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The following story is fiction.  It contain scenes of spanking.  If such a subject is offensive, uninteresting or if you are a minor (i.e., child) please leave now.  This is a continuation of Grounded Instead – A Punishment Essay by Dottie Henson by[no longer valid] and Junior's Spankings – Part 1 which should be read first.

This work is copyright by the author and commercial use is prohibited without permission.  Personal/private copies are permitted only if complete including the copyright notice.

The author would appreciate your comments – pro and con, including constructive criticism, and suggestions.  Please take a moment to email.

Junior's Spankings – Part 2/2


I've been lurking in the spanking newsgroups for several years now never saying anything because they are adult groups and most here are afraid of minors.  Well, don't worry about my trying meet you because I'm even more scared that you might one of the crazies; I read the papers too.  You're probably wondering why I suddenly come out.  It's mother's fault; well, that's not really fair.  It's because mother told about our family and I wanted my side heard also.

And about that adult bit – well if I'm old enough to spank mother on my own then I'm sure adult enough to be here.  Well, if you disagree, I suggest using the delete key right there near your quivering right pinky.

I guess that I should start with the basics.  You already know my name but I've decided that I don't like being called Junior since it sounds so juvenile so I now answer to JJ.  Unless you want a fight, spanking or you're my father, you better not call me Junior.  I'm fourteen, a sophomore in HS and a regular cool dude.  I'm not a jock but they long ago learnt not to pick one me.

Since the favorite subject here is spanking, I guess that I should talk about that.  You already know that I spank my mother and brother and, just for the record, a few others.  Why?  Because they need it and I like to do it.  The only one to blister my butt is my father and it's always punishment for stuff when I've done wrong.  I don't like it at all and I can stop it any time I want since Dad is not that keen on it either.  But the options are worse, IMNSHO, grounding and loss of allowance are the pits.  Years ago I worked this out with Dad.  The contract is simple – When I f*ck up I get punished and Dad decides how much.  I can prevent it by not f*cking up or choosing another option.  CP has been the way for thousands of years and when done carefully it's not abuse.  You got a problem with that?  You know where that delete key is.

It hardly seems necessary, but I got to say it – I'm a spanko – top only.© YLeeCoyote

I got into all of this because I read a lot.  Crime and punishment, juvenile style fascinated me at an early age and I read a lot of stuff about how kids, mostly boys, lived.  How they played, worked, went to school and most of all were punished.  I had some great dreams about being a midshipman and being held over a cannon and getting my ass strapped.  I had some even better ones being the one wielding the strap.  For years I dreamt about being the head prefect – one with canes and slippers and quaking first formers and stoic sixths all with cute butts to beat.

This gave me the info I needed to talk with father and get him to agree to use CP.  I must admit I did not quite expect it to hurt like it did but punishment is a lot like adhesive tape on the skin.  You can pull it off sloooowly and draaaaaaag out the pain at a low level or just give it a quick yank, hurting a lot for a short time.

Mother already posted my letter to father about my first spanking.  (I think I'll have to spank her for copyright infraction. <g>)  It turned out to be just what it was suppose to be – unpleasant.  Don't get me wrong I'm not whining about it being a pain in the butt (that I expected and contracted for) but all the side effects – the humiliation of being stripped and bawling like a baby.  After that Dad and I moved on to other ways.  I was not about to under go any punishment unless I deserved it so the experimentation took awhile.

The main advantage of the other methods is I could behave like a man rather than a baby.  It sure is hard not to bawl draped over Daddy's lap particularly after being stripped.  Simply put, it's just humiliating and not dignified.  We found that the slipper (as the Brits call it) was effective but just awkward as it is effectively a heavy strap with a lot of extra baggage.  The hairbrush just was not the right image feeling like a mother's implement mainly to protect her hand and a wooden spoon just laughable.  We quickly moved on to a wide Garrison belt folded double.  It was very effective and easy to use.  Don't laugh, when father is swinging something at my butt I don't want him any madder than he has to be by being irritated by the implement.

We were about to try a cane but did not because of a huge brouhaha in town about child abuse and that the schools were to be extra diligent in reporting any signs.  Cane tracks would cause a lot of trouble in my school.  I'm contemplating having father cane me just to see what it all about when it is safe on our vacation.  Father says it up to me but I can see the twinkle in his eye and know that he is as curious as I am.

Although mother is not permitted to watch me or Ken getting spanked, except for that first time, Ken is allowed to watch.  Dad says that it a good object lesson for him and it helps me stay stoic.  After all I don't want look like a wimp in front of him.  Once, when I wronged him, Dad let him decide how many I should get.  Afterward I realized that it would not have matter if he had said double or half of what he did.  I think that strapping hurt him more than it did me.

Mother just does not understand how I regard the genuine Lochgelly Tawse that father so caringly ordered all the way from Scotland.  I don't love it and know that it can rip my butt up so that I would hurt for ages.  I respect it.  I admire it.  It's a beautifully crafted tool made for a particular job and to do that job exactly right.  One of the things that a craftsman does is treasure and care for his tools.  They are not just his but him.  They are an extension of himself.  The craft is irrelevant – Arthur's Excalibur, 007's Berretta, a trumpeter's mouthpiece, a chef's knives, a barber's scissor, Gandalf's staff, the One Ring.  It's a guy thing.

The three of us had to experiment with using that beautiful tawse to learn exactly how it worked.  Father and I set up a target (an old cushion set up at the same height as my butt when in position) and we studied how that tool worked.  How the tongues wrapped around the curves of the target.  How it landed with different forces and twists.  I teased Ken about why he was practicing and had to laugh when he said he was planing to use it on me.  I could not help but to laugh and told him he'll feel it from me before that.  That caused him to laugh and he quoted the old saying about laughing last.

Mother also reported about the first time I spanked Ken.  What she said was all correct but there was a lot more happening.  Ken was being a brat like all kids can be at times and I called him on it.  He had been privy to Dad spanking me and the associated confessions and promises so he really knew the rules of the game.  The main reason to go to the den was to be sure that mother did not start yelling.  Dad was away I was his deputy; it was just like in LITB when Ward tells Wally, er, Wallace that he's the man of the house and he goes to bat for the Beaver without telling June.

I must give Ken credit for knowing what he did wrong and that he thanked me for stopping him before he really went to far.  He quickly figured out that he had to apologize and then asked if was going to tell Dad and if he was going to get spanked.  It was yes to the first, no to the second but I gave him a fifty-fifty chance of getting it from Dad.  That's when he surprised me and asked me (almost pleading) to spank him and get it over with.  We agreed that it would have to be real.

After he apologized we went to our room.  He wanted to get the slipper but I said that the first time would have to be OTK.  He looked a little disappointed but went along with the deal.  I slowly undressed him while gently lecturing him.  I could see how he was feeling it just like I had.  I almost quit right then as I did not want to hurt my brother but that would have hurt him even more for he would think I thought he could not take it.  When he was naked I pulled him across my lap and clamped him into position.  I caressed his cute little butt and then gave it a gentle spank.

He laughed and told me to stop fooling around or he would spank me.  I let him have it rapid fire on both cheeks.  Boy, did my hand hurt; probably more than his bright red bottom.  He cried like he should and I gave him a few more.  I had to be gentle because my hand hurt.  I stood him up and he wrapped his arms about my neck and hung on as he cried.  I think I would have cried if I had been alone; it sure hurt to have hurt him.  He was not mad at me at all and told me he loved me even more and he deserved it.  When he stopped crying, I rubbed my Sportcreme® into his butt to lesson the pain.  The next day he told me that I should not have done that for it was cheating.

I'm not really sure how I got the nerve to punish mother after she conned the fuzz about running that red light.  It was almost like I was not me at the time.  I had seen it all and even knew that she knew she had done wrong from her reactions even before the wail of the siren started.  Father had taught us to be quiet when mother or he were dealing with other adults particularly with strangers so we were quiet.  It was after mother had told her friend how she got away with it that the something happened inside of me.  It was based on what I saw at work a few month earlier.  Dad's boss called him into his office to talk.  At first I was worried that Dad was going to get bawled out (like I did when Dad called me into his office) but happily I was very wrong.  The boss was going away for a week and wanted to give Dad some directions and the delegation of authority.  They had to explain that to me and I was very proud of father.

The next week Dad talked about a couple of things he had to do as the deputy.  One was very nice – sign a big purchase order.  The $900,000 is still incomprehensible to me.  That's a lot more than our house cost.  The other was not pleasant at all.  One of the workers was caught stealing and had to be fired.  Dad was very sad that he had to sign that paper.

Well, I was Dad's deputy and I knew what he would have done.  Once I was thinking that way I went ahead and acted.  It was very different than with Ken who asked me to act.  Mother must have really known how badly she had behaved because she did not talk back when I sent her to change.  That act must have locked me into the deputy mode.  While that was happening, thoughts of what happens to naughty little girls in school uniforms bounced through my mind.  Headmasters (and mistress) spanking their charges in loco parentis and of their daughters getting spanked (again!) when they got home.  Although boys got it with slippers, straps and canes girls seemed to get it with hairbrushes.  My mind's eye was filled with the image of the brush on mother's vanity table.

Continuing on automatic pilot I went up to mother's room and just walked in without knocking.  I had never done that before.  She was sitting at the vanity and I realized she had makeup on.  Another phase filled my head – "Take that paint off your face too, young lady."  Soon after she was over my lap and I lifted her skirt.  I was not really ready for the wide expanse of white under pants.  It not that mom is fat but women's hips are so much wider than men's.  I was very thankful for the brush for I realized my hand would not suffice for properly spanking that much bottom.  All the stories had the underpants pulled down so that what I did.  I was not, and that's the truth, thinking sexually.  I do confess that I saw some of her sex and pubic hair.  As deputy that was fine but as Junior it did seem wrong.  Then I used the hairbrush until mother's bottom was red like it should be after a spanking.  After putting her in the corner, I remembered that skirts were always pinned up so I did that also.

I will confess that after spanking both Ken and Mother I was rock hard.  But it was less sexual than power.  It the same sort of hard that I get when I'm winning a contest with a peer.

It was after I spanked mother a few times that I realized that something would have to be done about the sexual aspects.  By this time I had played some serious "I'll show you mine, if you show me yours" games studying biology in school.  A half dozen of us got together, stripped and checked the others out.  It was doing that I learnt that pubic hair made a big difference for me on a girl's snatch.  I explained this to father and he worked out the solution.  I expected that they would work out some sort of thong but they found another method.  I like this solution and I hope that mother does although she has not (properly) spoken of it.

I was about to wrap this up when Ken caught me at it.  I was in the john and when I came out he was reading what I wrote.  He insisted that it was incomplete and said I left out some important stuff.  I agreed that if I had I would post it as a postscript.  I'm proud of my brother and ashamed to admit he was right.  He said it would not be honest to change what I wrote and so I have not.  

Here is his comment.

I've just read what my big know-it-all brother who I love dearly wrote and caught him in a major f*ck up.  That you're reading this is proof I was right.  What he wrote is right and he even explained some sh*t I didn't know.  It's what happened last Saturday night that he forgot to tell about.

I was in bed thinking when he waltzes in almost an hour past his curfew.  I waited until he stripped down and pounced.  "You are late, young man!" I barked at him sitting up and letting him see the tawse in my hand.  The look on his face was priceless as I said: "Six from me or six from Dad in the morning.  He's a lot stronger than me, JJ."  He knew when he lost and just assumed the position.  "Don't worry, the folks are making so much noise shagging that they won't hear us."

I wanted to make this count after all the times he spanked (always fairly) me.  I got into position and checked the distance very carefully.  It was important to get it right.  I brought back my arm and swung the tawse at the waiting butt.  THWACK!   A red strip formed and JJ reacted.  He had to struggle to hold position and not to scream.  I placed the second one lower down.  THWACK!  The results were similar to the first.  I put the third one right between the first two; THWACK!

JJ was really hurting but he would never admit it but he actually did squeal.  My practice was worth the trouble.

I moved to his other side and switched to my left hand.  Because of the great wrap around of the tongues, there was new territory on his left cheek sides.  JJ never knew that I practiced southpaw also.  I evilly thought that I could break him.  I really let him have it with the next two and he was on the edge.  Not only did he squeal more but there were tear in his eyes.  But credit where due – he held his position like a real man.

Fortunately, I came to my senses and made the last one hard enough to be real but not to drive him over the edge.  This was not the offence to do that.

I admire him for not moving for the entire set.  He thanked me nicely and promised to be more mindful of his curfew in the future.  I'm sure he meant it.

I also appreciate that he dropped the 'ny' from my name.  Now I'm going to have that best laugh.

All that my dear brother said is true and he is entitled to that best last laugh.  Oh, Dad is certainly stronger but he would never had tawsed me that hard and certainly not with anywhere near that precise control.  And when he hears of this he'll surely make Ken his regular deputy to spank me.  I guess that it's now Dad and Ken that spank me. (You should have seen the huge sh*t eating grin on his face as I keyed that.)

Ken taught me something and some day he will drive me over that edge when he knows it the right thing to do; perhaps because I will ask him to.  I'm certain that he going to be a virtuoso with that wonderfully crafted genuine Lochgelly Tawse especially on my butt.

As I said, it's a guy thing.

The End

© Copyright A.I.L., February 06, 2003

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