♥ Site recommended story ♥
Smouldering hot new spanking fiction by special guest author and good friend Sukemnsee – strictly over 18s only!
After months of unseasonably cold weather and much rainfall, suddenly a second day dawned with the prospect of sunny cloudless skies and temperatures above 20C (70F). This was enough for me to throw on the nearest pair of shorts and a top, and I went out to walk and exercise and relax in the open space near the reservoir. It was lovely. I felt really warm and eventually sat down and spread out sitting on a bench, enjoying the warm rays of sunshine. Aside from a few dog walkers, there were not many people about. There were more than the previous week when paths were boggy, and raging torrents of rainwater had coursed down them.
An older man aged around 50 came up close. He lingered and seemed to be staring. That was nothing new to me, as I often get looks being a fit and muscled 25-year-old. I could handle it. I was manspreading unashamedly. Feeling bold, I spread my legs even wider, and then casually looked up at him. He finally spoke, “Not taken you long to get your legs out, sonny! A bit unusual to see tailored charcoal grey shorts worn informally though.”
I looked down to see which pair of shorts I was wearing, “Oh yes, these! I have not unpacked my main summer wardrobe yet! Must have picked up these naughty boy shorts as I did not want to wear full trackies.”
He was quiet for a moment but I was sure he was eyeing me up, looking for any interest from me, “Still very quiet out here, nice to have company for a change. Are you around here often?” he asked.
“Yes,” I replied, “Sometimes I think I am the only one around! In recent weeks while the paths have been terrible I could go more than half an hour before seeing anyone, even a cyclist. I come out this way a lot.”
He smiled and said, “When it dries a little more I shall go down to the little paths near the water’s edge. You can see a lot of wildlife there. Fancy walking in the wood right now?”
“Go on then, let’s have a wander before I get too stiff sitting here.”
I accompanied him as we turned into a path that went through a patch of nearby woodland. He delighted in pointing out features of spring growth, especially the wild clumps of bluebells. Along the way we passed a pensioner with his video camera on tripod. I knew this man well as he was obsessive about recording birdsong. He claimed he used the recordings as lullabies to help him sleep. A harmless fellow.
We turned into a narrower path, past some big bushes and then we found ourselves in a clearing, on a carpet of dry leaves. He then asked the question he had probably had on his mind for a good while, “Why did you say ‘naughty boy’ shorts? It does not strike me as ‘yoof speak’, and they’re not exactly everyday wear, are they?”
“There are times I go to a place, a club, and some people there like to see me in these, matched with other suitable, er, school clothes. Come on now, I’m sure you know the score.”
If he did, he didn’t let on straight away. After a bit of hesitation he suddenly made for a large fallen tree at the far end of the clearing. There he sat down on the trunk and faced me, “Come here boy! Right now! You know that it is time I dealt with you.”
His change from casual conversationalist to dominant instructor hit all my buttons at once. I walked over to him. I was stood motionless by his side. He told me that I knew what to do. Seconds before I bent over his lap I shared a concern, “We can’t do this here. It is way too open!”
He did not respond at first. Eventually he lifted his legs and swivelled over the trunk so that he was now seated facing away from the clearing. He told me to come over to that side and I too climbed over the trunk and within a short time was stretched out over his lap. The first few slaps of his hand were nothing special and just as I was mentally dismissing him as a lucky opportunist he suddenly changed gear and started delivering a thorough spanking that soon had me squirming. The blows were not massively heavy but they landed well on target. He was heating up the whole of my rear effectively. I was told to stand and remove the shorts, which I did. I placed them further along the trunk then doing as he beckoned and went back over in my ‘tighty whities’.
I have endured many spankings but nothing ever seems to quite prepare you for the change in impact when that vital thicker outer layer of clothing is taken down. Every new slap of his hand was felt especially as he now seemed to concentrate on one patch repeatedly before moving on to another. I was soon squirming again and in fact it was fairer to call it bucking as my body arched more in response. From time to time he seemed to check his progress as I could feel the hem being lifted and moved. Inevitably he told me to stand up and remove my briefs. I did as I was told and threw my underwear over by my shorts. He also had me remove my rugby top and that went the same way. This left me standing naked apart from my footwear. I went to go back over his knee but he had me wait and stand before him. My bottom was smarting as it absorbed the pain of so many smacks. Instinctively I placed my hands on my head and adopted a more comfortable stance with my feet placed wide apart. This pose highlighted my muscles, and I stood there on display for a good few minutes. I suspected that he was gazing at more than my trim stomach. In response I felt my quite small testicles tighten as my joystick lengthened and firmed and adopted a ‘reach for the sky’ pose all of its own. I wondered maybe if he smiled at this in his silence. Soon he encouraged me back over his lap and he spanked me further.
Maybe it was the wait or just his skill but I really felt every time his hand rained down on my bare skin, and of course the sound was different when each blow was not deadened by a layer of clothing. As an experienced spanko, it must be said that I have a lot of physical endurance, gained through years of painful experiences. Mentally though in these situations I am soon helpless with no resistance and I take meekly what I deserve. As I wriggled and jumped about, his other hand gripped me firmly from underneath. I quickly found that if I moved too much then he applied a painful squeeze on my member, a bit like the tightest of tight cockrings. The thorough spanking had left my bottom truly red. This had been a thorough spanking.
He had me stand up again and he pulled my flimsy leather belt from the loops of my shorts. He told me he wanted me bent over the trunk for this and I complied without question. From time to time I had worried about little noises I’d heard. However, I could see no one as I checked around the clearing before I bent over the hard bark of the tree, head faced down. The lengthy spanking had dampened my ardour and with no erection I had no difficulties getting settled in position. My bottom was still ablaze but had I reached that point where I somehow welcomed the fact that he would be land that belt on me before he was through.
He lashed at me some six or seven times with the belt and each time I felt the flash of searing pain. To be fair it was not a heavy duty piece of leather. I reckoned that I could probably withstand it for quite a while before I was forced to cry out. I could sense that he was not satisfied. He told me to wait there for a few minutes and I heard him move off further into the woods. I did as I was told but as the minutes passed I was tempted to get up from my vulnerable position and head off home to nurse my sore, sorry arse. Just then I heard a crunch underfoot, not for the first time. He was back! He told me I really deserved a good caning but he had not come prepared. He had therefore improvised. He showed me a length of sapling freshly cut, that had little bulges where buds were forming. This was to be his substitute. I think some refer to it as a switch. He promised me six to start with, and I readied myself. I was hoping that the thin rod was not too wiry and that it would beat rather than lacerate.
There was a little whistle through the air, not the same intense note that a cane makes, but the impact was terrific. Stinging like the most flexible cane it seemed to create a line of fire right across my already tender bottom. I gritted my teeth knowing the next one would be just as intense; and it was. The third one was aimed much lower, hitting a fleshier part of my arse. I gasped wildly with disbelief. I never liked the cane no matter how much I knew I needed it, and this substitute was no more welcome. In fact I would have preferred the cane, as I knew what it was like and what to expect. Two more times he laid that vicious sapling into me. I hoped against hope that the branch would snap into pieces, like a birchrod might, but it was not to be. I couldn’t control the anguished noises I was making. The sixth stroke surpassed the others, every part of my bottom sent signals to my brain and I screeched and I panted. It was that intense. There was silence after my outburst.
After a period of silence after my little outburst, I heard him discard the stick, saying, “I don’t expect to have to teach you this lesson again! You know full well how to behave and you may expect a far more severe caning if I have to deal with you again this summer.”
With that, he left. He’d told me to lie still over the trunk a while longer to let the pain ease a bit. I guess he was right as I knew I would feel some pain when I got dressed. I lay there quite a few minutes till I heard the leaves crunch again. I hoped not to get any more lashes! Instead I felt fingers feeling my bottom, tenderly caressing but lingering on the ridges recently created. I suddenly realised this was way too tender touching to be the old man. It was delightful, though. I spun my head round to find it was a youth.
“Hey, are you old enough to touch me like this?” I asked, ever mindful of legal boundaries. He said that he was. He was young-looking, actually eighteen years old. I was enjoying his touch. He confirmed when asked he had seen virtually all my treatment from just before I removed my shorts. The older man, who had gone, had probably not seen him.
The youth said was fascinated by the way I had taken my beating, and by my very fit hunky body. He asked if it hurt to get a spanking. A stupid question, perhaps, but he had no idea. He knew it featured in all types of internet porn and in olden days in education and in homes. I told him that of course it hurt to be spanked or worse but that was the idea of it. It was a reminder for correction, it could be bearable even when uncomfortable. It was not a torture.
Luckily I am a bit of a naturist or exhibitionist and I was not phased by standing there naked talking to the youth. He told me his name was Joey. I know he looked me all over and my body as ever was responding.
He gingerly asked, “Would you give me a bare bottom spanking please? I think I want to try it. I don’t want the belt or worse and I don’t want a long build up so could you do me now, bare, please?”
I found myself agreeing all too quickly. I do like to spank others at the clubs and he had a cute innocence about him. I told him there was a bit of role playing needed. I was to be his coach and he was to be my sports student. We would start by him doing naked pressups in the clearing in front of me. He did as he was told but had to be coaxed to do it without sagging, to use his arms to get really low and then to hold the upper pose for a few seconds. He did quite well for a beginner but it was obvious to me that he would need a lot of practice to get it right. I occasionally slapped his bottom with odd strikes if he was not holding a good position. I threatened him that if he did not try hard enough I would use my belt until he got it right. This spurred him on to more effort.
After some minutes I sat down on the trunk, facing the clearing, and guided him over my bare knees. I made sure his hands were firmly planted on the floor, although it left his legs flailing. I started quite gently but it was obvious this was all new to him and he moaned constantly. I then tapped repeatedly on his right cheek in one place but increased the pressure until he was wriggling in discomfort before doing the same to the other side. I told him that as he wriggled too much we needed another position. I made him lie flat on his back, his shoulders just ahead of my feet and flipped him over so his weight was on his shoulders and a pair of bongo bottom cheeks awaited my rhythm. He said this was a strange new position and I told him it was good for auto fellatio, explaining that it meant sucking his own cock or shooting into his own face.
Although I was now reddening his cheeks steadily, I wanted him to get pleasure as well as pain, so in this position I could finger and squeeze his teenage cock until he was engorged and gasping from this excitement as well as the little squeals as I continued to let him taste a spanking good time for the first time. By the time I ceased spanking him, I had awoken a spring of emotion in him. We will draw the veil there on that day of unexpected adventures. We were both of us satisfied and Joey was definitely ready for more.
D I S C L A I M E R
All characters appearing in this story are over 18 and are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.