"Go to your room, Timmy." Dad said. "We will discuss your punishment later."
I headed upstairs to my bedroom, Dad and I had just gotten back from the mall where I had been caught shoplifting. I hadn't stolen anything much, just a CD, but I got caught at it and store Security called my father to come and get me. After Dad paid for the CD and seeming as it was a first offense they let me go without prosecuting me though I was banned from that store forever unless I was in the company of one of my parents. I wondered how long I would be grounded this time.
I looked around my room, how many times in my fourteen years had I spent my time looking at the walls, yeah right. I had my own computer with Internet, a Nintendo 64 with 16 cartridges and a television. It was truly cruel and unusual punishment to be confined to my room except for meals. And of course, potty breaks, I was allowed to go down the hall for that reason.
I heard Mom's car start up and walked over to the window and saw her leaving the yard with my kid sister and brother in the back seat, I guessed that there was going to be some heavy duty yelling going on pretty quick, Dad liked to clear the house when he decided to do that. He was funny that way, he prefered to keep his disciplinary actions private between him and the misbehaving kid, I had made the trip out of the house with Mom on several occasions when one of my siblings got in trouble for a change. I knew that she would be gone for most of the afternoon and bring pizza back for supper when she came home.
I heard Dad's footsteps on the stairs and down the hall and he knocked on my door twice and came in. I had once protested this action, knocking and not waiting for me to invite him in and he told me that seeming as it was his house he knocked to let me know that he was coming in, not asking for permission.
I was sprawled on my bed looking at a comic book and Dad took the chair out from beneath my desk and turned it around and sat in it. I ignored him, letting him make the first move.
"Timmy," Dad said "look at me." With a heavy sigh I lowered the comic to my chest and looked in his direction.
"Yes, Dad," I said, "how long am I grounded for this time?"
"You're not going to be grounded at all," he said, "as a matter of fact I don't think I'll ever ground you again." What was this? Not getting grounded?
"Grounding you just doesn't seem to be working," he continued, "and your mother and I have noticed that your behavior has become deplorable over the last six months or so and we talked it over and feel it is time to try stronger methods of discipline with you, I'm going to give you a spanking."
"What?" I said, sitting up on the bed, "You don't give spankings, you have never given me a spanking in my life! Heck, you don't even know how to give a spanking!"
"You are right there," Dad said ruefully, "I've never given anyone a spanking in my life though I got more than a few when I was a kid. I've been wanting to spank you since you were little but your mother and I didn't agree on the idea. Now we agree that it is worth a try to see if it will change the way you are behaving. She is willing to let me tan your hide for you if she don't have to be here to listen to it happening. I guess it will be a learning experience for both of us. However, knowing that I don't know much about giving a spanking, I have been doing some research into the subject on the web and found some very interesting sites on the subject."
I groaned inside, one of Dad's famous research sessions. Dad treats the web as a gigantic encyclopedia and simple loves to research any subject in depth. I knew that there were spanking sites on the web, heck, I read the stories on one of them and knew another where there were great pictures available, I wonder if Dad found those sites in his surfing.
I knew about spankings, of course, though I had never received one of my own, quite a few of my buddies at school still got their backsides warmed by their fathers when they misbehaved and I had seen the results in the showers in gym class and the sight of their striped or reddened fannies was quite a turnon for me in truth. They assured me that the idea of getting spanked is a lot more fun than a spanking itself but it still seemed pretty kinky to me. Of course at my age anything involving that general area of my body, especially when it involved being naked in that region, seemed kinky anyhow.
"I found one site, Jimbo's or Ginko's or something like that," Dad said, "that had some stories by men that actually do use spankings for discipline on their boys and between those stories and my memories we should be able to get along pretty well. First of all, before we get started, I need you to take your shoes, socks and pants off."
"What for?" I asked, blushing. As if I didn't know, most all the stories at MMSA Stories site, which I know is the one that Dad was talking about, start with the bad boy dropping his pants. Although I am not a prude by any means and am fairly comfortable about being seen in the nude somehow this was different. Getting changed for gym and taking showers with guys my age is one thing, being told to take my pants off for some possible punishment is another.
"One thing most of the men writing in those stories agree on is the need for a spanking to be given on a boy's bare backside," Dad said, "I can remember having my pants taken down for a spanking so I guess it will work as well with you. Now do it!"
Those last three words were spoken in Dad's 'I'm not fooling around' voice, so I got up from my bed and slowly slipped off my sneakers and socks and then undid the fly on my jeans and slipped them off over my feet so I was standing there dressed in my old Ford Mustang T-shirt and white briefs. Darn it all, I know that I should be nervous and maybe scared of getting a spanking at my late age but my willie was hard as a rock and starting to drool pre-cum fluid so there was a wet spot on the front of my underpants.
"Now what?" I asked.
"Come over here to my right side," Dad ordered, "I'll be taking you over my knees for this spanking just like my dad used to do to me." He then picked up a package from the floor beside him and I looked at it as I walked over to his side.
"We will start out the spanking with me using my hand," Dad said in a conversational tone, "but from what I've read a boy your age will learn more with the use of a tool on his fanny. I was undecided whether to get a strap as some men advise, or a paddle, but I decided seeming as I am pretty good at racquet ball and tennis that I would get along better with a paddle so I ordered this one over the web." Sheesh, this means that he had been thinking about giving me a spanking for some time now if he actually ordered something from the web!
Dad got the paddle from the package and held it up for me to see. It didn't look like an awful lot, smaller than a Ping Pong paddle though thicker by far and more teardrop shaped but the strangest thing about it was the whole bunch of holes drilled through the business end of the thing, it looked like a piece of Swiss cheese. It was made out of wood of some kind and finished to a high gloss.
Dad set the paddle on the floor and looked at me. "One more thing before we get started," he said, and before I could react he had his thumbs inside the waistband of my shorts and yanked them down to way below my knees. Of course my stiff willie popped out and was sticking out from my body like a flag pole. Dad ignored my state of erection as he guided me down over his knees which I almost gladly complied with to try to hide my arousal. I blushed as he pressed downward on my willie as I lay down to keep it on the outside of his right leg.
I was looking at the floor on Dad's left side, my hands bracing me so I didn't fall on my face and knew my toes were on the floor on the other side and Dad jiggled his legs around to make my rear end the highest point of my body. Dad pushed and yanked my T-shirt up toward my shoulders to bare my midsection and then to my horror he started to rub my bare and upturned fanny with his hand!
He ran his hand all over my rump and forced his hand between my legs and gave my scrotum a light squeeze and then to my sheer embarrassment opened up my crack with his left hand and ran the fingers of his right hand over my now exposed boyhole.
"Dad!" I almost yelled, "Why are you doing this?"
"It is important to prove to the boy that you are in control of his body," Dad said, "all of his body. I can spank anything back here so don't forget it!" He ran his fingers over my boyhole a few more times, even pressing on it a little bit before letting my cheek go to cover it up again. This was so humiliating!
"Well, at least the potty training your mother and I gave you stuck in your mind," Dad said, "you are nice and clean back here. Too bad the manners we taught you didn't stick as well!" I almost died, we just don't talk about that sort of thing! I mean here he is going to slap my fanny and he's talking about how well I wipe myself?
He took a firm grip with his left arm around my ribs and raised his right hand on high and without further ado whacked my right cheek with it. Slowly, as if feeling his way, Dad slapped every inch of my rump hard with his hand.
At first it didn't feel all that bad, sure, the slaps stung a bit but nothing to cry about, but as the spanking continued for a long, long time the heat started to build up on my rump and I started to wiggle around and even yelp once in a while when a slap stung a tender spot. My wiggling turned into kicking as I tried in vain to avoid the next stinging slap, all that did was seem to expose new areas of unspanked hide for Dad to slap but I couldn't help myself, I had to kick. I felt my underpants that had been hobbling my legs fly off of one foot as I reacted vigorously to a hard slap down low on my fanny where it meets my legs.
"Dad!" I yelled, almost crying, "This is starting to hurt!"
"A spanking hurt?" Dad said, "Who would have thought of that?" He relentlessly smacked and spanked my behind until the pain became too much to take and I did start blubbering like a little kid that has skinned his knee falling off of his bike, tears running down my face and dripping onto the floor. The spanking went on for a very long time after I started to cry with Dad's hand just fanning the fires burning on my behind hotter and hotter.
Finally the spanking stopped and Dad let me get to my feet and I stood there still crying, the tears flowing down my face and both hands frantically rubbing my burning ass cheeks, heedless entirely of my still erect willie bouncing up and down in the air almost in Dad's face as I shifted my weight from one foot to the other trying to put out the flames burning my entire butt. Darn it all, my buddies were right, a real spanking is a lot different from the fantasy spankings I had gotten in my mind! For some reason getting spanked was a favorite masturbation fantasy of mine, those just made me horny, this one made me cry!
Dad let me stand there rubbing my fanny until I stopped crying. "I guess that I have the technique down pat," he said, "now it's time for a real spanking, one like you can count on getting in the future if your behavior doesn't improve." He guided me, protesting all the way, back down over his knees so my throbbing backside was up once more ready to be spanked.
Dad picked up the paddle from the floor and took a very firm grip around my ribcage and then swatted my fanny right over my butthole with that thing. Holy crap! That thing burned me right down to the bone and I yelled and kicked my legs almost straight over my head!
"Guess that man was right, a boy does pay more attention to a tool," Dad grunted as he brought the paddle flaming down on my rump again and again.
Dad and I got quite a rhythm going there, he'd bring the paddle searing down on my blistered bum, I'd yelp and kick my legs and he'd wait until my legs went down and whack me again. I was crying non stop, I had never felt such pain in my entire life and didn't think it was possible that my behind could hurt that much. Dad was spanking mainly my buttocks, the fat area of a guy's bum right around his crack, but on occasion a searing, flaming swat would land on the sides of my ass or even the tops of my legs. I'd almost scream when the paddle hit me either of those places!
Dad must have spanked me with that paddle at least fifty times, maybe more, before he called a halt to the session. He let me get to my feet and my hands just flew to my rump but he stopped me and made me put my hands behind my head and then got up from the chair and led me over to a corner of my room and made me stand there with my nose to the wall. I was still blubbering and my ass was simply burning and burning while I stood there.
"I want you to stand here just like this until I tell you that you can leave the corner," Dad said, "and while you are standing there think this over. You will be spanked just like this in the future but instead of getting warmed up with my hand you will get the paddle right off the bat. You decide if your bad behavior is worth a burning butt. Do you understand me?"
When I didn't answer he brought the paddle searing across my naked, crimson ass three times in rapid order and then asked me the question again.
"Yes, yes!" I yelped, "I understand!"
Three more searing, flaming swats with the paddle. "I understand, what?" Dad said.
I thought frantically, what did he want? "I understand, sir!" I yelled.
"Very good," Dad said, "now stand there and do your thinking."
I thought all right. At first all I could think about was the flames burning on my rear end, seeming to grow hotter and then simmer down in time with my pulse. I had never felt anything that hurt this much! After a while I made a discovery, something that I suppose every boy finds out after he's been spanked a few times, I was just discovering it a little quicker is all, the sheer blazing agony of a spanking goes away pretty darn fast. Already the pain level on my fanny had subsided enough that it was nothing to cry about, sure it hurt, but not that horribly. My mind had changed from 'my poor ass is beaten right off!' to 'maybe I'll sit a little carefully for a bit'. None of this 'you won't sit down for a week' deal, my bum didn't hurt that much. Not now anyway.
I play football and so am somewhat used to pain, you can't play football and not get hurt after all. I never cried from getting whacked hard during a game and I think the only real reason that I cried during this spanking was it caught me by surprize just how much it stung the hide of my rump. There was also the fact that this was being done to me and despite my yelling, begging and kicking my legs, Dad just kept on whacking and whacking my bottom with that stupid paddle. I couldn't escape the pain and there was nothing I could do to make it stop, Dad stopped when he wanted to, not when I wanted him to.
It is also horribly humbling, not to mention embarrassing, to be taken all but naked across someone's knees and getting your backside whacked red hot with a paddle. Having Dad touching me in places he hadn't touched me since I was in diapers wasn't all that great either though it did prove his point that he had control of my body and what was going to happen to it.
Now that the pain was simmering down my willie, which had shrunk down to almost being an innie instead of an outie, was getting hard again and as I thought about the spanking it got hard as a rock again. It stayed that way all the time I was in that corner which was for at least an hour. By that time the pain on my rump had not quite disappeared but it had gotten completely tolerable.
"You can leave the corner now, Timmy," Dad said, "and you can rub if you want to." I left the corner and turned around and looked at Dad and saw his eyes go downward to below my waist and he smiled a little smile.
"If you misbehave again, and I'm sure that you will," he said, "you can count on looking at the floor for a long, long, time while I blister your butt with this paddle. Do you think that you want that?"
"No, sir!" I said, "I sure don't!" Well, maybe not.
"Fine, then," Dad said as he left the room, taking the paddle with him, "I hope we don't have to do this again, behave yourself and it won't happen." He looked back at me while I was rubbing my fanny a bit, standing there with woody at full attention. "Oh, by the way," he said, "don't tell anyone about this, especially your little brother. His fanny is likely to feel this thing any time soon when he steps out of line and I want it to be a surprize when it happens."
I have no basis for comparison but I would guess that Dad, for it being his first time to ever spank a boy, did a good job of it, I know that my rump sure hurt when he was whacking it! Will getting my hide tanned change my behavior? To be truthful about it, I seriously doubt it.
You see, I found out that secret to a spanking that lets boys keep on misbehaving even knowing that their rear ends will get lit on fire because of their behavior, a spanking only hurts a lot when it is going on and the pain doesn't last forever. It is a pain that I can do without but not something that would stop me from doing what I want to do, maybe I won't get caught at it. If I do get caught and get spanked, so be it, I'll live through it.
Now if I can figure out a way to get that bratty little brother of mine into deep trouble, I'd love to see him get his little fanny tanned...