He looked so sad sitting there, waiting there, knowing he was about to get a spanking.
Tad was just 19 but he thought, in fact he was sure, his days of getting spanked were long over now. They had been, too, for a long time, but no more. There he was slouched sitting in that chair, completely naked and waiting. His a bit long black hair that was falling down over his eyebrows hid his face but he was also just looking down dejectedly when I first walked into the room and saw him. This was not going to be a little game.
He had taken off every single stitch of clothing just as he always had done in the past when he had been sent into that upstairs back room for discipline. His right arm and hand hung down over his waist and between his legs so only his thick black pubic hair was visible. For the moment, his hand hid his _c_o_c_k_ from view. That would change. His left arm was also hanging down limply with his other hand on his upper thigh. Solid thighs, a small but tapered waist, good abdominal definition and a nice firm chest were evident too even though he was slouching and looking down. He kept his eyes kept looking down. His lips moist and parted seemed like a boy about to cry while sitting there waiting.
And he was going to soon be crying too, but not of his own accord or out of any real sadness about what he had done that he had been told time and time again not to do. The boy at his age needed a good long cry for sure, even if he didn't recognize that in himself, but no, this time he was going to cry because I was about to pull him up off that chair and sit down on it myself to give it to him with the small paddle and slipper I had in my own hand. And I knew I was looking forward to giving it to him too. In a minute I would myself take this naked teenage boy down across and up over my own knees and spank his nice, bare ass for him. I was going to spank him. This particular 19 year old could let himself get all concerned and moody over petty things, I knew that from the past. Left to himself he'd drive himself down into even worse moods to the point where his moods would effect all of us. I also knew a few well placed slaps across his bare bottom would bring him quickly to tears and that good cry was just what he needed to pull him out of it. His moods were clear. He needed his tight little buns cracked. He needed to cry.
If you've never spanked a boy this age, maybe it sounds strange, but they know what they need and quite a few look forward to it secretly. Their tight bare bottoms wiggle, squirm as they yelp but the satisfaction in turning it red and hot for him and breaking him down is well worth the effort and time it takes.
The bearing and manner of this naked teenage boy was somber for sure as I looked at him sitting there, but it was also pensive, sorrowful, resolved, repentive, knowing soon he would pay for his sins with cracks from the flat of my palm, my paddle that I had gotten for him and painted his name on it, and then finally of my leather slipper across his bare ass. He remembered from past experience what that always felt like and the humiliation he felt being pulled naked across my lap with his bare ass wiggling and squirming in pain as I saw all of him and nothing remained private. But he only remembered from that last time he had been here. It had been over a year since he had sat naked and waiting in this particular chair. He had thought it was over and he was too old to be spanked now. After all, he had pleaded, he was now "almost nineteen"! He seemed so sorrowful now like this. He knew I was going to spank him just like I used to a lot more in the past when he was growing up.
Actually he had pleaded for restrictions, for not being allowed to use the car for two months, for being given a curfew, for not being allowed to go to school activities at nights and weekends. Anything, he had pleased, but "please," he had pleaded, "don't spank me for this, please don't."
He did not seem much like a nineteen year old right at that moment, I am sorry to say. Agitated, crestfallen, sad, scared, emotional, even fear in his eyes, he had shown them all while I had patiently listened and given him a chance to get it all out, to give me a reasonable explanation, to tell me why he had done what I had explicitly told him not to do. His words rolled out between his lips increasingly emotionally. He got more emotional trying to explain his actions. I knew he did not want me to send him up and into that to remove all his clothes for a spanking, but I knew I was. And I did not want to have to spank him again either. I wanted a reason to clasp him on the shoulder and tell him I understood. I wanted to be able to tell him he did not have to be spanked naked again over my lap at his age. His words kept flowing, his agitation increased, but in spite of his age he gave me no clear reason why he had done what I had told him not to do. Still, I looked at him and listened patiently. But then, when he was finally finished his pleading, I had just looked at him and told him to go to "the room" and take off all his clothing. I would be up soon to spank him.
He looked at me in shock, this tall, handsome nineteen year old who had the look that brought him lots of friends and admiring glances in high school. It was as if he had hear but just could not believe what I had just said. It could not be true!
But it was! I'd missed not having his bare bottom up over my lap, after all.
His eyes had widened, his face had flushed white, then red, but then he stomped his foot and ran out of the living room and bounded up the stairs two steps at a time up them off toward the room he did not want to go to. That stomp, thought it had only been one and not too much of a heavy one either given his age, had been the last straw. That's why I went and got my leather slipper in addition to the small wooden paddle I'd always used on him. Nineteen year or not, I was going to go up there and re-assert some authority in this family.
I sat the slipper and his paddle down on the steps and poured myself some iced tea. He needed time to strip off all his clothes and think a bit about what he had done and what was about to happen.
I pulled out one of the green kitchen table chairs and sat down to think some myself. He was, after all, now a full grown man though still a boy. Was I going to humiliate him naked now and at this age as I had done so often when he was younger? Spankings in the past had always seemed to bother him tremendously, I remembered. They had also always worked for after I had spanked him and he had sobbed his heard out he had always wiped his tears and his behavior had always improved for me. Why should it be any different now just because he was nineteen?
I took another sip of the ice tea and put my still half full glass into the refrigerator and shut the door. Wiping my mouth on my shirt sleeve, I reaffirmed my initial decision. I walked over to the steps and picked up the leather slipper still waiting where I had left it. It was completely quiet upstairs where I had sent him. I looked up the stairs wondering, then I walked up those same steps one by one, the same ones he had bounded up, to spank him.
The door was shut to that room, but the knob turned easily and when I walked in, closing the door behind me, the leather slipped still in my hand, I saw him sitting there naked, dejected, looking about to cry, looking down and waiting.
"Anything to say, boy?" I asked him.
He was naked, yes, but still he seemed to squirm on the seat of the chair a bit, but he did not look up at me. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry," he said, "please don't spank me." He spoke quietly now.
Looking at him like that almost got to me too. Here he was, the top student, man about campus, excelled in everything, and yet sitting there dejected and naked waiting for a spanking.
"It's too late for 'sorry'."
I pulled him up by his arm. It did not take much effort and he did nothing to resist me. Here stood the _c_o_c_k_y high school student naked, completely naked, beside me. Looking him over was something that seemed to happen just naturally, and though he still had his head down and his eyes looking at his bare feet, I touched his balls ever so softly and his _c_o_c_k_ shot up high. I tugged sat down in that same wooden chair and pulled him over my knees. His bare ass was firm and solid as was the rest of his long, naked body stretched out over my knees. I placed the leather slipper and the paddle on the floor beside me and rested my hand on his bare ass. He clenched his buns as soon as he felt my hand there on that young ass that was firm and crystal white and unblemished. I would soon make it hot, very hot, and very red too. He needed me to to insure he would never disobey me again. I would give him that assurance in the time trusted way a teenage boy has been receiving it for centuries. His buns clenched tightly then at points he'd struggle to keep his balance over my knees and those buns would relax. He thought he was so smart. Instead, his young bare bottom gave it all away. He was just another boy about to get spanked. Sure, it was hard for him in that position and embarrassing too. That's why it worked so well! His black hair now flopped over his face and eyes as he kept looking back over his shoulder nervously while I repeated what I had explicitly told him not to do, that he had done, that had caused him to be bare over my knees in this position.
Then I spanked him. At first my bare palm caressed and then hardly slapped his bare bottom gently, then harder as I got into my task. He jerked, he "awed" and "oooed" while I turned his bare bottom red and hot, then softly used the paddle, but it only took one slap of that old leather slipper before he howled and let loose with tears that he knew he wanted to get out. His teenage pride went out the window at that point. He was just a boy again, spread out bare over my lap, getting his bare bottom spanked.
And I spanked him. Nineteen or not, I spanked him. Soon he sobbed more, but the leather slipper still landed with accuracy across his bare bottom. He howled quietly, in fact he pleaded, he even begged, but I spanked him.
It wasn't quick either. The slipper, well placed, squirmed his buns to the point that he pleaded to no avail. He had felt that slipper before. It was good for him. The paddle was best for this one.
But he was spanked with his tall, lanky bare body stretched over my knees and ultimately he did have his own little good cry as he needed too. Later he sat on my lap and then beside me as we talked more. His buns were hot and sore, sure, but he knew he felt better. We both did
He knew he felt better too even knowing what I was about to do as I walked him into the next room where I kept it hanging there just for moments like these. Over my lap again he was calm though holding on to my ankles tightly. He knew what was coming and that he had no choice in the matter. My hand separated his buns. I pushed his thighs further apart and, yes, I calmed him slowly, carefully, thoroughly. He always took it better, after all, at moments like these when he was still teary eyes and his bare bottom was nice and red and sore for him. That night he was a very good boy for sure!
The slipper, after all, was still right there for sure.
The next day and dawn woke him, yea, he was fine, perfectly fine, back to normal as I sent him off to school. Corporal punishment for teenage boys? If done right and comes out of the context of mutual trust and firm care . . . absolutely. Spanking a nineteen year old boy is the best.
The scholarship he just won is only icing on the cake. The University is only about two miles away.