Boys getting spanked; it’s a subculture all its own ….

Hi, friends and readers:

In the gay subculure bare-bottom, OTK spankings have always been an activity guys find intriguing. There are websites devoted to the practice, in fact:

http://www.malespank.net/MMSA_main.php

Hey, I’ve spanked young men many times, usually as a prelude to sex, and lots of young guys love the whole scene: the pre-spanking lecture, the lowering of pants and underwear, the bending over, and then the burn of the spanking itself. Sometimes a little corner time, spent with pants down, adds to the mix.

I wrote a story called Slacker that appears in my anthology titled Flawed Boys. In it a boy named Robert enters into a dad/son relationship with an older man named Cecil. When Robert breaks the household rules Cecil paddles Robert–hard.

Here’s an excerpt from Slacker describing the spanking:

****

Slacker, copyright Martin Delacroix 2011

After entering the bedroom, Daddy removed his shirt; he tossed it into the hamper, on top of my soiled clothes. He stepped to the closet, retrieved the paddle. Then he stood before me, tapping the blade against his palm.

“Look at me, Robert.”

I looked up.

“Do you know why I’m punishing you this afternoon?”

I nodded.

“Why?”

“I broke the rules.”

“It’s not just that,” Daddy said. “I’m trying to teach you something: self-control. We’ve talked about this before. You’re not a kid any longer. If you continue making bad choices, life is going to hurt you far worse than this paddle ever will. You might lose your job, your home, and even your freedom. Understand?”

I lowered my gaze and nodded.

“I want an answer, Robert.”

I looked up, into Daddy’s dark eyes. “Yes, sir,” I said, “I understand.”

“Stand up,” Daddy told me. “Turn around and face the bed.”

My knees wobbled when I rose. My pulse pounded and my eyes clouded with tears. He’s really going to do this, isn’t he?

Facing the bed, I flexed my toes.

“Put your hands on the mattress.”

I did as he’d said, bending at my waist and sticking my ass out.

“Spread your feet apart.”

I complied.

Daddy stepped to one side of me; he tapped the paddle’s blade against my ass cheeks while I shifted my hips.

Holy shit, here it comes.

Through a window above the headboard, I watched a squirrel hop about in one of Daddy’s live oaks. Believe me, I’d have given anything to trade places with that squirrel.

The first blow landed without warning; it made a sound like a pistol shot. I felt fire in my behind, like someone had touched hot metal to my skin. The pain hurt like nothing I’d ever felt before. I screamed, shot up straight, and hopped around like a kid on a pogo stick. My cock flipped here and there while I rubbed my stinging ass.

“That hurt,” I cried.

“It’s supposed to,” Daddy said. Then he pointed with the paddle. “Get back in position. Every time you take your hands off the bed, I’m adding extra licks.”

Extra licks? Jee-zus Christ . . . .

Shaking, I returned my hands to the mattress. I stuck my ass out, and then the beating proceeded. The paddle cracked across my buttocks, over and over, roasting my flesh. I wept like a four-year-old, stamped my feet against the carpet. I begged Daddy to stop, hollering each time he struck me. The pain was indescribable. It swallowed me and drove all thoughts from my brain. I turned into a quivering idiot; I babbled nonsense.

I wasn’t me anymore.

“Please, don’t. Please, no more . . . .”

Daddy didn’t talk while administering my punishment; he only worked the paddle, striking me everywhere from the tops of my thighs to just below my waist. Every square inch of my backside burned like I’d sat on a bed of hot coals.

The paddling seemed endless, my suffering unendurable. It was a good thing we didn’t have any neighbors close by, because I screamed like a person getting stabbed to death. Honestly, I thought I was going to die from the pain.

I thought, doesn’t Daddy have an ounce of mercy in him? Does he know how much this hurts? But then I thought, don’t blame Daddy, stupid. You brought this upon yourself.

Eventually, the paddling ceased. The whole thing might have lasted ten minutes or so, but to me it had seemed like three hours.

“That’s it, Robert,” Daddy said. “You can stand up now.”

When I rose, I trembled so badly I thought I might stagger and fall. My hands flew to my flaming bottom; I rubbed my ass while tears flowed down my cheeks. I stood there, naked as the day I was born, and crying like a baby. I had lost all sense of pride and dignity.

I’m just a punk, an idiot, an utter fool.

Daddy hung up the paddle. Then he came to me and took me in his arms.

“Okay,” he whispered, “everything’s all right. It’s over.”

Then he stroked my hair.

***

All right, everyone, have a great Saturday, wherever you might be.

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