Shawn Robinson dragged his heels a bit, as he and his new friend Matt walked home from school. Shawn was carrying a note from his principal, to be signed by his dad, reporting that he had gotten the strap at school that day...and he knew the rule. Strapped at school, strapped at home...and the corporal punishment at home would make the school's version seem like a kiss.
Matt Wheeler was new in town; he and his family had just moved in, down the street from the Robinson's at the start of the school year, and he was becoming friends with Shawn and his twin, Scott, as his dad was becoming friendly with Sean's dad, Mark Robinson. He had never seen a schoolmate get the strap till today; it hadn't been done at his old school.
"Why so nervous, Shawn?" he asked. "It's over. You got the strap on both hands a couple of times, but it's over now...relax."
The notice of corporal punishment, carefully inserted in the pages of Shawn's geography book, felt like it weighed as much as the whole book. "Yeah, well...Matt...it's not really over just yet, you see," said Shawn, rather nervously.
"Why not?" asked Matt. "It's four o'clock...school's out...hey! I know...let's go play some volleyball down at the park before dinner! Don't forget I'm eating at your place tonight!"
Shawn's stomach sank even more. "Uh, Matt....you know something, buddy? It's gonna be a little difficult around my house tonight. I hope you don't mind, but could we make it another night, you think, for dinner?"
"Why, what's up? What's gonna be difficult? Anyway, our dads arranged it, remember? I'm staying at your place till my dad picks me up at ten o'clock to take me home...he's out of town, remember?"
Shawn's footsteps slowed even more. How could he tell his new friend about the strict disciplinary measures taken in his household by their father? He couldn't. He felt slightly sick, and, as always, when he was nervous, his face was a little flushed. He hadn't been spanked for more than eight months...his twin had gotten it just last week, and their older brother Steven a week before that, but he....his record had, of late, been pretty good. Till now.
In what seemed like thirty seconds (but was actually ten more minutes) the two boys were walking up the front steps of Shawn's house. Shawn opened the door, and he and Matt walked in, down the hall to the kitchen, and put their schoolbooks on the table. He could see his two brothers through the kitchen window, shooting baskets at the hoop which hung over the garage door. They seemed to Shawn, who would shortly be spanked (with his new friend in the house), to have not a care in the world. Shawn and Matt walked out to the patio, and sat in deck chairs.
"Hey buddy, what IS it? Let's do something...there's a couple of hours till dinner, right? What time does your dad get home?"
"Six months would be too soon tonight," thought Shawn, but he said, "Anytime now, I guess." Just then, Mr. Robinson's Jeep pulled into the driveway, and he got out...tall, muscular, tanned, 40, and handsome. His smile seemed to light up even more the already bright afternoon; indeed, it had been lighting up the fantasies of every woman (and not a few men) in the neighborhood for quite some time.
"Hi guys!" he said. "What's up? Oh, Matt! Good. You're staying for the evening, right? Good to have you here!" He walked into the house, and Shawn, somewhat heavily, followed him.
"Hi, Son," said Mr. Robinson, giving Shawn a smile and a hug. "You look a bit down. What's happening?"
Shawn saw, out of the corner of his eye, his friend Matt coming in through the door, but he plunged manfully ahead. "Dad....I have to show you this." Taking the notice of corporal punishment from his geography book, he handed it to his dad.
"What's this? Talking back to Mr. Richards? Strapped? STRAPPED? I'll show you strapped, son! Matt, you'll have to excuse Shawn this evening, I'm afraid. No, it's okay...go on outside if you want...you're staying for dinner and the evening." Turning again to his son, his eyes flashing in controlled anger, he said simply, "Go to your room, Shawn. Take off your clothes, down to your underpants. Wait for me. I'll be up in a few minutes, for a chat."
Shawn gulped heavily, and felt his face turning beet red. He caught a glimpse of his friend Matt, watching nervously from the sidelines, and saw that his face was very red, too. It added to his shame, and he turned, and began to mount the stairs to the bedroom he shared with his twin. As his step fell on the first stair, he heard Mr. Robinson say to Matt, "I'm sorry that you have to be here for this, Matt...but it's something I can't let pass. I hope you understand."
Shawn entered his bedroom, closed the door, and took off his runners, his tee-shirt, and his jeans, so that he was now clad only in his white briefs and white socks. Tears of embarrassment were beginning to well up in his eyes, and he stood dejectedly by the window, looking down at his two brothers, still playing on the driveway. All he wanted to do was to get the next few minutes over with; to have the inevitable be part of the past; to be in his dad's arms, crying into his chest, the spanking over.
The bedroom door opened, and there stood Mr. Robinson. He had changed into denim cut-offs and a tank top, showing off his muscular and fit body; his face wore a look of sternness, and in his right hand, he carried the black spanking strap. He entered the room, and sat down on Shawn's bed. "Look at me, Shawn," he said, tapping the strap into his left palm. "Why were you punished at school today? What makes you think that you have the right to shame me, and your brothers, and yourself, in front of your classmates, and the teaching staff?"
Shawn burst into tears. "Dad. I don't know!! It was a mistake. I'm sorry. Please. Please, oh please don't spank me! Please? Dad, I'm fourteen years old! I'm too old for a spanking! And Matt's here!! Please!"
Mr. Robinson looked at his son, long and hard. "I'm afraid you are not too old for a spanking, son...you demonstrated that at school today. Come here!"
Shawn approached the bed.
"Take off your underpants." It was said softly, but firmly. Shawn was openly weeping now, as he put his thumbs under the waistband of his white briefs, pulled them down, and stepped out of them, revealing his penis, now semi-erect from nervousness and tension, the new sprouting of pale pubic hair above it.
Mr. Robinson took his son by the hand (so recently strapped at school) and positioned the naked boy over his muscular thighs, chest and head on the mattress, bottom up in the classic punishment position. "Reach down and adjust your penis, son," he said. "Get your privates out of the way; there's going to be some heavy spanking here." Scott sniffled and adjusted his hardness against his father's hard thigh.
The first smack was hard to take, but the succeeding ones turned Shawn's white teenage bottom into a very pink hot teenage bottom, and the sting of his dad's hand, coupled with the utter humiliation at being naked, over his dad's bare thigh, being spanked like a little boy, with his new friend downstairs, had Shawn crying loudly within a minute. Still the spanking continued, as Mr. Robinson lectured him on his school deportment. Finally, his dad took him under the arms, and raised him. "Stand up son, and look at me," he said. Shawn stood, sobbing and shaking, and looked at his Dad, his penis now limp, bottom now fiery.
"You know why I am doing this, don't you, son?" asked Mr. Robinson. "You know why you are being spanked, on your bare bottom?"
"Yes, Dad," said Shawn through his tears. "I'm sorry. It'll never happen again, Dad, I promise."
"That's up to you, Shawn," said Mr. Robinson, standing up. "Now, bend over the bed, and spread your legs."
"Please, Dad, oh...oh, please, Daddy, daddy....not the strap!" said Shawn through his tears of shame. "Please!! I'm sorry, Daddy, I'm truly sorry! Please don't spank me with the strap!!"
"Get across the bed and spread your legs," repeated his dad, "or you'll be strapped like never before!"
The sobbing boy assumed the position across his bed, and spread his legs, as his Dad reached down to pick up the black strap that was used, though infrequently, for corporal punishment. It had two tails cut at the business end, and enabled its user (always Mr. Robinson, of course) to make his boys very very sorry indeed. Mr. Robinson bent down, and, with his hand, made sure that Shawn's penis and scrotum were out of the way completely, of the impending strapping.
Then, he began to spank his son's bare bottom with the punishment strap. Over and over again, the strap came down on the already red ass cheeks, the tops of the thighs, and the inner thighs. Just before the spanking was over, Shawn was ordered to reach back and spread his cheeks. The strap snapped into his crack four times...and it was over.
Mr. Robinson picked up the bawling, sobbing boy, and held him to his chest. "Okay son...it's over now." Shawn buried his face in his father's chest and sobbed convulsively. "Oh, Daddy, I'm so sorry," he gasped out.
"I know you are, Shawn. I want you to remember this for a long time. Now, you won't want to put on your pants tonight, I don't think, and I wouldn't allow it anyway. If you want to come downstairs to continue your visit with Matt, you'll have to come naked from the waist down. Otherwise, stay in your room until I say you can leave, which will be tomorrow morning. If you need to go to the bathroom, or anything else, you'll have to go like that. Is that understood, son?"
"Yes, Dad," said Shawn.
"Okay, son. You didn't get anything that your brothers don't get when they deserve it...and Scott got quite a spanking just last week, too. Remember I do this because I love you very much," said Mr. Robinson, as he kissed his tearful son on the forehead, picked up the strap, and left the room.
He walked downstairs, strap in hand, through the kitchen, where Matt was sitting with Shawn's two brothers. Matt was astonished that his friend had been spanked with that black strap, though Shawn's two brothers had no trouble with the concept whatsoever. Mr. Robinson proceeded through the kitchen to his den, and hung the strap back up on the wall, where it was constantly on display; a stern reminder to his boys as to who was in charge in the household. Then he strode back into the kitchen.
"Well, boys," he said. "Your brother's had a very severe spanking, and I hope you realize that if you see him again tonight, he'll be naked from the waist down, and very red back there.. Anyone have a problem with that?"
"No," said the Robinson boys, as Matt tried to control the bulge in his jeans.
"Good," said Mr. Robinson. "What should we do for dinner?"
*****