Jock Spank – Male Spanking

Part 5

“It’s kind of an antique,” I continued, “but I’m sure it’ll still do the trick!”

“Noooooo, Dad. PLEEEEEEEASE!“

Jerry took the stout wooden brush and passed it down the line.

Paul hefted the hairbrush admiringly, and offered it to Mike.

“Well thanks, Paul,” replied Mike with mock courtesy while Rusty trembled in miserable anticipation. “But I think you should have first crack, so to speak. After all, it was you who went with him to all those smoking cessation classes”

Turned towards the floor, Rusty’s face began to look a bit hopeful again. The men’s jovial banter made it seem like maybe they were only kidding around, and weren’t really going to spank him with the hairbrush.

The boy was wrong!

With a rush, tears were in his eyes and then running down his face.

“Bawhawhaw!” the teenager sobbed. “Hawwww! Hawww! I’m sorry. Bawhawwwww!”

CRAA-AACK! CRAA-AACK! CRAA-AACK!

“Owwwwww!” He moaned. “Pleeeease. Un-cle Paul! Aaaaah!”

“Will…CRAA-AACK!… you…CRAA-AACK!… stop…CRAA-AACK!… smoking…CRAA-AACK!“??? Uncle Paul demanded.

“YES!” Rusty cried out. “Yes, Uncle Paul. STOP! PLEEEASE!“

“I’m not gonna stop this spanking until I’m sure you’re gonna quit smoking!” Paul said, his voice definite.

CRAA-AACK! CRAA-AACK! CRAA-AACK!

Rusty’s uncles took turns blistering his scorched backside with the relentless brush while the others held him down.

Finally, it was over. A broken, sweaty boy lay sobbing unrestrainedly across their laps

“OK, Rusty,” I announced. “Turn around and show your uncles your bottom. We’ll let them decide if you’ve had enough.”

Rusty turned, obviously greatly embarrassed and displayed a very red and tender-looking backside for the men on the couch to admire. His face was wet with tears, and the boy’s expression was a mixture of fear and hope — he clearly did NOT want to get spanked any more.

“I think that’s one of the reddest butts I’ve ever seen, ” exclaimed Paul with a grin. “What about you, Jerry?”

“I don’t know if it’s THE reddest,” joked Jerry. “I see a couple of pinkish spots that could stand to be touched up a bit with that hairbrush.”

“UNCLE JERRY!” Wailed the boy. “NOOOOOOOOOO!”

This caused a good deal of general amusement.

“Nah. I think the boy’s had enough,” remarked Mike. “What about it boy? You think you had enough?”

“Oh yes, Uncle Mike!” gushed the boy. “Please don’t spank me any more!”

“So, you think you’ve learned your lesson, have you Rusty?” Jerry passed me the hairbrush, and I tapped it against my open palm.

“Yes, Sir. Please, Sir. I’ll quit smoking. I SWEAR!!!” The boy rubbed the flaming surface of his bottom.

“All right then, son.” My voice was gentle. “Come here and give me a hug.” The grateful boy threw his arms around my neck and sobbed quietly as I hugged him close.

“I’m sorry, Daddy. I really am.” He whispered in my ear. I held him a little longer and then released him with a final squeeze.

“OK, Rusty. I believe you.” All of a sudden, I felt very proud of the boy.

“Go give your uncles a kiss, and then off to bed.” It had been a while since Rusty had engaged in the bedtime-kiss ritual with his uncles, but he didn’t hesitate to obey. Smiling, the men stood up, and one-by-one, the naked young man hugged them, pecked them on the cheek, and whispered a heart-felt promise.

And then, a very chastened boy, with a thoroughly sore backside scampered — almost happily — off to bed to sleep on his tummy…safe in the knowledge that someone cared.

…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.”

End of Part 3
(to be continued)

Click here for Part 1 and Part 2