Author's note: Neither this story nor its author supports the use of corporal punishment on minors. I welcome all comments.
"You're gonna get the hiding of your life, boy."
Jimmy swallowed hard. He stood in his father's room in just a pair of tight white briefs, feeling very much like a little boy, despite having the ripped musculature of a man. He was generally a good lad of 18 with untidy sandy colored hair and a healthy tan covering his entire body. He hung his head slightly, feeling deep guilt at his recent actions, and could already feel his father's own brand of punishment burning into his backside.
Jimmy's father stood opposing his son, holding a meaty leather strap in his left hand. He gripped the implement tighter, feeling his rage build inside him. He was so angry with his son -- so ashamed at his behavior -- that he knew a good long hiding was the way to teach his son the lesson he so sorely needed.
"Over the bed, boy," his father commanded.
Jimmy obeyed without protest, knowing he deserved what he had coming.
"Briefs off, son," his father added as his son was preparing for his punishment. "I intend to punish you properly."
Jimmy obeyed again, raising himself off the bed and sliding his tight briefs down his legs and kicking them off. He felt very exposed, very vulnerable. Both he and his father were constantly walking around the house in just their underwear -- it was just the two of them living in the house, so there was no need for modesty -- but it was at these times, when Jimmy was about to take a strapping, that he suddenly felt very self-conscious of his body. He laid over the end of the bed as quickly as possible so as to not reveal too much of his manhood to his father.
"Legs apart," his father commanded, wringing the strap slightly between his hands.
Again, Jimmy did as his father told him, spreading his legs far apart, leaving his _c_o_c_k_ and balls exposed. He took a deep breath, feeling his well developed chest press against the bed, grabbed a bit of the comforter, closed his eyes, and waited for the first lick to fall. Images of his father's impressive musculature straining against the fabric of his gray muscle shirt and tight, worn, faded black jeans flashed through Jimmy's mind, reminding him that the pain of the strapping would last long after it was over.
Jimmy's father stood to one side of his son, letting the strap in his hand dangle against his left leg for a moment, and summed the teenager up. There he laid -- baring himself for his punishment -- looking so much like a man, but still behaving like a spoiled little boy. His father shifted his weight from one foot to another, getting into a position that would provide optimal room for swinging the strap. He intended to make this the most painful experience his son had ever gone through. Nothing less would get the message through, he thought. He looked down at his black lace-up boots, adjusting his feet one last time before beginning.
"Boy, I don't intend on having to see you like this again in your life, so make sure you pay real close attention today. You understand?" his father asked.
Jimmy nodded, his eyes still closed.
"Yes, Sir."
"But, boy," his father paused, "don't you think for a second that I won't haul your ass over this bed again -- or even over my knee if I have to -- if you ever step out of line in the future. I don't care whether you're 18 or 38; you're still my son, and I'll always be responsible for your behavior."
"Yes, Sir," Jimmy responded again, feeling a mixture of anxiety and comfort from that last statement. He didn't relish the idea of being 28 or 38 and still having his father spank him like a little boy. On the other hand, though, he felt a deep relief knowing that his father would always look out for him, and always keep him in check no matter what life brought.
"You know the drill, boy," his father said, clearing his throat. He raised the strap high in the air, steadied himself, and brought the tool down on his son's exposed firm ass.
CRACK!
"One, Sir!" Jimmy counted, realizing that this first lick was noticeably harder than any his father had given him before.
CRACK!
"Two, Sir!" he counted again, squeezing his eyes tightly.
CRACK!
"Three, Sir!" he choked out, the pain already mounting unbearably.
CRACK!
Jimmy's father watched his son count out the forth lick, his body jumping a little at the pain. The sight broke the mans heart. He hated strapping his son -- he'd always hated spanking his boy. Jimmy was the only family the man still had, his wife having died soon after their son was born. The man's own father -- who'd raised him alone since birth -- died recently, causing Jimmy to mean the whole world to his father. But despite loving his son dearly, Jimmy's father knew the value that a good hard thrashing once in a while provided. Having been raised in a strict household himself, the man knew that the only way to get through to a boy most times was to apply a very painful lesson to his bare bottom.
As he brought the strap down on his son's ass again and again, he recalled the many, many times he himself had felt the sting of his father's belt and (on a few unfortunate occasions) the sting of a good freshly cut switch -- each painful lesson helping him on the road to becoming the upstanding man he was now. He owed everything he had to both his father and to the many tender nights he spent sleeping on his stomach as a boy due to the throbbing backside he'd earned himself earlier that day or earlier that week.
CRACK!!
"Fourteen, Sir!" Jimmy counted through gritted teeth. He was trying very hard not to cry. I'm a man now, he told himself, I should be able to take a whipping without bawling like a little boy.
CRACK!!
"Fifteen, Sir!" he counted again, knowing full well his father wouldn't cease the strapping until he was shedding real tears. But still, against his better judgment, he held back the tears, determined to show his father how much of a man he'd become.
CRACK!!! CRACK!!! CRACK!!! CRACK!!! CRACK!!! CRACK!!!
"Twenty-one, Sir!" he counted again through the agony. He knew he deserved the punishment he was receiving -- he didn't deny that at all -- but he rationalized that if his father intended this to be his last whipping, he would show his father that he could truly take whatever painful lessons life would throw at him with masculine stoicism.
Jimmy's father took a deep breath. Tiny Beads of sweat had begun to break out on his forehead from the exertion. He'd never beat his son's ass this hard before, and he was both surprised and impressed at how well the boy was taking the whipping. He began throwing his whole body into the licks, laying ten more down on his son's already scarlet butt.
"Eygh," was all Jimmy managed to get out after the thirty-first lick landed. His father paused, waiting for the count, but the boy couldn't open his mouth.
Jimmy stayed quiet. If he opened his mouth, he would burst into tears. He'd fought it so far, but he couldn't any longer. If he opened his mouth to count, he knew all that would come out would be incomprehensible sobbing. He refused to count.
Jimmy's father waited a few more seconds, then shook his head.
"Son, I'm impressed that you lasted this long -- really, I am. It shows great strength of character," he continued gently, "you've shown me today what a man you've really become." He paused, hoping that his acknowledgement of his son's masculinity would allow the boy to start crying, unhindered by unfounded notions of losing his manhood in front of his father. Many more seconds passed, but still the boy laid there, eyes shut tightly, not saying a word.
"But you're acting like a little boy, Jimmy," he father continued, his voice intense and deep. "You're being stubborn and childish, and you're willfully disobeying me. I will not tolerate such insolence in my household." He waited again for the boy to count, but still nothing came.
CRACK!!!!
Still nothing.
CRACK!!! CRACK!!! CRACK!!!!
The boy still held out, saying nothing, and trembling slightly from all the turmoil building inside him.
Quietly, Jimmy's father went to the bed and laid the strap next to his son.
The boy felt his father laying the strap down next to him, and a wave of relief swept over him. It was over. He'd outlasted his father's punishment. By showing what a man he'd become, his father had ended the licking on Jimmy's terms. But the boy was not so lucky...
"Stand up," his father commanded, his voice terse with anger.
Gingerly, the boy pushed himself up off the bed, the muscles in his arms flexing impressively as he did so. He opened his eyes for the first time, and stood facing his father, exposed completely. The man looked into the boy's eyes.
"I'll say it again. I do not tolerate insolence in my household," his father said. And with that, he grabbed his son's arm, sat down on the bed, and hauled the boy over his knee.
"If you're going to behave like a little brat, then that's how I'm going to treat you," Jimmy's father said harshly.
"But --" was all Jimmy managed to get out before his father began to give the boy a good healthy over the knee spanking.
SLAP!! SLAP!! SLAP!!!
The man's coarse hand came down hard again and again on his son's ass, which was covered with thick red strap marks.
"Dad, I --" Jimmy began, but he couldn't get out any more before the pain and emotional guilt overcame him. He began to cry. Quietly at first, then furiously.
"I'm sorry!" he blurted out over and over again as his father gave him a good hard spanking.
His father continued the spanking, unmoved by his son's tears or words. He focused solely on delivering the worst spanking his son had ever received.
"Dad, stop! I'm sorry!" Jimmy protested out of desperation. "I -- " he continued to cry. He knew it was useless. He'd gotten himself a strapping by being stubborn and childish in the first place, and now he was paying doubly for it by childishly holding back his tears during the strapping.
"You have a lot to learn about being a man, son" his father said, breathing quite heavily.
Jimmy cried and said nothing. There was nothing to say. His father was right.
"I remember the day you were born," his father said, breathing hard. "Your mother was still in the hospital, and your grandfather drove me to his house to catch a few hours of sleep, and I remember him taking me up to his room -- the room I'd gotten my ass beat in so many times as a boy -- and he beat my ass that very night one last time. He gave me one hell of a spanking, just to remind me that even though I was grown, that even though I had a son of my own, that no matter how old I got, I was still his boy, and was never too old to get my ass tanned good by my old man."
Jimmy burst into a fit of bawling, overcome by the family tradition his father was encompassing him into at that moment.
"And that's what you've got to learn, boy. No matter how old you get, you're still my boy, and you're never too old to get your ass tanned good by your old man," his father said, beating the boy's ass harder. "You're still my boy, and I love you."
With several final last hearty smacks, Jimmy's spanking was over. His father sat there, his son dangling over his knee, crying his eyes out. The man watched his son crying in pain, knowing he'd gotten through to the boy. Gently he laid his hand on the boy's back, stroking it slowly.
After a few minutes, Jimmy had calmed down, and the crying had stopped, a great feeling of relief and serenity settling into him.
"C'mon. Up, boy," his father said quietly.
Jimmy stood, a little shaky from the lingering heat and pain streaking through his backside. He wiped his eyes with the backs of his hands, looking very much like a little boy. Jimmy's father stood, too, moist with sweat, and embraced his son firmly to show the boy there were no hard feeling.
"I love you, Jim," he said.
"I love you, too, dad," Jimmy replied, feeling very grateful for what had just passed between them.
"But don't forget what I told you," his father said, releasing his son, and looking firmly into the boy's eyes.
"I'm never too old," Jimmy said, nodding. "I know... I always knew."
The man took his son in his arms again, relishing the bond that years of discipline had forged between them.
After a few moments, Jimmy spoke.
"So...grampa really spanked you the day I was born?"
His father released him from the hug, and looked down, a little embarrassed.
"Well, yeah... That man could give one hell of a whipping."
"Runs in the family," Jimmy said with a smirk.
His father grabbed the boy's arm, spun him around, and gave his ass a sharp smack.
"Smart ass," his father said with a smile.
Jimmy smiled, wincing slightly, then turned to face his father again.
"Seriously, though, dad, I hope I'm as good with my son as you are with me."
"You will be," his father replied, "and I'll be there to make sure you are. Cause if you aren't..."
Jimmy smiled.
"I know, Sir. I'm never too old for a spanking..."