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Author's Note: Some of us conjecture to ourselves as to the origins of our corporal punishment (CP) fascinations. Some of us have strong erotic attachments to CP whereas others love the CP arts and have little or no erotic attachment. I have always known that I fall into the former camp and have also believed that such attachments, at least mine, were hard-wired into my being from birth. My own father never knew about his son, me, in that regard which was probably for the best. This story is a fiction.
* * * * * * * * * *
Early 1970's
By the time I was eleven, I already knew about masturbation. By the time I reached puberty around age thirteen and discovered the fluids necessarily associated with masturbation, I was obsessed with it. One day, when I was fourteen, my Dad got a spring mid-semester grade report from my junior high school that indicated that I had pretty much broken my promise to him to get better grades that half-semester. He gave me a choice of being totally grounded for the rest of the term or to get a good hard bare bottom whipping with his belt.
Because boys at my school still were paddled both by the junior high school academic dean and by the physical education coaches in those days, I got to see a lot of bare boy-butts getting paddled, especially in my physical education class. For whatever reason, I found those voyeuristic sessions very erotic and worth a lot of masturbation efforts afterwards for days, so that when the choice of grounding, which I loathed, was matched against a onetime bare ass belting, I chose the belting.
Needless to say, there was nothing erotic about the fiery blaze of red hot pain that Dad visited upon my voluntary ass that evening. I'll never forget it. I had been spanked by my Dad for back-talking and other minor crimes before that, but not for a couple of years and though I had tried to spank myself to get off and did, I was not up for the kind of pain that a really good belting can cause.
He came into my bedroom that night while I was wearing just a pair of pajama bottoms over my undies, no top. He made me put a pillow in the middle of the bed and push down my pajama bottoms and underwear down off my naked ass and lay over the pillow.
I'll never forget how my chest just ached with dread as Dad slipped off his belt from his trousers, doubled it up, then went to work with strike after strike across my naked cheeks. I didn't cry, but I did yelp, then yell and finally screamed, but only after Dad had really criss-crossed my behind with more licks than I could count. Dad said I had taken my punishment well and left me alone for the night.
Later, in the bathroom, I carefully looked and pawed at my naked red ass. My dick loved it and since I loved my dick, I jacked off twice in the bathroom then, then once in bed under the covers an hour later, then on top of the covers four or five hours later, rubbing and digging at my prize possession belt marks.
I considered flirting with provoking another belting from Dad again over the next year, but could never conjure up the nerve. Then something happened when I was fifteen. Dad took me with him to visit a favorite Aunt of his out of town on a car trip one weekend. I really didn't want to go, but he asked, so I went to keep him company. On the way, we stopped at a major Interstate highway rest stop, the kind that is a small park with male and female bathrooms, picnic tables and the like.
It was early summer and there were a lot of families with kids out and about on the highways and byways and the parking lot was fairly full. Dad stopped for us to empty our bladders from our prior stop for burgers and Cokes of a few hours back. We got out and went inside of the male side and it was a little full actually and we had to wait. We finally were next for the urinals and soon stood side by side in that common male need.
But just as we finished, three boys ranging from about twelve to fourteen and a Dad came storming into the room. The Dad was angry and the boys were looking very afraid. Whatever they had done on their road trip in the family car had earned them a whipping with their Dad's belt.
Dad and I turned and the next thing we knew, those boys were obediently lined up on the far wall, jeans and underwear down to their ankles and that Dad had whipped his belt out and started to pop one after another on their bare bottoms.
I gawked, my Dad nodded his approval. All of the other boys both already inside and ones that came into to watch when they heard the tell-tale sounds watched and gawked just like me as those boys started to yelp and dance with the pain of their whippings. All of the other Dads there nodded their approvals just as my Dad did.
This went on until the youngest of the three was bawling and the others had tears running and their behinds were all three majorly red. Then it stopped. The boys then had to wait, pants down and still bare mind you, for the urinals to open up and then pee before they were allowed to pull up their undies and jeans. But before then, the other boys and I could not help but to stare at their genitals and bare red bottoms as well as at their humiliated red and wet tear-stained faces. I had never seen the like and knew I never would again.
I was too inhibited back then to pop a boner inside that bathroom during the whippings and didn't pop my bone until I got back into the car, but when I did, I shifted my hips and lifted my left knee up so Dad would not see that my jeans were trying to hide my embarrassment.
All the rest of the weekend, I could not stop thinking not only about the three boys' painful ass whipings, but also of their humiliation of having not only to get it in front of strange boys and men in such a public place, but then to have to wait quite a while bare naked to get to a urinal.
We were staying at my Dad's Aunt house this whole time, me sharing a bedroom with Dad, so I used the bathroom with the door locked to protect me from being seen masturbating probably more in that first 24 hours than ever before.
My biggest goal and fantasy on that Sunday going home then became to possibly dare myself to find a way for Dad to stop at an Interstate highway rest stop and give me a belting in front of the boys and men inside. I knew it would never happen though. I was not sure that I could stand the humiliation, but that often means that the dare to yourself becomes even more alluring though very subconscious.
I guess I was distracted looking the whole weekend and Dad did notice that.
"Are you OK son?" he asked me as we got into the car that late Sunday morning for the long trip back home.
"Sure Dad, why?" I said a tad defensively.
"You sure?" he re-asked and I snapped back, "Yes!" a little more defensively. He seemed to ignore the tone of my reply as we then started back.
Maybe it was that I sensed the fantasy that if I pushed Dad a little more, I might in theory actually get what I thought I wanted, but probably did not have the nerve to provoke for real. Maybe I was just overdue for a good whipping anyway regardless of circumstances, but just before that same rest stop area on the other side of the Interstate, he asked again,
"You know son, if you're not feeling well, you should really tell me," and maybe it was just because I was fifteen and he was making me feel as if I was ten and that combined with my building need as well as some not so small guilt over using his Aunt's bathroom as a jack-off-atorium that weekend that I snapped back,
"God Dad! Will you just stop it? I'm fine! Get off my back!"
He got red in the face and I shrank down. I knew I had crossed the line but had no idea that the rest stop was only one mile ahead. Freshly pissed off, Dad pulled off towards the rest stop parking lot and I suddenly realized what was going to happen.
"You need to pee Dad?" I asked him rather apprehensively, because I didn't.
"No! You'll find out soon enough!" and I blushed, I knew, I already knew what was going to happen. Then things just kind of became surreal from there. Knowing I was going to get a pants down, bare bottom whipping in front of whoever was in the male rest stop bathroom kind of calmed me. It was inevitable now. Maybe I had done it on purpose, maybe it was all just a coincidence. No matter.
"Get out and get inside the bathroom now!" he said after parking. I got out and he followed me and by the time we were inside, he had his belt out and the place was full of boys, sons, and men, their Dads. Right in front of everyone he lectured me on the wall opposite the urinals,
"I will NOT have your attitude young man, pants and undies down, now!" and I just stood there a moment, a thousand eyes on me, the bad boy, the bad son, the boys, younger mostly, gawking at me, the Dads nodding their approvals of my Dad.
I then obeyed him, I had to, but I looked down, my humiliation building as I pushed my jeans and underwear to the middle of my thighs. I knew what to do, I turned and put my hands up on the cold cream color painted smooth cement wall.
Dad's licks came hard and often and I winced and grimaced and did everything I could as the sounds were so loud, I thought Dad's Aunt could hear them miles away. It hurt, it hurt bad and finally I started to yelp, then yell and he made sure I screamed once before he stopped. I had danced and twisted and I was sure that I looked ten years old or worse before it was all over.
I stayed put. I didn't want to turn, I wanted to close my eyes and crawl out of that room and back to the car to hide. I didn't get to.
"Turn around, stay put and wait for a urinal young man!"
Talk about stupid. I looked at my Dad, incredulous and said, "But I don't need to pee!"
Dad strode forward, bent me over in the crook of his strong arm and spanked me with his hand twenty hard times. I yelled, "DAD PLEASE NO!" and danced and juked in place but he nailed me each and every time as I yelled on about half of his extra hard spanks.
I then had to stand back up straight, embarrassed to the hilt facing everyone with both of my naked sides and had to wait just like that for an open urinal as my peers smiled, whispered and pointed at me and their Dads smiled and looked approvingly at their peer.
* * * * * * * * * *
The unexpected payoff surprise was much later. We drove home that Sunday silently, me sitting on my burning and itchy ass. That was not erotic, that was just plain irritating. Nothing more was ever said about that incident between me and my Dad but I often wondered if he had known how I was with all my fantasies. Well, even if he didn't, somebody, somehow did know.
About two weeks later, one of the other fifteen year old boys in my neighborhood sidled up to me in the school bus on the way home,
"I saw you get your ass-whipping two weeks ago in the rest stop. Pretty hot." And that's all he said.
I blushed and didn't dare to look at him. What he had claimed was certainly not impossible to have happened, not at all. We hadn't been anything but casual friends up till then, I didn't know why, but now didn't care. He said "hot."
"Oh yea?" I finally said, still not looking at him, my chest aching with surprise, fascination and dread even. Why was he confronting me?!
"Wish I got my ass whipped in public like that," he whispered next.
The noise in the bus made overhearing such banter impossible, but that last answer made me look at him. He smiled and his eyebrows rose knowingly up and down. Then he leaned over,
"I know that can't happen, so why don't you come over my house and take a belt to my naked ass in my bedroom. My parents aren't home for hours."
Oh … My … God! I swallowed and nodded, "Yea, I'll do it," and then the bus came to our stop in our neighborhood and I was so happy, nervous and incredibly excited. He looked the same.
Needless to say, we practically ran to his house and slammed the door shut to his bedroom. I looked at him, he at me. He grinned, went to his closet and got out a handsome dress belt he only wore at church. We didn't say anything, he just pushed his school trousers and underwear down and then lay himself over his bed pillow like I had with my Dad that one time.
I had the belt in my fist, doubled it up and went to work. I whipped his butt and watched him. I whipped him hard until he started to yelp, then yell and like me, finally screamed. I stopped and smiled, "That's enough," and he smiled and sat up.
His dick was already getting hard, mine already was. I gave him the belt, "My turn, "I said and went over his pillow. He whipped me up good until I yelped, yelled and finally screamed, then he stopped and he motioned me to go with him and into his bathroom down the hall. We did and stood side by side and masturbated ourselves, twice. It was so much fun and I felt so good. So did he.
Things like that are sometimes meant to become enduring friendships and such, or maybe some guys go on to discover they like boys better than girls. None of that happened to me or him. We did that again exactly twice more, a few months apart and then it stopped.
I didn't feel badly or miss it much after that until years later and since then, wish I could be fifteen again, get an ass-whipping in an Interstate rest stop that was witnessed by another guy my age who would ask me to whip his ass later in his bedroom. Oh well, at least it really did happen once.
© Copyright PJ Franklin June 8, 2009
Your comments are appreciated. pjfranklinboy2@earthlink.net
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Main Story PageLast updated: June 8, 2009