"Well, boy," said the man, "I think you know what this means, it means you need a good old fashioned butt whuppin'."
I watched as he unbuckled his thick, brown belt and pulled it free from the pants loops, and heard the old familiar sound, a sound like no others.
"Please," I begged, "I promise that I'll behave and never, ever do that again if you don't spank me."
"Too late for that, boy," he said, folding the belt in half and pulling the ends so it popped, "you will promise anything to get out of a whuppin' but we both know that you only really mean your promises once your backside is good and hot. Not to mention sore as anything."
The belt was old and supple from long use and when held by the ends and let drop it automatically formed a perfect butt whuppin' loop, it had seen service for many years and smacked many butts, most of them more than once. I can't begin to count how many times I've felt this limber piece of leather stinging my bare butt hide.
The man walked across the room and sat in this big old wooden straight backed chair, it used to be a teacher's chair from a classroom and built for strength, not pretty and I'd swear an elephant could sit on it and it wouldn't even creak. He looked up at me.
"Come on over here," he said, "we might as well get started."
Without another word I walked over to his right side and stood there at semi-attention, my hands by my side. He placed the belt on the floor and then reached up and undid the button on my jeans, pulled the zipper down and hooked his fingers into the waistband of the jeans. In one motion he tugged my jeans down to below my knees leaving me standing there wearing my T-shirt and white briefs between my shoulders and calves of my legs. As usual, the briefs were tented out in the front and damp from my erection, that always seems to happen when I know I'm in for a trip over the man's knees.
The man smiled when he saw my state of arousal and reached up and massaged my erection through the thin cloth of my briefs. "Nice to see that some things never change," he said, and hooked his fingers into the cloth of my underpants and in a swift motion lowered them to their place on top of my jeans. My erection popped out straight, already wet at the end from my drooling of pre-cum fluid.
"I think we'll start by laying down the background," the man said as he guided me down over his knees so my hard willie was pointing at the floor between his spread legs. He moved his legs around so my head was low and my bare butt high and then took his grip to hold me in place for my spanking.
Most men would simply grip a boy around his ribs or even grab a loose hand and put it behind the boy's back in order to keep him from moving, instead the man slid his hand between my body and his and took a firm grip around my dangling boy-parts, circling my willie and scrotum with his left hand and enclosing all in a circle formed by his thumb and forefinger. This was not an uncomfortable grip at all and would only get that way if I jerked around trying to escape the sting of the spanking.
"It looks as though you have healed up completely from your last whuppin'," the man said, making circles with his strong right hand on my bare bum. I blushed just a little bit as I felt his hand slide into my crack and linger on my butt hole, this was part of the punishment, for the man to embarrass the boy by showing that no part of his body is exempt from the stinging slaps of his hand, or later on, the belt. Not even that most private of all places on my body.
The man always told me that I must have been born to get into trouble all the time for nature provided me with such an excellent site to be used for disciplinary purposes. 'Not too big, not too small, just right' he would say. I don't know if I should be proud or ashamed of having an ass tailor made for spankings.
The rubbing and exploring of my behind seemed to go on forever but seeming as the alternative was his hand spanking me back there instead of rubbing it wasn't so bad. You can even get used to having your butt hole rubbed and even probed a bit, he did like to do that. The man was never in any rush to get down to the business at hand, neither one of us would be going anywhere very soon.
Then the spanking started and followed its usual pattern, namely no pattern at all.
A stinging, hard slap would land anywhere on my upturned posterior and then the rubbing would resume. The man's hand would leave my bottom to come slapping down once more and then he would rub my bottom some more. Every slap, regardless of where it landed on my bared butt stung like mad, he knew just the angles to make sure that I felt each and every swat. There was no hurry, no rush to get this over with, I was getting the spanking that I needed.
"Well, boy," he said, "I hope that this holds you for a while." Another stinging slap would land on a fresh, unspanked area of my behind and then the rubbing and patting of my bottom would continue. He liked to talk while spanking me and would lecture me on my misdeeds, real or imaginary. Sometimes his hand would leave the heating skin of my bottom and instead of coming down in a stinging slap would end in a light pat but it made no difference, I would jump as much as if he had whacked my butt as hard as he could.
All the time he was gently holding his grip on my boy-parts, not enough to hurt but enough to remind me that he had me under control fully and the movement of my jumping in reaction to his slaps, or even the lack of a slap, was keeping me very erect. Too much jumping and jerking around would end in discomfort from getting my balls yanked.
This phase of my punishment could last from half an hour to an hour depending on both of our moods, this wasn't of course steady spanking but just enough to insure that my entire bottom would be quite hot and completely red. Nothing to cry about but enough to let me know that something was indeed happening behind me.
Because of my position over his lap and his grip on my gonads, he couldn't actually slap my butt hole for it was hidden between my cheeks but he could slap hard enough on the crack over it to stimulate it fairly well and with a sort of sideways slap could sting the upper reaches of my crack quite well.
Finally, when my entire behind had received its fair share of slaps and was all hot, and from what I've seen in the mirror in the bathroom, red, in all places that my underwear would cover, he would let me get up.
I stood beside him, my bottom softly burning and my willie still hard as anything and drooling precum fluid in a silvery stream heading toward the floor.
"You can make a trip to the bathroom," he said, "and take care of any business you need to. When you return I don't want to see any clothing, do you understand?"
"Yes, sir!" I reply and pull up my pants just enough to walk and headed out of the room and down the hall and into the bathroom.
In the bathroom, the first thing I do is get undressed, right down to the skin. I check out the job so far in the full length mirror on the wall, my bottom is glowing red like a stop sign in the middle of my slightly suntanned body. It looks like a nice, rounded tomato and as usual my left hip is not spanked as far down as my right, that is the side closest to his body so he can't smack that cheek as well. The right cheek, on the other hand, is red down to where my body was resting on his leg.
He is very careful not to spank the area of my butt where my hip bones are close to the surface, that can cause unnecessary bruises, but everything else has felt the sting of his strong right hand. From the top of my buttocks to about a hand width below them is just as red as red can be. Another nice, thorough job. Entire spank zone coverage. About the only area left on my butt that isn't red is the depths of my crack, it will still show white and unspanked when I bend over and spread my sore cheeks with my butt toward the mirror.
Naked, I stand at the toilet and try to pee. Generally the exercise of the spanking will make me feel like I need to but having a boner can make it difficult to do so but I need to try anyway. Sometimes I manage to get a flow going, sometimes I can't, it depends on just how much I need to go. I never, ever masturbate at this time as much as I would like to, that would spoil everything. Not to mention that the second part of the spanking would hurt a lot more, cumming seems to make my butt a lot more sensitive to pain.
I flush, regardless if I have peed or not, it is expected, and then make my way back to the room. The man is still sitting in the chair but this time he has the folded belt in his hand.
"Any time you are ready," he says, patting his lap.
I fold myself over his knees once more, my position changed a bit for this second phase of the spanking. This time I am laying bent fully at the waist with my legs hanging down, my boy-parts on the outside of his thigh. I have to hold down my erection as I get into position so it will point at the floor and not get crushed on top of his leg.
I feel his left arm go over my back, just about rib level. He is not holding tightly, just enough to let me know that he can if he wishes to. I next feel the somehow cool leather of the old belt draped across my hot rump. How can something that feels so cool burn so much? The man is still rubbing my bottom but this time it is done with the length of the leather belt instead of his hand.
The belt leaves my bottom and is raised into the air and then smartly comes across my nether cheeks in a side arm motion. A swath of heat forms on my bottom where the belt hits. A pause, some more stroking with the belt and a second stripe of heat forms below the first.
Slowly and with no rhythm involved the man tans my hide with the belt. Some of the stripes are laid on with his side arm motion, others come in an up and down delivery mode, running from the top of a cheek to the bottom of it. The man is expert in his wielding of the belt with every stroke landing with a resounding 'crack' as the leather hits flat and true.
The spanking with the belt follows the pattern that he used with his hand, once again no pattern at all. It might be up to half a minute between stinging lashes or several could come in rapid succession in the same place. The belt stings a lot more than his hand but in a much more localized area.
He is using the belt doubled in half for a few reasons, one of which of course a man cannot use a belt at its full length when he has a boy over his knees, he would more likely be whipping his ankles than his butt. Another important reason for him and me is the single tail of a belt tends to bite into boy hide really hard and can leave nasty bruises, he is not out to do that but rather make my bottom sting as much as possible without incapacitating me after my punishment is over. The belt with its loop at the end will still sting mightily but tend not to bite in as badly as the single layer of leather would do.
Now that his left hand is free to move around, not being used to hold my boy-parts firmly in check, he uses it to expose previously unspanked areas of my bum, pulling my right cheek open in order to insure that the depths of my crack and its contents feel the sting of the belt. Although I am not crying from this spanking I'll admit that getting a stinging lash of a belt square on my boy hole will make me suck my breath in rather loudly. He is very good at targeting that opening and the triangle of super sensitive skin between it and my ball sack, that area getting spanked can cause an involuntary intake of breath as well. He likes to spank me there a whole lot and does so many, many times.
This phase of the spanking lasts about as long as the first section and by the time he is finished I definitely know that I have received a sound spanking, my entire bottom is blazing hot for the belt has stung every inch of it available to him to spank. The area that he has uncovered by spreading my crack wide is as red and sore as the outside contours of my rump.
"Okay, boy, back to the bathroom," the man says as he lets me get back to my feet.
I walk down the hall to the bathroom, hands behind my head as I know that I must and stand in front of the toilet. The man comes up behind me and puts his left arm around my body, pressing his jeans covered crotch tightly against my burning backside. With his right hand, the one that just spanked me so hard and used the belt to whip my backside so well, he strokes my still erect willie to a wonderful orgasm, one that seems to go on and on almost forever.
After I have shot off, we stand like this for a while, his strong hand on my now shrinking willie, gently rubbing it while pressing his crotch against my throbbing bottom.
"Time to get cleaned up, boy," he says.
I walk across the bathroom and step into the tiled shower, turning on the water and waiting for it to warm up. I don't really need to get cleaned up, this is simply part of the ritual. I look over the glass door of the shower and see the man standing in front of the toilet where I had just stood, his jeans and shorts below his bare backside and his right arm once more in motion.
I smile as I step forward into the now warm water, allowing it to wet my front side and then stepping in further to let the water run down over my back and hot behind. I just stand there allowing the water to flow over me, it is not my place to get cleaned up, it will be done for me just like the spanking had been done for me.
The door to the shower opens up and I am joined by the man, now naked, and almost purr as he soaps up my back and behind and then bend over so he can make sure that my crack is nice and clean. The soap stings on my sore butt hole but it is a nice kind of sting. He rubs the bar of soap between my legs to get my boy-parts all nice and clean. My willie starts to get hard once again as he lathers the entire area up.
"Same time next week?" he asks.
"I wouldn't miss it for the world," I reply.