"Get it," I hissed at my little brother Billy, "he's busy at the register."
"You get it," he whispered back, "I got it last time."
What 'it' was in this particular case was the latest issue of "Captain Blammo", a comic that both of us thought was the greatest one on earth for sure. There was one little hitch though....
My parents did a lot of their shopping in this small store, 'Smith's Emporium' it said above the door but what it was in truth is a convenience store. Staple groceries and junk, really--all kinds of junk food and of course the rack full of comics. My parents did not like Captain Blammo. I could not buy Captain Blammo without the shop keeper mentioning it to my parents next time they shopped here. I stole Captain Blammo.
Actually my brother and I took turns stealing it. I am the older one, almost 14 years old and can talk my 12 year old brother into most anything. He is a bit nervous about this stealing although if he does get caught he is still young enough that crying most likely will get him off of the hook. It used to work for me when I was his age.
I got disgusted finally and started to stuff the comic under my shirt in the waistband of my pants. Neither one of us had noticed during our whispered argument that Mr. Smith, the shopkeeper was no longer at his register. I had the comic nestled between my crotch and belly and was pulling my shirt over it when I felt a hand on my shoulder.
"Got you this time, my boy." It was Mr. Smith and keeping a firm grip on my shoulder he led me to the front of the store and the counter there. Billy started to cry on cue. I was thinking of doing the same but looking at the expression on Mr. Smith's face figured it wouldn't do any good.
"Your father is just about to leave his office," he said, "let's see if we can catch him." He looked up Dad's business number and called it. He talked with Dad for a minute and held out the phone to me. "Your dad wants to talk to you."
"Er, yes Dad?" I said into the phone.
"You and your brother stay right there and don't move unless Mr. Smith says you can," said Dad, "I'll be there soon." The phone clicked in my ear as he hung up.
Mr. Smith turned out the light on the front of the store for it was closing time and started to add up his day's take. Billy and I just stood there and I could feel the Captain Blammo comic book burning my belly. There was a tap on the door and at Mr. Smith's nod I popped the lock to let Dad into the mostly darkened store. The lock clicked back into place after him.
Dad said, "Let's see if we can get to the bottom of this situation." He turned to my little brother, he knew where the weak link was. "William," he said, fixing Billy with 'The Look', "what do you know about this?"
'The Look' is always followed by a long period of time spent looking at the walls in a guy's bedroom, no TV, no Nintendo, no nothing. To make matters worse you are allowed to only read this one book that Dad will assign and have to make a report once you have finished it. Billy just folded and started to blubber, the little creep.
"He made me do it!" he wailed, "I didn't want to steal Captain Blammo but he made me." Tears, some real, some artistic, were rolling down his cute little cheeks. Little brat. Under 'The Look' and Dad's careful questioning the tale came out, we had been ripping these comics off for almost two years now.
"Could this be true?" Dad asked Mr. Smith.
"All I can tell you is a copy of that magazine has been missing each month since it came out," he replied. "As you know all products are scanned in my store and we also do a manual count on the books and magazines and there has always been one Captain Blammo missing. Not there but not listed as sold either."
"Very well," said Dad as he pulled my shirt up showing the comic still pressed against my belly. He slid it out of my pants and looked at the cover. "Hmm. Seems like the cover price is $2.00," Dad said, "so that should be about $48.00 I owe you." He reached into his pocket and came out with his wallet and handed Mr. Smith a fifty dollar bill which he rang up and handed Dad back his two dollars in change.
"There, we are now even," said Dad, "now we must think of what to do about these two criminals." He turned to Mr. Smith. "Do you have any ideas? What would be a good and fitting punishment for these two culprits?" he asked.
"If they were my lads and got caught stealing like this I'd give them each a hiding that would make it hard to sit for a week," Mr. Smith said. "Their little bums would look like those tomatoes over there when I got done with them!"
"That sounds just right to me," said Dad, "do you have a place to administer this type of punishment?"
"Yes, sir," answered Mr. Smith, "we can use the little room out back. It is really my toilet area but it is big enough that I've put a chair and table out there for me to eat my lunch."
"That sounds perfect," said my father, "let's go boys." He herded us out to the back of the store followed closely behind by Mr. Smith.
I was going to get a spanking! Dad didn't give spankings!
"Dad!" I blurted out, "You don't believe in spankings!"
He put his hand on my shoulder. "No, son," he said, "it's your mother that doesn't believe in spanking a boy, as for me I don't see any harm in it at all. I just have never spanked you to keep peace in the family but I think that is going to change and not change for the better, for you anyway. Besides, your crime is against Mr. Smith and is his to punish you for it so you see I'm not going to spank you--this time. We'll talk about how I'm going to punish you later."
Mr. Smith pulled the sturdy chair out into the middle of the room. It was a pretty small room all told, the toilet and sink along one wall, a table pushed against the wall along the other and normally the chair would be underneath the table. There was still plenty of room for what was going to happen now.
My dad closed the door and leaned against it. "They are all yours, sir," he said to Mr. Smith. Dad is so polite it is disgusting.
Mr. Smith unbuckled his wide leather belt and slid it out of the pant's loops. He sat down in the chair. "Who wants to be first," he said, doubling up the belt and snapping the loop together. It made an awful 'cracking' sound. Dad solved this problem by giving me a shove over toward Mr. Smith's right side. I could hear Billy still sniffling in the background.
"Okay, lad," said Mr. Smith, "down with your britches." I froze, there was no way I could bring myself to take my jeans down in front of this man! He took care of the chore himself, unsnapping my fly and tugging at it to open the zipper and then sliding my jeans down to way below my knees. "These too," he said, "it's you that I aim to punish, not your underpants." My briefs joined my jeans somewhere down by my calves of my legs. He guided me over his knees then.
I could feel cool air blowing over my naked backside, heck, it was blowing into areas that I had never felt it blow before! He had pulled me down so my crotch was over his right leg and now he lowered his left leg and raised his right one to lift up my bare butt for my spanking. I grabbed ahold of his left leg to keep my balance. I was so embarrassed to be seen like this, bare bottom up and ready to be spanked!
"So this will be your first spanking," Mr. Smith said, running his hand over my bare posterior, "well, I've given quite a few of them over the years being the oldest in the house and having lots of cousins that I used to take care of and I'll have to say that your butt doesn't look any different than theirs did. I'm quite certain it will turn red just as well." He picked up the belt from where he had laid it on my back, took a firm grip around my waist with his left arm and raised the doubled over belt high and brought it smartly down across both of my butt cheeks.
It stung a little bit at first but nothing like I was expecting, some of my friends at school used to say how much it hurt when they got a hiding but then the second stroke landed and my bum just lit on fire! Before I could even draw a deep breath to yell another two stinging lashes hit my bare bottom in about the same place and they were all over the exposed area.
From the crown of my butt to the backs of my legs, that belt stung it all. I was crying and begging but the spanking just continued just about forever, I'm sure, and all my kicking and thrashing around did no good, relentlessly Mr. Smith tanned my hide for me. Holding me firmly in place he spanked my entire butt flaming hot with that belt of his, I'm sure that some skin was coming off of it with every fiery lash. Finally when I was certain all the hide had been flayed from my ass the spanking stopped and he put me on my feet.
Still bawling at the top of my lungs I was furiously rubbing my blazing backside trying to put out the flames burning back there and dancing around as much as I could hobbled by my jeans and underwear around my ankles. I was heedless of the show I must be putting on, my hard penis bobbing up and down in the air almost in Mr. Smith's face. Dad took me by the arm and led me over to one side so Billy could receive his punishment. He also made me stop rubbing my butt and put my hands behind my head and just stand there, tears running down my face and my nose running from crying as well. It was Billy's turn.
Billy was crying before the belt ever smacked his bottom but it made no difference, soon I got treated to the sight of my little brother's cute little white bum raised up over Mr. Smith's knee. It sure didn't stay white very long and I watched through tear streaked eyes as the belt rose and fell numerous times turning his bum first pink and then an angry shade of red. Billy was wailing at the top of his voice and kicking around furiously and I blushed when I saw right up inside of his crack, his pink little butt hole and small, tight, scrotum fully exposed to my view--I must have looked a lot like that when I was getting my hiding.
Billy's rear end was almost scarlet by the time the hiding was over and his face just about matched from all his crying. Dad allowed him to dance around for a bit as well though Billy didn't have a woody to show off like I did. The two of us had to stand there, hands behind our heads and pants on the ground until we stopped crying and then were told to pull our pants up. I almost started crying again when I pulled my tight briefs up over my scalding hot behind.
"Thank you for your patience and understanding," Dad said to Mr. Smith, "I can guarantee you that these two will never, ever steal from you again. Of course there is the little matter of the money that I am out for the comics that they stole, I guess I'll wait a week or so and then try out my as of now new parenting skills on their bottoms myself. I'll let you know how things work out." He herded us out of the store and into the car and we both started to whimper a bit when our sore bums hit the car seats.
On the short drive back to the house I summoned up my nerve.
"Dad," I said, "you aren't actually going to spank us, are you?"
"Well," he said, "not quite like that. My father never whipped my tail with his belt, he liked to use a paddle instead. I'm sure I can dig something up that will work just fine."
Holy crap! First a belt and now a paddle! Tears formed in my eyes again just thinking about how that would feel on my bum.