by Will Faber

Mr. Marshall drove the Hunter Green Dodge Caravan smoothly down the country roads, with his compliant wife in the passenger seat and their two boys in the middle seat. Out for a Sunday drive, enjoying the calm Country... what could be a nicer diversion from the weekday "rat race"? Mr. Marshall was a tall, stern, and austere man, who expected immediate obedience from his children. The way to deal with youthful miscreants' rear ends was clear to Mr. Marshall!

Kevin was 12 going on 13, with red hair, a pert upturned nose, sparkling fun-filled green eyes, and a scattering of freckles across the bridge of his cute nose. He was neither fat nor thin, but had just a perfect amount of boy flesh, but interestingly his buttocks protruded more than one would expect, and they had such perfect form under the tight trousers that he was required to wear. Even people who had no conscious desire to spank children could not often resist the opportunity, if it arose, to give his impudent bottom a playful swat, upon which it would jiggle within the tight trousers. Kevin would just give his mischievous smile in response.

Kevin's younger brother Nathan was riding alongside in the Dodge Van. His hair was also red (a Marshall trait) and he wore it in a "Beatle-Cut" just trimmed over his blue-green eyes. He was an extremely cute boy, one that Walt Disney would have loved to conscript into his children's fantasy movies. He had the characteristic smattering of reddish freckles over the bridge of his nose, and an almost permanent playful grin too, just like his brother. Of note, his buttocks jutted out so impertinently that he was also accustomed to people (even perfect strangers) risking a swat, and on many occasions he had felt people's hands "accidently"brush by them. Like his easygoing brother Kevin, he just grinned at people's interest in him, and was excited that someone liked him.

Now, for as many people as had fantasized about giving either Marshall boy a good Old-Fashioned spanking, no less was the number of real spankings these boys got from their strict father. The Marshall parents were united in believing that the only proper way to raise recalcitrant boys was with proper discipline, which could only mean one thing: Stinging Bare-Bottom Spankings. Mr. Marshall was not going to have his children ruined by the permissive society where no personal responsibility was demanded-- he would raise his boys to be respectful, thoughtful, and obedient to authority-- even if he had to skin their behinds to do it! In the Marshall family, a spanking only meant one thing--Pants OFF, Underwear OFF, shirt tucked up to the waist, boy positioned over the knee or bent over a stool... discipline! Mr. Marshall attributed the boys' good grades and general popularity to his fathering methods, and was very proud of them!

Now the boys, having spent over an hour quiet in the back seat, began to get antsy. They at first commented to each other in low tones about the passing farm-houses--how much fun it would be to live on a farm. But after an hour of good behavior, boys will be boys. Kevin grabbed a Beanie-Baby penguin from Nathan, who started squirming to get it back. Whispers turned to shouts, and shouts to outright fighting. Mr. Marshall gave a severe warning look to his miscreants. The effect lasted a full five minutes! Soon the boys were back to making a racket, fighting, and being quite rambunctious. Once more Mr. Marshall warned them, and they settled down--for a couple of minutes. Then Kevin reached over and pinched Nathan's butt (a favorite ploy of his), eliciting a piercing scream from his 10-year-old brother.

Father stopped the van on the shoulder! Both boys knew they were in for it now. An occasional passing car went by, the driver looking out to see if anything was amiss. Mr. Marshall waved them on as he exited his driver's door, opened the sliding side door of the van, which faced the roadway, and instructed Nathan to go into the back seat of the van. Glaring at Kevin, he commanded the boy to stand up. Tremulously, Kevin obeyed his strict father. With the boy stooping in the van, and Mr. Marshall standing just outside of it on the shoulder, he instructed Kevin to completely remove his shoes, pants, and underwear.

"Please", "Please Dad"-- "Don't Spank Me Here!" Kevin pleaded. Mr. Marshall just said "Get those clothes off now boy, or you punishment will be doubled!" Reluctantly, knowing he was "licked" in one sense and about to be licked in another, Kevin removed his gym shoes, and undid his belt. He placed the shoes up between the front seats of the van, while his mother looked at him intently.

"Now the Pants!" father commanded, and Kevin unfastened his pants, which opened with a 'popping' sound (they were stretched tightly across his prominent buttocks). He eased them down, and completely off, then folded them and handed them to his mother in the front seat. He was standing, shivering in his underwear, as cars passed by with intrigued drivers staring directly at him.

"Now the Underpants!" his father intoned. Slowly, with the other family members looking on, Kevin started to peel off his tight, white, Fruit of the Loom Underwear. He actually had to stretch the elastic band to get the back part over his jouncy buttocks, and then the front elastic to prevent the underwear from being caught up on his still hairless, but growing, prepubescent penis and testicles. He bend over to completely remove the white underpants, which he obediently handed to his mother-- under her watchful eye.

Tears were already started to form in his pretty green eyes. "Please, Dad, Please- I love You!" begged Kevin, but it was TOO LATE. Now a severe old-fashioned spanking was inevitable. Mr. Marshall re-entered the Van, and sat on the middle seat next to Kevin. Then he carefully guided the trembling boy, who was having goosebumps on his exposed buttocks, over his lap. Raising his hand high, Mr. Marshall delivered a rousing, stinging slap to Kevin's left buttock which resounded through the van.

"Ouch!" cried Kevin.

Mr. Marshall was an expert on spanking boys, and left his hand over the perfectly molded buttock for a moment for the full spank to "sink in." As soon as he removed his hand from the impertinent buttock, it snapped back into shape, with four finger marks and the side of a thumb mark decorating it. A similar spank was then applied to the right buttock, which was held down for a moment to let the full effect penetrate. Mr. Marshall's hand nearly exactly covered each buttock, and so each spank compressed one bottom cheek perfectly, leaving the other to remain upright and springy. Alternating from buttock to buttock, the SLAP SLAP SMACK WHACK was echoing through the van. Uncontrollably, Kevin's cute freckled face turned red, and tears were streaming down his cheeks. His hips bucked and swashed back and forth, but Mr. Marshall had perfect aim from years of practice. Nathan looked on in fascination from the back seat, knowing his turn was next.

Soon, Kevin started bucking and heaving, in spite of an order to "Stay Still" from Father. Kevin's father, being a true expert, punished every centimeter of the exposed behind, as the boy's tee-shirt rode up his smooth back. From the junction where the buttocks ascended precipitously from the smooth thighs, to the "Y" where the protuberant buttocks melded into the boys back, every centimeter received its dose of punishment. As the buttocks yawned open, Mr. Marshall would aim his fingers between the glowing cheeks, so that the soft center, and puckering pink boyhole would receive their full measure of discipline. Drivers of passing cars looked wide-eyed as they passed, slowing to witness this roadside spectacle. Some even turned off at the next junction and headed back, driving by slowly to see more. Kevin was mortified. Mrs. Marshall was smiling, and Nathan was starting to get sweaty, looking at the degree of his brother's punishment-- What was in store for him?

The spanking had been going well-- Kevin's buns were ever brighter, and Father was doing his duty. The boy's bottom cheeks heaved open and closed with each punishing spank. Every nuance of the mysterious shadow between his bottom cheeks was revealed... His puckered little boyhole periodically opened up to view...

Then Kevin made a mistake. He took his right hand, which had been flailing around helplessly during the prolonged spanking, thrust it behind his back and without thinking suddenly tried to protect his aching behind from his fathers stern strong hand. Mr. Marshall was not amused. "That, my boy, will now earn you extra punishment. You can forget about putting your pants on again before tomorrow morning! And if you don't keep those hands out of the way until I say your spanking's over, the same thing will be done with your underpants."

The spanking resumed...SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! Each hard spank rang out like a pistol shot and produced as loud a wail from Kevin as though it were. At the end Kevin's beautiful boybottom looked like twin ripe tomatoes. Finally, sore red buttocks aglow, he was allowed to get up off Father's lap, but did not--could not--sit down on the sun-heated vinyl car seat. Hanging his head and weeping silently, Kevin simply stood there in utter dejection, both hands frantically clutching and rubbing his bottom, so totally preoccupied was he with dispelling the pain from his lower cheeks rather than wiping away the tears that continued to roll down the upper ones.

Finally he heard his father speaking to him--much more gently, now that the boy had been chastised-- "Go on, son, you need to get in the back seat while I deal with your brother."

"Yes, Daddy," Kevin said meekly and started to climb over the middle seat to go into the rear seating section of the van. At once his father stopped him with a hand on his back.

"No, son. Don't climb over. The side doer's open. Go around."

The blush on Kevin's face deepened as he again realized that the door indeed not only was open now but had remained open all during his spanking. There was no telling how many people had driven by and eyeballed him in the depths of his pain and humiliation! Now even if for only a few seconds he had to step out onto the road while nude from the waist down. The shame was almost too much to bear... But after the whaling he'd just received hr was not about to argue with his Dad. Not about anything. So, modestly covering his hairless _d_i_c_k_ and balls with one hand and carefully holding his shirttail down as low as possible with the other, he dutifully squeezed past his father, exited the middle section of the van, and in a split second he climbed into the rear section, where his brother still sat as though frozen.

Largely for this reason, if Mr. Marshall's wrath toward Kevin was now appeased, his displeasure with Nathan was now heightened.

"Nathan!" he bellowed. "I told your brother to get his bottom bare fifteen minutes ago! You knew you were going to get spanked too. How come you're still sitting there with all your clothes on, haven't even unsnapped your pants!"

"Please, Daddy, I'm sorry!" Nathan began to bawl. "I was hoping you weren't gonna spank me bare, or might wait till later, or might be too tired after you got through with Kevin... Please, Daddy, I don't want all those people to see my bare bottom and my underwear!"

"Get up here, boy, NOW!" Mr. Marshall roared.

When Nathan remained immobile, his father reached back and, seizing Nathan's right wrist, drew the little boy to him and pulled him over and into the middle seat. In an instant he had removed Nathan's tennis shoes, but before his hands touched the clasp on the boy's pants, Mr. Marshall's eyes and nose detected the unpleasant fact that Nathan had wet himself. The damp, dark patch that already covered Nathan's crotch was spreading down his thighs. In disgust remarked: "Jesus Christ, boy! You pissed yourself!"

"I'm sorry, Daddy," Nathan blubbered. "I didn't mean to."

"Is that how scared you are of getting a spanking?"

"I'm scared, Daddy, yes. But it's not just that. I've had to go for a long time now, but I couldn't say anything while you were busy with Kevin."

"Oh, hell!" the man exclaimed, in frustration rather than anger. "Tell me this: Are you through pissing now?"

"Yes, Daddy." Nathan sniveled.

"All right, then," Mr. Marshall said in a normal tone of voice, "let's get these wet clothes off you."

As soon as Mrs. Marshall, ever the practical one, had handed him a large plastic bag and a roll of paper towels, her husband set about the task of removing Nathan's sodden pants and briefs, then drying Nathan's skin in the wet places with the paper towels. All this time--about five minutes-- the boy sat on his father's lap as though he were two years old instead of ten. If Nathan had hoped that this diversion would save him from the fate his brother had suffered, at this point those hopes were dashed. He knew that his fate was sealed when he heard his father say resolutely: "Now, then, back to where we were."

In no time he had Nathan, now wearing only his pullover shirt and socks-- over his lap in the time-honored spanking position, and lost no further time applying the delayed punishment. SPANK! The big hand struck hard the creamy hemispheres of Nathan's adorable little bubble-butt, which was only slightly smaller than but otherwise almost identical to his brother's. SPANK! SPANK! SPANK! The big rough palm returned in rapid succession. It punctuated every word of the brief (except to little Nathan, to whom it seemed anything but brief!) but direct lecture:

"I told you boys never to rough-house in the car especially when we're on the road . If you distract the driver you could cause an accident and we could all get hurt or killed! SPANK! SPANK! SPANK!

By this point little Nathan's behind was every bit as sore and reddened as his brother's, and when he could articulate anything more than weeping and wailing, he was ardently promising to be the best-behaved little boy in the world...

Bad things as well as good do at last come to an end. Satisfied that his younger son too had been chastised sufficiently, Mr. Marshall, after finishing the spanking with a stinging slap across both reddened buttocks, set Nathan on his feet and said, "Now let that be a lesson to you!" Thereupon he stepped out, shut the sliding door, got back into the driver's seat and started the engine. In another minute they were back on the road.

Both boys fidgeted and whimpered as they sat again on the middle seat. The discomfort in their bare, spanked bottoms was intensified by protracted contact with the sun-warmed vinyl. The embarrassment of being without pants like two-year-olds, was heightened exponentially when they had to get out to get a snack and use the bathroom at a gas station.

Even though Kevin was allowed to put his briefs on again by this time, the experience of being seen by strangers while he had to walk around in his tight white underpants (of which his red pullover shirt his VERY little!) was EXTREMELY embarrassing to the sensitive boy. After flushing the urinal he was washing his hands in the MEN'S restroom, unaware both how his shapely bottom stuck out as he bent over the sink, and how attractive it was, encased in the snug, white cotton briefs. Not only did he feel unutterable embarrassment when he suddenly felt the hand of a middle-aged adult, a total stranger, cupping Kevin's left buttock in the palm of his hand, but also, in the mirror over the sink, at the same moment Kevin saw his own face blushing scarlet with mortification. Somehow he did not entirely believe the friendly-sounding Southern-accented voice's perfunctory apology: "'Scuse me, son, I have to get by you to get to the john."

Although no one had commented on Kevin's walking around in underpants, when the spectators' eyebrows were raised even higher at the sight of Nathan walking around completely bare-bottomed, Mrs. Marshall's apologetic remark ("I'm sorry. My little boy had an accident in his pants when we were on the road.") seemed to explain everything and satisfy everybody--everybody except little Nathan, who wished he could just disappear into a crack in the sidewalk or wake up and find out that it had all been only a bad dream.

Unfortunately, the feel of the pavement underfoot and the gentle breeze blowing against his bare legs, as well as the residual throbbing and tingling in his now publicly bare bottom all assured him too well that he was very much awake and all this was quite real. So now could they just please get home? As far as Kevin and Nathan were concerned, it couldn't happen soon enough. Unfortunately for them both, too, it probably wouldn't...