The following story is fiction about MM spanking. The story contains scenes of spanking. If this subject is offensive, uninteresting or if you are a minor (i.e., child) please leave now. You should read part 1 The Kid on the Train 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.
Click to have Metric units (American/English units) used in the story.
It had been an unusual day at work for I had been able to clear my desk before quitting time and had the joy of being a sardine on the rush hour train home. I considered it a worthwhile trade. Even better, I was caught up at home with all the chores done so it was a free evening for me. I immediately started to take advantage of it as soon as I entered the park on my way home. I took the roundabout, i.e., scenic, way home so I could enjoy the evening with nature.
There was a lot of activity in the park and I could not resist watching several groups of teens at the hoops. It was pretty warm especially for those playing hard so most had removed their shirts. Since the fatties did not play, they were all trim and fit. Some were handsome and some cute. All were pleasant to look at and to watch their rippling muscles under their smooth glowing skins.
It was proving to be a lovely finish to a lovely day.
Until. I heard that familiar voice right behind me. "Perving again, I see." It was Master Cutie whom I saw on the train a couple of weeks ago and who spanked me on the bare butt here in the park.© YLeeCoyote
"I'm NOT perving. I'm just watching the guys play." I responded. "Just leave me alone." probably with some irritation in my tone.
"You want I should ask them? You've been here an hour. That's not watching – that is PERVING!" he corrected. Then after a pregnant pause added: "You want to ask them? I'm sure they would think that you deserve to be spanked."
"No. Why would they think that – they were just playing?" I said fearful of some plot. "I was just watching them play. Lots of guys watch guys playing."
"Not like you do, Pervert. Not like you watched me on the subway. You were perving! Admit it or we'll ask them. Then they can spank you also."
I did not know what more to say.
"Then you confess to perving, Pervert." he pressed and I acquiesced. "Come along quietly now and I'll give you what you deserve." What else could I do? I followed him like I was a puppy on a leash. He led me to around to the back of the maintenance yard which was quite, thankfully, deserted.
He dropped his bag on a bench and sat down near the end. "I was wrong last time just to strap you like a big kid for you're just a little boy. You need a good old-fashioned OTK spanking to teach you to change your ways." He lectured me some more and then just reached up and opened my belt and pants. Seconds later he pushed my chinos all the way down and my 'baby' (as he called them) briefs quickly followed.
It was almost a relief when he guided me over his lap for it hid my hardon that had been right before his eyes just moments before. Since he was at the end of the bench my legs had lots of room. He got a grip on my waist and then started to spank with his hand. The first few really did hurt but as the continued the pain increased and I started to grunt from the pain. "Good. I'm getting through to you, boy." he said and continued to spank. "And your bottom is turning red." he added with a chuckle.
The next spank was a killer and I yelled. "My hairbrush is most effective." he said and whacked me several times more in quick secession. Yes, indeed, that hairbrush was making a deep impression as it whacked my defenseless bottom driving pain throughout my defenseless body. I was soon crying and he continued until I was bawling. He kept me in place as I bawled.
Through the fog and haze I was in I heard: "… good job of spanking the perv…." It then dawned on me and I realized that there was conversation going on. I tried to get up but he held me down. "These are some of the guys you were perving, boy." I immediately got nervous. Now I was out numbered. In response to my fidgeting he ordered me to be still and punctuating the order with still another painful whack from his hairbrush.
"I wish I had my headmaster's cane. Then I would beat some sense into this pervert." said one of the others with a British accent.
"How about this rod that they use to support plants?" asked another guy.
Through my sobs, I heard a SWOSH and the Brit guy said: "Blimey. That's perfect. It's nice and springy." I felt some sort of rod on my already blazing butt as the guy found his position. I was being held down tightly by Master Cutie.
There was another SWOSH and a red-hot iron rod landed on my already painful butt and I howled. A hand was clamped over my mouth and that hot iron rod landed again. I resumed bawling and that vicious rod struck me another four times.
I was pushed to the ground and they left me. I cried a while and then realized that my ass was on fire like never before. Rubbing was not any help and I felt the ridges left by the rod they used.
As I tried to get up, I was compelled to grab my own little rod which was rock hard. I couldn't help but to jerk off. I exploded like a sealed can in a raging inferno. It was then that I found the stick they had used. It was a quarter inch (six mm) in diameter, very springy and very dense.
I pulled up my pants carefully over my roasted butt and headed home. I was terribly confused.
© Copyright A.I.L. January 28, 2017
The URL for this page is: https://yleecoyote.asslr.org/KidTrain2.html
Last updated: September 15, 2023