This is the follow-up to my previously posted story "Stiff and mortified". Just as that story, this is a work of fiction. Yet, there is a reality basis. The thoughts and reactions described in the young teen-boy character of "Stiff and mortified" and its follow-up story ies, reflect in close detail the thoughts and reactions I had myself about spankings, when I was that age. Unfortunately (?) I was not spanked at all during that age. In fact I was quite spoilt. If my parents would have re-instated spankings in my early teens, my "Stiff and mortified"-stories would probably have been true ones. Nevertheless, during some very interesting conversations I have had on this issue with others, I have learnt that the essence of my stories resemble many elements from other peoples *true* accounts from their own boyhoods.
I would appreciate any feedback to my story ies and Ill answer all emails. I would of course also appreciate a conversation with anyone who feel that my stories touch on their own personal experiences. Any private conversation will be kept strictly confidential, unless otherwise would be mutually agreed.
In the time following closely after the memorable incident at Cody's, I was quite subdued at home and did not dare to put up much fuzz. That spanking in all its mortifying glory was intensely vivid in my mind and would stay so for quite some time. Within the next few weeks I would learn that the incident at Codys would not necessarily be a one-time-occurrence. The threat of spanking had been quite a distant option since I was about 9. Dad sure believed in spankings, but I think mom had influenced him into not spanking me very often after age 9. Spankings had become more infrequent and I had usually managed to get my butt out of danger, or to limit the damage at getting just a few swats on my pants. With that horrifying incident at Codys, things had changed. Dad had started making use of that horrific spanking-threat again. Whenever I would misbehave, dad would remind me about what happened at Codys and that it could happen again. Any time he did, I would feel embarrassment flush my cheeks and a strange feeling in my stomach and groin, particularly if he would give prominence to his words by delivering a swat of warning to the seat of my pants.
At 13, I really thought I was too old to be spanked. I was a small, slightly underdeveloped kid, so there was nothing physically about me that could help my argument. I told dad that I thought I was too old for spankings once or twice, but he just dismissed it and explained to me that hed decided to re-introduce the spanking-option, because it was the right punishment for naughty little boys and had proved to be very useful, since just the spoken threat obviously was an effective way to make me behave. I blushingly had to admit that he was right. I really was prepared do anything to avoid the humiliation of a spanking – even behave! Dad also explained to me that I was definitely not too old to have my bottom spanked, whenever it would be called for again by my childish actions. He also emphasized that he was serious and that he would not hesitate to spank me again. It was clear that it would be over his knee and that I would get my bare bottom soundly spanked with the palm of dads hand.
My feelings about spankings were not about just the pain in my butt anymore. I had learnt that the embarrassing factor about getting a spanking (or even just being threatened) had grown from almost nothing at age 8, to enormous proportions at age 13. Besides thinking I was too old to be spanked like a little kid, I now had to deal with all these teen hormones running amok in my mind whenever dad would mention the spanking-option to deal with my bad behavior.
Oh how I feared the embarrassment of being spanked, and how I prayed to God that dad would never spank my bare bottom again. Nevertheless, there was another side of the coin, and a very contradictive one. The shame and embarrassment connected with the mere mentioning of spankings, would always be accompanied by a strong, overwhelming feeling that dad was right and I was wrong. Moreover, the feeling told me that I was spoilt and that bare-bottom spankings would be my just deserts and exactly what I badly needed. This feeling could hit me anytime and from nowhere, but in particular it stated its strong presence whenever dad would threaten me with a spanking. I would then feel my heart race and a strong warm butterfly-feeling would appear in my stomach, spreading towards my groin, making me feel as if I would pee my pants any second. But instead of peeing my pants, I would feel my dick grow into an erection so hard I thought it would burst through the front of my pants, and even burst through its own skin. I did not understand these feelings by age 13, but they were nevertheless very strong and indeed out of my control. When dad had finished his lecture of warning, there would be a severe heat-wave across my cheeks. Im sure dad loved to see by the reddening effect on my face, that his warning had had such a great impact on me. Thank heavens he did not know about the effect in my pants. Thinking back about it now , Im no longer so sure he didnt notice. Although my penis was not very big that age, my erections were always rock-hard. No matter what kind of pants I had on, the bulge in the front was no doubt visible, had he looked that direction.
Often, thoughts about spanking would arise by themselves in my mind without notice, although dad might not have mentioned spankings for a short while. I used to re-play the incident at Cody´s in my mind. Thinking about it would always make me very excited. I would feel the familiar racing of heart, hot feeling in my stomach and groin, as well as the unmistakable erection, tenting my pants (in case I had any on). It was all very dual and my feelings certainly were a mix of everything between the sweetest joy and deepest shame. I started to think about this state of mind and my resulting reaction as "sweet shame".
As mentioned above, my strongest reaction of "sweet shame" used to happen when dad would mention or threaten me with a spanking. Whenever I would test the limits of my parents, which all kids that age do, dad would remind me that I'd better watch it or I would get a bare-bottom spanking. In fact dad had a great variety of choosing his ominous words about it. Sometimes it was about getting my butt warmed tanned, sometimes about that I wouldnt be able to sit down for a while, sometimes about that I would go for a trip over his knee, sometimes that I was in for a pants-downer, a. s.o. Regardless of how he would choose the words, it would be a very effective way to make me behave. The mere words were always enough to get my full attention. As my erection grew stronger, so did the shame-part of my "sweet shame". I would look down at my feet as I felt the dread and the blush on my cheeks intensify. Then I would hear dad finishing his lecture by saying something to the content of "Just you watch it Brian, or you know your pants will come down on this instant!". To accentuate his words he would sometimes slap my butt once, or menacingly tug at the waistband of my trousers.
When such a lecture from dad was over, my feeling of sweet shame would stay for quite a while, then slowly decline but return on occasion for the rest of the day. At 13 I did not know how to masturbate, so I had no way of relieving myself although the need to do so was bad. After being lectured by dad, I would have an erection for much of the remaining part of the day, and I would almost certainly have a wet dream the coming night.
There were too many incidents involving sweet shame than I can remember, but many of them stand out as particularly memorable. One of them happened about 2 months after the incident at Codys. My behavior was still quite good at most, as an effect of the mortifying fear of getting another spanking from dad, but it was slowly but steadily worsening in situations when dad was not present, or when I thought he was not present.
Me and Liam were playing in our backyard. Liam was one year my junior and lived a few blocks away. It was a hot day and we were both wearing about as little clothing as possible. Liam was wearing a t-shirt and shorts. I was wearing just my white t-shirt and light-blue briefs. After all, our backyard was well hidden. Although I was a modest kid, wearing briefs in front of Liam was nothing I considered shameful. We were playing some sort of ball-game and we were getting quite loud with the fun and excitement. We had a game within the game. Each time any of us missed the ball, he would have to shout out loud an bad word, as if he got really mad. At each miss we had to find a new invective. Of course they just got worse and worse, and we laughed so much our stomachs hurt.
Dad was on the other side of our house and had heard the commotion we made. Suddenly he stood there with his arms on his sides and asked what it all was about. He repeated some of the words hed heard me use and asked us (well, he was looking at me) if we thought this was good behavior? I remember I answered "No" in a sheepish way, while shuffling my feet with growing anticipation. Dad then approached me, took me by my left arm and made my eyes meet his while he said, loud enough so also Liam would hear: "Perhaps a good old-fashioned bare-bottom spanking is what you would need?". The words struck me like a hammer. I was mortified that Liam had now heard dad threaten me with a spanking. I felt so vulnerable when dad tugged menacingly at the waistband of my underpants, the only thing protecting the white skin of my mid-section from both the intense sun and from dads potentially slapping hand. The familiar feeling of "sweet shame" immediately overwhelmed me as I felt butterflies swoop my stomach and my dick starting to grow rapidly. "If I hear any more bad word from your little mouth, thats exactly whats gonna happen! Youve been asking for it for a looong time".
Dad let go of me, walked out of the backyard and left us alone. Liam was glaring at me with his eyes wide-open. My heart was pounding hard and fast in my chest. I felt waves of shame about what he had just heard dad say to me. I realized that my small briefs could hardly contain my erection, which I did not want Liam to see. I hurried sideways for the house-door with my back much against Liam. I rushed inside the house to the toilet, because it felt I needed to pee so badly. It always felt that way in these situations, but however I tried, no pee would come. The need to pee would of course decrease by itself within a few minutes. Anyway I had still not understood this mechanism, so I sat myself down on the toilet to give it a serious try. My rock-hard penis would have made it impossible to pee, even if there would have been a real need, so I soon gave up. Instead I planned to head for my room to put on a pair of trousers, to better conceal my erection. I had not bothered to put my briefs on, as I rushed out of the toilet start-naked except for my t-shirt, almost knocking Liam over. I halted and we looked at eachother without saying anything at first. Liams eyes focused on my erection and a "Wow" left his open mouth. I felt a new wave of shame, but then I saw from the front of Liams well-tented pants, that he had got an erection too.
"I-Im going to my room to put some trousers on", I stuttered. Liam silently followed me upstairs. I was still a little embarrassed that he was watching me and I was still rock-hard in front. It was so hot in my room and I really didnt feel like putting pants on. So I just put my briefs back on and looked at Liam, who still looked as if he had seen a herd of pink elephants flying by the window. "Its too hot for pants", I said. Liam immediately changed the subject, as if he was afraid of losing it, and asked with obvious excitement in his voice: "Does your dad spank you???". I felt my shame returning but answered truthfully "Not often". I returned the question to Liam, who told me that he had never been spanked in his whole life. Just when I started to realize that Liam was a little "too" interested in this subject, we were interrupted by mom coming home and coming up the stairs. She greated us through the door, and then continued with her business in the adjacent room. Me and Liam went out again and before we had the chance to bring the delicate subject up again, it was time for Liam to get home for dinner. I continued to see Liam now and then, but the subject of spanking was never brought up between us again. I would have loved to talk more about it just between the 2 of us, but I was also afraid he would tell someone else about seeing dad threaten me with a spanking. My 13-year-old logic told me not to take the risk of reminding him about it.
To be continued...