Frère Jacques 2


by Marc Le Fesseur <Marc_le_fesseur@email.com>

This story is about a 13 year old boy, living with his brother and sister-in-law. It depicts spanking M/b, F/b (b non-consenting). If this makes your blood boil, go and read the fairy tales by the GRIMM brothers. Those too are very exciting, even for kids.

This story has been told to me (the writer) by my French friend Marc le Fesseur and his wife Mireille (Mir for the friends). Although I do not endorse their views on child rearing, I found the theme interesting enough to share it with my readers. Compare it with a writer telling how a murder was planned and commited.

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Four

A few minutes after I had Jacques put in bed Mir served me my tea. "Well", she said, "I dont think your little bro will have a good night. That was quite a thrashing you gave him, but he needed it, every whack! By the way, did you soothe his buttocks with some crème?"

"No, why should I?"

"Well, for one reason, my parents thaught me that everything was forgiven once my spanking was over. My daddy allways massaged my butt afterwards and I found that very relaxing. Deep in my heart I knew this was a confirmation he was not angry at me anymore."

"And your second reason?"

"Ah, oui, next week ,when the school resumes, the first grade will have their 'Semaine Sportive'. Jacques ,being a keen sportsman, will certainly participate."

"Really, Mir, I dont see what connection you are trying to make between a week of sports and his spanked bottom."

"Mais enfin, Marc, you have been 13 yourself, haven't you? Boys that age, when changing clothes in the lockerroom, are looking at eachother! Would you have been pleased to show your red bums to your friends two or three times a day?"

"Oh My, certainly not, I would have died on the spot. Now I see your point. "

As soon as I had finished my thea, I went upstairs. Jacques was still awake, laying on his tummy. I asked him if his buttocks still were sore, and he confimed they were stinging terribly. I than told him that I had some cool crème with me to soothe the pain. He rather liked the idea, but - ashamed to show me his bum - asked me to apply the crème under the covers. Of course I did not give in, I was looking forward to caress his protruding globes but I wanted to see what I was doing. So I told him I did not want to stain the sheets with the crème and after a moment of reflection his desire to ease the pain convinced him and he removed the sheets. I told him to double-fold his cushion and place it under his tummy. He now presented his red globes in full splendor.

During the massage of his butt he all the time was wiggling his ass, showing that he did like the touching of his erogenous zone. He even spread his legs as wide as he could, opening his crack as a kind of invitation. At first I could not believe my eyes: his little hole and the perineum was hot-red. But than I honoured his offer and gave the whole area a nice treatment. All his previous shyness had disappeared by now, he even was laughing aloud when the tops of my fingers touched his dangling scrotum from time to time.

When I had covered every inch of his hillocks he asked to rub his back and legs as well. Again, he enjoyed it very much, except when I touched the hollow of his knee. I knew he is very ticklish at that spot. When I still lived at home I used to romp with him and when I touched him there he allways surrenderd.

Finaly I decided to call it a day. I kissed him on his cheeks (yeah, the lower ones!) and spread the bedsheet over him.

Mir was waiting for me in the familyroom. "Well", she said, "did Jacques appreciate your massage?"

"Gosh, yes, he had a good time, but so did I."

"I thought so, because it took you so long. But I cannot believe your rubbing his bum with crème did take half an hour. Come on, Marc, tell me what you two were doing?"

"Olala!, young lady, what are you suggesting? Mind you, if he were a few years older I would not mind... but you know I dont like veal. I prefer a rather nice solid sausage!"

With that I grabbed me at my homonym .... (Indeed... you understood what I mean.)

After a few minutes playing - the sausage had miraculous doubled in size - she continued: "Seriously now, your brother is a very sensitive boy. Are you admitting now I was right when I recommended to rub his sore bottom?"

"Yeah Mir, I must congratulate you. It appears to me you have a gift to educate childeren. You certainly know how to deal with young boys."

"Let's go upstairs and I will show you I also know how to handle older boys like you", she menaced.

[MMSA Stories pages not being protected by Age Check, that part of the story is left to your own fantasy!]

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FIVE

A Letter from mom.

A few weeks passed by without further incident, much to Mir's disappointment who had asked me to be actively involved in Jacques's next punishment.

Than we got a letter from Spain. I dont want to bother you with the usual chat, but there were a few surprising points in it: ---------------------------------------------------------------- "...... Your dad and I do hope Jacques is behaving well. If not, please do not hesitate, pull down his pants and spank his bare bottom until you feel he has learned your lesson......"

The next part had Mir laughing: ".....You will remember Marc, when you had Jacques' age you much more dreaded the fact you had to present your nude bottom, than the actual spanking. You allways were squirming your body whilst I dropped your last undies, afraid somebody would catch a glance at your privies. Strange enough you seemed not minding I saw your whole body when I bathed you!...."

".....I all the sudden remember I did not instruct you to check that Jacques takes a bath regulary! I dont know why, but since his last birthday he seems to be afraid of water. The day before we left for Spain, I discovered he had not washed his body during the whole week. His knees and neck looked like he just came from the underground of a coalmine. Please keep an eye on him...." ----------------------------------------------------------------

Six

Saturdaynight Jacques was permitted to stay up to watch a Disney-movie. During the commercial break Mir ordered him to put on his pyjamas. The moment he stood in his underpants she ordered him to come closer to her and started inspecting his body. His hands were reasonable clean, but his back, upperlegs and feet were a disaster.

"Have not I told you only this morning, Jacques, to take a bad before le diner?"

Brash he replied: "I do not have to take orders from you, you are not my mother!"

Immediatly I interfered: "Olala, mon cher frère. It looks you forgot you are our guest and I do not accept your big mouth! Go to the bathroom this instance!"

"No, I want to see the second part of the movie."

"Well, if you're acting like a child, I'll have to treat you like one, and give you a bath as if you weren't old enough to do it yourself!"

I grapped his arm and nearly dragged him to the bathroom."

Oportunity was too nice to let go off it.

I licked my lips in delighted anticipation of what lay in store. Slowly, I reached out my hands to take hold of my brother's pyjama bottoms and, noticing but studiously ignoring his horrified expression, I pulled them, ever so slowly, down. My heart was pumping furiously and my eyes were open wide. Any second now the boy could start protesting and then the show would be over. Indeed Maman had asked us to keep an eye on him, but she had not mentioned that I should wash him. But he seemed to accept the power our Maman had delegated to me and did ot utter a word.

My hands went down exposing the lovely pair of his young buns. Jacques stood naked, his body gleaming with a golden tan except for a pale band around his midsection. At the frontside his charming bundle of fair pubescurls sprung to life before my very eyes. As I dropped the now-useless cotton to the floor, I allowed my gaze to wander freely over the whole tempting region. His weenie wasn't hard and I couldn't help feeling slighted disappointed by that, even though I knew that I was being silly. In fact, the whole purpose of my bareing his butt was not erotic, I only had to teach him a lesson which he would remember a long, very long time.

However, I badly wanted to look closer, to touch the peach-coloured sausage shape, to examine the spongy texture. But I knew I could not. I needeb a real good reason for that spectacle. Instead I spoke, conjuring my most businesslike tone: "There, that's a good boy, now hop into the tub."

I stood back and watched as Jacques stepped over the edge and lowered himself with a contented sigh into the bubbles.

I watched him as, eyes closed, he wallowed in the slippery warmth of the water, and let him soak a few minutes.

Then I directed him to stand so that I could wash him properly. Reluctanr he raised his body out of the water, turning his back to me. As the boy stood I couldn't help but notice how much contrast there was between what was tanned and what was usually covered and how the drops of water now rolled down his smooth skin. There is truly no comparison to the beauty of youth.

I took the bottle of lemon-scented showergel and squeezed a large puddle into one hand. With an almost clinical air I extended my survey. I spread soapy lemoniness over the sloping shoulders and over his back. I had come to the lad's rump. I was trying to get Jacques to lean forward and part his legs so that I could clean the cleft of his bottom, but the boy's body had frozen.

"Spread your legs, wide, as in PE."

"Please Marc, dont wash me down there", he sniffled.

I didn't even bother to answer but clipped the lad lightly on the back of his head and then reinforced my order with a sharp slap of my open hand on the boy's bum. Hesitating he spread his long legs.

I could see from behind that his ballsack had become very tight to his body. I was sure he was wearing a woody in front. I covered his tight buttocks with a cleansing film and smiled at their perfection with the smile of a forensic scientist with a wonder for the beauty of human form. It was obvious Jacques felt extremly embarrased being treated like a little child. He had closed his eyes at the first touch of my hands and didn't open them again. It took a long time, to get every nook and cranny clean.

"Turn around Jacques. Face me."

Although knowing better he refused: "Non Claude, you know pretty well that Maman allways told us not to show our _g_e_n_i_t_a_l_s_ to other people."

"Nom de dieu", I cursed at him, "I'm NOT some other people, I'm your elder brother! Maman put me in charge of you and she told me to ascertain thet you washed yourself thorougly, knowing from experience you are a dirty little kid! And kiddies cann't wash themselves, they are bathed by their parents. That your weenie therefore comes into clear sight is not the purpose, it's only a consequence and no kid of 7 or 8 years would bother about that."

He still was not convinced: "I have let you wash my back and my butt. I must admit I have a little trouble to reach to the last spot there. But I'm quite able to wash my front."

"Last warning, Jacques. Turn around and stop making such a fuss about me seeing your family jewelry. You hardly can expect me to wear dark sunglasses, can you?"

"No! I will not show you my front! It's too humiliating!"

"Jacques," I calmly explained, "Your punishment involves more than pain. Being washed like a little boy provokes also embarassment. Now put your hands on your head so that you are standing in front of me completely nude and everything clearly showing."

"Oh, Marc, please dont do this to me. Honestly, I never ever will skip my bath again!"

I was realy pissed off now. Without any more ado I grabbed him at his slender waist and lifted him out of the tub. I pût my right feet on the edge of the tub. A second later his nude body lay soaking wet over my lap.

The first slap echoed through the bathroom. Immediatly I knew that a wet bottom was much more sensitive, I could feel the effect of that slap shimering in my own hand. "Ohw! ohw!", he cryed. But meantime I had decided to warm his tush thorougly.

Spank! Spank! Spank! Spank!! Spank!! Soon he was really howling and his legs were kicking about and his whole body was bouncing up and down. But I just kept laying into him, smack after smack after smack!

Drops of water sparkled on both cheeks, which clenched and unclenched in his attempts to get free. Suds fluw everywhere. Jacques' butt grew increasingly hot. He squirmed and kicked his legs, but was unable to escape my energetic blows. A patch of pink, gradually becoming red, decorated each cheek.

"Ow, Marc! That really stings!" Jacques howled. "Good!" I answered, "that's the purpose of this excercise!". I well knew that the wetness of the boy's backside magnified the severity of my swats. The once white butt was now more than dry - it was burning hot. Its color, snow-white only a few minutes before, was now fiery red. Spank! Spank! Spank! Spank!! Spank!! Spank!! Spank!! Spank!! Spank!! He was yelling and bawling and promising to be good forever.

His wet bottom was as red as a tomato but I just smacked and smacked and smacked. I still thought I could obtain a nicer colour, and gave him a few real stingers. He uttered a sharp howl: "Oooohhhww!! Please stop, Claude, I will let you wash my front."

Mireille had heard his yelling and came rushing into the bathroom. Seeing what was happening she sighed: "Gosh, I thought Jacques had an accident! I'm happy it's nothing serious."

"Do you call that nothing serious", Jacques weeped, "Claude, Nom de dieu, you are beating the _s_h_i_t_ out of my ass!"

"You just earned yourself six more slaps, young man, you should be ashamed to use such rude language", Mireille grumbled and meanwhile she lifted her hand as high as she could.

SPANK!! "Pèng!" SPANK!! "Pèng!" SPANK!! "Pèng!" SPANK!! "Pèng!" SPANK!! "Pèng!" SPANK!! "Pèng!", it echoed through the bathroom.

Both cheeks were glowing now, nearly crimson. I dont know how many he got just it was a lot a hell of a lot, it lasted a good 10 minutes easily. Jacques was terribly upset he was crying so much. At last I released Jacques.

I let the boy from my lap and told him to go into the bathtub again. Once more he tried to escape from the second half of the washing and stood with his back towards us.

I turned the boy around. I smiled at him briefly before placing my hands on his chest and beginning to move my palms over his skin. His juvenile supple body was unbelievable soft beneath my fingers. It was a startling revelation as they skated over his torso, as they followed the ridges of his muscles. This was more erotic than I had imagined. The soft boy-ness of his young body was a new pleasure and I trailed along his arms, and down over his stomach with wonder in my eyes.

I examined his lithe body. Torso, arms and legs all clean and polished to a muscled shine, buttocks carefully soaped and rinsed down to a downy sparkle. Every crevice and every protuberance gelled and rubbed and buffed. Every one... except one.

"Do you feel completely clean now?"

"Sure Claude, thank you for washing me so thoroughly."

"Nothing forgotten?", I teased him.

"My privies, but since mu twelft birthday Maman let me do that myself. I'm a big boy now, you now."

"Not to me, you clearly demonstrated you are *not* able yet to wash yourself properly. Since Maman put me in charge, it is my duty to teach you how to keep your body clean, and that includes those intimate parts you are making such a fuss about. If you don't cooperate now, you can expect an other sound spanking. Is that what you want?"

In reaction he slightly bend backwards, his tummy clearly bulging out. It looked like he was offering me his s_e_x_u_a_l_ instruments.

"GOOD", I said. - GOOD that there should be no further delay, no more reason to put off the final examination. - GOOD that I had his silent agreement to touch the most intimate parts of his young body.

I smeared him with gooey, lemon hands. The fleshy, clamminess of him gave way to my slippery, slimy, citrus-y fingers. One of my hands brushed lightly against the wet blond fuzz of Jacques' pubic curls. As I continued rubbing over his pubes, making the soap to foam, his pecker followed every movement: up and down, left and right. Ever so slowly I let my fingers descend towards the wobbling joystick. When I landed on the basis I ran my fingers right along his floppy, _c_o_c_k_y_ length to the tip and back again. I held him between the ring of thumb and forefinger and slipped along him once again and felt him twitch. I felt his meat jump and tremble in my dragging, fagging hand and I smiled.

With pounding heart I stared at his remaining unwashed excess with quiet, careful sloth and pressed him into patience. I inspected every tiny detail of his droopy tube and, when his private parts beckoned me, I reached out with slippery fingers and lifted and moved and turned and pulled.

I slipped the fingers of my left hand underneath the crinkly sack with his double bulge and giggled as the roundness of his little nuts rolled shyly off my fingertips. I liked this part of him, I decided. This _c_o_c_k_y_ bit was fun. A firmly, wormly toy for me to play with in the bath. I oozed a glob or two from the bottle on the side - the one with two yellow orbs upon the label - which made me giggle now at the appropriation of the innocent that my exploration was teaching him.

"Maman never takes it so long, Claude?"

"I clearly can see you never have washed your willy properly", I said, soaping away merrily as his instrument swelled beneath my touch. Within seconds I saw his childish little weenie grow to an impressive teenager-size. Holding the tip of his foreskin I slowly pressed it towards his tummy, till the glans plopped into sight. I cleaned it meticulous.

"Don't you think you've finished now?" he asked again, a tremor in his voice. His pecker was throbbing and still gaining lenght. It looked like it was trying to find still more skin so it could grow even more and more.

"Well, you see," I answered thoughtfully as my fingers grasped him more tightly and slithered along him more quickly, "Each time I think I've finished washing, it seems there's a little more to do. A little bit reveals itself which wasn't there before and so I have to go back. And back. And back."

And as my words repeated themselves, my fingers did the same: down towards his tummy and back, down and back, sharing with my eyes the delicious hardening of his softness.

Suddenly I felt a shuddering twitching in his boner and before I knew what was happening his unexperiened _p_e_n_i_s_ was shooting its boy-cum onto my face --and was it ever intense! In the twenty-six years of my life I never had shot that much or with that much force. The air was smelling of his puberal aroma His young liquid was dripping over my cheeks, and still he kept shooting! He must have gotten off 5 or 6 good hard spurts.

It was clear it had taken Jacques by surprise. He started crying: "I could not help it, honestly Claude, dont be mad at me, please. One moment I felt a strange tickling in my balls, and the next second I was peeing."

"That was not pee, you silly boy, that was your seed. Was this really the first time you shot your load?"

"Yes, sure it is. I know how to cause those pretty feelings in my privies since a few months, but I never before had this gluey stuff coming out of my stiffy."

Only now I realised that Mireille stood next to me, nearly suffocating in laughter.

When she was able to speak she proposed: "It's a mortal sin to spil young seed. Let Jacques lick you clean, his own proteins will nourish him well."

Jacques, still feeling very guilty, did not dare to protest and started licking his own cum.

"Mmmjam", he said, "it's not bad at all, I rather like that bittersweet taste."

"Be my guest!", I joked.

When he had finished, I took the showerhead, opened the cold faucet and let the water rinse his cum-covered genitals.

The brutal cold water hosing-down had caused the boy's _p_e_n_i_s_ and ballsack to shrivel, nearly retracting into his body. He was shivering, breathing heavily, his head still hanging, again on the verge of tears.

I had made a 13 year old boy realize he was just a child.

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Note from the author: Please let me know if you like this story. I will write the next parts only when I get enough reactions. Dont forget I wrote these in French and it takes a hell of a lot time to try and translate into more or the less correct English, the latter not being my mothertongue.

As a matter of fact I only got 7 reactions to the first part. But several of those contacts meantime developed to a very pleasant discussion about the topics of childhood adventures. Hence I felt obliged to translate part two.


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