"Over the hassock, you know the routine".
Terry moved slowly, kneeling with his back to his father, staring at the floor, half-formed tears making his eyes shine, his penis bobbing in the current of fear swirling viciously in his groin. He swallowed hard and lowered his jeans and underpants, and lay down over the hassock in front of his father's chair.
Rough hands caressed Terry's soft, smooth buttocks, sliding into the cleft, tickling the downy fuzz beginning to sprout around his anus; Terry hunched his shoulders and fought against his growing erection. He was too old for a belting, Terry knew that, he knew his father knew it too. Carl and Manny had only been grounded for ditching school with him, he was too old, he was in Junior High, none of his friends' fathers beat them anymore, but it didn't occur to him to protest, this was just how it was with his father and him.
"How many?" his father asked.
Terry's stomach lurched. He hated gambling.
"Six?" he whispered hopefully. He knew it was too low as soon as he'd said it. He'd ditched school, he hadn't just trampled some neighbor's flowerbed or broken a lamp. He'd gotten the school to intrude into his parents' lives, and they hated that.
His father laughed, a laugh that drained the blood from Terry's face as his penis bobbed and swelled, held erect by the knot in his stomach. That laugh made the skin on his scalp tighten, Terry was afraid he'd puke.
Deadly silence, and the sound of his father rising, pulling his belt out of his pants...
"Oh god, the buckle end..." Terry's mind screamed as he fought the lungful of air pounding against his vocal chords as cold metal bit into the soft flesh of his left buttock, rebounding on impact with hard bone, a thin firy line of pain tracing the outline where slender belt had seared across his ass.
A second blow sliced a thin red weal across Terry's buttocks, time slowed, and he shrieked, realizing the metal buckle was still finishing its arc, wrapping around his right hip, slamming into his groin muscle. He lost count after the third stripe was laid, it was more than six, they came too fast. The way his throat hurt, he realized that terrifying noise must be him, screaming. But still, it wasn't as bad as he had expected...
His ass burned, it felt like it was swollen to three times it's normal size, as he knelt over the hassock, no longer supporting his upper body but lying limply, clutching the legs of the evil leather stool. He listened to the blood rushing through his head, felt his chest heaving, felt the drool spilling from his open, screaming maw. Terry choked down the last few sobs, forced himself to focus on how much worse he'd expected it to be.
His father knelt down behind Terry's bruised buttocks, fingering the stripes he'd laid down, pressing a thumb into the purple spots the buckle had left. He stroked the hardon he'd been masturbating since halfway through Terry's beating.
Terry winced and moaned as his father stroked his ass, he hated the finale, his father rubbing his penis in the crack of his ass until he came, squirting semen along his crack, poking his hard cockhead into the back of his balls. It didn't really hurt, it was better than the beating, though he'd learned early on that other fathers didn't "pee white" like he used to call it, on their kid's butts after they whomped 'em. Kevin O'Ryan told all their friends in first grade that Terry's father pee-peed on him when he spanked him; that wasn't quite right, Terry wanted to set him straight, but the way Kevin laughed, and the other kids didn't believe it, he knew it was weird and bad, and just one more thing you're not supposed to talk about. The next time Kevin said anything about it Terry called him a liar and punched him in the nose.
"You're too old for this," his father hissed behind him. Hope surged for a moment in Terry's heart.
"It's time you learned to take it like a _real_ man."
His father's fingers were slimy in the crack of his ass, it hurt the way one hand squeezed his bruised and beaten cheek; Terry moaned when his father thrust a slimy wet finger into his asshole, cried out in surprise and clamped the muscles around the digit, he started sobbing silently as two more fingers pressed into him, it hurt, when they started to stretch him open, he didn't like the slimy feeling in his rectum from the stuff that coated his father's fingers as they slid back and forth inside him... but it didn't hurt the way a second beating would. The fingers in his ass came out, and he felt a slimy hand up underneath his shirt, pressing into the small of his back. He felt his father's penis sliding in the crack of his ass and he knew he meant to put it into him like he'd just put his fingers in.
"No!" he screamed. He'd never begged before. "Please, don't!"
A hand smacked across the back of his head, as the penis pushed into him; he fought and screamed, begged as he had never done before in his life, shaking his head to clear his senses between blows to the back of his skull. He clamped his rectal muscles around the cock buried up his ass, twisting and struggling to dislodge the awful thing. It hurt, it hurt as bad as taking the buckle end, it hurt as bad as the worst beating he ever remembered, and it was worse, it was worse. It was _inside_ him, it was inside his body, if the guys ever found out he'd have to kill himself.
It was over quickly, he felt it, felt it squirting inside him, he couldn't stop crying, he wanted to kill himself he felt like puking, as his father's penis popped from his ass.
"Get up boy."
He got up, he pulled his jeans up. Felt the wet spot, cold and slimy, in his underpants, against his crotch. A sick revulsion filled him as it slowly dawned on him that the cum in his jockeys was _his_, not his father's, his father's jizz was up his ass, that was _his_ load in his shorts, not his father's. He felt the wet spot, racked his brains for what it had felt like, but he couldn't remember, he'd never felt it, it just happened.
"You learned your lesson?"
His father was threading his belt back into his trousers, acknowledging nothing unusual in his behavior.
"Yessir." Terry kept his head to the ground.
"Then go to your room without supper and don't come down till breakfast."
"Yessir."
Terry walked stiffly from his father's study.
Nothing wrong.
Nothing wrong.