Background: This is based on the opening scene in the movie "Exit to Eden". Anyone who is into spanking should see this movie, even if it is rather weak in points and earned Rosie O'Donnell a Golden Raspberry Award for Worst Supporting Actress. Anyway, at the start of the movie, we see the main character, Elliot, as a boy of about 12 in the kitchen with the very _s_e_x_y maid. He deliberately provokes her and so she spanks him. The camera moves from a view of her spanking him on his underpants to his face, which is covered by a big, satisfied grin. Just for fun, I decided to lengthen this scene and give Master Elliot a bit more than he bargained for. One other thing; I didn't remember Elliot's last name and so for the purposes of this story, I've used Easton. Elliot Easton is actually the name of the lead guitarist of the Cars and I was listening to them when I wrote this.
Elliot walked into the kitchen and looked around. Francine, the French maid was busy working on dinner. Boy, he sure liked watching her move around. She had the nicest pair of tits, and the uniform she wore for work showed them off quite nicely. Still, as much as he liked watching her move, there was something he liked even better.
A few times, Elliot had provoked her so much that she had turned him around and spanked him. And the last time, she had been so annoyed with him, she had pulled down his pants and spanked him on his underpants. He wasn't sure why, but having the pretty maid spank him had been very exciting. Elliot longed for her to do it again, but so far he had not done anything to warrant it.
Suddenly it occurred to him; why wait when he could do something to deliberately provoke her? This thought was both thrilling and scary at the same time. Elliot had never set himself up to be purposely spanked in his life.
Building up his nerve, he looked around for inspiration. Francine was making a cake amongst other things and the mixing bowl was currently unattended. With his _d_i_c_k_ starting to stir in his pants, Elliot moved over to the bowl. Francine had her back turned and didn't notice what he was doing. He put his fingers in the bowl, as if to taste the dough (which he was not supposed to do) and, after making sure she still was not looking, he deliberately knocked the bowl onto the floor.
It fell with a loud thud and Francine turned around. She saw the spilled bowl with a rather guilty looking Elliot standing over it.
"Oh, Monsieur Elliot, what have you done!" she said in an exasperated tone as she rushed over to clean up the mess.
"I'm sorry, it was an accident," Elliot said in a deliberately ambivalent tone.
Francine bent down and tried to salvage the mess, but it was no use. Even Elliot could see that it was beyond saving. She stood back up and grabbed him, pushing him toward the corner of the counter. This was it, she was going to spank him!
"Bare yourself!" she command to Elliot's delight. All the same, she had him by the arms; there was no way that he could comply with her request. She forced him into the corner and dropped his arms on the cold tiles of the counter top. He was vaguely aware that his baseball cap had come off his head. With another demand of "Bare yourself!", she did the job for him, taking hold of his pants and pulling them down to his knees.
"No, stop," he said in a whiny voice, putting little emotion into it. He did not, after all, want her to stop.
She delivered a stinging slap to his cotton-covered backside. Other than a weak protest of "Ow, stop it," Elliot just stood there and took it. Francine couldn't see it, but his _c_o_c_k_ had stiffened into a full erection and was tenting out his underpants. He only wished he had a view of her tits as she spanked him.
SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! Anyone walking in on this scene would have wondered why Elliot was smiling. Francine was giving him a good set of hard swats, but he was thoroughly enjoying it. Of course it stung, but this pain in his rear only made him feel warm all over. He was torn between wanting the spanking to go on and on and hoping it would end so he could dash up to his room and give his front some relief.
"Well, what have we here?" came a strong, male voice.
Francine straitened up and pulled Elliot with her. With a shock, he saw his father standing in the doorway with a rather amused expression on his face.
"Sir, Elliot has ruined the desert I was making. I have told him not to touch things in the kitchen, but he does not listen. So I was giving him a spanking." Francine was not the least bit concerned about this. Both of Elliot's parents had given her permission to spank the boy and he had been misbehaving. She was merely reporting to her boss, just as she would have if he'd asked her what was for lunch.
Mr. Easton was only half listening to her, though. He had caught sight of something else. Francine had been facing him, but he was looking at the maid and his son. His son's erection, though flagging, was clearly visible to him through the boy's white cotton briefs. Elliot tried to cover it with his shirt and hands, but it was too late. Considering his own fetishes, Mr. Easton decided that this was one of those cases where the fruit hadn't fallen very far from the tree. As amusing as this was, it wasn't something he felt he could just leave.
"Thank you Francine, carry on with dinner. Elliot, pull up your pants and come with me, please."
With the maid gone back to cleaning up the mess, Elliot got fully dressed again. He was dreadfully embarrassed. Had his father seen his boner? He couldn't tell, but he thought he probably had. What would he say? He followed him into the living room.
Mr. Easton sat down and considered the young boy standing in front of him. He was a sensible man and he didn't want to give his son any hang-ups about _s_e_x_. All the same, he wasn't happy about him getting his thrills with the maid. If he'd caught Elliot doing this with someone his own age, he'd have left it alone, but this just wasn't something he could permit to go on. This was going to require some careful diplomacy.
"Elliot," he said to his worried son, "I know that you are not a clumsy boy and so you must have been very careless to let that bowl tip over. You know that I've given Francine permission to spank you, but that really isn't part of her job. Now, I'm not going to tell her not to spank you, because when you misbehave like that, you should be spanked right away. But what I am going to do is this; whenever she spanks you, I am going to have her report it to me whenever I get home. At that point, you will be spanked again; by me or you mother if I'm out of town. Do you understand?"
Elliot nodded. That was the last time he was going to get deliberately spanked. His father spanked much harder than Francine ever did, even if he didn't make him take his trousers off. He wasn't going to risk that.
"O. K., Dad," he said trying to sound meek.
"Now since I interrupted Francine before she was finished, I guess I'd better finish the job."
Elliot's eyes went wide. He hadn't counted on that!
"No, Dad, please!" he begged. "Francine was nearly done when you came in!"
"How would you know?" Mr. Easton asked. "You weren't even crying when I got there, so you can't have had a proper spanking. Well, you're going to get one now."
Having said that, Mr. Easton stood up, grabbed Elliot by the waist and bent him over the edge of the couch. Elliot knew his father too well to think that protesting would do any good. How could things have backfired so badly? He heard his father taking off one of his leather shoes. This was really going to hurt. Then, much to his horror, he felt his father tugging his pants back down to his knees.
"Wait, Dad, what are you doing?" he asked in shock.
"Well, Francine's hand didn't seem to make much of an impression on your underpants, so let's see if my shoe has more of an effect on your bare bottom."
It took Elliot a moment to realize the full implication of those words, and by then his father had his hands on the waistband of his briefs and was tugging them down.
"No Dad!" Elliot said as he started to cry, "Please, no!"
Mr. Easton made no comment, just continued pulling them down. He only pulled them down to Elliot's thighs; leaving him covered in front, but fully exposing his bottom. Gripping his shoe by the heel end, he brought it down smartly on his son's naked rear, SPANK!
Elliot cried out in pain. There was no pleasure in this, only a burning heat from where the shoe had smacked his bare cheeks, SPANK!, SPANK!, SPANK!, SPANK!!
He twisted on the couch, trying somehow to get out from underneath the horrid shoe, but all that accomplished was his father putting his hand on his lower back to hold him in place, SPANK!, SPANK!, SPANK!!, SPANK!!!
Elliot was bawling at full volume now. His father was being very methodical, first spanking one cheek and then the other, going from the top of his rear to just above his thighs and back again. Not one square inch of his naked bottom remained unpunished by at least five blows with the shoe. And most areas received much more. He stopped wiggling, submitting fully to his father's punishment as the final blows fell, SPANK!!, SPANK!!, SPANK!!!, SPANK!!!, SPANK!!!!
Mr. Easton stopped and put his shoe back on. Elliot was still draped bare-bottomed over the couch, and so he pulled his son's underpants back up.
"Elliot, just to make sure you understand," Mr. Easton said once his son's crying had abated somewhat, "That was for provoking the maid, not for anything else. Don't get in trouble if you're not fully prepared to take the consequences."
Having said that, he left his son alone to compose himself. Elliot's pants had slipped down to his ankles, but he pulled them back up and made his way up to his room, making sure to avoid the kitchen. He didn't want Francine to see him just now. Reaching his room, he locked the door and lay face down on his bed to think.
He was angry at his father for spanking him, and spanking him bare bottom at that. He'd been having a nice little thrill with Francine, and the whole thing had been spoiled. Still, Elliot was a bright boy, and he understood his father well enough to understand that he hadn't spanked him for getting thrills, just for using the maid to get them. He'd have to find someone else to spank him; getting a spanking from Francine wasn't worth it if he had to get one from his dad as well.
His mind drifted back to his first spanking; Francine's firm hand on his bottom as he lay prone over the counter and his little _c_o_c_k_ sprung back to life. One again his pants came down, but this time it was his stiff _d_i_c_k_ that got attention, not his poor, burning buns.