Return to the Woodshed--The Birching


by Gc <GCStorm@aol.com>

It tends to get pretty cool around the pond at night so after I had cooked supper on the old kitchen wood stove I kept it going to keep the chill out of the place. The kid and I sat there on the couch still in the nude and with full bellies sipping on a drink and of course the kid needed to here more stories about life up here when I was young.

"I'll have to show you all the secret places where we boys used to go to get out of the sight of our parents," I said, "the men really did do a lot of fishing but we had more important things to do with our time like jerking off together or comparing bottoms to see the results of our latest trip to the old privy for a spanking. It's funny about boys when they get together, they will argue about anything."

"Such as?" asked the kid.

"Well, one day two kids were in a heck of an argument about whose father gives the hardest spanking of all things," I said, "and little did they know but both fathers in question happened to be within earshot and heard everything. The two boys almost came to blows over this stupid argument."

"The two men stepped out from behind the bushes and one looked at the other and said 'What say we give these two a basis for comparison?'. 'Sounds good to me,' said the other man, 'you take my kid, I'll take yours, they can compare notes afterwards.' The two men dragged their protesting sons out to the privy and pretty soon you could hear the old familiar sounds of wood smacking bare boy skin and the howls of the owner of that skin. These sounds went on for three, four minutes or so and then there was a pause and the sounds resumed but this time the answer to the crack of wood on behind was much deeper in tone as the other boy got spanked. That spanking lasted about the same amount of time and then the two men started a new tradition at the camp, they came out of the privy carrying their son's lower clothing!"

"What in the world was that all about?" queried the kid.

"You see, one of the men remembered an old family tradition that his father told him about but never used, they called it 'pantsing' a boy," I said, "a boy that got his bottom spanked had to walk around without any pants on for the rest of the day so everyone could see that he had been punished and of course this place has always been very private all told. All you could wear for the rest of the day was your T-shirt and back in those days they didn't cover as much as they do today so everything that you owned was open for perusal to any that wanted to look. It being the times that it was and seeming as we used to get spanked a lot there always seemed to be a boy or two running around without his pants sporting a red backside."

"But you guys used to go skinny dipping and from what you say you always seemed to be naked in the woods jerking off or something so why should that bother you?" asked the kid.

"I don't know," I replied, "but somehow it was just really embarrassing to be forced to run around that way. Of course we all knew when someone got spanked, we used to keep a sharp ear out for that and used to examine his bum afterwards but being made to walk around just wearing your T-shirt seemed horrible somehow. It was especially embarrassing at supper time."

"Why supper time?" asked the kid, "What made that so special?"

"Well, we had to eat standing up at the table," I explained, "and of course the willie of a teenage boy is quite variable in size according to mood, temperature and everything in general. All was visible over the top of the table and the men used to get a kick out of making comments on them."

"Would you look at the whanker on that kid," would say one of the men, "I bet he plays with it a lot."

"Well, if he does he hasn't worn it out yet," would say the blushing boy's father, "but if I catch him at it I might just wear some hide off of his butt."

The kid loved that, it worked right into his fantasy about getting caught masturbating and getting his bottom warmed because of it. His willie was pointing upward and drooling again.

"It wasn't only boys that used to get spanked up here," I said, "one night I found out that a man's ass wasn't sacred either."

"The men were playing poker one night when all of us boys were up in the loft in bed," I said, "we were supposed to be asleep but it was extra warm and I just couldn't sleep very well but was laying there wide awake but quiet. All of a sudden I heard a chuckle and one of the men said 'Charlie, you lost again, it's time to pay the piper.' I heard the back door of the cabin open and footsteps on the back porch as the two men headed out to the privy. Pretty quick I heard the unmistakable sound of the paddle smacking a bare butt and an occasional muffled yelp. It was then that I realized that all of us boys were up in the loft sleeping, or supposed to be asleep anyhow."

"Wow, I guess that is really betting your ass, huh?" said the kid.

"Yeah," I laughed, "it sure was! Once I knew what was going on you could see the signs of several of the fathers getting a spanking, I had just thought that they had been sitting for a long time for their butts to be that red."

"You have to remember that back in those days my father as well as the other fathers weren't all that old, maybe early thirties," I said. "Maybe the oldest man of the bunch was forty if that. I guess that they figured that if a boy's bottom worked good for discipline that a man's bottom would work as well for the payment of bets. Though you know, come to think about it, Charlie used to lose an awful lot at poker, I wonder if he was like me and enjoyed getting his butt tanned."

That story got the kid really excited and we just had to sit down and play poker. I got us each a dozen matches to bet with and come to find out the kid knew nothing about poker at all and I trounced him soundly.

"Well, kid, time to pay the piper," I said as I picked up one of the lanterns and we headed out the back door of the cabin to the privy. I hung the lantern up on the hook on the ceiling where it cast a soft glow around the inside of the building and took down the paddle from its hook. The kid got across my knees and I put an even warmer glow on his backside with the paddle, spanking him hot enough for him to squirm around pretty good but not so hot that he would start to cry. He had a nice, warm and stinging bum by the time he had paid his bet.

We went back into the cabin and I stoked the stove for the night and we dragged a couple of mattresses off on the bunks and put them on the floor in front of the stove and zipped a couple of sleeping bags together and sacked out right there, my crotch pressing against the kid's warmed backside and my arm over his chest.

I woke up the next morning to feel wetness around my crotch. I explored with my hand and discovered that I had had a wet dream, something I hadn't done since a teenager! I guess that after spanking the kid the night before I should have jerked off before getting into bed.

I woke the kid up with my exploring hand for after all, I had spewed on his bottom. He moved his hand back near mine and said "Sheesh, you wet the bed, I thought you were too old to do that!"

"I didn't wet the bed," I said, "I just had a wet dream is all."

"Is the bed wet?" asked the kid with irrefutable logic.

"Well, actually it is more your butt and my belly," I said, "but yes, the bed is wet."

"Bad boys that wet the bed at your age get their bummies spanked," said the kid, "I don't care if it is cum or pee so there!"

Okay then, I wet the bed and I'm going to get spanked for being a bad boy. So be it. The kid was all for getting to it right then and there as he threw back the top of the sleeping bag.

"Okay, I need a good spanking for wetting the bed," I said, "but I would strongly suggest that you wait to apply paddle to bottom until after I've used the privy, it could be rather messy if you don't."

"Why is that?" he asked.

"Dad once gave me a paddling first thing in the morning before I'd used the toilet," I said, "and that was the only time that he ever cut a spanking short. It didn't help me much because he spanked me later on in the day but what happened is the pressure inside me and the pressure on my belly as I bounced up and down and I guess the stimulation back there while he smacked my bottom, my butthole opened and started to empty all over the place. Really messy. Dad made me walk naked back into the house and use the toilet and take a shower and get cleaned up. The hot water I used to clean my bottom stung like crazy but it was nothing compared to how the paddle burnt it when I had to finish my spanking right after I dried off. I don't know if it was because my bum was already tender or the hot water stimulated the nerves but I don't think I've ever had that paddle sting more than that time."

"Wow, he actually beat the crap out of you!" exclaimed the kid.

"Yeah, it gave a new meaning to his threat to do just that," I replied. "I would also advise never to take a good hot shower before getting a tanning, either."

We went out to the privy and emptied our openings and then it was across the kid's knees for my spanking for wetting the bed. It was about the same severity of spanking as I had given him last night, getting my butt stinging and burning quite a bit.

We went back into the cabin, me with my shiny red bum, and took the sleeping bags out onto the lawn to dry in the sun. I got the stove going good again and cooked breakfast but seeming as cooking bacon in the nude is not to be advised I found a chef's apron and put that on. The kid got treated to the sight of my bare, red behind sticking out of the back of the apron and sneaked up and tickled me back there all the time I was cooking. I don't think I have to mention that the front of the apron looked like I had a tent pole inside of it pushing it out below my waist.

After breakfast was eaten and the dishes washed, dried and put away, I took off the chef's apron and took the kid across my knees and gave him a spanking for annoying me while I was cooking. For a change of pace I took him fully across my knees so his boyparts were between my legs and as I spanked him I rubbed his willie. Not really very vigorously, it was more holding loosely while he jerked around under the sting of my hand but it did the job after a while, just about the same time his entire bum turned a nice red color, the floor under the chair got splattered with white. I spanked him while he was cumming, sharp little swats right over his butthole, but knowing how fast your rear end starts to hurt after you've cum I only gave him about six spanks after I felt the throbbing in his willie stop, just enough to make things sting a bit.

I put him on his feet and rubbed the super sensitive tip of his willie that got a gasp from him, he's like me in the fact that you can barely stand to touch that area right after you've cum and have to wait a few minutes for things to calm down.

"There," I said, "I might not have beaten the crap out of you but I sure spanked the goo!"

"No fair," he said, "you were rubbing me!"

"I was not!" I said, "It is kind of like pulling a cat's tail, I was just holding, you were doing the rubbing!"

The day had warmed up a lot so we took a quick dip in the pond to cool off from our exertions and then dried off and got dressed. Spanking the kid and getting spanked myself is great fun but you need to take a break once in a while both for your bum's sake and for a change of pace.

"Here's the place we used to hang out and jerk off," I told the kid as we came into a clearing in the woods.

"This looks pretty open," he said, "weren't you afraid of getting caught?"

"Nope, if you noticed all the trees on the way here are deciduous and the path is just covered with dead leaves," I replied, "you can hear anyone coming up the trail for a long time." We walked on through the woods, just about every spot brought back memories for me.

"Ah," I said, "I forgot all about that," as I pointed at a straight, sturdy tree right in the middle of a clearing, the only tree in the middle of a clearing, "the posse used to tie up the outlaws to that tree for their whippings."

"You used to do what?" asked the kid.

"We used to whip the outlaws tied to that tree," I replied as I walked across the clearing and believe it or not found a rusted old coffee can. I pried it open and came out with a moldy old hunk of clothesline. It was so old that it pulled apart in my hands when I tugged at it.

"You see, we used to play lawmen and outlaws here in the woods and when the sheriff and posse caught up with an outlaw he was tried and inevitably sentenced to a whipping for his crimes. We used to tie him up with his hands over his head to that tree stark naked and whip him."

"You didn't actually whip him, did you?" asked the kid.

"Sure did," I replied, "although we didn't do it across his back with a whip like they did in the old days, we aimed a lot lower and used a pine branch. All the needles make a wonderful noise and even sting a little bit and the criminal would howl like we were taking all the hide off of his ass with that thing though in truth it tickled more than stung. You might get a little welt from it if all the needles fell off of the branch but nothing to worry about, we were always getting slapped by branches playing in the wood and I'm sure that our fathers wouldn't be paying a lot of attention to existing marks on our butts when they intended to put a lot more of them there. In the dim light of the privy we were pretty safe against discovery anyway."

"I bet that you used to want to be the outlaw, didn't you?" chuckled the kid.

"You know, you're right," I said, "I did spend quite a bit of time tied to that tree." Sheesh, did I like getting a licking even back then? Guess so.

There is a big parcel of land that goes with the property, I mean something like 200 acres or so, and I had been over just about all of them in my youth. We came across an old maple tree that had sheared off during a wind storm, breaking it almost square across about four feet up the trunk which was now laying on the ground actually quite a ways from the main part of the tree and made a mental note to tell Dad about it, it would be great burning in the woodstove and an excuse to get him up here to give us some inspiration to work. He hadn't whacked my butt in the privy for years and years.

Then a light bulb went off above my head. The way that fallen tree was laying it looked a lot like a very long birching pony, it was about the same size though lower to the ground. The kid was about to get himself a good thrashing.

"Take all your clothes off," I ordered, "you are going to be punished." As the kid started to eagerly take his clothes off, I walked off and found a couple of good, brushy white pine branches. Giving them a test swing I found that they made a great noise. I went back and found the now naked kid standing there with his willie pointing at me.

I took my pants and shirt off and used them and the kid's clothes to pad the top and end of the fallen tree and the kid caught on right away and started to whimper.

"Please, sir, not the birch!" he begged.

"Yes, the birch!" I replied, "You are going to get twelve strokes across your bare bum!"

The still whining kid got in position on the birching pony, his erection resting on top of the padding I placed there and knees drawn up just like on the one that Dad made. I almost forgot what I was going to do, he looked so good laying there with his crack spread wide and his boyhole fully exposed over his somewhat dangling balls. Whacking the area was not what went through my mind right off the bat.

I drew back one of the pine branches and brought it swinging forward with a truly impressive 'whooshing' sound as it traveled through the air to make contact with the bare rump of the kid. The branches spread enough that it almost covered his entire backside with one swat.

"YEOW!!" shrieked the kid at the top of his voice. I was taken aback, I didn't remember a pine branch hurting that much!

"Are you alright?" I inquired anxiously.

"Aren't you supposed to howl when you get thrashed with a birch?" giggled the kid.

"Right," I said and brought the pine branch swishing across his buns again and got another shriek of sheer agony from the kid. Four more times I thrashed him from that side and then walked around him and administered the other six from the other side, kind of back handing the branch across his buns and doing the last stroke almost vertically down his crack. I stepped back and admired my handiwork.

His entire backside, legs to his knees and all, was a nice pink color and he even had a few stray pine needles stuck in his crack and on the back of his balls. I looked at the coverage that the pine branch made and actually shivered to think what his rump would look like if it had been hard birch branches whacking him instead.

The kid bounced up, brushing the pine needles from his butt. "That was great," he said, "your turn!" Darn him anyway!

I stripped off my underpants that I was still wearing and hoped that the kid didn't notice how wet the front of them was from all the pre-cum I had drooled out, that without a doubt would lead to a spanking for wetting my pants. I got into position on the tree trunk and felt my boner underneath my belly.

"You have been a very, very bad boy," he proclaimed, "and as such you are to receive two dozen strokes of the birch across your naked breach." Leave it to him to escalate things.

He was right, this was great fun but I remembered to howl and beg with every stroke of the 'birch' that I got across my very well exposed bottom. By the time I got my allotment of two dozen swats my rear area was actually starting to sting a bit, especially inside my crack and my nuts. About all it did was make me horny like you can't believe.

I got up from my punishment and looked at the kid. He was grinning from ear to ear and hard as a rock. I guess that I'm not a very good boy scout because I wasn't prepared, I had left our condoms and lubricant back at the cabin and this stimulation required more than masturbation.

Without a word we both grabbed our clothing and headed off down the trail to the cabin, not even bothering to get dressed for we knew that clothing would just get in the way when we got there.


More stories by Gc