"I want your assurance," Jack Spellman said to his prospective employer, William Jackson, "that if I take this job you will not interfere. From what you told me, your son is a spoiled brat who doesn't take school or anything else seriously."
"You come highly recommended. If Chris doesn't get his act together, he'll do as badly in 8th grade as he did in 7th. So, I can assure you that you have my permission to do whatever you think is appropriate in dealing with my son."
"Chris has to understand that I am completely in charge. I'd like to take over your guesthouse for the summer. Chris and I will live there and I will supervise him 24 hours a day. I am a strong believer in corporal punishment and Chris will be whipped on a regular basis. No matter what you see or hear, Chris is my responsibility and neither you nor your wife can interfere. Do we have a deal?"
"Like I told you before, Chris seems to think that because his parents have money, he can slide through life. Do whatever you feel is best. The guesthouse is yours to use while you are his tutor."
"Good, then have Chris come in here. I'm going to give him his first spanking in front of you so that he is fully aware that I'm in charge."
Chris had been told to wait in the hall while his father and the other man talked. After bringing home the awful end-of-the-year report card, he knew that he would have to suck up to his Dad for a while to get back in his good graces. He figured that he'd probably be grounded the first week or so of summer vacation, so he didn't want to do anything to prolong that.
"Chris, please come inside." Chris, dressed for summer fun in cutoffs, a t-shirt, and shoes without socks, walked in, wondering whom the man was and why his father wanted Chris to meet him.
"Chris," Jack Spellman said, "I am Mr. Spellman, your tutor for the summer. You will obey me completely and to the letter. Do I make myself clear?"
"What?" Chris asked.
"I'm not going to repeat myself. Come over to me. I'm going to give you a spanking."
"The hell you are," Chris sneered.
"Chris," his father said sternly. "Go over to the man and do exactly what he tells you. If you don't, I'll spank you and then let him spank you. For your sake, you'd better start listening."
"I'm too old," Chris said with conviction. "Besides, Mom won't let you."
"Chris, I'm not arguing, I'm telling. Now go over to Mr. Spellman."
"Please, no," Chris said with considerably less conviction, suddenly convinced that his father had the upper hand.
"I will count to three. One, two . . . " Chris, realizing things were spinning completely out of his control, walked over to the stranger.
"Chris," the tutor said, "your behavior is unacceptable. You have earned a very harsh spanking. Now, take off all of your clothes."
"W-what?" Chris couldn't believe this. Except for P. E., it had been years since he'd taken off his clothing in front of other people."
"I'm not repeating myself. You, however, are adding to your spanking every time you ignore my directives."
Seeing that Mr. Spellman was serious, Chris began to slowly undress. In short order, he stood in front of the man, his hands covering his penis and sparse pubic patch.
"Drop your hands." Chris found himself obeying.
The tutor pulled his leather belt from the loops of his pants and doubled it, holding the two ends in his right hand. "Kneel on the chair and put your arms over the back. If you move out of position, I start your whipping over."
Chris obeyed. Mr. Spellman put his left hand on the back of the boy's head. He admired the slender, almost hairless body he was going to use and abuse all summer. The boy's parents were going to get their moneys worth and the boy was going to learn, even if he had to spank him repeatedly. WHACK!! The belt slammed into his buttocks, leaving a red mark. WHACK!! The belt landed again. WHACK!!
Chris screamed in pain. He couldn't remember anything hurting as much as this. WHACK!! WHACK!! WHACK!! The tutor barely gave the boy a chance to react before hitting the young teen's reddening buttocks again and again.
Chris's father watched in fascination. He hadn't spanked Chris in several years. Perhaps that's what the problem was. WHACK!! WHACK!! As the belt again landed on his son's ass, he marveled at the red glow. WHACK!! As a father, he didn't like seeing his son sobbing and hurting while his bottom was whipped. WHACK!! WHACK!! WHACK!! However, he also realized that the spanking was for his son's own good.
The tutor knew that if the parents cooperated in helping him administer the first spanking to his young charges, he could do anything he wanted with the boys. He also knew that in these situations the boys surrendered much more readily. WHACK!! WHACK!! WHACK!!
Angry red lines covered Chris's bottom. While the boy had jerked from the impact of the man's belt, he hadn't tried to get away. After about 30 hard strokes, Spellman stopped.
"All right, Chris, let's go to your bedroom. Your father has agreed that you and I will move into the guesthouse. This house will be off limits to you. So we need to get some clothing for the summer."
Chris stood, still crying, his hands reaching back to rub his burning buttocks. After rubbing them for a minute, he reached for his clothing.
"No, Chris. I did not give you permission to put clothing on. Now give your father a hug and say goodbye. You won't be seeing too much of him this summer."
Bill Jackson swept his crying son into his arms. The man took the opportunity to rub his hands along the boy's scorched bottom. It was so warm to the touch. Reaching up and rubbing his son's hair, Jackson murmured, "Obey him and do what you're told."
Spellman reached over and pulled the boy away.
"We still have a very busy day. So let's get you packed so we can settle into the guesthouse and I can start tutoring you in earnest."
(TO BE CONTINUED)