Jock Spank – Male Spanking

One Response to Alex Crossed: at Bottom Line

1. 

   Fastifex says:

   September 6, 2025 at 6:34 am

   When the naval ‘hierarchical task force’ prepares a discarded storage room to be turned into a gym, actually Alex working his tail off in sweat and dust while three officers idly ‘inspect and instruct’, the discovery of a wooden, wonderfully-shiny saltire inspires Riley -put in charge of this program to prevent the ever-incompetent idiot to mess up anything else, as usual- to fantasize about such contraption being used before the banning of CP, picturing Alex in the perky, painful part of naked victim counting aloud strokes suffered with various implements, never having been spanked in his life, with both naïve, Asian fellow officers giddily joining in the mind game, always having dreamed of being on the other end when receiving smacks OTK or the punishment stick at home, way less and softer than any earlier generation of their Confucian ancestry, dreaming to discipline the despondent dude like their dads still got it, hard and often from almost any elder as they heard all the time.
   Little does the trio know, Alex was still ‘raised old-fashioned’ in a Southern-strict Dixie disciplinarian family, all too used to dropping trou to go over dad’s or any better’s knee for hand – or hairbrush-thrashings for any peccadilloes, even without stipulated reason when some strict Sir just felt like it (often after suffering some humiliation himself), fearing to be ordered for an actual fault -or poor grade- to the woodshed, where he must strip and go over the sawhorse to be flogged long and hard, still feeling ‘lucky’ if it’s only the strap, rather than being sent first to cut a fresh sally-switch for over a score of scarlet stripes ‘soundly’ scorching his scared-stiff-shivering scoundrel-seat splendidly-sorely
   Yet his worst nightmares still are about the annual ‘working holiday’ on the ranch of the truly-tender-teens-terrifying territorial tyrant Tyson, who employs Alex’s entire family and their rural neighbours, all poor tenants on his vast estate and required as part of the rent by contract to send each endlessly-endured summer their knaves to toil their tails off as his miserable slaves, overcrowding the bunkhouse like sardines in a barrel, much more miserably-still minding both big ‘blistering barrels’ amidst the bare-balls-sleeping boys’ bunks: whenever the mean, sleeplessness-suffering foreman notices the slightest sound or fart -inevitable on their beans-abundant diet- the suspected ‘culprit’ brats from two beds, each shared by six starkers-shivering squirts, are ear-dragged over a barrel for a long lecture and lots of licks lacerating the ‘lewdly loud’ louts’ lower limbs. So the brutally-beatable boys even preferred back-breaking daytime, toiling their trembling teen-tails off on the ranch, when only one or two at a time would be scolded and ordered to drop jeans on boots (always commando, often shirtless) and bend over a fence, tree-log, saddle or mate, having presented to Sir the boy’s own buckskin belt for a ‘fast’ flogging -never less then his age in lashes- and if foreman felt like it a long hand-spanked ride over his knee, for all shivering striplings to see, scared-stiff to be made the next miserable mutt-mounds-meekly-mounted-martyry example of his sadistic severity.
   But(t) even when Alex and his miserably-martyred mates witnessed wicked whipping and attempted to nurse each-others ablaze-agonized adolescent arses, they exchanged one ‘comforting’ thought: at least we’re not in the ‘dungeon’. That refers to the huge ‘playroom’, originally in the nursery of the master’s magnificent main house, which Tyson converted into a curious combination of bedroom and torture chamber, starring a splendid saltire, with numerous implements adorning the walls, where he ‘plays out’ his shocking sadism to the full. Most of the year, the master spends in a city mansion or traveling first-class, but all summer is systematically spent at home, enjoying the ‘boys harvest’ insatiably. Each morning, one victim is hand-picked from the bunkhouse while they line-up dripping starkers after the (cold, shared hence dirty) tub, to follow Sir to the dungeon as his boy-toy all day and night, ordered naked in one position after another, suffering ‘simple’ smacks and swats as well as ‘sodomy’, which no one ever specified even to close kin or best friends, you only knew after serving sadistic Sir’s ‘sick side’ and confided the details of carnal sins on saltire and bed under the seal of confession, invariably incurring another fiery frockless-fanny-flogging in sacristy as penance for somehow failing to abhor the sin ‘enough’, even though refusal would only incur way worse whipping over the barrel till one begs to be back, Alex decided against objecting after an elder cousin confidentially warned that just made it worse, he was kept in the dungeon a second day and night. Alex used to kiss his father’s hand, knees and hairbrush returning home after the ‘scorching’ summer, thanking God and his sire for father’s far fairer filial-fanny-flailing, determined to be even more zealous and obedient.
   Today, Alex gazes at the saltire with mixed feelings, shivers and cold sweat running all over his sexy skin, sensually reminiscing the endless-seeming agony in the dungeon and its cruel sacristy-finale, yet mostly grateful it decided him to opt for a military career, then still ignoring CP had been abandoned, so softy punishments like ludicrous loads of chores still feel like spoiled luxury to him, often happy to take the blame and latrine duty or whatever for comrades, notably those who weren’t raised by spankers, usually eager to repay his martyr-generosity with tutoring and treats, most of which he also shares around, as the bunkhouse horror summers have left a life-long mark lasting after all bruises and stripes healed perfectly on the peachy puppy: genuine concerns for boys in need of help he can happily offer them to avoid pointless, pitiful punishment and become real military men, aspiring to become an instructor to make that his profession, also focusing on battle conditions safety and performance in service of the nation ‘under God’, if only he can learn to be strict enough when cadets need to learn hard, lasting lessons too, without a woodshed or dungeon treatment, but maybe a gym saltire…

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