Mason is wasting time on his phone, as lads do these days, when he is confronted, There’s no messing around, and he finds himself ass up OTK.
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Wearing cut off shorts says he was supposed to be outside doing work around the garden, but he was easily distracted. He might look good in shorts but they have to come down and the next set is on his white boxers.
This is a good steady pace spanking with no let up at all. The boxers are down and a bare ass spanking is next. This is a good lesson in priorities for Mason, one that he should remember for a while and to make the point the paddle is shown as a warning for next time. .
Since Tony took over dear daddy’s duly-dreaded-derriere-disciplinarian-duties, manifold-meekly-mounds-mounted Mason’s grades are up as reliably as his absolutely-abject-adolescent-arse is upended regularly at home and about everywhere else Tony delegates supervision with a mandate and agreement to spank soundly whenever fit and in case of doubt. He’s also learning the hard(-handled) way to do his best at any chore a better bids, without backtalk (a mortal sin) or hesitation (earning extras), even if one better’s time-consuming instructions imply incurring a ‘spare spanking’ for in-fact innocent lateness at the next’s location.
At home, he readily reports for regular and rostered duties after changing into matching attire, these cuttoffs clearly being for dirty duties like today’s gardening chores: leaving home in such unsightly rags would incur a formidable flogging with copious crimson-clothless-cones-cuts. Tony has a petty paddle lying ready on the guest sofa, handy for his next numbskull tutoring charge, who can count himself lucky if not ordered to fetch a firmer implement like usually used on Mason, and is not amused Mason may soil it in these rags.
Hearing the knave needs precise instructions what and where to weed and so one to Sir’s horticultural taste, he lets humblehound off with a hand-spanking for ‘loitering’ now, but(t) orders him after the long chore to report back here towel-only cold-shower-dripping for a simple belt-flogging over this couch if it isn’t stained, or two-tail-tawse-torrent-tormented half way to hell if it is still s(p)oiled – blistering bad luck if a tutored thickhead’s throbbing toy-tail taints it thornily tush-tail-tormented pantless-pupil-posterior-pain-purple-paddled, it’s still up to Mason to clean it completely and ‘pay for it’ bare-balls blazingly brat-butt-battered black and blue, from now added to his daily chores.
As it actually depends on tutored charges’ scared-stiff-sex-shaft-seed-spilling, likely but(t) unpredictable, it reintroduces an element of tense speculation, something to look forward to for Sir after sometimes ‘tedious’ tutoring sessions -he even occasionally cheats by spending a seed-penny there sneakily himself- while for Mason, it always arouses a funny feeling of faint fear and fine phallic fitness from the start of his evening chores, frankly fitting father figure and fledgling fairly fine.