Sometimes lads really don’t think. Hynek needs a shirt, and he sees one of Dimitris hanging there, and that’s good enough.
Dimitri of course sees it differently and that’s why Hynek finds himself getting a spanking.
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Dimitri takes this kind of borrowing seriously and spanks the lad accordingly. Wearing only boxers, Hynek really feels the full force of the spanking and it has an effect on him. When his boxers are pulled down, he is clearly excited and seems confused by his own reaction. As Dimitri carries on administering punishments to the lads’ ass, Hynek finds it hard to keep his hand off his dick.
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Things are beyond his control though and the inevitable happens. The paddling ends and Hynek does seem really confused by what’s happened, spanking is a journey of exploration for him.
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After a disastrous laundry mistake ruined the whole bash of knaves shirts, huge and helpful Hynek kindly lent his clean ones to mates who needed some stat to dress smartly for Christmas exams, his starting later, Sergio having arranged for some of his to be sent from home just in time for Hynek’s first exam. Alas, due to prolonged breakfast chores (with endless-seeming rides over both moody Sirs’ laps for peccadillo-pretexts, costly-curs-cursing cruelly cranky over crushing price rises, like the gass bill) there was no time left to receive it from Sergio, who has asked he didn’t object to a bright color, so he assumed the red one at the closet had to be ‘his’.
Alas again, Dimitri had put poor passing-by pup Sergio OTK as cruelly to ‘motivate’ him to carefully clean up the ‘silly squirts shirts show’ and made him fetch the pine paddle (‘seasonal’ wood) for a wickedly-woefull wooden whooping after accidentally spilling some crums over the Sirs shirts, the crimson hung-up as a red alert warning this Dimitri day spelled regular ragless-rascal-rear-red-and-raw-ravaging-rages.
So Hynek accidentally trying on Sir’s stuff swiftly surely spelled a super-severe stripped-spankings sequence sentence, this ‘prompt petty paddling prelude’ only being so short because he must make his exam, then rush back home for daunting doses with every implement in any positions Sir fancies and OTK during long lecture interludes, he’ll have to do most repeat study in bed, hardly able to concentrate on anything other than his brilliantly-brightly-burning bubble-butt beaten blistered beyond black and blue, a practical problem to sit exams the next days as well.
His heathenishly-harsh hard-handed-handling hider having happily heeded hapless Hynek’s horse-hung he-hood, he’s also held-up to help hosting as hats-hanger ‘handy handless hard-on’ giddy gay guests-greeting gimmick at the two Sirs spankophile holiday benefit parties, the annual one for the house’s own treasury and one extra for CoVid-charity, joint motto “Omikron, O More Micro-managed mounted mounds Misery”, all other knaves serving bunny loincloth-only, orbs obediently ordeal-offered on the elaborate menu, a sophisticated ‘spanking booth squared’ hopefully raising reasonable sums, gloriously guaranteed to red-raw-ravage raised rascal-rears relentlessly, ruthlessly, resoundingly, redder then the red shirt; he’ll have his handsome humble-hound-heinie-hide hornily heeded and hit hotter then gluhwein, horse-hung hotties are hotter to happily heed and hide then halfcocked hardons.