It has been a very unusual weekend.
It started a while ago I suppose. When I was a little boy my dad used to spank me when I was naughty. He would take me over his knee and pull my little shorts and pants down and wallop my bottom until it was glowing red and I was crying my eyes out. I didn't like it one bit but it taught me to be good, or at least to not get caught being naughty. I was probably only eight when dad last punished me in that way. I turned fourteen last week.
Dad used to say that when I was older he would give me the slipper instead of using his hand but he never did. He also said that when I was ten I would start getting the cane, like he used to. I have never had the cane either. When I am naughty these days I just get moaned at, mostly by mum. Dad does not seem to bother. If I do wrong at school I am given lines or a detention which is a nuisance. When my dad went to my school some masters used a slipper – a gym shoe rather – and the headmaster used a cane but it is against the law now. It seems funny that.
I have often wondered what the slipper feels like and expected to find out, but even though I have certainly deserved to be punished at home for things, it has never come to the slipper, let alone the cane. I have been told off and sent to bed. I have been grounded and had pocket money stopped but never felt the slipper or the cane. I don't like the moaning and think I would rather go over my dad's lap and feel his hand smacking me again. It used to be was over with quickly and I would sometimes get a hug later, which was nice. I suppose I am too big for that now but surely I could get a spanking with dad using something so it hurts more than just his hand. I have often looked in the Internet and seen clubs about kids who get spanked in America. They seem to get it a lot over there and get paddled at school still. Some dads use the paddle and the belt at home and some kids get hit with a switch, which is a thin stick like a cane. That must really hurt. I have seen some posts from kids in this country who say they get spanked with different things but mostly I see grown ups writing about how they used to get the cane at school in the old days. I found some amazing web sites with stories and pictures about spanking but I can't get into them now. Dad has reset my screen name so that I can't look any more until I find his new password that is. He must have known that I had got in and changed the parental setting on mine but he didn't do anything. But I now know that if I do it again he will do something and I know that from my experience over this weekend is that something will hurt very much indeed.
I was doing a lot of thinking last week about getting spanked and for some time I have thought that I really would like to get it again. I don't know why but it makes me sort of excited when I think about it. Something else made me excited last week and I have been thinking about that too. I had to go to the dentist on Friday and had ages to stay in the waiting room when a boy came in with his mother and sat right opposite to me. The chairs were low and the boy lay back on the chair with his knees almost higher in front of him. He was about 12 I should think and he was in a school uniform of a posh prep school near us. He had grey shorts on and grey socks that came up to his knees with a blue stripe at the top. We looked at each other and he sort of grinned at me and I looked away. Although I was just 14 we were probably about the same size and that made me feel more embarrassed. I really wanted to read something but there was nothing of any interest. I found I kept looking at his legs. I don't know why. His knees were a bit dirty and he had a scab on one of them and faded bruises just above the other on the inside. I wondered how he had got bruised there. He kept looking at me looking at him and it made me blush and my ears burn and I hoped he didn't see. His mother was reading a magazine and took no notice. I don't know why I thought of it but I suddenly wondered if he was ever given the slipper or the cane. The idea made my willy go stiff and I cautiously laid my hands on my lap. That made it leap up and I wanted to hold it but of course that was out of the question. The boy was grinning at me and I blushed even more and tried to think of something else – the dentist's drill did the trick. I looked down at my clothed legs but was aware of the bare kneed boy just ahead of me. I tried to look at them and keeping my head down. My willy rose again. It became harder still as I noticed the boy had widened his legs and I could see the insides of his very white smooth bare thighs and even up inside of his s! horts revealing the white lining and his white underpants. I looked at his face again and he grinned even more. He then put his hands on his own lap and I thought I could see him moving them slowly. I was so excited I just had to find the toilets and I suddenly left my seat and did so. I went straight into the one cubicle and took my trousers and pants down and started to masturbate. I heard the door open and somebody come in. I stopped the wanking and listened. I could here nothing. I waited but still nothing. I gently continued my masturbation, thinking all the time of the boy, with his grey shorts, his long socks, bare knees and white thighs. I imagined my father draping him over his knees and pulling his trousers and pants down slowly and then spanking his bottom. I continued masturbating harder when suddenly a voice said: "I know what you're doing in there". It was an unbroken boy's voice. I stopped. I didn't know what to do.
"I'm just coming out" I said and hurriedly pulled up my pants and trousers and unnecessarily flushed the toilet. I opened the door and came face to face with the grinning prep boy. "It's all right. I do it too" he said and proceeded to rub himself vigorously through his school shorts. I found myself doing the same and we grinned at each other. "I wish I had shorts like you" I found myself saying. "I think they're super" I meant it but it was the first time in my life I had thought it.
"Look I must go" my new friend said. Mum will kill me if I am not quick. The dentist has already called me in.
"Do you get punished?" I asked
"Yes, of course"
"I mean with a spanking or anything like that"
"Yes loads – dad gives me the stick sometimes"
"Wow. Can I see you again," I asked
"Ring my number at home. Its 546897. 546897."
The boy went out. I went back into the cubicle and masturbated for all my worth through my school trousers and made such a mess in my pants that it showed on the outside of my trousers. I had to keep my hands in front of them for the rest of my wait and the session in the dentist chair. When I arrived home it occurred to me I didn't know the boy's name. How could I ring the number without knowing who would answer. What would I say if his mother answered. "Is your son in?" What if she then asked which one? I thought of another ploy later and bravely rang the surgery.
"Can you tell me the name of the . . . prep schoolboy who was in earlier at the same time as me. My name's Philip Smith."
"Why do you want to know"
"It's just that I found a school cap just outside when I left and I was wondering whether it was his"
"Is there a name in it"
"I can't see one. But I could take it to his school and hand it in"
"You can do that anyway"
"Of course. Silly me"
"His name is Peter Brown"
Thank you
I thought I would ring the number. My heart started thumping.
"Brrrr Brrrrr Brrrr Brrrr
"546897. Peter Brown here", replied my confident new friend
"Hello Peter. It's Philip. From the dentists"
"Hello"
"You said give you a ring"
"Yes but its no good now. Dad's coming home early to give me the stick and I'm meant to be standing outside his study. I can't get caught on the phone.
"Oh", I said and my penis went rock hard.
"Maybe Monday. Come after school. I live at 12 Gladstone Terrace. Nobody will be in until five." The line went dead and I put the receiver down.
I went to my room and tried to concentrate on some homework. I had some lines to do first and I started on those, all the time thinking of Peter and his short trousers. I wondered how he would get the stick. Would his dad take his trousers down? I pulled mine down together with my pants and let them rest around my ankles. I wrote my lines with my right hand and gripped my penis with my left. I wish I had been given the cane instead. I wished now more than ever that dad would give it to me and how I wanted to wear school shorts like Peter. It was an urgent need and I got up and went over to my little chest of drawers and routed around in the bottom. The best I could find was some old fashioned style khaki shorts, which I quickly put on. I would not usually dare be seen in those, they were a pair my mother thought I would look nice in but they were hardly what I could term cool. I found some old grey socks, which were far too small for me but I put those on too and returned to my lines. I enjoyed the view of the tops of my smooth bare thighs that disappeared under the desk. They were really just like Peter's. I still wasn't happy and went back to my chest of drawers and found a pair of white Y fronts, which I never wore if I could help it. I quickly changed into them and returned to my lines, this time with my left hand reaching up inside my khaki shorts and feeling myself through the underpants. How I wished dad would suddenly come in and order me down to the sitting room for a _d_a_m_n_ed good thrashing.
At dinner that evening I tried to raise the subject.
"Dad"
"Yes"
"You know that when you were a boy you used to get the cane"
Mum and dad looked at me with surprised expressions.
"It's just that I met a boy today who gets the cane form his dad. He said he was getting it this evening."
"Poor thing" said mum. Dad didn't say anything.
"Do you remember when you used to spank me. You said that when I was bigger I would get the slipper and when I was ten I would start getting the cane."
"Are you complaining?" asked dad. I found myself blushing profusely.
"Well - er – um – no"
"It's not appropriate these days, Philip," said mum
"It's just sometimes I think that instead of you going on at me I would rather get spanked or something" I found myself saying. I also found that my penis was growing yet again, this time inside my white boys' briefs, that I still had on under my school trousers. I had changed out of my khaki shorts when I heard my parents coming in. I noticed them looking at each other.
"You are a funny boy sometimes" mum said and dad left the table.
On Saturday dad raised the subject when we were alone in the garden. I was helping to weed around the vegetables and had changed into the khaki shorts I found yesterday. It was a pleasant spring day but it was unheard of for me to wear shorts, even in the hottest weather, without being told to. I had never worn these since the first time mum said I had to and now I was in them voluntarily. Dad looked surprised but I could tell he approved.
"Philip. You know what you were talking about at dinner yesterday"
My heart starting thumping and again blood rose to my face and my ears started burning.
"Yes dad, about spanking and things"
"Your mother thinks it is wrong. She never liked it when I used to put you over my knee and we used to have arguments about it. I don't suppose you knew that"
"No", it was my turn to look surprised. "Is that why you never ever gave me the slipper or the cane?"
"Yes. Exactly. You were lucky, eh?"
"I'm not so sure. I would rather get that than have you moaning when I do wrong. It's funny but I wondered what happened. You used to be so strict when I was little."
"Well, if I had my way Philip, I would be just as strict now, although it's probably a bit late now. In any case I am not allowed to cane you – by law"
"I think that's silly. The boy I met yesterday doesn't know that. His dad canes him loads."
"What's his name?"
"Peter Brown. He lives in Gladstone Terrace and goes to - - - Prep.
"Oh. Yes. I know his father. Ex navy officer. I can imagine him being strict. I bet he gives Peter some pretty sound punishment"
"Peter has to wear short trousers too"
"I'm sure that's part of his compulsory school uniform."
"Yes." There was a pause in the conversation. We both continued the weeding. A quarter of my concentration was on the weeds, another quarter on my bare knees and the unwonted but enjoyable feel of the breeze upon them, and half on thinking how I could keep the discussion going.
"I think he's lucky having to wear shorts to school"
"Really. Do you think he is lucky to have a dad that gives him the cane?"
"I don't know. I have never had it so I don't know what it's like"
"Well let me tell you" said dad and he stood up to look at me. I did the same and our eyes met.
"The cane really hurts. Take it from me. I still remember the thrashings your granddad used to give me. It was much worse than at school."
"Did you have to take your trousers down"
"I did for your granddad, but not at school"
I tried to visualise granddad caning dad, but failed.
"Did it make you cry"
"Always"
"How old were you?"
Dad stopped and thought. "I was very little the first time – probably only around five and I was 16 the last time granddad gave it to me and about the same age when I last had it at school. It was different then.
"How old were you when you last wore short trousers?"
"That's easy. They were my 16th birthday present so I was 15 years and 364 days old.
"Wow," I exclaimed.
We resumed our weeding in silence. I thought hard how to keep dad on this.
"Dad"
"Yes Philip"
"Did you think it was right, what granddad did?"
"I didn't think so then but by time I left school I had changed my mind. I think it made a man of me. It certainly made me behave myself."
"I bet." A further pause before I broke the silence again.
"Dad"
"Yes Philip"
"If mum hadn't argued about it would you have carried on with the punishment"
"Certainly. You would be still getting it now"
That made my penis rise further than it had already risen when the subject was first raised. My shorts were on the small side and I had some difficulty in hiding my arousal from my father and I really don't know whether I succeeded in the end. My brain was in a whirl and I still had the image of Peter Brown before me.
"What sort of things would I have been getting it for?"
"Well, Philip. That is a question. How about when you don't do as you're told. I mean what about what we are doing now. I seem to remember me telling you to weed here in the week. You didn't do as you were told."
"Would I have got the cane for that?" I asked incredulously. I hadn't thought of things like that.
"You certainly would – the slipper at least. But then what about that appalling school report you showed me last week. I would not have dared to show my father a report like that."
That one hit home. I was still reeling from the moaning, which mum and dad kept up for about three days or so it seemed. I was quiet for a bit and my heart was thumping again. I crouched down at the weeds and dearly wanted to touch my little prick, which I could see causing a distinct between my thighs. I stayed where I was and said, half to the weeds:
"Why didn't you give it to me for the report instead of all that whining."
"Stand up and repeat what you just said Philip," ordered my father. He sounded somehow different. I did as I was told and held my hands in front of my shorts and looked at the ground.
"Go on," urged dad
"I just said why didn't you give me the cane for the report instead of . . . telling me off so much"
"Instead of all the whining I think you said"
"Yes, sorry dad." And I just stood there feeling rather foolish. Had I taken things too far. Dad was sounding a little angry I thought.
"If ever a boy needed a good hiding for a school report – you do," he obliged. I hesitated before saying:
"Would you if mum didn't know?" There was a silence as dad bent down and continued weeding. I followed his example. A good five or ten minutes went by before dad stood up and beckoned me to follow him to the garden shed. I obediently followed and we both went into the shed and dad pushed the door to.
"Philip. I have a jolly good mind to give you what you deserve and if I'm not mistaken, you think you want"
"No I don't," I blurted out. I was suddenly feeling frightened.
"Your mother is going out shortly. Let's see if we can find something suitable", and so saying my father rummaged around in the corner of the shed and produced about half a dozen garden canes. My mouth fell open. I watched him as he examined each one. "These are by no means ideal but better than nothing. I wish I had kept hold of your granddad's canes. What we need is a proper school cane." I wasn't so sure now that I agreed with him.
"Dad . . couldn't we just sort of . . . try the slipper first. I mean I've never had that either." I thought I could cope with the slipper. I was frankly scared stiff of those canes. Dad stopped and looked at me.
"OK son. Let's get back to the weeding. As soon as mum goes out we will go indoors." I did not have long to wait for almost as soon as dad got those words out, I heard a car door slam.
"I shall be about an hour" called mum from her car as she drove out.
"Come on Philip," said dad with a certain alacrity I thought and I followed him indoors.
"Go into the sitting room and wait for me." I obeyed and stood in the sitting room. It seemed a long time. I wasn't sure if I should sit down or just wait standing up. What was it going to be like? What was he going to use and most important of all was I going to keep these shorts on?"
I was still standing, looking out of the window when the door opened behind me and dad came in carrying a large grubby white thing like a trainer but different. "This should do for a long overdue taste of some real discipline," said dad, flexing the shoe between his hands. It looked very old and didn't have any laces. It didn't have a thick sole like a trainer and it looked a lot more bendy. I wondered what it would feel like. "I am sorry I was a long time but I have been looking for this old fellow. You may be interested to know it was from a pair of my old school plimsolls when I was in the Sixth form, I kept this one back from the rubbish bin about eight years ago - especially with you in mind."
I was standing straight in front of my father looking at the "old fellow" intently. I was not quite the sort of slipper I had been imagining. My arousal was still there but had subsided a little. My bottom started itching like I remembered it used to when dad said he was going to spank me. Dad could see that I was looking worried.
"Now Philip. You asked for this. In more than one way. It will hurt, probably a lot more than you think but now that we've got this far I want you to go through with it and take your medicine.
"Yes" I mumbled
"You're 14 now and it is really the cane I should be giving you but I recognise that to give you a thrashing with one of those now would be a shock you might take some time to get over. You are correct that you have not even had the slipper yet so it is high time we addressed that and believe me I am going to give it to you very hard. Try and stay in position because if you don't it will be the worse for you. Cry by all means. I used to . . . and Philip"
I looked at my father.
"This is strictly between you and me". I nodded at the pun and looked at the plimsoll again. My father looked down at my shorts.
"Take those down," he ordered. I suppose I had expected that but as I undid the khaki shorts and pulled them down to my knees I felt extremely vulnerable and embarrassed for my father to see my white briefs, slightly damp and stained as they were after so much handling.
"Right to the floor." I pulled my shorts down below my knees and let them fall to my ankles.
"And your underpants" Dad then rolled up his right shirtsleeve as I pulled my pants down to join my shorts. It is strange how I did not feel any embarrassment standing in front of him with all my boyhood revealed. Although I was now 14 there was no hair visible around my quarter erect penis. It occurred to me that my father had not seen me like this, probably since I was tiny – tinier than I am now, I mean. And I did indeed feel very small. I wondered why he did not sit down. I had visualised going over his lap.
"Bend across the back of this chair and hold on to the arms," he said as he pulled one of the armchairs so that its back faced the centre of the room. I saw my father do a practice swing, presumable to ensure there was no restriction. He looked at his watch. I went across the back of the chair and I felt a touch of rubber on the middle of my bare bottom. The next thing I knew was an almighty WHHAAAACCKKK as the plimsol struck me and I heard my father grunt. Then WHHAAAACCCCKKKK again and I suddenly felt the pain, which was indeed a great deal more than I had expected. A third WWWHHHAAAACCCCKKKK arrived, then a fourth, a fifth and a sixth and the pain grew and grew to an intensity that I found difficult to cope with. I gripped the arm of the chair harder and then the seventh WWWHHHHAAAAAAACCCCKKKKK came, also harder and I found I blurted out. WWWWWHHHHAAAAACCCKKKK, WWWWHHHHAAAACCCCKKK, WWWWHHHHAAAACCCCKKKK, the strokes came harder and harder. My now very soft and little penis was being squashed on the top of the chair back as the slipper slammed into my naked bottom. Mostly the slipper hit me right in the centre but then my father aimed lower: WWWHHHAAACCCKKKK, WHHHAAAACCCCKKKK, WHHHHAAAACCCCCKKKKKK, WWWHHHHAAAACCCCKKKKK and I was suddenly standing and clutching my bottom and I am ashamed to say, despite trying very hard not to, I started blubbing. Really crying like I don't think I had done for years. I felt a strong hand push me back across the chair and the whacking continued, lower and lower came the next four, the last of which struck the back of my thighs and I cried louder still. My noise was drowning my father's grunts and heavy breathing but he continued with the punishment. WWWHHHHAAACCCKKK, WWWWHHHHHAAAACCCCKKKK, WWWWHHHHAAAACCCCKKK it came and I cried louder and louder and I felt myself relax over the chair in total submission. WWWWHHHHAAAACCCCKKKK, WWWWWHHHHHHAAAACCCCKKKKK, WWWHHHHHAAAAACCCCKKKK, it continued and then all I could hear was my crying. It didn't sound like me at all. It was ! a little boy I could hear and his bottom was ablaze.
"Stand up, Go to your room and whatever you do don't come out until you have stopped crying" I struggled up and without even pulling my pants and shorts up properly left the room and staggered upstairs. I locked my bedroom door and lay flat on my bed and enjoyed a long and bitter crying session but had managed to compose myself before mum returned but I kept out of her way for as long as I could. By this time the incredible pain in my bottom and turned slowly but inexorably into a glow, which became bearable. By the time I went to bed it was more than bearable – it was even enjoyable.
Yesterday was Sunday and I was sent out for more weeding. My bottom was just one big bruise but despite the weather being colder I could not resist putting the khaki shorts back on. I noticed mum and dad talking by the back door and it was obviously me that they were discussing. The dad joined me.
"How are you feeling today, Philip"
"Very punished."
"Good boy. You did well yesterday. That was the hardest slippering I think a boy ever had"
"I'm glad you didn't use a cane" I grinned
"Well you had better pull your socks up the or next time who knows?" and he left me to my thoughts and my weeds.
Today I am going to see Peter. We can compare punishments I thought.