KURT GETS SMACKED
Kurt came from a pretty conservative Christian family so he, along with his older sister, who was now in college, was spanked a lot growing up. He had been punished that way for as long as he could remember so he never really gave it any thought. About the time he turned 13 or 14, his Dad sat him down and told him that he wouldn't be spanked as much anymore: he was growing up and was getting to be more mature and ought to be punished like a young man and not a little boy. But, he added forebodingly, the old method of punishment was still reserved for special occasions. Kurt had never been a very bad child, naughty sometimes, but by no means a problem child, so he hadn't ever had a reason to be spanked again. After a while, he never thought about being spanked anymore.
Kurt was a late bloomer: a sophomore in high school, many of his friends shaved everyday and drove cars and had deep, menacing voices. But he was still small and short and unchanged. Past the blonde hair in his head and a few stray blonde pubic hairs, he was totally hairless and still talked in a high pitched voice. He was hardly had any fat on his body and ran track with great success, so no body ragged on him but he still wished he'd hurry up and get it over with. In three more months he'd be a junior, an upperclassmen. He couldn't look and sound like he was 12 years old when he was supposed to be planning for college.
As it turned out, one evening his father was in a very bad mood. He'd had a difficult day at the office and wanted very much to just sit down, read the paper, and be ignored. Kurt was feeling rowdy and hadn't picked up the warning signs coming off his father. One thing turned to the next and before he knew it, he and his father were having a huge argument that seemed to come from nowhere. Kurt wouldn't back off and suddenly his father cuffed him upside the head, which Kurt had never had happen before. His father yelled at him "Shut up and go too your room! I've had just about enough of you. You aren't a grownup yet: get in you room; I'll be in to deal with you in a minute or two. Go!"
Kurt stomped noisily up to his bedroom and slammed the door, then layed on the bed and sulked. His father hid behind his newspaper and tried to concentrate on an article but continued to obsess about his son. What does he think he's doing? Who does he think he is? He's not an adult yet. He still looks like a boy to me! How dare he talk to me like that! Who does he think he is? I'll show him. Rrrr, rrrr. rrrr!
After about a half an hour, Kurt's father was calmed down a little bit and felt like he was able to deal with the situation. And deal he would: he'd made a decision. He was going to spank Kurt.
He went out to the garage and rummaged around in the piles of old golf clubs, basketballs, lawnmower gasoline, snow shovels, and other accumulations of suburban living. As Kurt had gotten more sturdy, he had switched over from the traditional hand spankings to a harsher punishment. He had acquired a sturdy school paddle that had served to warm his son's fanny for five years. But where was it now?
Mr. Russell poked through the piles for a good ten minutes. He became increasingly frustrated and angry as he searched more and more, the paddle not appearing. He was about to give up and try the old fashioned method when he spotted something from across the garage. It caught his eye as if some spotlight had been cast upon it. A razor strap. He didn't know where it had come from but there it was in his garage, hanging on the wall just calling out to be used for the cruel purpose at hand.
He pulled it down off the wall and examined it. It was a fine strap: hard and sturdy. He swished it through the air a few times. Yes: this would do just fine for Kurt's disclipline. It would be much more painful that the school paddle.
With grim determination, Mr. Russell ascended the steps to Kurt's bedroom, strap in hand. He entered the room. Kurt was sitting on the bed.
"Son, you were very disrespectful to me this evening. You aren't quite as grownup as you think. Don't forget that. I told you a few years ago that if you were ever bad again that you'd get a spanking. Now I intend to make good that threat. Stand up."
Kurt's heart jumped when he heard what his punishment would be. He could hardly believe it. A spanking!
"Son, strip all your clothes off." Naked! Kurt had never in his life been spanked on the bare bottom. And now, almost 16, he was going to be spanked in the buff! "But, Dad!"
"No 'buts,' young man. I found this strap in the garage. It certainly won't work through your pants. Hurry up. Now!"
Kurt stoond there, astonished by this turn of events. Stupified, he began to undress. He was so glad that his sister was at college. This would be so mortifying if she found out.
He pulled his socks off, revealing his very small feet. His nails were clipped very neatly, for Kurt was meticulous in his grooming. He undid his belt and pulled down his pants, revealing his long, smooth, pink legs. He took his shirt off. The sudden exposure of his chest, which was beginning to take definition, made him shiver. He was left clad only in his boxer shorts. He undressed and showered nearly everyday for track practice but this was different. This was his dad: he hadn't seen Kurt naked in years.
"Come on, son. Take off your underpants." Kurt pulled down his underpants. He blushed deeply at the exposure of his genitals. They were quite small, even for his age and maturity, and had just a few hairs on them.
"You don't look like a grownup to me, Kurt. You'll have to get a little bit bigger before you can talk to me that way. Come over here."
Kurt blushed even more deeply at that sarcastic comment. His father was sitting down on his bed. Kurt came over. His father grabbed him by his sides and pulled him over his lap. Kurt's smooth baby butt pointed up into the air and rest of him hung over the ends of his father's lap. His penis and testicles dangled between his legs.
Kurt squirmed a little. He was terribly uncomfortabe and still not entirely certain what was happening to him. His father gritted his teeth, then brought the strap down onto Kurt's upturned backside, leaving a long, red welt across the middle of the chubby globes.
The noise was startlingly loud. Kurt gasped at the noise but was instantly perplexed by the lack of pain. Just as he thought "this isn't so bad" a white hot shot of pain sizzled through his buttocks along the line of impact. He let out an inhaling yelp. The pain had not had time to resolve itself when his father delivered yet another stroke. This time the pain was immediate and definite. His father continued to smack away at his now tender flesh with the strap. After a half dozen or so painful smacks, Kurt began to cry. Simultaneously, his small penis began to develop a distinct erection. The erotocism of the event was unmistakable but Kurt was too much in horrible pain to appreciate it. And the humuliation of getting a hardon in front of his father was nearly more than he could stand.
The strapping went on for a good five minutes. Kurt was almost hallucinating with pain by this point. When at last he detected that the spanking had stopped, his father had already swept him off his lap. Kurt stood in the middle of the room with his hands on his crimson buttocks, squeezing with all his might in the vain hope of erasing, or at least decreasing, the pain there. His little _c_o_c_k_ pointed proudly up at his chest, extended to its fully erect 3.5 inches.
As soon as Kurt had calmed down, his father lectured him, concluding with "Now that should be a lesson to you. I am keeping this strap around. It may prove useful again in the future." With that, he left the room.
Kurt laid down on his bed, stomach down. His buttocks throbbed terribly. And, to his own horror, he was still aroused. Though he didn't understand it, the more he continued to think about the spanking, the longer the erection clung on.
After a while Kurt, in an attempt to take his mind off the pain in his ass, decided to masturbate. He spit into his hands a few times, then used the lubrication to jerk at his hard-on. He pulled and pulled, massaging his hard little pecker with a lot of elbow grease. At last, he climaxed, a little trickle of clear fluid oozing out his tiny piss hole. He laid back on the bed, tired and rocked with conflicting feelings on all sides.