(Usual disclaimers apply).
19-year-old Nigel Finch was brushing his teeth when he heard a commotion from the bedroom he shared with his brother Keith who was three years younger than him. Keith could be heard pleading but an angry deep voice interrupted the youth. Then a brief silence which was broken by the unmistakable sound of leather connecting with bare flesh.
Nigel stood in the bedroom doorway and watched as his father swung his heavy leather belt against Keith's small bare bum. The youth yelped as a broad red band snaked around his pink buttocks.
Keith was bending over a chair, his pyjama bottoms around his ankles. His father laid into his squirming globes without mercy. After some minutes Nigel who had been on the receiving end of that belt often enough, became increasingly concerned. His brother's punished flesh was scarlet and there were a few pinpricks of blood where the heavy leather had broken the skin.
"That's enough, Da", Nigel said.
The man stopped and looked at his first born. The man's face was red and covered with sweat.
"Mind your own business", he yelled and cracked the leather down hard onto Keith's quivering mounds.
Nigel stepped between his father and brother.
"Then I'll take the rest of his punishment".
He undid the cord and his pyjamas fell to the floor. He flung himself over his brother so that his body protected the youth from the belt.
"Thanks", Keith whispered.
Nigel felt his penis swell in response to the belting and the warmth of his brother's firm behind. His big dick was wedged against Keith's crease.
The belt was laid into Nigel's backside with a vengeance. Through the hurt of the savage hiding Nigel was dimmly aware than his younger brother had shifted his position, allowing Nigel's stiff penis to lodge inside his crack.
Again and again the lesther cracked against the older brother's firm, taut, muscular buttocks. He reflected through the red haze of pain that it had not always been like this. After the 1919 influensa epidemic claimed their mother, their father's grief had turned to rage and he took out his anger on Nigel and, latterly, Keith.
The brothers knew that as long as they lived under their father's roof they would have to accept his right to discipline them. Salt tears pricked Nigel's eyes. Not from the savage hurt being inflicted on his rump but because of a sudden flash of memory of how perfect life had been when their mother had taken care of them.
After a flurry of heavy blows which left Nigel gasping, he heard his father thread his belt through the loops in his trousers. Anger spent, the man looked down at his sons, the older one protecting the younger one from him, and felt ashamed. He was too proud to say he was sorry. Instead, he turned down the oil lamp and extinguished the wick. Then he left the bedroom, closing the door softly behind him.
Nigel lay on top of Keith waiting for the fiery hurt in his buttocks to ease. He felt bad that his swollen penis filled his brother's crease but was too sore to move. After an age, he got up with a groan and pulled his pyjama pants back up over his swollen buttocks.
"Thanks for protecting me from our Da", Keith said.
"He doesn't mean it", Nigel replied in his deep voice.
"He does, you know".
Keith stood slowly upright, tying the pyjama cord around his slender body. He got into bed and was asleep almost before his head hit the pillow.
Nigel lit a cigarette and thought about what had happened. His masculine buttocks still throbbed from the belting. His handsome face flushed with embarrassment when he recalled the way his penis had betrayed him.
He remembered the rugged musterer who had taken his own virginity when he was Keith's age. It had felt like a fence post was being hammered up his arse. The musterer had enjoyed his pleasure, little caring about the hurt he caused Nigel. Yet, the youth was so starved of intimacy, he came back the next night for more only to discover that the man had moved on to to another farm and out of his life.
'Nothing like that must ever happen to our Keith', Nigel thought.
The older brother thought about the times he'd been thrashed at high school. The whack of the cane against tightly stretched shorts and the fiery hurt as if a narrow band of flame had been imprinted onto his tender rump. A caning was a mere fleabite though compared with the hurt of a belting from his Da. Both always left him with an erection. He knew he'd get no sleep until this one was taken care of.
Nigel stubbed out the embers of his cigarette and carefully placed them inside his tobacco tin. He got out of bed and padded down the hall. He closed the outside door softly behind him and enjoyed for a moment the warm summer night. Then he walked over to the single men's quarters and into the bunk of a swarthy young stockman who didn't mind if men used his bung-hole, for their release.
Much later, a now relaxed Nigel returned to the bedroom. He glanced over at the other bed. Keith was lying on his tummy and making the snuffly noises which meant he was in a deep sleep. Nigel felt great affection for his brother. Then he sighed, snuggled down under the sheets and waited for sleep to claim him.