Jock Spank – Male Spanking

Text by: Strictop
Pictures by: Bruce

Part 4

“Please, Dad. No! I’ve learned my lesson!” He pleaded. “C’mon, Dad…Sir! I don’t need any more spanking. PLEASE!“

“Don’t make me come over there and get you, boy.” I said in my gruffest voice. “You don’t want to see what happens to your butt if I have to come over there and get you.”

“Please, Sir.” Rusty begged, his voice on the edge of tears. “Not in front of my uncles, Dad! Please!” The men on the couch chuckled, and the boy’s face burned with shame.

Slowly, Rusty made his way across the room and lowered himself across my lap. I patted his butt and noticed that it was still hot from the earlier spanking.

“Rusty,” I began seriously, holding him in place by the small of his back. “I’ve invited Mike, Paul, and Jerry over here to watch you get the rest of your spanking.” The boy didn’t respond, and buried his face in his hands. “Your Uncles care very much about you, just like you were their own kid.”

SMACK! CRACK!

I punctuated my words with a couple of hearty spanks to the boy’s tender buttocks.

“They’ve done nothing but treat you well… Take you places…buy you things. But, more important, they’ve taken care of you and been there for you whenever you needed or wanted anything.”

SMACK! CRACK! CRACK!

The boy’s head popped up with each spank of the hand. He did his best to keep his face turned away from the men on the couch, but his sobs and muffled cries were still plainly audible. I could see tears in his eyes — whether of pain or humiliation — it was hard to tell.

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!

I plastered the boy’s upturned butt with merciless, stinging swats. His legs kicked furiously.

“Hoo boy, Rusty,” Chuckled Uncle Mike. “Your little butt shore is gettin’ red!!! I reckon those cheeks are gettin’ about as red as those tomatoes we planted last summer.”

“Ow! Ow! OW! Dad!! PLEASE!!” Rusty pleaded. The three men on the sofa nodded appreciatively.

“I’m thinking that this spanking is WAY overdue, how about you, Jerry?” Uncle Paul asked nodding his head. Rusty muttered something indistinctly from his daddy’s lap.

WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!

“Ooooooohhh! Owww!”

“Seems like a boy Rusty’s age woulda learnt his lessons by now ‘bout keepin’ his word when he promises to quit smoking. But, I guess it’s never too late to give a boy the discipline he needs to help him get back on the straight and narrow!” Uncle Jerry commented dryly while the almost-naked boy squirmed and whimpered over my lap.

Then it occurred to me. “You know boys,” I said, “These little white panties are really starting to piss me off.” I was definitely getting into the spirit of spectacle. “And, besides, I’m still not sure I’m getting through to this boy.”

Rusty shot me a look of alarm over his shoulder.

“Stand up boy,” I barked. Rusty backed off my lap clumsily and got to his feet, wobbling like he was a bit dizzy.

“Get those stupid little girly panties off…NOW!!”

“Hurry up, boy. I know you don’t want to piss me off any further.”
Turning away, Rusty shame-facedly peeled the offending thong over his tender, burning buttocks.

“While you’re doing that, son, I’m going up to my bedroom to get something that I hope will finally get through to you about how serious I am when I tell you to quit smoking!”

As I left the room, Rusty turned to look at me with pleading eyes.

“You better have those panties off before I get back…” I let my voice trail off menacingly. Under the amused scrutiny of the three men on the sofa, the frightened boy scurried unsteadily to comply.

Text by: Strictop
Pictures by: Bruce

…a thong bikini!

“DAAAAAADDD!!!!” The boy squealed in surprised mortification. He was obviously as embarrassed as I was surprised.

In retrospect, I’m not sure why I was so astonished by the fact that the boy had on the kind of tight little garment that I’ve seen strippers wear. It was like the boy was mocking me. Here I was trying to teach him a serious lesson about smoking and respect and keeping his word, and out pops his pert little tush in hooker’s gear! It was like I had been MOONED!

And it only made me madder!

Blood boiling, I grabbed him by the arm and jerked him back over my lap.

“Please, Dad…Sir. Not on my bare butt! I’ve had enough…Sir. Please don’t spank me any more!”

Without a word, I lit back into his naked butt cheeks with renewed vigor. The sound of hand on bare flesh was completely different from the way it sounded on the seat of the boy’s shorts.

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!

The sound popped like shots from a gun.

“OWWW!” The boy howled. “Please, Sir. I’m sorry, Sir!”

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!

I ignored Rusty’s wails and cries. Over and over again I slapped the boy’s butt cheeks as he kicked and squirmed.

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!

Once more, I became lost in the rhythmic sight and sound of hand cracking against tender skin. Oddly, my mind began to drift.

Suddenly, it dawned on me. It wasn’t just me that this boy had disappointed with his failed promises to quit smoking. There was the matter of his Uncles — his mom’s brothers. Those guys had been incredibly good to him after her death. They felt her loss probably more than any of us, and they looked after her son as if all their love for their sister and been transferred to the boy. They took him to games. Went camping and hiking with him. Supported him in Boy Scouts, attending several father-son events that I couldn’t make. These guys have also tried to get Rusty to quit smoking. In fact, it often seemed like the most important thing in the world to them was that he be safe and healthy. It was like losing him would be the same as losing their sister all over again.
So, I got an idea.

I paused, my hand hovering over the boy’s upturned butt.

“Oh, Dad. I’m really sorry. I mean it, Sir.” His tone of voice sounded like he thought it was over. But, something didn’t quite ring true. Somehow I could tell that he thought he had gotten off lightly.

“THIS time I’m really gonna do it, Dad. Honest. This time I…” I cut him off with a meaty slap to his unsuspecting backside.

“Get up, boy,” I ordered. Rusty struggled to his feet.

I walked over to the desk and placed a few calls while Rusty looked on — embarrassed, perplexed, and very very nervous. In harsh tones, I ordered the boy into the corner and told him to think about why he had been spanked.

Grudgingly, he shuffled over to face the wall, but he didn’t have to wait long.

One-by-one they arrived cheerful and in full agreement over what needed to be done. Rusty’s uncles plopped comfortably onto the couch and grinned at the mortified boy standing in the corner.

“Ok, Rusty.” I motioned the boy to resume his position across my lap. “We aren’t done yet.”

Over the next few nights I plan to post installments from a Story which Strictop and I collaborated on some eight to ten years ago and which first appeared on the warmly remembered and much missed StricTop Website.

The text is by Strictop and the pictures were among my very earliest attempts at PhotoShopping, hence apologies for their somewhat amateur quality. It is a bit of fun from a long time ago but Strictop and I hope you will enjoy it

Words by Strictop

Pictures by Bruce

Part 1

When all is said and done, I have to say that Rusty is basically a good kid. He gets decent grades, stays away from drugs, and never really gets into any serious trouble. Oh sure, he breaks a few rules from time-to-time and lets off steam with a smart mouth occasionally, but you can pretty much count on him to take care of the important things and not do anything too dangerous.

Except for one thing, that is. The boy smokes. Despite all my efforts when he was a little kid to teach him how dangerous it is, and my own example of quitting smoking when he was very little, he picked up the habit in junior high school and has been unable or unwilling to quit. He’s 18 now and has already been smoking for five years!

I wonder if it has anything to do with his mother? She died in a car wreck when he was in first grade and it had a terrible impact on him. She was quite a heavy smoker and could always be seen with a cigarette between her delicate fingers. I’m pretty sure his smoking is hooked up with how angry he is at having lost her.

But, of course, no matter how bad he feels about losing his mom, and no matter how bad I feel for him, it’s no excuse to fuck up his own health.

I’ve tried everything I can think of to get him to quit. I’ve bribed him with money for not smoking. I’ve grounded him. I’ve taken away his car keys. I’ve yelled at him until I’m blue in the face! And nothing seems to get through to him.

It’s not like he doesn’t know what he’s doing to himself. He’s the first one to admit how stupid it is to smoke. He seems honestly to feel bad about how angry and disappointed his smoking makes me feel. He promises to quit. He even asks for help. And he does quit for a little while. But, he always starts up again.

So, I guess it shouldn’t have been any surprise when I came home and caught him red-handed, standing in the middle of the living room, with a cigarette in his hand! It was like he WANTED to get caught.

I blew my stack.

“Jesus-fucking-Christ, Rusty!” I bellowed. “You’re at it again!”

He didn’t say anything. He just stood there looking at me with those sad, resigned eyes of his as smoke curled beside him.

“Rusty! What Am I going to do with you!?” I had trouble controlling my voice as I removed the cigarette and dropped it hissing into an open soda can.

“Nothing I do seems to make any difference! I’ve nagged. I’ve pleaded. I’ve punished you for smoking and rewarded you for quitting. But, it’s the same thing every time! You promise to quit, and then start right back up again.” I was starting to feel angrier than I have ever felt in my life.

“It’s like you just don’t give a shit about yourself or about me!”

“B-but, Dad,” he stammered. “I try! Honest I do. It’s just too hard.”

“Too hard?” I exploded. “TOO HARD?! I’ll tell you what’s ‘hard!’ Watching your only son fuck up his health. THAT’S what’s ‘hard!’ Being lied to over and over by the boy you’ve raised by yourself, the boy you love more than anything in the world! THAT’s ‘hard!!'” I tried to put my arm around the boy, but he turned away.

“Aww, Dad,” he whined, “You just don’t understand.”

I was overcome by a mixture of tenderness and rage. And suddenly I knew what I had to do…

“Get those blue jeans off!” I thundered. The power of my own voice surprised me, and I was amazed at the effect it had on Rusty. His eyes kind of glazed over and he immediately undid the top buttons of his jeans. There was no hesitation. There was no protest. Just immediate obedience.

I pressed on, unwilling to lose momentum. “Go ahead and take those jeans ALL THE WAY OFF! I’m going to do something that I should have done when this all first started.”

Rusty slowly unfastened his jeans.

“You’ve had this coming for a long time, Son.” My voice was low and firm. Almost like he was hypnotized, Rusty stripped down to his boxer shorts.

“I’ve tried treating you like a grown up,” I continued. “I’ve tried everything I could think of to get you to stop smoking…everything except a good old-fashioned SPANKING!”

Before he could protest, I grabbed him by the arm and pulled him over my lap on the sofa.

End of Part 1
(To be continued ………)

Click here for Part 2