Teodor catches Jan red-handed going through his jacket looking for something to steal.
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That’s not something that is ever going to go unpunished and Jan soon finds himself bending over the back of couch, and getting his ass paddled.
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Jan looks great in jeans, and they seem to offer little respite from the angry Teodor. Black boxers are next and by now Jan is struggling and trying to reach round and protect his ass.
Next is the bare ass paddling and Jan now knows he has gone too far and the Teodor is not going to stop until a lesson has been learned. No wonder that he seems a bit slow at the end to dress himself as Teodor storms off. Jan looks really forlorn as he heads to his room for the rest of the day .
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Such handsome young buttocks should not go unspanked, unpaddled or unwhipped
At his humble hamlet humblehounds home, Jan and other knaves are quite used to fetching, mostly heavy lifting (always back-breaking, and butt-breaking if inspiring a better to batter the ‘beastly brat of burden’ bare-balls) or comforts and treats which none of them is ever eligible for, and in most cases implements (frequently, feared: fresh-cut switches) to firmly flog their frockless bare backsides bountifully.
So when Dimitri barked to bring Teodor’s wallet for a closer look at the foreign coins senior Sir mentioned over the phone overseas, Jan rushed to fetch it fast.
And when early-returned, unsuspecting Teodor ‘caught him red-handed’, the humblehound dogsbody didn’t dream of something as lippy as explaining why this wasn’t a pilfering crime but(t) swift obedience, just as when he was ear-dragged and wood-paddled three-tier, promised matching ‘due deserts dinnertime dessert’ reminder-repeats for a week, without a word of ‘backtalk’ to excuse his actually-abject assigned-actions, it’s his petty puppy-place to promptly present the pantless posterior for painful purple-poundings as and when betters see fit, never to question them, even biting his lip uncomfortably when Sir takes down his jeans/ boxers instead of ordering him to strip those off. He wouldn’t forget without the repeats, but(t) if those could conceivably help one of his mates, it’s a high honor to have his humblehound- heinie hot-hit ‘helpfully’.
Jan has no idle hope to ‘get off as easily’ when he rushes back beaten-butt-burning to duly-dreaded discipliner Dimitri, ridiculously late and without the coveted curious coins from the wallet Teodor pocketed, nor dreams of lip there, rather fancies fetching junior Sir’s favourite fanny-flogging-flail, the three-tail-tawse, ‘time-honoured technique to teach a trouserless-trembling truant-teen time-telling and tractability’, as told time and time again to the terrific thrashing tune of tawse-twacks-torrents thornily-tender-tanning his thrashable-trembling twink-tail.
Jan can barely wait till afterward, not so much for his fearsome flailing to be over, but(t) to bare-balls mount revered roommate’s lap and learn long (less-lasting) lectures he’ll trigger timidly about such questions as serving two masters and begging for CP on account of failing to confess his actual actions to a spanker, or sparing Sirs the trouble by fetching the flail for his full-force-flagellation-fun-favouring, firmly-fit flogger-friend for furnace-fiery further flailing, furnishing his firm-fatherly flat-friend a formdibale feast of friendly-fun-flogging.