Johnnie M Continues . . .

by Eddie Knapps <>

When I turned thirteen, I got an afternoon paper route after school. You might have thought would put an end to Johnnie's and my little game. WRONG! The fact I now had a job made absolutely NO difference to Johnnie. It simply meant that, when he wanted to "play basement," I had to hurry so I could go by his house after I was done with my work. I would have to rush through my route to get there so there was enough time for him to spank me exactly the way he wanted and still get home for supper. The whole time I was delivering the papers, of course, I would be thinking about how, soon, Johnnie M would have me across his lap with my pants and underpants down, spanking me. The anticipation was AWFUL!

I'm sure my fellow paper boys and my supervisor and my customers must've wondered what was wrong with me those days. Indeed, I know they did. I got a good blessing out one day from my supervisor for having had 10 complaints ("no paper") the previous evening, which meant he had had to make the deliveries late. He actually said, "Back when I was a paperboy, my supervisor would have given me a good whipping for that many complaints!" If only he had known I, standing there, already had a sore, red bottom from the paddling I'd gotten the previous afternoon--not from a supervisor or my dad or an irate customer, but from an11 year old boy!

In short, I was getting blackmailed, though the price I was paying was being taken out of my hide. Johnnie had me over a barrel, so to speak, and, knowing him, I don't think there is any question he would have told anybody and everybody if I hadn't done what he told me. Even that young he was a pretty ruthless guy who was accustomed to getting what he wanted, and, after that very first time, what he wanted to do was SPANK!

As time went on, Johnnie became more sophisticated in disciplining me. He usually spanked me with a pingpong paddle, though he used other things as well from time to time--various belts, a wooden spoon, a ruler, a willow switch, a shingle, one of his mom's sandals, a piece of yardstick, his mom's hairbrush, once even my DAD's hairbrush. He seemed quite interested in the various "impressions" the different instruments made on my bare, teenaged bottom. The paddle itself--which remained his favorite--had a kind of sandpapery surface that had been worn smooth, but if it was used long enough (and it frequently was), it would produce tiny abrasions that made my bottom itch even after the redness of the spanking had faded. Talk about having ants in your pants! I can remember in 7th and 8th grade squirming in my seat, the typical Jr. Hi boy who "can't sit still." But there were probably few others who had the same reason!

We usually were in the basement of his house, in the den, when Johnnie spanked me, though that could vary too, and at least two times he made me take down my pants in the woods and spanked me in the open air. On those occasions, I was terrified somebody would see us, but, of course, Johnnie could have cared less! Indeed, I don't think there's any question that he would have LIKED it if somebody had happened along. Almost every time he spanked me, he would talk about how other people should be watching, and would make a great deal out of the fact that it was he who was spanking me even though he was two years younger, and how embarrassing it would be for me if somebody caught us.

Johnnie never spanked me any way but bare bottom. Even the few times he would start on my underpants, he would always lower them. He said that was only fair because that is how my dad would spank me if he found out about us "playing basement," and, anyhow, since he was younger, that way he knew it was really stinging. The real reason, I think, was that he liked seeing me like that, helpless and vulnerable over his lap, and, apparently, liked the look and feel of a boy's bare bottom in general. At first, he continued to let me take my pants and underpants down and bend over his lap, though as time went on he would PULL them down himself--"Just like your dad does."--to increase my sense that HE was in command. And even though he was just a kid, the spankings really began to hurt. A spanking from Johnnie would have me wiggling plenty and even kicking my legs if it went on long enough, and, once he had achieved that effect, that was what he would aim for. With my bare and now teenaged bottom to practice on, he was perfecting his spanking technique, and would often spank me more than once in a session. Especially if he was trying out some new implement, he would spank me first with the ping pong paddle and then, after making me display my pink behind in the corner, would spank me a second time with, for example, a beaded belt or his mom's sandal, taking note, for sure, of their effects and my responses. Sometimes, especially if he was disappointed with the new "toy," I would get get a THIRD spanking, again with the tried-and- true paddle.

Too, of course, we were both growing boys. Johnnie was growing taller and stronger, so it seemed each spanking got harder. And certainly, he had the opportunity in those years to see what puberty was all about, as I grew taller as well and developed an actual bush and began to get some hair down around my hole.

Twice, Johnnie spanked me with schoolchums from St. Anne's present, which was REALLY humiliating. The second time, the other boy spanked me, too. You can imagine how embarrassing it was for me to get spanked bare bottom by two boys 2 years younger than I was, especially the second time when I was 14 and had REALLY begun to mature. Of course, at that age, when my pants came down, I STILL would always have a woody, which only made it worse! Johnnie would grab at my hard-on or make me take my pants and drawers entirely off and do jumping jacks and things like that in front of him so my hard prick bobbed up and down before him below my T-shirt. There was no question he truly enjoyed being in control of me. He would not only make me stand in the corner after he spanked me, but crawl around on the floor with my underpants down and my rearend spread wide in the air. He would make a "rat's tail" with a towel and snap it at my red bottom as I scurryed around on the carpet on all fours. He'd laugh and say I looked like "some kind of bug" A few times, snapping that towel, he'd get a "bulls-eye," which means the tip would catch me right on my pink pucker. The pain was TERRIBLE. I'd let out a HOWL, and he would collapse in helpless giggles. Even so, given early adolescent randiness, I'd be skuttering around with a hard-on waving in the air and plopping against my belly with my every move.

In addition to spanking me, Johnnie would stick things up my butthole, and not just a blunt pencil like it was a thermometer, but, when we were older, things as thick as a screwdriver handle. He was obviously getting ideas! He'd stick his fingers (sometimes two) up my rear end, stretch them apart and move them around, and then make me suck them clean. He would have me take a shower in front of him with the shower curtain open and order me to really soap up my bush and my balls and my hard pecker just to see how big my prick would get, or get my rear end really soapy and stick my fingers up myself and tell him how it felt. He once made me put THREE fingers up myself. He even threatened a couple of times to shave the little hair I had on my rear off a couple of times, and my bush as well. I literally had to get down on my knees naked on the bathroom floor, kiss his shoes, and beg him not to do it. He didn't, though I did get a real whaling of my still wet and already spanked fanny for it, over his lap as he sat on the toilet. Johnnie was always figuring ways to get at me where other people might ask questions about what was going on--"Gee, what would you tell your dad if he pulled down your pants to spank you and you didn't have any hair around your pecker! Would you tell him YOU did it? Boy, he would think you were a weirdo! I bet he'd REALLY spank you then!" or "Golly, if you showed up like that, the guys in your gym class would laugh! I bet they'd grab you and and pull your butt apart to see if you had shaved the hair off your butthole, too! They'd probably tell the Coach. What do you think he would say?").

All this, of course, simply made me more and more desperate to please Johnnie, do whatever he demanded, and keep our "secret" safe.

So, humiliating me in all kinds of devilish ways was the order of the day. Johnnie would make me call my backside my "bottom" or even my "rumpus" (which was a term back then employed only for babies and little kids), and, as time went on, made me stand in front of him with my pants down (and my pecker sticking out, of course) and call him "Mr. M--" and tell him I was a "very bad little boy" and that I deserved "to get a good, hard spanking on my naughty rumpus" from him. I would blush about eight shades of red, especially the time he made me do it in front of his friend when I was 14. That was the time they both spanked me. I was in the 8th grade, and you can imagine how I felt as a "young man" who was actually getting to go to boy girl parties and dances and had started to think about going to college and so on (I had even tried "making out" a couple of times!), there with my pants down having to say those things about myself to two 6th graders and having to call them "Mr." and say "Yes, sir" to them and having them play and diddle with all my private parts and then getting turned over their laps and spanked by both of them on my bare bottom!

Sometimes Johnnie just gave me a spanking, but, as time went on, he would come up with scenarios. Like I said, he had a VIVID imagination! There was a schooldesk in the den there, so we would play "after school" where he was the teacher and I was the misbehaving pupil. He would pull my pants and my underpants down and I would then have to sit in the desk and write things like "I will not backtalk Brother Johnnie" or "I do not study and teacher must spank me" on a piece of notebook paper while he stood there with the paddle. Luckily, it was usually only 25 times because he was so anxious to get me over his lap.

Other times, Johnnie would demand that we would pretend we were "IN class" and that I was there being punished in front of everybody. It was like being in a play. As teacher, Johnnie would not only say things to me ("I am going to make that bottom of yours so sore, Eddie, you won't sit down for a week!"), but other "members" of the "class" as well. It was bad enough to have him say things like, "What do you think of Eddie now, Bobby? Doesn't he look silly with his pants down at his desk?" or "When Eddie is done writing lines, class, I am going to have to put him over my lap for a good, hard spanking in front of all of you!"

But it was even worse when he would "speak" to a girl ("What do you think of Eddie's hard little peter, Sally?" or "Yes, Mandy, I think it's a good idea to stick your pencil up Eddie's red rumpus while he's standing in the corner. Bend over, Eddie, so Mandy can see your little butthole and take your temperature!"), or use the names of friends we both knew from the neighborhood. He'd often speculate on how my best friends from school, Benny and Andy, would react if they knew what was going on ("They'd probably think you were a total retard!"), much less those who didn't like me very well ("I bet Danny would tell EVERYBODY, even your teachers!"). Once, he even made me write a note to my parents about how my science teacher, Mr. B--, had had to punish me for backtalking him by pulling me from my desk, taking down my pants and underpants, making me write lines in front of the whole class on the blackboard, and then paddled me over his knee till I was crying in front of them all. He made me add that, afterwards, I had to stand in the corner of the classroom till the last bell of the day, so all the other classes--7th to 9th grade-- saw not just my lines on the board but my red bottom as well.

He liked that idea so well that, that afternoon, I had to stand before him with my drawers down and read my description aloud to him, not once but twice. After he had spanked me that time, he kept the note, and wondered, of course, what would happen to be if it just happened to show up in my parents' mailbox! For all I know, somewhere, Johnnie M. still has it!

A couple times it was "Sunday School." A few times it was "shoplifter," where he talked about and to all these imaginary people who were watching me get a spanking in a store for shoplifting. When I told him about my supervisor on my paper route, he spanked me for getting too many complaints. Another time he made me put on his pajamas and then he pulled those down and spanked me while he sat on his mother's bed. He used a piece of yardstick then, and I think that maybe an uncle of his had spanked him that way once.

If I had to go "play basement" and had recently gotten a spanking at home (which he could tell from the looks of my bottom), he would make me tell him all about it IN DETAIL--what I got spanked for, what I got spanked with, how long it lasted, what my dad had said while he was spanking me, if anybody watched, if I cried (the answer always being 'yes'), if I had kicked my legs (ditto), etc. I had to do all this, of course, with my pants and drawers already pulled down, sometimes facing him, sometimes with my back to him so he could look at my pink fanny, sometimes bending over, sometimes even pulling my cheeks apart so he could see my butthole. I had to tell him in a loud voice so he could hear everything, and he would laugh at me and make me repeat things and demand even more details and tease me about being a "bad little boy" and say he wished he had been there to see it. At 13, my dad started to use the hairbrush on me, and Johnnie was so curious about its effect on me and my rear end that he made me steal it one afternoon so he could try it out. He gave my fanny quite a workout with it, believe me! He had me kicking but good!

He also continued to talk frequently about how much he had liked seeing my dad spank me that one time and what I had looked like there over my dad's knee outside with my pants down, and how he would like to watch my dad spank me again. He would speculate on how other kids in the neighborhood would react to seeing my crying and kicking. He would wonder if my dad would make me go inside to get the hairbrush while everybody circled up to see me spanked. He would say sometimes he was going to tell my dad what we were doing just so he could see what would happen to me. He said that he bet my dad would spank me harder than he had ever spanked me (which was quite possibly true!), that my bottom would be red for a week (probably true also), that my dad would do it in front of Johnnie (which he actually might have, he would have been so angry), and that, after he was done spanking me, he would probably let Johnnie spank me, too.

I seriously doubted that, but just the thought of was almost too embarrassing to even think about! And it was obviously one of Johnnie's FAVORITE fantasies. He would go back to it again and again when he was disciplining me, and he almost made it seem plausible--"I bet your dad would think that would REALLY teach you a lesson if I spanked you, too!"

"He'd probably LIKE to see how somebody else spanks you." Johnny would go on and on: "If he knew you were letting me spank you, he'd say you DESERVED it!"

"He'd probably start calling your butt your RUMPUS, too!"

"You know, when he found out, he'd probably MAKE you shave all your hair off down there!"

"He'd tell all the kids in the neighborhood that, since you were letting me spank you, they might as well spank you, too!"

I can remember at 14, after a real blistering from my dad with his hairbrush for smarting off, actually imagining on my bed afterward how it could have been worse--Johnnie standing there watching and laughing at me as I kicked and cried with my pants down over my dad's knee, and then, after I was standing sniffling in the corner, right then and there, hearing Johnnie explain in great detail to my dad about our "playing basement." My dad would be so pissed he would IMMEDIATELY drag me out of the corner for an even longer, HARDER spanking till I was totally out of control. Then, when he finally let me up, tearful and squalling, my dad would say, "Well, since he has been letting you do it so long anyway, Johnnie, why don't YOU give Eddie a good bare bottom spanking right now, too!" I would beg my dad not to let Johnnie do it--"No! No! Please, daddy, NOOO!" but he would hand his hairbrush to Johnnie and say something like: "Young man, you have let Johnnie spank you for the last two years! I have NEVER been more ashamed of you, Eddie! I guess you LIKE getting spanked by younger boys!" Then he would drag me wailing with humiliation from the corner and actually physically put me over Johnnie's lap himself. God! My dad actually SEEING my bare, red rear with its fuzz in the crack over the lap of a 12 year old!

H would stand there with his arms crossed and say to Johnnie, "Go ahead! Give him a good, hard spanking! He deserves a real BLISTERING!" Because my fanny was so sore from getting spanked by my dad, I'd kick and cry when Johnnie was punishing me and my own DAD would start laughing at me and call me a sissy and say that it looked like Johnnie had every RIGHT to spank me after all the way I was carrying on, and that he should do it whenever he thought I needed it! And then, when I was back bawling in the corner again, he would say something to Johnnie about how I was nothing but a big baby and how, whenever he spanked me, he would make me go get Johnnie and the two of them would spank me together and that when he wasn't around, Johnnie should give me a good spanking anytime and anywhere and then tell him when he got home so the two of them could spank me again. So, with my dad's permission, Johnnie would be pulling down my pants and putting me over his lap not in his basement, but the public street in front of all of my friends and my little brother and his friends and my high school sister and HER friends, and then even LITTLER kids would start spanking me, and...

God, I had to make SURE Johnnie never breathed a word!

One afternoon after school, Johnnie REALLY blistered me. I don't know what happened that day, but he must've spanked me six times in two hours, and HARD! That was when I was 14, and he had me completely naked for the last two trips over his knee. My poor bottom was in blazes, and I actually cried, much to Johnnie delight! At that point, it would probably have almost been worth getting it from my dad to avoid further lickings from Johnny, but I was so afraid by then there was no question of stopping things.

I don't think there's much question that, if we had stayed there, not only would Johnnie have continued to spank me throughout high school, but made me service him _s_e_x_ually as well. By 12, he was really getting his growth, and a session over Johnnie's knee was leaving my bottom almost as red as those when I got spanked by my dad! Lucky for me that pink bottoms (including my own) were not unusual in gym class in those days, or I would have had a lot of explaining to do! Lucky, too, that I never had to explain my red rear due to Johnnie to my dad. YEOW! With my strip poker friends in the 8th grade, I could at least use the excuse that my dad had spanked me.

Johnnie spanked me longer and harder than any of the guys my age with whom I played strip poker. At least in the strip poker games, there was some kind of "equality," and, sometimes, I even won and got to do the disciplining. Never with Johnnie! Even at 10, he was very into the "power trip" that spanking me and embarrassing me and making me humiliate myself implied. I guess nowdays we'd say he was a born "alpha male!" In the whole time he spanked me, I never saw him with no pants, and certainly never saw HIS bottom. On a few occasions when we were older, he would take his dick out and play with it, but that was all. Nonetheless, from the very first, I could feel his hard-on through his pants when I was over his lap. He was a born MAN WHO SPANKS!

If people are interested, I'll go into the two times Johnnie had classmates present when he disciplined me, once at 13 and once at 14. The last was one of the last times Johnnie spanked me, aN ENTIRE summer afternoon, and also one of the most INTENSE and HUMILIATING of the many blisterings I received from him. It just went on and on!

So, readers, drop me a line and let me know.

More stories by Eddie Knapps