Introduction to the Bottom Tool


by Gc <GCStorm@aol.com>

I'd been a brat once more and knew that I was due, or maybe even overdue, for a sound spanking. Yes, even at the ripe old age of sixteen my dad will still have my jeans and briefs down for a session across his knees while he explains why I shouldn't behave like I do, his words punctuated with many, many swats of his hard hand on the area both exposed and well presented for the purpose. I can't say I was actually looking forward to getting my hide tanned although thinking about it was kind of a turn on, right up to the point where my bum was hot enough to make me cry from the pain. For some reason I always got a boner just thinking about getting a spanking and even though I would bawl my eyes out once the spanking got hot enough my boner would last through the entire episode. That came in handy when I learned how to masturbate, just as soon as Dad left me alone after warming my butt my right hand was busy in front while my left hand was rubbing my sore behind.

I was expecting at any time to be told to go to my room, that was where my spankings normally took place although there have been exceptions to that rule. I got my hide tanned more than a few times on a trip in the car when Dad would finally get sick of talking and would find a rest stop along the way. Three or four times that spanking took place in a rest room alongside the pike inside one of those oversized handicapped toilet stalls, I found out there is plenty of room to take a boy across the knees in one of those. Getting one's bare fanny smacked inside of that thing and bawling your eyes out while you just know other men are using the facilities as well is just flat out embarrassing. One time while I was standing there still crying and rubbing my scarlet fanny I actually heard one man say "Well done" and applaud.

If there was a lack of a rest stop anywhere nearby, Dad would find a wide spot in the road and park there and lead me off by the arm, begging and complaining all the way, into the woods until he found a good place to either sit down to take me across his knees or just to take me over his left knee while still standing with his foot on a rock or something and spank me that way. Either way my pants and underwear were by my ankles somewhere. Somehow that always seemed to make the rest of the trip go much smoother although sitting on those hot vinyl seats was not a big treat especially if I was wearing shorts because Dad would spank my upper legs as well as my butt. It was amazing how five minutes worth of butt smacking could result in an hour or two worth of quiet in the car.

This time to my utmost surprize instead of telling me to go to my room, Dad told me that we were going for a ride.

"Where to?" I asked.

"We're going out to your grandfather's place," he said, "there is something out there that I feel you need to be introduced to." We rode in pretty much silence the rest of the trip, maybe fifteen minutes by car.

We got to my grandfather's house and I bounded inside, I love to visit out there! Gramps lives in an old farm house and there are lots of interesting building around the place as well that I spent hours exploring when I was younger. My father followed after me at a slower pace.

When inside he walked over to my grandfather and gave him a hug. "Dad," he said, "I think it is time for my own son to graduate to that tool you used to use on me when I was naughty, is it still around?"

"Sure is," the old man chuckled, "still hanging out there in the tack room. You know, it's a funny thing but I was out there the other day and spotted it and found it was in drastic need of oiling so I took it down and oiled it up really good. I don't know why I did it, it just seemed to be a shame to let it go to hell and I figured maybe some day it might come in handy again."

"Oiled?" I thought, "Must be some kind of a machine or another. Does he have a spanking machine out there?"

Dad thanked Gramps and told me to follow him outside. We went into the old barn and then into a room off to one side after opening the door. Dad ushered me inside and then closed the door and shot the bolt on the top of the door. I looked around the room, not a machine anywhere in sight, just a lot of old horse harness and some saddles and such.

Dad walked over and took a saddle off of the tall sawhorse it was sitting on and tossed it onto the bench. I saw that the top bar of the sawhorse was really wide and that there was a cross bar running across the bottom of the legs on one side. Dad put an old saddle blanket on top of the horse and then turned around to look at me.

"Strip." he said.

I looked at him blankly. "What?" I asked.

"Strip," he repeated, "I want you naked--now!"

I knew better than to argue so I slowly, every so slowly, got undressed down to my underwear. Dad nodded at them and said, "Those too, you're not naked yet." Blushing, I pulled down my briefs and stepped out of them, letting my very erect penis pop up toward my belly.

Dad ignored my aroused state and walked over to one of the walls and took down this big strap. "This is what they call a razor strop," he said, "you will find it very effective when used across your butt, it worked on me, it will sure work on you too, boy bottoms haven't changed in all these years." I gazed at the thing in horror, it was not only one wide, thick strap, it was two fastened together at the top!

Dad led me over to that sawhorse and showed me how to lay down over it and told me to hold onto the bar running across the bottom of the legs. "Don't you dare let go of that bar or stand up or we will have to start the punishment all over again." he said, "Do you understand me?"

"Yes, Dad," I replied, what else could I say?

He shoved my legs with his foot until they were spread wide as possible and I could feel the cool air of the room on my innermost crack and balls and blushed as I realized just how exposed I was, Dad was seeing everything I owned! He knelt down behind me and I could feel him putting some kind of strap around each ankle. "This will help you stay in place," he said, "you are going to want to get up pretty badly but don't or else you'll get more than what you bargain for."

Dad stood up and picked up that strop thing. "I'm going to be lenient with you this time because it will be your first session with the strop, I doubt it will be your last one though. This will be the spanking tool of choice from now on." he said, "You are going to get fifty swats with this strop and I hope that you learn something from the experience."

Dad stepped off to my left side and I could feel him lining up the strop with my teenage butt. He drew it back and there was a sort of 'whooshing' sound through the air that ended when the strop made contact with my naked backside.

Holy crap! The strop flamed across my right butt cheek and the tip of it wrapped right around and really bit into the side of my ass, burning right into my hide! Before I could draw breath to yell as second stroke fell just below the first one, hurting just as bad! I shrieked in pain and let go of the bar to try to guard my butt against further attacks.

"Put your hands back on that bar and don't let go," said Dad loudly, "you've just earned an extra two strokes!" Crying loudly, I did as he told me to do and the spanking continued, stroke after flaming, searing stroke hitting anywhere at all on my backside. Sometimes the strokes landed low, almost onto my legs, sometimes high and they varied across my cheeks as well, sometimes the strop would wrap around to bite my hip, sometimes it was my left cheek that got the main part of the swat but then the tip would sneak into my tender crack and bite inside there. I was kicking my legs furiously but couldn't move them very much as all seeming as they were tied down.

There was a short pause as Dad walked around to the other side and then he started to swat my butt using a back hand stroke. It made no difference at all, each stroke just burned my bottom like hot coals and somewhere around stroke thirty or so I lost control and almost peed into my own face! Every time the strop would hit my molten backside after that I'd squirt some pee out of my still very erect penis and it felt like it was scalding hot.

Finally the full fifty strokes had been administered to my horribly sore behind and I just lay there across the horse, totally limp and bawling and crying like I was eight years old again and had just gotten my first pants down official spanking. Dad let me cry like that for a while until my bawling subsided to just sobbing.

"You still have the two penalty swats coming," he said, "maybe next time you won't let go of the bar." The two swats came in rapid succession, each one of them curling into my crack and each one nailing my poor already sore butt hole. I couldn't believe that I had any more pee inside of me but a fresh scalding squirt came spewing out, once more almost hitting me in the face. Dad went over and hung the strop up and then unfastened the straps from my ankles and helped me stand up.

"I'll be having a cup of coffee with your grandfather when you are ready to come in," he said. "Take all the time you want to get yourself together, I'm in no rush." He walked to the door and shot the bolt open and then opened the door.

"You might as well jerk off if you want to," he said, "I always did, sometimes it makes it feel a bit better anyway." With those words he left the tack room and soon I heard the outside door of the barn close behind him.

I rubbed and rubbed my flaming butt for a long time, trying vainly as any boy will do to put the flames out. My right hand went forward and I did as Dad suggested, spewing long and hard all over the plank floor of the tack room.

After I calmed down enough and wiped my face with a rag that I found I thought to look at my wrist watch, the only thing I still had on. _d_a_m_n_! All told, from the time that I bent over that sawhorse up to right now a whole six minutes had passed! I knew that I had been butt rubbing and jerking off for at least four of those minutes so at maximum I was getting hided with that strop for two minutes! It was the longest two minutes of my entire life!

I managed to get dressed after a while, wincing as I pulled my briefs up over my swollen and welted bottom. I almost left them off but figured their cotton fabric would be easier on my ravaged bottom than my jeans.

Once dressed I walked into the house sort of spraddle legged to try not to let my crack rub together, I'd gotten quite a few swats inside there, I wasn't certain if I was ever going to be able to take a crap in comfort again my butt hole stung so bad. It was still there and not bleeding like I figured it had to be but boy, wasn't it sore, my finger felt like sandpaper when I touched it.

Grandpa looked up from his coffee. "How'd you like the old bottom tool?" he asked with a chuckle, "it always made quite an impression on your dad when he was young, why I think the last time I had to use it to explain something to him he was just about twenty-two years old, he didn't like it then any better than when he was your age."

"Twenty-two!" I thought, "Dad got his butt whipped with that thing at age twenty-two! _d_a_m_n_, I'm only sixteen...that's a long six years away!" My fanny felt a fresh surge of pain as I thought about what was in my future.


More stories by Gc