over his bottom to join his jeans, bunched up at his knees on the floor, and his erect _c_o_c_k_ flopped back up towards his stomach) now I'm going to have to step in and begin giving you what you've needed all these years....(a hand grasped his _c_o_c_k_ and begin to caress it)...a good, hard, bareass a bad little boy gets from his daddy."

Rodney felt weak and dizzy with the pleasure down at his crotch, his fear of how much a bareass spanking would hurt, and the guilt that always seemed to surface whenever someone mentioned that his dad wasn't if it were somehow HIS fault!

"You've been a bad little boy, haven't you?"

"Yes, sir."

"Say it. Say that you've been a bad little boy."

Rodney hated saying it. It felt stupid, like play acting, but he knew he had to. "Yes, sir, I've been a bad little boy."

While one of Mr. Turner's hands kept his _c_o_c_k_ hard as a rock, the other caressed Rodney's behind, rubbing the curve of his asscheeks, his upper thighs, and even exploring his crack. Rodney felt as if he were in a trance. Mr. Turner lifted Rodney's shirt off over his head. He was practically naked.

"And what happens to bad little boys, Rodney?"

"They get spanked, sir."

"And how do they get spanked, Rodney?"

Rodney's voice grew very quiet, "On their bare bottom, sir."

"Do they get spanked hard?"

"Yes, sir."

Mr. Turner guided Rodney up and over his knees. He positioned the boy carefully so that his backside was well placed for the spanking and so that his erect _c_o_c_k_ hung down between Mr. Turner's legs.

Once again he made Rodney recite after him:

"Yes, sir, I've been a bad little boy....yes, sir, I'm going to be spanked on my bare bottom...yes, sir, I've had this coming for a long time...yes, sir, I'm going to be spanked very hard..." All the while, one hand was caressing his _c_o_c_k_ and the other rubbing his still tender cheeks.

When the first spank landed on Rodney defenceless bottom he jerked up in surprise and half moaned to himself, "Oh God, THIS is going to HURT!"

And it did. The bareass spanking stung like the _d_i_c_k_ens. Sometimes it grew harder and Rodney moaned aloud, and sometimes it just went on and on without hurting too much. Thanks to Mr. Turner's caresses he stayed hard and excited.

At some point, Rodney began to notice how intimately and tenderly Mr. Turner was craddling him and caressing him during the spanking. Several times he leaned down and whispered to Rodney and Rodney could have sworn that he kissed him lightly on his hair and his back. In between the spanks, he rubbed Rodney's buttocks and thighs and almost seemed to moan as he did so.

It slowly dawned on Rodney that Mr. Turner enjoyed this, he was getting turned on by it. And then he noticed the pressure on his side from Mr. Turner's crotch which verified his musings. It all began to feel different. Mr. Turner had found out what turned Rodney on and given it too him, and now Rodney was discovering what turned Mr. Turner on. He moaned, "Ouch! It hurts, sir...Oh please stop, it hurts really hurts..."

When Rodney moaned and whined Mr. Turner pulled him closer and tighter and the spanking grew more intense. And now Rodney knew even more clearly what Mr. Turner liked. He began to whine and moan and the spanking got faster and more intense though not particularly harder. Now Rodney's _c_o_c_k_ nearly hurt it was so hard in Mr. Turner's fist.

Suddenly, for no real reason Rodney cried out, "Ouch! Daddy! Stop! Please stop! Daddy! Owww!" There was a flurry of hot, hard spanks and then suddenly it stopped. Mr. Turner held him tight with both arms, kissed his head and his back, and caressed him tenderly all over. They both stayed in that position breathing heavily.

After a few minutes of silence, Mr. Turner motioned for Rodney to get up. Directing him silently, he took off Rodney's pants and underwear which were gathered round his ankles and positioned him on the bed, now completely naked, on all his knees and elbows, with his legs spread so that his ass was high in the air, spread wide and utterly defenceless.

Rodney thought to himself, "God, what can he want now?" A smack landed on his left cheek and a hand reached under and grabbed his _c_o_c_k_, but now it was filled with something slick and gooey. The hand around his _c_o_c_k_ began to slide back and forth and with the lube, it felt wonderful. The smacks continued to land one after the other, but hardly stung at all, mostly just sound effects. Rodney got more and more excited. The sound of the spanking, the glorious sensations from his _c_o_c_k_, the feeling of surrendering totally to this man...he began to get very close. Mr. Turner guided one of Rodney's own hands down to his _c_o_c_k_ and motioned for him to take over. For a moment the spanking stopped but Rodney continued to jerk himself off. When he looked over his shoulder he winced at what he saw. Mr. Turner was rolling the belt around his fist!

"No! Please, sir! No, don't spank me with the belt on my bareass! No! Please! I promise I'll be good, I promise!.."

But Mr. Turner paid no heed. He began to stroke Rodney's reddened backside with the belt. He had the belt rolled up around his fist so that only about six inches stuck out. When the first stroke landed Rodney understood that this was not going to hurt either, but it made a sharp smacking sound with every lick. The snaps with the belt tip continued and Rodney began jerking off harder and harder. Then suddenly he felt something gooey right on his tight little asshole....Mr. Turner's fingertip, well lubed, began tracing circles round and around Rodney's tender backdoor. Finally a thick knuckle penetrated Rodney and began to move in and out faster and faster.....

Rodney shot a huge load, pumping over and over again and groaning out loud. Then he collapsed onto his stomach.

For a few seconds he was lost to the world. But then he felt Mr. Turner lowering himself on top of Rodney's nakedness. He had taken off his clothes and was naked, too. His _c_o_c_k_, which felt enormous, nestled in between Rodney's still burning cheeks.

Rodney moaned to himself, "Oh God, I going to get _f_u_c_k_ed!" He was terrrified. From everything he had heard from the guys at school joking around, he knew it was supposed to hurt like hell. They were always joking about guys walking funny after they got _f_u_c_k_ed, and he'd heard one story about a guy having to be taken to the hospital to get stitches afterwards. And Mr. Turner's _c_o_c_k_ seemed huge!

But Mr. Turner simply held him tight and slowly began to rock back and forth against Rodney's ass. He had lubed his _c_o_c_k_ so that it rubbed back and forth against Rodney's cheeks and lower back in a _s_e_x_y, slippery warmth. In a few moments he had cum all over Rodney's back.

After a while, he rolled off the boy and tenderly cleaned him up, fore and aft. Then he scooped Rodney into a huge bear hug and kissed him square on the mouth. Rodney melted. Yes! This is what he had always wanted!

They hugged and kissed, caressed and explored. After what seemed like an eternity of gentle touches and hugs, Rodney suddenly lifted his head and asked, "You wanted to _f_u_c_k_ me, didn't you?"

"I sure did," Mr. Turner replied.

Rodney's eyes grew large with trepidation.

But Mr. Turner added, "But you don't have to worry about that now," giving Rodney's bottom a light smack, "at least not until after graduation!" Rodney smiled.

"And by the way, Rodney, we are not only going to make you a model student in terms of your behavior at home and at school, your grades are going to start coming up, too."

Rodney looked at him quizzically.

Mr. Turner smiled mysteriously. "Every Friday afternoon you are going to report here to me and we are going to go over your schoolwork and your mother is going to give me a report on the phone about how you're acting at home...." Mr. Turner smiled again.

"And any time there is any misbehavior on your part, at home or at school...," he paused dramatically, "you will NOT be spanked or paddled, NOR will you receive any...," he lifted a hand to his mouth and coughed a little embarassedly, "Um.. EXTRA attention."

Rodney looked confused, "You mean if I'm bad I WON'T get spanked?" Mr. Turner nodded. Slowly it began to sink in and Rodney broke into a big smile. "But if I'm good..." he smiled at Mr. Turner and reached back and gave himself a smack on his bare butt.

Mr. Turner nodded again.

Rodney burst out laughing and threw himself into Mr. Turner's arms. "You DO know how to make me behave!"

The Following Friday, 6:45:

Rodney came bounding in the back door and into the kitchen where his mother was cooking supper. She turned around and looked at him sternly.

"So, how did your appointment with Mr. Turner go?"

"Well, you gave me a clear report from home this week...." Rodney paused and looked guiltily down at the floor.

She frowned, "And at school?"

Rodney broke into a huge smile, "No misbehavior!"

His mother smiled, "Well that's just wonderful, Rodney," and she turned back to her cooking.

Rodney plopped himself down into one of the kitchen chairs and sucked in his breath as his still burning backside came into contact with the chair seat a little too fast.

His mom turned and looked at him, "What's wrong?"

"Oh nothing, mom," Rodney said and smiled a deep and secretive smile to himself as she turned back to the stove. While she wasn't looking, he reached back with both hands and rubbed his tender backside a bit and smiled.