First, let me say this. The last time I got spanked, I was ten years old. After I turned ten, my step-dad moved out, and my new step-dad did not believe in spanking. Instead, I would "work off the sin," as he put it. That meant giving up a part of - or maybe even all of - my allowance when I was bad.
My first step-dad, Rex, spanked me a lot. I wasn't a bad kid, not really, but I did get into a lot of mischief. Hey, all boys do. Rex would always give me a quick lecture, then spank me wherever we happened to be. He always put me over his knee, with my pants and underwear pulled down, and he always used his hand. Once, it happened in the park. There was also the time he spanked me in the bathroom at the ballpark. I was so humiliated, getting punished in the stall, with everyone else there knowing about it. But that wasn't as bad as the time he spanked me in the men's room at the gas station. Both stalls were being used, so Rex just sat down on an overturned milk crate and hauled me over his knee, with maybe a dozen guys watching. That was a bad one.
So, a few years went by. I turned sixteen. And then one day, I was called into the principal's office. Yes, still getting into mischief. Mr. Jones, the principal, looked at me, coughed, shook his head, read my file.
"You've been such a very naughty boy," he said.
"Yes sir, I have," I agreed. It was always best to agree.
"What am I going to do with you?" he asked. "What you really need, of course, is a spanking."
"A what?" I was stunned. I couldn't believe he said that.
"You know what that is," Mr. Jones smiled. "A spanking. A tanning. A hiding. A butt-blistering trip across a man's knee. A whipping. When was the last time you had that?"
"Years ago," I stuttered. I was amazed that Mr. Jones had said all of that. And his smile! Like he was looking forward to the sight of my butt turned red as his hand smacked it again and again.
"Well, you're overdue, then," he said. "Of course, I can't spank you. We don't do that at this school. What I can do is suspend you for three days."
"Suspend me!" I blurted out. Cripes! My mom would be furious. And my step-dad - he'd give me that lecture he always gave, the one about being mature and responsible. And I wouldn't be able to ask for any favors for some time.
"I see you don't like that idea," Mr. Jones said. "But what you did was pretty naughty. Detention won't do. Suspension is the only choice. Or," and he paused a moment, "I can give you the spanking that you so deserve. If you let me, I will spank you - and you'll leave here a free man. No suspension."
"But I'm too old for a spanking," was all I could say.
"Oh, you're never too old. Just so you know, since you've been such a very naughty boy, I'm going to put you across my lap, and spank your bare bottom with my hand. What do you say?"
I didn't want to say yes, but I couldn't get suspended. I just couldn't.
"I will take a spanking from you, sir."
How bad could it be, I wondered.
Mr. Jones sat down in a chair, and told me to stand at his right side. I asked if it had to be bare, and he said, yes, it had to. I tried to unsnap my jeans, but my hands were shaking too much. Plus, I had butterflies in my stomach, and my throat was dry. I was so incredibly nervous. And before I knew it was happening, Mr. Jones reached over and unsnapped my jeans, and then tugged them down. Next, my underwear was sliding down to my knees, and I felt like I was totally naked.
Slowly, Mr. Jones guided me across his lap. So far, everything was just the same as it had been when I was ten years old. Suddenly, I remembered being a kid. I remembered the feeling of waiting for the spanking to start, as I lay across a man's lap, my naked bottom slightly raised up, my feet off the floor, my hands and arms hanging down. It was weird, but I suddenly felt both ten and sixteen all at once. And I waited for a man's hand to start spanking my naughty boy's bottom.
The first few hurt, and I had to fight the urge to squirm, to try and get away. Then a few more spanks slapped my butt, and those stung like heck. Mr. Jone used his left hand to hold me down, while his right hand spanked my butt, again and again. I wondered how many there would be. Soon, my butt was on fire, and the spanks kept coming. I started rocking gently on Mr. Jones' lap, not on purpose, it just happened. With each spank, I would slide forward a little bit, then slide back. The spanks pushed me forward, and then I would slide back. And then it happened - it started to actually feel good, sliding around his lap like that, and I started to, um, get aroused. Something came up, let's put it like that, okay?
I couldn't believe it. My butt was really hurting, and I couldn't wait for the spanking to end. But at the same time, it felt really good, and I was getting so hard. Mr. Jones used his hand to spank my naked butt, one smack after another, I was getting such a fierce punishment. So there I was, my jeans and underwear down around my ankles, stretched over a man's lap, getting a really hard spanking, and yet it felt good.
Mr. Jones kept on spanking, and then he got hard, too. I could feel it press into me, and I slid all over his lap. I was gasping, then moaning, then actually crying, it hurt so much (spank! spank! SPANK! - the blows slapped into my naked butt), yet I was almost lifting my butt up, as much as I could, lifting it up so it would be there for the next spank.
Then, there was one more sharp SPANK! and I almost made a stain on Mr. Jones' pants. And it was over. My butt felt like it had been burned by the sun. We were both breating hard, exhausted. For a while, I couldn't get up, so I lay there, over his lap, as he rested his hands on my back.