A Lesson I Never Forgot - Part Two

by Curtis <Draven27@juno.com>

I trembled as I stood bent over the bed, my butt stinging furiously from the paddling our next-door neighbor, Doug, had just given me. I still couldn't believe that Rick had just let Doug in and allowed him to put me - at fifteen - over his knee for a spanking, even if I had tossed a cherry bomb at Doug's new car. My stomach curled in humiliation as I thought back on the punishment. And now Rick was going to come up here when they were finished talking and give me another whipping.

I squirmed around ever so slightly, wanting to rub my butt but not daring to move. If Rick came up here and found me standing up or out of position. . . I shivered, trying to fight back more tears. Maybe I did deserve it. But it hurt like hell!

All of a sudden I heard footsteps on the stairs, and all the spit in my mouth dried up and my stomach dropped. This was it. Rick was coming. I closed my eyes.

"Curtis." The footsteps stopped to my left, slightly behind me.

"Yes, sir."

"Look at me."

I opened my eyes again and turned my head slightly until I could see Rick standing by the bed, his arms folded across his chest.

"You know what you did was wrong, Curtis," he began.

"Yes, sir," I whimpered, starting to cry. "I'm sorry, Rick, really, I didn't mean for that to happen."

"That's not the point. You acted irresponsibly, and caused a huge amount of damage to Doug's car - not to mention disobeying my direct orders about fireworks. You're lucky Doug didn't decide to call the police; he very well could have."

I hung my head.

"I'm furious with this behavior, Curtis, and I think you need to be taught a lesson about irresponsiblity and disobedience that you won't forget. I don't think a paddling is going to be enough this time, young man. I'm going to whip you."

Rick's hands went to the buckle of his leather belt, undoing it swiftly and pulling the belt out of its loops. He doubled it in his big right hand, and moved around behind me. I couldn't see him from that angle, and my whole body tensed. I wished I could let go of the bed and brush away the tears that were clogging my nose, but I didn't dare.

"Why are you being punished, Curtis?"

"I. . ." I swallowed. This was standard. "I disobeyed you. I b-broke the rules about fireworks."

"What else?"

"I damaged Doug's car. I acted s-stupid."

"Do you think you deserve to be punished?"

"Yes, sir."

I heard Rick step back. "I think that - even though your behavior calls for absolutely no leniency at all - because you *did* already have a spanking today, twenty-five should be enough to make you remember how to think before you act. You're going to count them out loud, Curtis, until I give you permission to stop. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir."

Rick put his hands on my hips. "Raise your butt."

I backed up slightly, grabbing onto the bedspread with both hands and raising my ass higher over the footboard, exposing more and making it impossible for me to tense against the spanking.

WHACK! The belt cracked down across my butt before I realized it was coming, and I cried out in surprise and pain, trying to jerk away. And then suddenly


I burst into tears, writhing from side to side to avoid the strokes but having no luck.

"Please, Rick," I begged, "Please, not so hard!"

"You were supposed to count the strokes, Curtis," Rick reminded me gently, "And you failed to do so. Do you want me to put you over my knee and give you your whipping that way?"


"Then do as I tell you."

WHACK! The belt came down again. "One," I muttered.

WHACK! "Louder!"


WHACK! "Three!"

WHACK! "F-four."


WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! "Five, five, I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

WHACK! My fingers gripped the bedspread so hard my knuckles were white. My ass was on fire, and tears were running down my face and dripping off my nose. "Six!"

WHACK! "Seven! Please stop, Rick!"

WHACK! "No more. . . eight. . . please, no more!"

WHACK! "Nine!" I could barely say the word, I was crying and struggling so hard.

WHACK! The belt cracked across my bare butt. "Ten!"

"You may stop counting now, Curtis," Rick said calmly.


Rick kept up the whipping, bringing the belt down across my ass with hard, evenly paced strokes. Oh, were they hard! My eyes were squeezed shut, and with every blow I heard myself begging Rick to stop. I promised to behave, to obey the rules, to be a good boy if he'd only stop. But he laid the last ten strokes across my butt, paused, and then brought the belt down one last time.


When he finished, I stayed bent over without having to be told, crying and sniffling into my arms. I heard him move away and buckle his belt again, and then he said, "Do you have anything to tell me, Curtis?"

"I'm s-sorry," I snuffled. "I'm sorry I disobeyed you. I'll n-never do it again."

"You promise you'll behave from now on?"


"Say it."

"I p-promise to b-behave." And then I said, "I'll be a good b-boy, I promise."

"Good." Rick sighed. "Stand up."

I stood up, wincing, every inch of my butt throbbing and burning as I moved. I didn't care about being exposed in front of Rick - it wasn't the first time, and I hurt too much to even think about it.

Rick was watching me closely, and he didn't say anything for a long time after that. "Curtis," he finally began, "you know why I had to punish you."

I nodded.

"Well, don't forget that I do it because I care about you, and want to keep you out of trouble. And I love you. Understand?"

I nodded again.

"Good." Rick smiled ever so slightly. "Now I want you to go stand in the corner for ten minutes, with your hands on your head. You can leave your pants down, and you're not to touch your butt. Spend some time thinking about what you did, and then you can come down and we'll have supper."


I did as I was told, even though shuffling into the corner hurt more than anything I could have imagined. I stood there for ten minutes, feeling my ass throb and being very aware of the punishment I'd received and the way it had made me feel like a "bad boy" - and swearing to myself that I'd never do ANYTHING to get in trouble like that again - and then Rick called up and told me I could pull up my pants and come downstairs.

The incident was forgotten after that, and Rick and I had a great time, like we always did - even though I had to eat dinner sitting on two cushions and couldn't sit down or lie on my back comfortably for four days - and I kept thinking that Rick was probably one of the coolest adoptive dads I could have wound up with. And I did behave myself. . .

. . . until the next time the temptation came along. . . but, after all, I only skipped two classes. . . and I really *did* forget about that detention. . .

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