Denis


by Witness <Hensmith76@hotmail.com>

"What is your interest?"

"The subject of this chat room."

"You spank?"

"Yes. My son, aged 16. Your interest?"

"I used to spank, but no-one to spank right now. Where do you live?"

".... near .... "

"Interesting. I live in ...."

"I am trying to think out a novel punishment for Denis; I have done the usual things and he is getting too used to them."

"You could warn him that if he continues you will take him to a stranger who will punish him in front of you. If he transgresses further, you could bring him to me."

"That's seriously interesting. Can we exchange E-mail addresses?"

xxx

Three weeks later, Denis and his father arrived at my home.

For a 16 year old, Denis was miniature; beautifully constructed, but looking much more like 14. Glossy, long black hair; smooth, soft tanned skin; brown eyes.

He was dressed as I had requested, in his school clothes: black long trousers, socks and shoes; a grey V-neck pullover; a green and silver tie; white shirt.

I sat them down.

"So, Frank, how do you usually punish Denis?"

"I send him to his room to strip to his briefs. I go in and lecture him. I drop his briefs to his knees, have him bend over the bed and spank or strap him or both."

"I see. And Denis, am I correct that you were warned by your dad that if you did not behave he would bring you to someone you had not met?"

"Yes, Sir." His voice sounded rather shaky. The boy was pleasantly nervous.

"And you have since misbehaved?"

"Yes."

"And your dad explained that my methods would be far more embarrassing than his?"

"Yes Sir."

"So you have no reason to complain about being here or about what I now do to make you a very embarrassed young man?"

"No Sir."

"Hmmm. Very well then. Show me your bottom."

"Er.... how...?"

I had him completely flummoxed, exactly as I intended. Every kind of alarming premonition of immediate jepardy must have entered the poor boy's head. "I mean, come over here."

He came over to my armchair. My legs were stretched out in front of me. "Turn round; stand astride my legs, the backs of your legs against the arms of my chair."

He did this.

"Now bend forward and grasp your ankles."

Doing this, he brought his bottom in the direct line of my horizontal vision. A bottom two-thirds covered by his grey woollen pullover and thus all the more alluring. I folded the pullover back to the waistband of his black trousers.

Now I really could see his bottom. Very pert, very neat, firmly padded, sweetly rounded, a younger boy's bottom, a beautiful little bottom. The fabric of his trousers was stretched tight over it. I could even see the elasticated legs of his briefs.

I put the palm of my right hand on his right buttock, softly. I placed the palm of my left hand on his left buttock. I let the thumbs of each hand join and slide up and down along his cleft and between his legs. "Your son has a fine bottom, Frank," I said.

Frank smiled.

"You have a fine bottom, Denis," I said. "It is made for spanking, no doubt about that. Wiggle it about a little."

He wiggled. I kept my hands in place. He was a cute wiggler.

"OK," I announced. "You can stand."

I withdrew my hands. He stood, still astride my legs. His pullover rolled discreetly back over his bot.

"Turn round and face me."

He faced me, legs astride mine. "You know I am going to take your clothes off, don't you Denis?" I said coolly.

"I...." he hesitated.

"You would rather I didn't but realise I will?"

"Yes Sir."

"Why would you rather I didn't?"

"Because..."

"Because it will be very embarrassing, especially with your father watching?"

"Yes Sir."

"And because you are generally allowed to undress yourself in private?"

"Yes."

"Well. I'll tell you what. I'll let you take your own shoes off. Sit on the floor here by the front of my chair between my legs and take off your shoes."

He sat between my knees, on the floor, and bent forward to remove each shoe in turn.

"Frank, could you collect your son's shoes please? He will have no further use for them this evening."

Frank collected the shoes and returned to his chair.

I leant forward and placed my hands between Denis' shoulders and neck, gently massaging with my thumbs. "You're quite tense, Denis," I said. "I guess you're feeling a bit nervous about me stripping you naked?"

"Yes, Sir."

"You're looking a little heated." I reached down to the base of the pullover. "I think we'll have this off to cool you down. Lift your arms."

Denis obediently lifted his arms and I removed his pullover. Frank collected it.

"You still feel hot, Denis," I said, placing my hand on his forehead. "Take off your tie and undo your top two shirt buttons."

I could tell how nervous he was now. His small hands shook as he undid the tie; his fingers fumbled with the shirt buttons.

"That's better, now isn't it?" I said, reaching around him, loosing a third shirt button and placing my hands on his chest. "Ah, a vest! Well, it is winter, but no wonder you were so hot. I think we shall cool you down some more." I went on unbuttoning to his waistband, then pulled his shirt out of his trousers and unbuttoned the rest. "Lean forward and let me take off your shirt."

Frank came over to collect the shirt and tie. "Frank, could you take off his socks for him? I find it much healthier to let the feet breathe." With a smirk, Frank removed his son's black socks, before returning to his chair, in front of which there was now a forlorn little heap of discarded clothing.

So Denis was sitting barefoot, in trousers and vest, between my knees.

"Feel cooler now Denis?" I asked.

"Yes Sir."

"And scared?"

He nodded.

"A cold feeling in your stomach, or your arsehole or your dick?"

Dennis coloured up and was silent.

"Which one?" I persisted.

"Kind of all three."

"Close your eyes."

He did.

"Concentrate on your lower stomach. Can you feel the cold feeling?"

He actually shivered. "Yes, Sir."

"Now concentrate on your dick and your balls. Is it the same sort of feeling there, or different?"

He was silent for a moment. "Different."

"Is it a bit more exciting there?"

He nodded emphatically.

"Turn your attention to your arsehole.... is that more like your dick or your gut?"

"More like my...."

"Go on, you can say it..."

"More like my dick, sir." He giggled with embarrassment.

"You can open your eyes - and stand up, between my legs still, facing me."

He stood up and faced me. There was a new look in his eyes. A touch mischievous. A taboo had been broken down between us. All kinds of things were possible now. I felt excited. I looked at his school trousers. His eyes followed my look downwards. I placed my hands on his black leather belt. "What makes you most nervous about me stripping you naked?" I asked. "Me seeing your chest, your bum or your dick and balls?"

I undid the belt and then awaited his reply. "All of it, sir. Just having no clothes in front of you and dad."

"And there's nothing a bit exciting about it as well?"

Our eyes met. He was unable to hold my gaze. "A bit," he said quietly.

I undid his top button and unzipped briskly. "Let's have these trousers off," I said, dropping them to his ankles. "Step out."

He stepped out of them.

"Take them to your father."

He gave his trousers to his father.

"Now lie on your back on the coffee table, hands by your side."

There was a long rectangular coffee table on a white rug in the centre of the room. He lay there as ordered.

"Close your eyes."

He closed his eyes.

"Soon, Denis, I shall be taking those white underpants right off you and your dick will be in the open air, for both of us to see. Imagine that. Are there hairs round it?"

He nodded.

"Does it often go hard?"

He nodded again.

"I expect you sometimes play with it. Don't you?"

He went red again and was silent.

"Don't you Denis? Don't you play with it?" I had adopted a wheedling tone. A little smirk quivered round the side of his face. He nodded. I could see the smallest stir in his Y-fronts.

"You seem to have lost your voice. Tell me that you play with your dick, Denis."

"I..."

"Go on."

"I play with it."

"You play with what?"

"I play with my dick."

"And it goes really hard, like it's going hard now."

And it certainly was, thrusting up in his underpants. I got up and went over to the coffee table. "Lift your bottom," I said, and as he did I pulled his briefs up over his erection and down over his legs and off his ankles.

His penis was solid, circumcised, a mite over five inches, with a small, jet black bush around it. The rest of his body was smooth and hairless - clearly he had matured late.

"Take your briefs to your dad."

Denis sat up, stood and handed over his underpants, his white vest dropping to give him a tented vestige of modesty, but his balls dangling in the open air beneath.

I returned to my chair and arranged my legs as before. "Come here and sit on my knee," I said.

I sat Denis on my knees, his legs each side of mine so splayed open, facing forwards. I let his bare butt rest against my hardness. I stroked from his neck along his shoulders and down his arms to his wrists, which I gently held. His penis had popped out and was jutting straight up in front of his white vest. "What are you now," I asked, "more excited or afraid?"

"A bit of each."

"Where are you excited?"

"In my..."

"In your dick?"

"Yes."

"Say it!"

"In my dick."

"Where are you afraid?"

"In my gut."

"And in your arsehole?"

"A bit of each there."

"Oh right! Time I looked at it."

"At what?"

"At your arsehole, of course. I hope it's clean."

"Oh!" He blushed. I let my hands slide onto the smooth tops of his thighs then down onto their inner surfaces close to his balls.

"You're shy about your arsehole?" I squeezed his thighs.

"Well..."

"Go on, you want to show me really. Stand up, legs astride, like before, and bend over, poking your spead bum cheeks in my face."

He giggled again. He was getting drunk with his own enforced exhibitionism. He bent and thrust his flared bottom up and out. I spread each cheek even further and looked at his clean sweet hole. "It's a beaut!" I said and ran one finger very lightly across it. It puckered inward then relaxed out."Good boy!" I said. "Stand up, take off your vest and give it to dad."

He did as he was bidden and stood naked before us, his arms folded.

"I think we'll all go to the bathroom," I said.

We went to the bathroom. I sat down on a bathroom stool and sat Denis on my lap, facing forward. Moving the stool out from the wall, I leant back, so Denis leant back, My arms around his waist, his legs spread outside mine. "Time to give him a haircut," I said, indicating a silver pair of scissors to his father.

Denis gasped and flushed as his dad started to snip off his hard-won hair. But his dick stayed erect - and his dad had to handle his dick to do the job.

When once the boy was a pubic skinhead, I indicated the shaving foam, shaver and flannel. Soon the boy was reduced to prepuberty, but still just as hard, even a drop of silvery precum at the head of his dick.

"There!" I said. "You look sweet. Let's go to my bedroom."

In my bedroom, I took out a pink ribbon I had acquired and tied it around his dick and balls in a pretty bow. I showed Denis what he looked like in the dressing-table mirror.

I placed three pillows, long wise, at the foot of the bed, one on top of the other and had Denis climb astride this, his knees thrust wide, and lean down and forward, so his head was into the pillows, his feet were just over the foot of the mattress, and his butt was up and spread.

I took a large, flat, wooden spoon and began to smack his bottom, enough to make a smacking sound, but not enough for any individual smack to give particular pain. Aftera while, his bottom was nicely pink.

I picked up a broad leather belt, doubled it over, and brought it down a touch harder on his right cheek, then his left. He winced. His bottom was already tender now of course.

Warming to my task, I brought the belt across both cheeks, laterally, hard, twice, once low near the top of his thighs, once high fully across the centre of his cheeks. He yelled. That had really hurt. There were red weals.

I put down the belt and retrieved a crook-handled cane from the corner of the room. In quick succession, I whacked him four times. He was snuffling and begging me to stop now.

I sat on the side of the bed, put a pillow over my lap and had Denis lie over it. I started to smack, not particularly hard, because now his bottom was so red and sensitive that every little smack was unpleasant.

When I had finished, I had him kneel in the bath, still naked, and ran cold water over his cheeks for some while. Then I had him out, dried him and anointed him with cold cream.

"Right," Frank said, "I'll take the clothes. He's all yours for a weekend of punishment...."

xxx xxx


More stories byWitness