Bobby, Chapter 04


by Bobbywhip <Bobbywhip@hotmail.com>

Bobby has only grown slightly taller to 5' 4" with a weight of 100 pounds. He'll be sixteen in a couple weeks, but he still looks fourteen, maybe thirteen. Through rigorous exercise on a regular basis, his body is well toned. In the nude he is perfectly proportioned. He's thin but not skinny and weak. His facial features are that of a cute 14-year-old not the maturities look of a young handsome teenager growing to become a young man. His blue eyes and broad smile with dimples give him a boyish look younger than his years. He looks a lot like the teenage actor Fred Savage who played in the TV series "The Wonder Years."

These "Wonder Years" with Bobby have been the best years of my life. He has become far more open to others about being gay, although he's still in the closet at the school he attends. With his buddy Steve, who is also gay, Bobby has a very safe, sane and active _s_e_x_ life. Both boys are into spanking scenes with each other. They have a lot of fantasies in that area.

I have not used corporal punishment on Bobby since he was fourteen. There is no- good use to it; he enjoys it too much. He likes to be spanked by me as part of a masturbation play. At the urging of my psychologist friend Frank, I have spanked him for his _s_e_x_ual release. At Bobby's age it is far safer for Steve and me to do this to Bobby than for him to go on a search to have others do it who could do great harm to his body. Although his teenage hormones are in high gear, that's not all there is to his wonder years.

He is an academic standout with a 4.0 perfect grade point average in high school. His test scores rank him among the brightest of the bright. While maintaining high academic standards, he volunteers on homeless programs, Habitat to Humanity, drug and alcohol prevention for teens and various environmental causes. He plays soccer and belongs to a bicycling club.

We have been spending the past two days looking for a car for his sixteenth birthday. He's been reading car magazines as though he were studying for a major exam. He jumps from wanting an SUV to flashy high-power sports cars. I'm nervous enough about him driving at all. The sports utility vehicles and high-power sports cars are absolutely out of the question, so are pickups. The car issue has not caused tension between us, just lively debate.

My choices for Bobby are a Mercedes E420, Lexus GS 300, Infiniti J30 or a BMW 540iA.

While driving from a car dealer to a car dealer, we've been discussing his college choices for the umpteenth time. He'll soon have to make some choices.

"Dad, I know you want me to go to your alma mater U. S.C. But I have a lot of apprehension about that. It's a great school and all that but I think I'd be uncomfortable going there."

"Why, son? It's close to home."

"Dad, my name is Bobby Perkins. I won't feel comfortable going to Perkins Hall, The Perkins Science Library, passing The Perkins Medical Building. The _d_a_m_n_ place is Perkins this, Perkins that. Why don't they name the school University of Southern California Perkins? When it comes my turn to donate, I'll name something like the Marigold Center for Literature and not the Bobby Perkins Center. Dad, the family has donated zillions of bucks to that place. Why did they and you have to name everything Perkins?"

We were both laughing and laughing. I was trying to search my brain for some reasonable explanation but couldn't find one.

"Son, I don't know why the donations have the Perkins name on things. I guess it's just been family tradition. When it's your turn to do the donating, you can do whatever you want in choosing names."

The laughter continued as we drove into the BMW dealership.

I was driving my four-year-old Ranger with a few dings and badly in need of a wash. It's not a good-looking vehicle now, but I still love it. Bobby and I looked worse than the Ranger. The boy had on frayed cutoff jeans that he cut really short. The jeans rode low on his waist. You could call them short shorts. He was shirtless, and was wearing the dirtiest tennis shoes. I didn't look much better in almost the same get up except I had on a tank top.

"Good morning gentlemen, how may I help you?" the salesman said.

"My son will be sixteen in two weeks, and I want to buy him a car. I'm interested in the 540iA."

"That's an expensive car, sir. Would something more modest be better as a first time car for your son? We have some very good used cars"

"Nope. Show us the car, and let's go for a test drive."

"Yes, sir. The 540iA is part of our 5 series. This car is a beauty. It has a 4.4-liter V-8 engine, 5-speed automatic transmission, recirculating ball steering, 20-spoke cast alloy wheels, metallic paint, power moon roof, side impact air bags, auto-dimming rearview mirror, upgraded onboard computer, leather upholstery, and walnut accents. It has..."

I cut him off. "What do you think, son?"

Bobby got in the car behind the wheel looking at all the bells and whistles and checking out the many buttons.

"What kind of sound system and stereo does it have?" he said.

"You're looking at our optional Premium Sound System that includes AM/FM stereo with cassette, CD, digital sound processing, 14 speakers, and anti-theft system."

"Wow, Dad. I like it. I like it a lot."

Fourteen speakers, I thought to myself, so he can blast the planet with that _f_u_c_k_ing stuff he calls music.

"Let's go for a test drive," I said.

"OK, sir. But I'm sorry that I can't let your son drive it. You may drive, however."

The car is a four-door sedan. I told the salesman to get in the back seat. I'll drive with Bobby in the front passenger seat.

"Sir, it's company policy that we sit in the front."

"Break company policy if you want a sale," I said.

"How do I turn on the stereo, sir? Is it this button?" Bobby asked.

"Yes. Set it to the station you want and listen to the great sound."

This salesman doesn't know what's going to happen when the kid finds his station. Sure enough, Bobby found his station and raised the volume so loud I thought my _f_u_c_k_ing ears would fall off. I saw the salesman in the rearview mirror with his fingers in his ears.

"Turn that thing down, son, or you're going to get a bicycle and not a car."

"Sorry, Dad. Sorry mister. Is this better, Dad?"

"We know it works, Bobby, turn it off and study the rest of the car."

"Jeeze, Dad, what a pain."

During the test drive, I liked the way it handled. I found a large vacant parking lot belonging to some factory that had apparently closed down. With the salesman in fear of his job, I insisted that Bobby drive slowly around the lot. The kid was like a five-year-old at Christmas. I was sold.

"We'll take it. Lets go back and sign the papers."

The salesman was so excited I thought he might pee his pants at any moment.

I sat at a desk with some manager of sorts who had reams of papers he was going to have me fill out.

"Let's talk about financing, sir. We have several options and..."

I cut him off.

"No financing this is a cash deal. Just do the basic paperwork. Also, I want every option there is. And throw in a cell phone in case Bobby leaves his at home. You will deliver it to my house on the day of his birthday. I want it brought to the house fully fueled on a flat bed truck. Wrap the car in a large red ribbon and put a large 2'x3' birthday card on the front window. Don't tell the boy about the ribbon and card. Total up the cost."

The manager had this dumb look on his face with mouth wide open. Soon he began calculating. Bobby had been playing with a similar car in the showroom. He finished his play and sat beside me. The manager was doing his math and gave me the price.

"Mr. Perkins the car is $49, 900 with $5,025 in options, plus tax, license the total comes to $59,593. Are you comfortable with that?"

"No problem." I wrote out a check. Fifteen minutes later we were driving home in the Ranger.

"Dad, thanks. I can't thank you enough. I love that car, and I'll take good care of it."

"I'm sure you will, son. Tomorrow we enroll you in your second driving school. You're going to get a deluxe program. I've hired some special tutors to teach you what to do in skids, when a tire blows out and a bunch of other things."

"I can't wait, Dad. I want you to be proud of me. I promise you I'll be a safe driver and won't be a reckless teenager."

"You better not or I'll give you the whipping of your life. On second thought you'd just enjoy that."

"Dad, if you stopped whipping me that would be real punishment. I couldn't take that."

Bobby punched me on the arm and began laughing. I am a nervous wreck thinking of him driving on his own. I can't be an overly protective parent. He's got to learn to fly on his own. Then I punched him on the arm and messed up his hair and started tickling him. Without his shirt on, he was a great target for tickling, and it drives him nuts with laughter. We were jostling back and forth so much I had to pull the car over to a curb and stop. We were wrestling so much and laughing it probably looked a little strange to the police officer who pulled in behind us.

The officer came to the Ranger and knocked on my window. We were having so much fun I didn't hear him.

"Dad, there's a cop."

"What's the matter, officer?"

The cop looked at Bobby with some concern.

"Are you all right, boy? Is there some trouble here?"

"No officer, Dad and I were just having fun. Dad just bought me a car for my sixteenth birthday. Everything's fine, sir."

"I'm not beating up on my son, officer. It's just friendly fun."

"Ok, guys. It just looked suspicious to me. Have a nice day."

We drove off both laughing and telling jokes. It was a fun day. Nearing the house, Bobby turned to me and asked:

"Dad, would you do me a favor?"

"Anything you want, son."

"Well it's getting close to my birthday, and I thought it would be nice if you whipped me. You know, sort of keep me in training every day until the big day when my ass really gets whipped hard."

I looked at him and burst out laughing. I have been laughing so hard this past hour that my sides were hurting.

"Sure, son, if that's what you want. Steve will have to pitch in to help, too. My arm and hand will get tired and blistered."

Bobby was laughing and getting excited. The kid can immerse himself so deeply in his studies, sports, volunteer activities, but his mind is never too far away from _s_e_x_ and his fantasies.

When we arrived home Bobby wanted to know if he should go to his room. The kid can't wait to get a spanking. I guess he's really into his mood. I only wish he could share with me some of his spare hormones. The kid has far more than his fair share.

"Not so fast, son. You're going to build into this. Put on your thong bikini and go out to the backyard. I'll be there in a few minutes."

He gave me a quizzical look wondering what I was going to do. Too excited to ask questions, he ran to his room.

I went to the backyard wearing my thong bikini, carrying a short rope, some padded cuffs and a whip. The whip is a cat-o-nine-tails made out of synthetic material. Each strand is about 3/4-inch wide, 1/16th" thick and 15" long. You could whip someone as hard as possible until the cows come home and not inflict any injury or damage or leave a welt. It can sting a bit but that's it. A harmless toy. Used correctly, though, it adds fuel to a fantasy, warms the body of a bottom and build very intense _s_e_x_ual excitement in someone who's deep in a fantasy. Another plus is that you can whip someone for a long time and have a lot of fun. You can't do that with a flogger, unless you want to cause injury and damage.

Bobby did not hear me come out to the yard. He was laying on his stomach with elbows propping him up slightly. His fingers were pinching and scratching his tits. _d_a_m_n_, what a beautiful boyish body this kid has. He has a great looking all-over tan; not a line or white spot on him. I wondered what was going through his mind as he was preparing his fantasy. He turned his head and noticed me.

"Hi, Dad, what do you have there?"

"Walk over to that tree, son."

He looked at the tree and back at me wondering what was going to happen. The smile on his face said it all. He really didn't give a _d_a_m_n_. This was going to be fun. He walked briskly to the tree and stood there looking at me.

I put the things on the ground. He looked at them trying not to smile while trying to look frightened and worried. He was trying, but his face wasn't cooperating. Not a word out of him. He just did as he was told.

"Give me your wrist. Now the other."

I put the padded cuffs on his wrists and attached one end of the rope to a ring on one cuff. I threw the rope over a tree limb. Pulling on the rope, I raised his right arm high above his head. He looked up at his wrist, then at me, then obediently gave me his other hand. Not a word from him. I looked at the basket between his legs and thought he would burst out of that thong bikini at any second.

With his left wrist attached to the rope, I pulled on the rope until both arms were securely tied high above his head. Being so much taller than Bobby, it was easy for me to secure him.

I stood back and looked at the boy in his thong bikini, hanging by his wrists. His feet were firmly on the ground. He relaxed one leg pushing his waist to one side. He pushed out his chest. _d_a_m_n_ he was beautiful. For people into this kind of fantasy, they could climax just looking at him.

Bobby kept trying to look serious and worried, but he was too happy and excited. I walked over to him and placed my hands on the sides of his chest about where his nipples are and started turning him slowly around so his backside faced me. My fingers were on his tits. I massaged them lightly as I turned him. The boy seemed to really like that feeling. He kept alternating his legs so his butt and waist went right then left. He looked up at his wrists. Then he tried to turn slightly to see what I was doing.

God_d_a_m_n_ it, Dave, keep your sanity. The kid is turning me on. There is a border I cannot cross. I'm the kid's Dad not his lover. This is simply a play thing. As Frank said, the kid has these fantasies and will do them with or without me. It's safer if he does them with me or his friend Steve. If some guys saw this kid so willing to be a slave boy ready to be whipped, they might go overboard and do him real damage, physically and psychologically. This is safer play for him. But I have to be a father and not a lover. His lover can be Steve. Never will I cross that line. Some would argue that this is not a healthy father, son thing to do. I can absolutely agree with them. Well, enough of the guilt trips. Let's do his thing.

"You're going to be punished, boy. I'm going to whip your ass good and hard with this cat-o-nine-tails."

"How many lashes am I going to get, sir?"

"Boy, you'll receive at least a hundred lashes. Push that ass out so I can whip it."

"Yes, sir, I've been a bad boy and need to be punished. Please whip me, sir. I deserve to be whipped."

He leaned forward with his wrists holding his weight and pushed out his butt still alternating legs so his waist and butt danced side to side ready for the lash. He made himself a very inviting target. Where the hell did he learn this _s_e_x_y stuff? At such a young age, this kid has an imagination about these activities that I didn't learn until my 20's. Wow, do I envy him.

I had Bobby wear his thong instead of being naked for three reasons: (1) I did not want to see his erect member going wild, let Steve see that; (2) Since I was using a whip, I did not want to accidentally strike him on the balls when I whipped his legs; (3) If he climaxed let it happen in the pouch. I did not want to see that either. Seeing him erect and climaxing would lay a guilt trip on me as his Dad.

I put my right-hand flat on his stomach at the navel to hold him in place while my left hand spanked his ass cheeks several times to warm it up. The boy let out sighs of pleasure and was breathing deeply.

Taking the whip, I stood to his right side and lashed his ass cheeks fairly hard. He tried to turn to watch me. About one lash every few seconds slapped his butt, which was moving slightly from side to side. After the twentieth lash, I paused and rubbed his bottom. No redness on his cheeks yet. I rubbed my fingers across his upper chest lightly massaging his tits and at the same time I whipped the boy harder. He had now received 40 lashes. A slight redness was appearing on his left ass cheek.

I switched sides and stood to his left. The whip was lashing his naked ass much harder. In a couple minutes the boy had received another 20 lashes. The total was now 60 lashes and his ass was much redder.

Bobby let out a deep sigh and I noticed he was dripping down his legs. The boy had climaxed. I lightly ran my hand down his back.

"You've received 60 lashes, boy. Have you had enough?" I thought surely he would want to stop after climaxing.

"Master, I have not served you well. I deserve to be punished and have been a bad slave boy. Please whip me, Master. Please whip me."

I couldn't believe it. He's really deep into this. OK, let your fun continue. This time I took aim at his upper thighs just below the ass cheeks. He was whipped more slowly now but harder. In a few minutes the boy received another 20 lashes across the thighs. All he did was give out sighs and moans of pleasure. I paused and lightly rubbed his back and then massaged his chest again with my fingers catching his tits.

I stopped for a moment to examine his backside. He was red.

"Slave boy, you have now received 80 lashes."

"Master, I am your whipping boy. Please punish me, sir"

"OK, boy. This time I'm going to whip your back."

I started at his left shoulder and brought the whip vertically down his back. The aim was now to lash between the first strike and to the left of the spine. I did the same to his right shoulder.

Then I aimed slightly below the left shoulder but above the ending of his rib cage. All of the lashes were aimed away from the spinal column and above the kidney and vital organ area. This is the safest way to whip someone's back, especially if the Top were using a leather whip or flogger. Never strike the base of the neck, spinal column or the area of vital organs below the rib cage or the base of the spin, the small bone that meets the crack in the ass cheeks. This whip can't cause damage to vital organs and the spine. It's just my usual method. Although sometimes I would violate it with this particular whip.

Bobby was loving this part of the whipping. The way he moved his body and the sounds he was making showed that he enjoyed this very much. He received 40 lashes on his back. I imagine this is the first time he has been whipped on his back, and it probably fulfilled a hidden fantasy and desire.

"Whipping boy, you have now received 120 lashes."

"Sir, there are sins I have not told you. Please give me another 40 lashes on my back."

I rubbed his wrists and hands to see if there was any numbness. He apparently knew what I was doing and moved all his fingers easily. This boy is holding up remarkably well.

"Please whip me, Master."

This time the lashes landed much harder and faster on his back. He twisted his upper body in rhythm with the whipping, sighing and small moans were his only sounds. The last lash was the hardest of all. Bobby just flinched.

I walked around to face him at an angle and rubbed my hand across his chest and fingered his tits lightly. I gently pulled his head back by pulling on his hair. He was looking up at his wrists, and with his chest extended I then started whipping him horizontally across his chest with the emphasis on his tits. He received another 20 lashes. I was careful to keep his head back and away from the whip as it landed on his chest. If I didn't do that an accident might happen and I could have struck his face.

His basket was bulging and there were drops flowing down his leg. The kid climaxed again. I can't take much more of this.

"Boy, you have received 180 lashes. You have been punished well."

Bobby was breathing deeply and downloading from his climax and the scene. I gently rubbed his chest, back and butt. I stood behind him and hugged him to give him reassurance and bring him down from his scene.

"Thanks, Dad. God do I thank you. One more favor, please. Would you take some pictures of me with my digital camera?"

What the Hell does this kid want to do, start a _s_e_x_ magazine or something? Then it hit me.

"Don't think for one minute that you are going to post these on the web, son."

"Absolutely not, Dad. I would let Steve see them. You'll see them, maybe Frank. That's it. I'm not so stupid as to post these. My future is too important to me to have stuff like this spread around showing my face. Please, Dad."

I found the camera in his room. He posed beautifully for 16 shots and some close-ups. They might look kinda neat on the computer screen. I untied Bobby and rubbed his wrists and hands.

"Dad, I love you." He gave me a kiss on the cheek.

"I hope, I know you enjoyed that a lot. What are you going to do now?"

"Get cleaned up. I'll put these things away, Dad. I want to see what I look like in a mirror."

Bobby took off for the house, and I went for a swim. My groin was hurting from all that activity. I'll have to relieve myself soon or I'll burst open. But I must focus on something else and not Bobby while doing it.

I went to my room, relieved my _s_e_x_ual urges, got cleaned up and dressed comfortably in regular shorts and sport shirt. It was time to visit Bobby.

"Hi, son, those pictures look very good. You sure did that quickly. Those are neat. It's a great slide show, son."

"Thanks, Dad. I can't wait for Steve to see them. I'll give him a call."

"Why don't the three of us go out to dinner tonight, son? We could stop at one of those teenage clubs you like. You guys can dance and have a good time. I like to watch the kids, anyway. Trouble is I can't stand that _d_a_m_n_ music."

"That would be great, Dad. There's a neat private club in Hollywood that has gay and straight kids, most of them our age. It would be a lot of fun. I'll call Steve. I can't wait to tell him what happened today, anyway. This has been such a wonderful day for me, a new car, a great whipping scene. And to cap it off with dinner and a club, that's sooooo cool, Dad. I love it. Oh, I got you some earplugs, Dad, so we can keep peace in the family."

In less than an hour Steve came running in the front door yelling that he's here and ready to go. That boy has the run of the house, including a key to the place. When he comes bursting in, he usually heads first to the kitchen for food and then searches and yells for Bobby. The kid is like a second son to me. Sometimes I think he might as well move in, he's here so much.

Both boys are friendly academic competitors and involved in the same extra curricular activities. They are inseparable. They mirror each other's achievements and enthusiasm for learning. I trust the boys explicitly. Steve stays over many times obviously sleeping with Bobby for obvious reasons.

Steve has finally come out of the closet with his parents at his 24-year-old lesbian sister's encouragement. There was some disappointment with Steve's parents who wanted him to carry on the family name. They were counseled by Frank and have come to accept Steve as gay. The boy had a big burden lifted from him. Steve's parents know about the relationship with Bobby and have accepted that, too.

Steve is just an inch taller than Bobby and with the same build. Like Bobby, Steve looks younger than sixteen. He's two months older than Bobby. Looking at them you would swear they were brothers. They look, act and think alike.

Steve received a Lexus GS300 for his birthday. But he is on a strict curfew for any nighttime driving. I have imposed the same curfew on Bobby either with Steve or when Bobby gets his own car. They can drive locally in Orange County but not to Los Angeles or Hollywood. Neither boy wants to be grounded and stranded for disobeying the rules. More important, neither want to be grounded so that they cannot be together. That would be the ultimate punishment I think neither could handle well.

Thank heavens they are gay. I'd be tearing my hair out if they were straight and boy and girl. By now I'd be a grandparent for sure.

Bobby and Steve got together to look at this afternoon's pictures on the computer. Steve wanted every detail about what happened, nothing omitted. I let the boys do their thing in privacy. I could only imagine what could be going through their minds on how to duplicate this afternoon's scene between them.


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