Bobby Brent and Family - Part 4


by Juan Santiago <Paliza3000@yahoo.com>

ROY PIERCE , THE FRIEND

I had arrived for the week-long conference and the Brents had been kind enough to invite me to stay with them. Of course I had kept in touch with them since my last meeting because their treatment of young Bobby had intrigued me and I couldnt get the boys round bottom, tightly encased in the tight little shorts out of my mind. My imagination ahd been on overdrive with Bobby as the bare-bottomed centre piece. And now I was close to staying a his home for a few days; I was hoping it would be many days but didnt want to overstay my welcome. I wanted to be asked to return.

That rainy Friday afternoon found me stepping off the train practically in front of Peter who was waiting for me.

"Welcome, Roy," Peter said heartily. "Its been such a long time since we were able to spend some time together."

We went to his car and during the ride back to his home, we chatted of old times.

"And how is Jane?" I asked, carefully avoiding too much interest in the boy.

"She is just recovering from a severe bronchitis," Peter replied. "She hasnt been out of the house for a couple of weeks. Makes her quite irritable." He chuckled. "She enjoys her exercise," he added, enigmatically.

"Oh, I hope she wont go to any trouble because of me," I replied. "She must have her hands full with the household and the boy. I hope he isnt giving her any additional problems."

"Bobby?" Peter said, "He is always a problem. And he seems to take advantage of Janes present weakness. Is becoming quite cheeky."

My heart beat a bit faster when I asked, "I hope you dont let him get away with that." I held my breath for Peters reply to that leading question.

"Well, he gets a good beating when I have the time. But my job right now takes up a lot of that time. Bobby takes advantage of that as well, you know."

I let out a deep breath. This was going quite well, I thought. "Maybe I can help when I am around. Having a man around when you are not there might be helpful in controlling the boy."

"Oh, we wouldnt want to impose," Peter replied. "You have your own work while you are here."

"That is true, but these conferences usually end in the early afternoon. I can come back and help Jane out. It would not be an imposition at all." No, none at all, I thought.

"I will mention it to Jane," Peter answered as he drove into his driveway. "She would be very grateful, I am sure."

And, I was happy to note, she was. She was resting in her bedroom when I arrived.

"Ah, it is good to see you again," she greeted me, smiling wanly. "It has been too long."

"Roy was kind enough to offer some help looking after Bobby," Peter said and I could have embraced him. "He has been quite a nuisance since your illness and I think Roy could take over for a few hours in the afternoons to let you rest a bit. What do you say?"

"Are you sure, Roy?" she asked. "You dont know Bobby. He needs a firm hand and I dont think you have children, do you?"

I admitted that I hadnt. "But I think I can handle a twelve-year-old," I added.

"The boy needs a good thrashing every so often," Jane explained. "Otherwise he forgets his manners, his school work, and his chores. Lately I havent had the time or strength to discipline him properly. If you are not averse to punishing a boys bare backside, you would do me a great favour if you could do the disciplining while you are here and have the spare time. Peter had told me that you are also a believer in a boys strict upbringing, otherwise I wouldnt have troubled you."

"No trouble at all," I repeated, breathing rather quickly. I was almost trembling with excitement at the prospect of having that attractive blond young boys naked buttocks at my disposal for a good caning. "Why dont we call Bobby and explain the situation to him?"

"Let us join him in his room. He is supposed to be doing his school work," Jane said and slowly got off her bed. We walked down the hall to the boys room.

"Bobby," Jane said as she opened the door, "this is Mr. Pierce. He will be staying with us for a week or so. I hope maybe even longer. Why arent you at your desk studying?"

The youngsters face was comically distorted. He had been sprawled on his low bed reading something he had quickly tried to hide under his pillow. He was obviously only too aware of what the consequences would be being found like this. He appeared close to tears. He quickly jumped off the bed and stood to attention. He wore the same brief, very tight shorts I had seen when I first met him. His strong thighs, knees and calves were bare and tanned.

"Im sorry, Mum," he whined pathetically. "I was just resting for a few minutes."

"Just enjoying a little comic book reading?" I said teasingly. The boy gave me a look that did not express a great liking for my remark.

"You know very well that you are not supposed to read comics when you are to be studying," his mother said. "Mr. Pierce has kindly agreed to give me a hand in keeping you in line, something you obviously badly need. Now that I am not feeling well, you think you can disregard orders? I think Mr. Pierce would be glad to show you what disobedient little boys get. Please, Roy, would you do the honours?"

I looked about the room. I saw a formidable tawse hanging from a hook near the bed. About two feet in length, very thick with two one-inch wide tails, it looked quite intimidating. I turned to Jane and she nodded.

"Bobby, Take the tawse and give it Mr. Pierce," Jane said sternly. "Ask him politely for a severe thrashing on your bare bottom."

Bobby burst into tears. "But, Mum -"

"No excuses, boy," she replied. "You will obey this instant."

Giving me a quick, shy glance, he unhooked the tawse and handed to me. He held the thick piece of dark brown leather as if it would bite him. Which it undoubted soon would - but not his hand.

I took the tawse and hefted in my hand. The tails felt good and heavy, the other end with carvings to accommodate the fingers for a good grip. A very effective instrument of punishment, I decided.

"Take your shorts down and kneel on the bed," I said, slapping those thick tails menacingly against the palm of my hand. He hesitated a moment but then got on top of the bed, knelt with his bottom towards us and pushed his head into the mattress. He must have had a great deal of experience assuming this position, because he never hesitated. He obediently parted his knees wide and arched his back, bringing our each naked buttock at an excellent angle.

"How many do you think he deserves?" I asked his mother who was watching closely, as if judging whether I was able to deal with the situation.

"What do you think, Roy?" she countered. Another test, I guessed.

"Two dozen?," I suggested. Twelve on each cheek?"

Jane thought for a moment. "Very well, this being the first time the boy is to take his punishment from you, lets just give him three dozen," she finally decided.

If a dream ever came true, this was certainly it. Not that I ever really dreamt that my fantasies would actually be realised, but now here I was. I could hardly believe my luck. I looked for a moment at the boys spread buttocks still clearly displaying stripes from n earlier caning. Good. The tawse would be even more effective across still tender skin.

I raised the tawse behind my back, then, swinging my outstretched arm in a full arc, I whipped it down as hard as I could across the lower buttocks. The leather cracked sharply against the bare flesh and the boys bottom flinched and contracted as the other end emitted a strident shriek of pain.

Before applying the next stroke, I glanced towards Jane and again she nodded. "Good work, Roy. Just wait a bit and then give him the second, perhaps a bit harder and lower," she said calmly, her eyes on the boys bottom where a red weal was deepening.

As the boys buttocks relaxed again, I applied the next stroke across that same red line and the boy cried out again. Another pause while the boy wept, his bottom wriggling back and forth, trying to shake off the burn. Number three cracked across his thighs, just below the cheeks and I saw the boys back twist and arch. His squirming opened up his buttocks even more and the next stroke caught him right in the cleft. Young Bobby howled.

"Give him three more strokes on that spot," Jane suggested and I complied. We waited until the boys cries died down and I applied the next, and the next, and the next. By now his buttocks were slowly turning purple in places, especially where the tips of the tails had bitten deeply into the flesh. I aimed at those parts and was rewarded with even louder howls. Jane was not impressed by the boys contortions, but only encouraged me to more effort.

Halfway through the three dozen, having administered nine good strokes on each cheek, we let him rest for about 20 minutes while Jane and I went downstairs. I brought in my suitcase from the car and Jane showed me to my room. Then we returned to Bobbys room. The boy was still in exactly the same position, weeping softly.

"Well, my boy," I said retrieving the tawse from his bed where I had placed it near his nose, "it is time for the second installment. Get that bottom up and out, will you? Come now, higher. Push it well out. I want to get between the cheeks."

I stood a bit further to his left and cracked the tawse down so that the tails bit into the cleft. Then I stepped to the other side, across his left buttock, the tails again landing on that tender spot. I repeated this process another 4 or 5 times and gave him the last eight low across both buttocks and high up his thighs. When I had finished, young Bobby was blubbering helplessly. We watched him for a few minutes.

"Get up," Jane finally ordered the boy. Now get back to work. Tonight your father will deal with you about those comic books."

Bobby crawled off the bed and was about to pull his little shorts back over his inflamed little backside. "No, Bobby, keep them down. Sitting on the wooden bench on your bare bottom will remind you why you have been punished. So do your work properly or your father will deal with that as well when he gets home."

Once the boy had placed his bruised, hot, stinging bottom on the wooden seat and picked up his school books, sniffling and hiccuping, we left.

Later, over a cup of coffee, Peter, Jane and I discussed my future role in Bobbys upbringing. I was hoping that this conference would last a month. Or perhaps they would transfer me here for good? Well, I can dream, cant I? They do come true sometimes.


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