I had never given much thought to spanking or being spanked. At least not until about a year ago. The events on a hot California afternoon in June changed that forever.
I grew up in an affluent Southern California coastal town. My parents were not strict disciplinarians. My mother left when I was young, and my father was too busy making the money to pay for this lifestyle. Last summer I had just finished college. I was 22 and had no idea what to do with myself. I went back to live at my fathers house for a few months while I decided what to do next. This worked out great because my father was due to leave on an extended business trip to Switzerland for two months. Two months and I had the house to myself!
That June morning, our gardener, Lorenzo and his son, showed up as usual to take care of the grounds. I was sitting on the back terrace drinking coffee and looking out at the ocean, recovering from the previous night of partying. I heard Lorenzos truck rumble up the drive past the gate and come around the back with all his equipment in tow. He has been our gardener here for as long as I can remember and when his son was about 10 he started working with him. This was the first time Id seen them since Id been home and I was shocked to see how much his son had grown. He must be at least 16 or 17 now.
Lorenzo gave a cheerful wave and good morning as he came around and saw me there. But his son shared none off his cheerfulness and was downright sullen. Lorenzo glared at him and Manuel managed a mumbled good morning. I could tell immediately that things were tense between them. Lorenzo ordered him back to the truck to pick up some more equipment and Manuel stalked off. Lorenzo shook his head and muttered after him and set to work. Five minutes elapsed before Manuel came back with the tools and threw them on the ground. Lorenzo whirled around and began speaking very firmly to him in Spanish he gestured at me a couple of times. You could tell that what ever he said, he meant it. Manuel took! the hedge clippers and stalked off in the direction of the rose garden. He was wearing a snow white tank top that accentuated his chest and arms and a low hanging pair of jeans. He was turning into quite a handsome young man.
After a while I went inside to escape the heat. From my bedroom window on the second floor, I had a perfect view of the rose garden and Lorenzo and Manuel. I continued to watch them work. They had both taken off there shirts in the heat. Lorenzo had the most amazing six pack! His arms and chest could have been those of a body builder. Manuels chest while no where near his fathers was nicely defined. I had stepped out of the bedroom for a few minutes and it must have started then, because when I came back I could here Lorenzo, usually so soft spoken, in a full tirade of Spanish. I looked out my window to see what was going on.
They were standing by the fountain in the center of the rose garden, a broken flower pot and its contents spilled at their feet. While normally this probably wouldnt have been a big deal, Lorenzo had obviously had enough of his teenagers attitude. I stood at the window transfixed at the scene. Manual stood defiant before his fathers tirade. Finally Lorenzo unhooked his large brown leather belt around his trousers. I could see Manuels eyes get bigger. Slowly he took it off and doubled it in his hands. Manuel now looked desperate and began stammering and looking around as if trying to find a way out of this situation in which he found himself. Suddenly he looked up at me in the window and looked even more horrified. Lorenzo catching the direction of his gaze followed it to me standing at the window.
Now they were both looking at me Manuel with pleading eyes and Lorenzo with a slightly startled expression as if not sure what to do. In one electrifying moment I realized that Manuels fate lay in my hands. I was like a Roman Emperor with the power to grant clemency or order the execution. It had all happened so fast that I suddenly became aware that ! standing there, clad only in black 2 (x) ist briefs, I had a raging hard on. I looked back at Manuel who was now pleading with his eyes, he too knew that his fate rested in my hands. I relished the moment. I finally looked at Lorenzo. He was still uncertain if he should proceed. I gave the slightest smile and nodded to him. Grimly he nodded back.
He ordered his son in Spanish and even from this distance I could feel Manuels fear. He turned around and slowly unbuckled his own belt and pants and let them fall revealing his boxers. With one short tug his father also relieved him of those and now he stood, back to me with his pants bunched around his legs. He then, very awkwardly bent over a stone garden bench, thrusting his muscled ass into the air. Lorenzo said something to him in Spanish and took aim with the belt. CRACK! The sound echoed through the garden.
CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! I could hear Manuel whimper. CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! His slim body heaved as if trying to hold in sobs. CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! Lorenzo was relentless. CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! Now Manuel made no pretense of holding anything back. CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! As he began to sob I noticed the stone bench becoming wet with his tears. CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! The welts on Manuels ass rose like fire in the noonday sun. CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! Now the teenagers sobs nearly drowned out the sound of the belt. He was pleading in Spanish. CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK ! CRACK! Lorenzo put down the belt. It was over.
Manuel stood up his slim body wracked with sobbing as he mumbled incoherently. Lorenzo reached over and hugged him in a fatherly embrace while Manuel sobbed against his fathers chest. After a few moments Manuel pulled up his pants over his bright red ass. I knew it must have hurt but he didnt seem to flinch at all. In fact, it was as if a peaceful calm had descended over him. As if hes faced his fate and it was over.
Lorenzo looked up at me again in the window as he was putting his belt back on. He no! dded and looked at me in a piercing knowing way. This time he smiled at me.