♥ Site recommended story ♥
Hot spanking fiction by new guest author Steveman – strictly over 18s only!
Ken, my older cousin, had just come out of the army and having driven army trucks and tanks, became a truck driver. He often used to call into see us when passing and although I liked him a lot, he often teased me about being soft as I worked in an office. “You want to come out with me, I’ll show you what work is,” he would often say.
I thought about this a lot and the more I thought the more the idea appealed to me. I quite fancied going around with this very hunky truck driver, so I decided the next time he mentioned it I would take him up on it.
It was sometime before Ken came around again but when he did I tried to get the talk around to work and before long he offered me the challenge of going out on the truck with him. I had holiday due so, to his surprise, I told him I could spend a week with him.
The first day arrived. I was really excited when Ken called to collect me and climbed up into the cab beside him. “Don’t expect any special treatment ‘cus you’re my cousin,” he told me. “You’ll be treated like any other driver’s mate.”
The first morning went well. We called at a warehouse and had pallets of goods loaded onto the back of the truck and Ken showed me how to fasten the side curtains and back doors securely. He told me it was my job to check them at every stop.
Whilst driving Ken talked about our families. I was the only one but he came from a large family where things were very different. I knew his father, my uncle, was very strict and he always scared me. In a teasing sort of way Ken said I needed toughening up, I had led a sheltered life with no discipline, whereas he had received firm discipline at home and then in the army.
“I bet you’ve never had a good hiding in your life,” he mocked.
“I got smacked when I was a kid!” I replied jumping to my defence.
Ken sneered and replied, “That’s not a proper hiding, not like I got at home and when I first went in the army, that’s what you need to toughen you up.”
We arrived at a truck stop and both started walking towards the building. “Haven’t you something to do first?” Ken said. “What?” I replied not knowing what he meant.
“You supposed to check the side straps are still tight at every stop like I told you,” Ken reminded me.
Quickly I checked that they were all tight and joined Ken inside. He gave our order at the counter and joined another trucker at a table.
“Who’s this?” asked the other trucker who Ken seemed to know.
“He’s my cousin who wants to be a trucker’s mate,” Ken replied.
“What’s he coming along like, any good?”
“Nothing that a bit of trucker’s treatment won’t put right!” Ken told him with a grin.
I couldn’t help wondering what this meant. I was beginning to find this talk about me between two tough masculine blokes a bit exciting.
Back on the road I asked Ken, “What’s trucker’s treatment?”
“It’s what happens to you if you don’t do as you’re told, or forget one of your jobs like you did back there, it helps you to remember.”
This didn’t answer my question although I was beginning to guess, but needed confirmation. I decided to enquire further.
“Yes, but what is the treatment?”
“OK son, you want to know so I’ll tell you, but I don’t think you could take it. See my belt?” he pointed to the wide leather belt he was wearing. “It’s not just for show, the trucker’s treatment is a good leathering on the bare arse. Think you could take it?”
So I was right, it was punishment. This made me really excited, the thought of this man’s man dealing with a lad like me but, as he asked, could I take it, did I want to try? The excitement was making me want to say yes but what was I letting myself in for?
“OK,” I said, “Next time I do something wrong, I’ll take the trucker’s treatment to show you I’m not a wimp.”
Ken grinned and muttered, “We’ll see.”
Overnight I thought about it more and more and decided I was going to prove myself so I needed to provoke Ken into dealing with me. My opportunity came at one of our collections when the warehouse manager gave me some delivery notes to go with the load. I took the papers and stuffed them behind the seat in the cab.
At the delivery stop Ken asked for the papers. “I think I left them behind,” I confessed. Ken was really mad and yelled, “Right son, you’re in for the treatment, still think you can take it? If you can’t you’re finished.”
My excitement grew although now I had finally done it. I felt apprehensive, could I really take it? When would he do it and where, not in the cab surely?
Nothing more was said on the way back. At the depot I got out, Ken parked the truck up then took me inside to the drivers’ room with its open shower at one end, lockers down both sides and a bench down the middle.
“Usually lads go over the bench for the treatment,” he said, “but, as it’s you, I’ll give the choice of getting it here in front of anyone who comes in or coming back to my place and having it in private.”
I choose his place; I didn’t want an audience. We went out to Ken’s car and drove the short distance to his place, a top floor flat in an old house. Inside, Ken checked I still wanted to go ahead with this which I did despite feeling apprehensive.
“Right then through to the bedroom and take off you jeans and briefs,” ordered Ken. I went though to his small bedroom with a single bed and started to take off my shoes and socks. Ken came into the room at this point and stood watching me and unbuckling his belt. I could now see how heavy it was, obviously obtained for the purpose. He folded it double and snapped the two ends together a couple of times, which was very intimidating.
Finally I was stripped apart from my T-shirt which was short and hid nothing. “Face down on the bed and spread you legs,” was Ken’s next order.
I lay face down on the bed, burying my face in the pillow, grabbing the top corners and placed my feet at either side of the foot of the bed, feeling very vulnerable. I had to go through with this to prove myself.
I risked turning my head to the side, Ken had moved to the side of the bed holding the belt and staring at my arse. “Ready boy?” he asked. I had difficulty replying but managed a soft Yes.
Ken placed the belt across the centre of my arse to measure his stroke and seconds later, the first stroke landed, first the crack followed by a sharp and deep pain. How many of these was he going to give? I doubted I could take more than the customary six.
I forced myself to look to my left; Ken was preparing for the second stroke, which landed in a fresh spot. Three, then four landed, and then I noticed to my amazement that despite the pain I was getting hard, very hard. Was it the belting or the sight of this strong guy to my left?
Strokes five and six did nothing to relieve my now throbbing cock. My whole body felt red hot and down below I thought I would burst. I looked up, Ken had raised the belt for more, but this one was different. The folded end of the belt landed squarely on my arse crack followed by another making the pain even more intense. Then nothing, the treatment was over. Ken told me to get up and as I eased myself upwards, I shot my load like never before.
Ken was threading his belt back through the loops of his jeans. “Well done son, I see you enjoyed it,” he said with a grin.
Ken helped me up off the bed and we stood face-to-face. He pulled me towards him, put his arms behind me and rubbed my red-hot arse. “You didn’t have to hide the papers,” he said. “I found your hiding place when I was parking the truck up. All you need to do is ask.”
“Thanks,” I said. “Next time I will.”
“Stay here overnight,” Ken suggested. “I’ll phone your folks to tell them. We’ve got a bit more bonding to do.”
D I S C L A I M E R
All characters appearing in this story are fictitious. Any resemblance to real businesses or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Story © MMVI by Steveman
All rights reserved
Used here by very kind permission of the author
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