Giving Dad a Thrashing

by Steffan <>

This is a sequel to the a story I wrote called 'Getting a Thrashing from Dad'. Please read that story first to get the background to the following events. I am more than happy to receive your comments after you have read this second instalment.

I went back to college at the University of London in the autumn to carry on my with my Classical Studies after spending a pleasant and memorable summer holiday with my Dad in the countryside. During the first week of term I had to re-sit an exam in Greek philosophical thinking. I just knew that I had done well on this second attempt so I was delighted to receive the news a few days' later that I had passed the exam with flying colours.

During the holidays, after I had confessed to Dad that I had failed the exam he gave me the thrashing of my life. I really did deserve it and every day for the rest of the holidays I spent 2 hours on my studies. I made myself get up early in the morning to cram in as many facts as possible for the re-sit before eventually meeting up with Dad for lunch or visiting friends. I was so happy that his thrashing did the trick and that it concentrated my mind on working harder during the following academic year.

I phoned him to give him the news immediately.

'Dad - I passed the exam!' I said, to which he replied :

'Congratulations, Son. I knew a good switching would sort you out! I am proud of you........'.

Towards the end of our telephone chat he reminded me -

'Now, don't forget to work hard this term or you know what will happen! And remember also our agreement! If at any time in the future you think that I should be chastised for my misdemeanours you should ensure that it is done in a manner that befits my crime. You are a grown up man of 20 now and should be capable of knowing what to do. I'm 45 now and not too old yet to be taught a lesson or two! But there again, neither are you! '

'I know that Dad!' I replied, 'By the way I'll come and spend the weekend with you in three weeks' time, if I may. I'll visit Mum on the way. Got to rush off now, or I'll be late for my lecture - bye , see you soon.'

I put the phone down and blushed excitedly at the thought of one day carrying out my duty as he had specified. I rushed to my lecture - a two hour lecture on the writings of the Athenian prose writer Xenophon. As you can imagine I couldn't concentrate. All I could think of was what on earth could Dad ever do to ever deserve to be punished by me. He is clean living as far as I know (apart from a few Color Climax mags hidden under his bed which I accidentally found one day), he goes to the gym 2 or 3 times a week, drinks in moderation with his mates and still has a very friendly relationship with Mum, even though they had been divorced since I was 5. Even the divorce was not his own fault. On the contrary it was Mum's love affair with another man in the village that split them up. He seemed to be too good to be true.

I suddenly woke up from my day dreaming to hear the Professor talking about Xenophon's writings about the Spartans and their educational system which got all my attention. Apparently the Spartans' system of educating their boys was very harsh. The schools deliberately did not give the boys much food to eat in order to tempt them to steal from the school's food store which was amply supplied. The food store was of course guarded 24 hours a day. Those boys brave enough to raid the supplies without getting caught could gorge themselves sufficiently to keep the pain of hunger at bay for several days. The unfortunate ones that did get caught trying to steal were stripped bare, tied down and severely flogged in front of all the other boys. The object of the exercise was to make the boys realise that they should not get caught! The ones that got caught had to suffer the consequences. When these boys eventually left school to become soldiers, the theory was that in times of war they would be resourceful, bold and scheming enough to survive by pillaging from their enemies so that they wouldn't die of hunger.

It occurred to me that nobody is totally innocent. I know I'm not. Maybe Dad was like one of the boys in the Spartan school that the professor had been lecturing us about. Maybe, if he had ever done something bad he had just been cunning enough not to be found out.

Two weeks later I was really getting involved with my course, but I also missed seeing my Mum and Dad and I just couldn't wait yet another week before going home to visit as I had previously told Dad on the phone. Even thought my Dad got custody of me (which is rare) after their divorce I always got to stay with Mum every other weekend from the age of five. I always looked forward to my weekends with her as a little boy . I knew I could be naughty at her place without getting a spanking! She was so funny and eccentric, and she still is. A typical Englishwoman one might think!

I couldn't wait any longer, I was homesick, so on this particular Friday morning when I had no lectures scheduled I phoned up Mum from Waterloo Station to ask her to pick me up from her local station.

The train from Waterloo got to Mum's town on time (yet another rare thing!) where she greeted me at the exit as she always does, and I kissed her on both cheeks. She was wearing a very large floppy hat which covered most of her face which I put down to Mum being her own eccentric self!

'Your Dad told me a few days ago that you weren't coming home till next weekend!' she said as we were driving back to her house.

'Yes, I had originally meant to stay in London this weekend to finish off an essay, but I can do that at Dad's can't I. Anyway I missed you both', I replied. 'He'll have a surprise to see me as I haven't told him I'm coming home yet'.

'Did you have an argument with a wall, Mum?', I asked as I noticed that her floppy hat was camouflaging a black eye .

'I'll tell you over a coffee at home, darling' she shrugged.

When the coffee was prepared I persisted in asking her again about the 'accident'. With her hat now removed it was quite evident that she had a 'beauty' on her left eye.

'I got into an argument with your Dad' she said. 'He came over 3 days ago and we had a few too many glasses of whisky together and for some reason things got out of hand and we started to shout and scream at each other. Eventually he punched me in the face as you can see. I'm sorry you came home this weekend, if it had been next weekend my eye would have been fine and you wouldn't have known anything about it. Please don't say anything to your Dad about it tonight when you get home - it was partially my fault.'

I felt furious with Dad. How could he have hit a woman like that? Not any woman, but my Mum whom I loved dearly. Mum and I finished our coffee and she drove me back to the station to catch the next train down the line to where Dad lives. I promised her that I wouldn't mention the incident to Dad, but I had other plans. During the half hour train journey to Dad's I kept thinking about what happened to those boys in the Spartan schools if they were ever caught!

I got a taxi from the station home. I knew Dad wouldn't be home at that time, so I let myself in with the key that I still kept. It was by now 3 o'clock in the afternoon, and dad would still be at the his office where he ran his successful business as an architect. I dumped my bag in my bedroom and knowing that Dad would not be home for at least another 3 hours I decided to pay a visit to my Granddad (Dad's father) who only lived 5 miles away in the next village. I got my mountaineering bike out of the garage and sped over to his place where I found him working in his tool shed. Since his retirement he had been occupying himself a lot with his hobby which was restoring old furniture.

'Hi Granddad - how are you keeping' I asked.

'What a surprise to see you, young man. I'm fine as you can see, but what about yourself. Didn't expect to see you till next Friday! - why the long face? You don't seem to be your usual jolly self today?' he observed.

I told him that I was upset about how Mum had told me earlier about Dad punching her about the face. He said that even as a young man my Dad had had quite a quick temper and that he'd had to resort to punishing him with a switch on several occasions when he became too difficult to handle. He also said that most of the switchings had taken place in this very tool shed.

'That's cool!' I thought to myself as I let my imagination run riot.

Dad had told me before about the switchings he got form Granddad. My dick started to stir in my pants as I realised that my anger was starting to be overtaken by a lustful desire to whip Dad. Something caught my attention hanging on the wall in Granddad's tool shed.

'What do you have hanging there Granddad?'

'It's a riding crop', he said. 'I frequently used to threaten your Dad with it if he ever misbehaved. But it I never got to use it on him. I thought it was too severe on him even when he had been particularly dishonest or badly behaved' .

'May I borrow it Granddad? Dad and I are thinking of doing some horse riding this weekend!' I said knowing full well that riding a horse was the last thing on my mind. I had an inclination that Dad was going to meet the crop face to face (or cheek to cheek) for the first time after all!

'Yes, sure you can, but it hasn't been used for several years, so it'll need a few hours in warm water for it to get back to its full flexibility. But promise me you don't lose it. I've had it for a very long time. Seems it will come to some good use after all! ' he said.

'Thanks Granddad. I promise I'll bring it back before I go back to London '.

I got on my bike and rode back home with the riding crop secure within my jacket. Dad still wasn't home. I ran some hot water into the bath and plunged the crop into it. The crop was heavy and not so inflexible after all, but a soaking in warm water should make it even more whippy! I was getting more excited by the minute about challenging Dad when he got home.

In two hours time I went to the bathroom to take the crop out of the water and dry it thoroughly. After its soaking it seemed to have gained weight, girth and flexibility. I didn't want Dad to see it yet so I took it to his room, where I had decided his punishment was eventually going to take place. I whacked the crop down on his bed three times to get a feel for it. It made a very loud noise indeed as it landed on his duvet. This instrument would make a lasting impression on a man's ass! I hid the crop under his bed where I was pleased to see he still had his collection of various porn.

Dad eventually arrived home at 9 o'clock obviously very surprised to see me there.

'What the hell are you doing here today? I thought it was next Friday! I would have been back home hours ago to prepare a meal for the two of us if I'd known. I've been down the pub for a few drinks with my colleagues.' he said as he reached over to give me a big hug.

We embraced each other and he suggested we had a couple of cans of beer from the refrigerator.

Eventually, as we were drinking our beer, I said to him 'I went to see Mum today on the way over and I saw what you did to her - have you anything to say about that?'

'I can only apologise' he said embarrassingly, ' I was out of my mind! I didn't know what I was doing. See, I'd had too much to drink and I did something that I'd never done before. I'll never do it again, I promise. I know how much it must have hurt you to see her like that, knowing that I did it. I was hoping that you'd never find out'.

'But I did find out! I was very hurt Dad and very angry. You may punish me with your belt occasionally, but never ever take out your frustrations on Mum. Anyway I have got over my anger now, but I still feel as you'll probably agree with me, that you ought to be punished for throwing your fist into Mum's face.' - I said firmly, but not in aggressive way.

'Your right Son, I agree - what should happen to me?' he enquired nervously.

'I'm going to give you a good old fashioned hiding, Dad, the likes of which you have not had since your Dad gave you all those years ago in the tool shed. Let's finish off these beers then I want you to go out and cut yourself a switch from the bottom of the garden. I'll go to wait for you in your bedroom. When you've found a decent sized switch get yourself up to the bedroom where I'll be prepared to sort you out.'

He went out to the garden as I excitedly went upstairs towards his bedroom.

I sat on his bed and waited for about 10 minutes before I heard him walking up the staircase. He walked into the room carrying the longest and thickest switch I had ever seen. This was a man that knew he had to be severely punished. He handed me the switch which was 4 foot long and as thick as my forefinger.

Dad was still in his office suite looking very smart. He was wearing a pale blue shirt and a tie which I had bought for him from Liberty's at Regents Street as a Christmas present the previous year.

'Thanks Dad, that's quite a switch you've cut for yourself. Now take off your jacket and trousers'

He took off his jacket and threw it on the floor, then he started to unbuckle his belt. The sound of him undoing his belt was quite familiar to me as I had felt the sharp uncompromising sting of that belt on my backside on several occasions in the passed. This time however the belt was not being undone to be used on me, but it as being undone for an altogether different reason. But the sound I heard next was not so familiar. It was the sound of Dad unzipping the trousers of his suit. He then sat on the bed to removed his boots while all the time my eyes were glued to his crutch as he slowly let his trousers slide down his muscular thighs. He was wearing tight fitting white cotton briefs under his trousers which didn't leave much to the imagination. I was enjoying this show!

'Shirt and socks as well!' I commanded assertively.

He took off his socks and then undid his tie. As he slowly took off his shirt he revealed his broad chest and firm abdominal muscles. His hard work in the gym every week obviously paid dividends! By now it was evident that his white shorts were tenting up with anticipation of what was to come next.

I went to sit on the chair in his room and told him that I was going to spank his bottom with my hand first in order to wake up the nerve endings ( I remember him using that line on me that on so many occasions!). He submissively bent over my lap and I squeezed his butt through his thin white briefs a few times before proceeding to slap him as hard as I could on alternate cheeks. I stopped occasionally to rub his cheeks through his cotton briefs and massage his inner thighs before continuing. I felt his dick growing harder as I kept smacking him harder and faster. After four minutes of butt smacking I stopped and told him to get up. There was an obvious sign of precum on the front of his bulging shorts which aroused me. He was enjoying being on the receiving end as much as I was enjoying this rather satisfying chance to be the giver for a change.

I had never seen Dad totally naked before but I knew that the sight was only a few seconds away. I asked him to bend over the bed as I grabbed hold of the fierce looking freshly cut willow switch that he had just cut for himself.

When he was bent over I allowed my hand to penetrated under the tight elastic of his briefs and I started very slowly to slid them down to reveal the white flesh of his well rounded ass. The image of my hand where I had spanked him could be seen against the white background of his muscular posterior. I had a bit of a problem lowering his briefs as his hard dick was an obstacle, so I had to take his thick dick in hand to slide his briefs all the way down. I couldn't believe my eyes when I saw the size of it. It must have been 9.5" and throbbing!

This was the moment I had been dreaming of all those years - Dad presenting his bare ass to me for a thorough whipping. The whiteness of his ass was enhanced by the deep tan on his back and on the back of his thighs. We had spent a lot of time together during the summer sunbathing on the beaches of the South Coast of England.

'Spread your legs wide now, please Dad I'm going to give you 10 with this switch' I commanded.

I lifted the switch up high above my shoulders and brought it down hard across Dad's well presented bottom. It whistled through the air and landed with a loud crack. I waited for 20 seconds for the pain to accumulate before landing a second swishing stroke.

Just before the third one landed my Dad cried 'Oooh no! It hurts so much, please not so hard'.

I wasn't going to let his cries deflect me. I had a job to do. How many times in the passed had I pleaded for him to stop when I being was 'tickled' by his leather belt? I was more than ever determined to whip him good. I know it must have hurt a lot especially since he hadn't received a strapping from hid Dad for about 20 years. Anyway this was just the beginning! I was having a field day and from what I could observe of Dad's pulsating hardon, so was he. I continued with my regular 20 second interval assault with the switch until the tenth stroke had been issued, ensuring that every cut landed on a different part of his smooth hairless bottom. His bottom did look very sore indeed after the tenth stroke!

'Stand up, Dad and face me' I said

He stood up and turned around with watery eyes still sporting his 9.5" thick erect penis. He was jumping around from foot to foot tightly clenching his posterior with both hands. This was a sight to behold! My dick was throbbing in my pants too, as you might imagine. There was still Granddad's strop to be used. But it was too soon to use it yet so I said 'OK Dad let's take a beak! Let's go downstairs and grab ourselves another couple of beers before we continue! Dad still did not know what I had in store for him for the next stage.

We were drinking a can of beer each in the kitchen. He stood too sore to even contemplate the thought of sitting down. We chatted amicably about my collage activities as I kept admiring his body and his involuntary throbbing manhood. I had deliberately not allowed him to put on his bath robe before coming downstairs. He had to be naked until his punishment was over. I had always guessed that he had a big dick and large balls from the outline they made when he wore his tight jeans but I never had imagined that they were as big as they actually were. It was no wonder he was so popular with the women (and probably some of the men too!) in the gym.

I relished the chance of being in control. I was dressed and sitting down comfortably. Dad on the other hand was naked and standing up in front of me rubbing his sore behind, probably nervously thinking about what was going to happen to him next. We finished our beers and I told Dad to get himself back into the bedroom to settle some unfinished business.

He walked up the stairs in front of me as I spanked the back of his thighs hard with my hand as I followed him up.

Back in the bedroom I told him that I'd been to see Granddad in the afternoon Then I reached under the bed and produced the riding crop.

'Granddad lent me this' , I said ' he told me that there were occasions when he should have taught you a lesson with it! But it is I, not Granddad who is eventually going have the pleasure of using it on you for the first time'.

Dad gasped with the sight of the thing. So would I have if it were ever produced as an instrument to punish my ass!!

'Now lay yourself face down on the bed Dad and prepare yourself for some excruciating pain. Put a couple of pillows under your dick to push your bum in the air and spread those legs of your as wide apart as possible! Like you used to tell me to do. Remember Dad? '.

Dad obliged without any protestation or hesitation. He was taking his punishment like a man! Dad is taller, bigger and stronger than me. He's all muscle too - not an ounce of fat on his body, so if he had wanted to he could have turned on me at any moment to stop me from continuing, but he didn't. He put the pillows under his still quivering dick and I could see that he was ensuring that his legs were as far apart as possible as I had requested so that I had a good target to administer a very painful dose with the crop.

I said 'There are going to be six of these - then it will be all over, but brace yourself Dad as I am going to be thrashing you with all the force I can muster!'

I brought the first stroke down as hard as I could on his left cheek. It must have been very agonising indeed considering that there were 10 switch stripes on his butt already. He howled very loudly.

Soon afterwards the crop came hissing down to deliver the second and third very hard strokes again on his left cheek, and to my surprise Dad was still retaining his spread eagle position on the bed, but he was wriggling his buns about in pain and complaining how much they f***ing hurt.

For the last 3 strokes I went over to the other side of the bed to attack his right cheek. I administered the fourth and fifth strokes in very quick succession of each other on the right cheek (only about one second apart) so that the fifth would strike before he'd had the chance to regain his composure. These two strokes caught him off his guard and his whole body started to squirm frantically. He gave out a loud high pitched cry and started to move his hips vertically up and down to vainly try and get rid of the pain. It looked as though he was trying to _f_u_c_k_ the _s_h_i_t_ out of the pillows supporting him.

I gave him a few seconds to calm himself down after the previous two blows. Then I lifted the crop up high above my shoulders for the last time and let it go whistling through the air with great force as I aimed low down towards his thighs, knowing that it would be a very sensitive area. It announced its touch down on Dad's behind with a loud thunderous crack that echoed throughout the whole room.

Dad's whole body almost rose up from the bed as though by levitation with the pain he was experiencing. He dropped back into the submissive position again - bum high up in the air supported by the pillows, with his legs still as wide apart as they possibly could be and his ass-hole twitching.

'Stay in that position Dad for five minutes without moving. Concentrate deeply on that stinging and burning pain on your ass, and consider why this punishment was carried out!' I insisted.

During these five minutes I could enjoy the view of dad's well thrashed behind. I was tempted to get my dick out and toss myself off to relieve the tension in my pants, but I knew that would not have been a very professional thing to do. Eventually the five minutes of waiting for his pain to thoroughly sink in were over and I told him he could get up. I was surprised to see that he was still erect even after all those strokes that had been inflicted upon him.

'It's all over now Dad' , I said. He gingerly got off the bed and stood up with precum still oozing out of his still ever-so-hard pulsating dick. I took him in my arms to give him a comforting cuddle. We stayed in a firm man-to-man embrace for quite some time. I reached over with both my hands to gently rub the pain away from his well thrashed bottom, one hand on each of his severely punished cheeks. As I carefully massaged his hot burning masculine backside his sighs of relief suggested to me that he appreciated the gesture.

'Thanks Son' Dad said, 'I love you very much and I'm sorry for hurting your Mum. You have taught me a very painful lesson which is that I can still be bent over and whipped when I have done wrong and that's a very humbling experience for a man.

My Dad said he wanted to have an early night, and I didn't blame him after what I'd put him through. I kissed him good night and I also decided to have an early night to rethink about the events. I went to bed with a raging hardon which I very very slowly and methodically brought to an enormous climax as I thought about Dad's thrashing.

I woke up late the next day and went into Dad's room to see if he was OK but he seemed to have already got up. There were some spent tissue papers on the floor by the side of his bed. Curiosity got the better of me and I went over to pick up the still wet tissues and I shamefully took a sniff. Yes, I was right, I knew that unmistakable man-cum smell ! - Dad had had some fun thinking about his thrashing last night too!!

I went downstairs to have some breakfast in my pyjamas to find Dad sipping some freshly brewed coffee. His bottom must have been still too sore to wear his shorts! He was only wearing a very tight white T-shirt that came up to just above his navel. The kind of shirt that he likes to wear at the gym to show off his body. I had never seen him before so relaxed in front of me with nothing to hide his modesty. Dad was almost flaunting his big dick and big balls in front of me.

'How do you feel this morning after the switch and the crop?', I asked.

'I feel fine, as you can see. But I'm relieved it's all over so that we can forget about the incident when I hit your Mum. You did a very good job of it last night, Son. You must have learned it from me', Dad said with a wicked smile.

'Oh, I mustn't forget to take the riding crop back to Granddad tomorrow. He only lent it to me for a few days and he doesn't want to lose it', I said.

As soon as I mentioned the riding crop Dad's dick started to rise to attention again which in turn caused mine to do respond sympathetically! Before I knew it, my dick was wriggling its way out through the slit of my pyjama bottoms. But what the hell! - Dad had seen it before anyway! So I just let it do its own thing.

Dad replied 'Oh, I meant to tell you, your Granddad has already phoned me this morning to ask how it went with the crop last night. He said he knew all along what you wanted it for - he doesn't want it back! He insisted that it should be put to some good use here from now on'.

Dad and I smiled at each other.

More stories bySteffan