If you cannot understand this, have difficulty distinguishing fantasy from reality, or are in any way confused about what is appropriate and legal sexual expression, stop reading now.
Lastly, I am not a pedophile, don't approve of sexually assaulting children, and only use these themes in my writing because I empathize and identify with the victims of these stories; not the perpetrators. Some of us like to be embarrassed, ashamed, humiliated, spanked, and to be nervous, anxious, and afraid. Weird, right? To read more about why these stories were written, please see the "What This Blog is and is NOT -- READ THIS FIRST" post.
It wasn’t working but she didn’t know what else to do. He had found his father’s girly magazines and maybe he even was masturbating to the pictures. It was hard to tell when she walked in. She discovered he had quite the erection as she pulled down his pajamas for his spanking.
It bothered her that her husband even had those magazines. It bothered her also that he was in her room at all. She should be allowed to wear whatever she wants to in her own room. Still, her little boy needed to be taught a lesson.
This wasn’t the first time she caught him playing with himself, spying on her, in her underwear, or looking at things he shouldn’t be. He seemed completely preoccupied with sex. Sometimes his bottom still showed the signs of the previous spanking as she prepared him for another.
Except that it wasn’t working. He didn’t fight her as she put him in position but as the spankings grew in intensity, he would become very upset. That seemed reasonable except that she couldn’t figure out why he would be so docile when he knew he was going to be spanked. And it was happening more and more frequently. It didn’t appear that he was trying to be caught as much as he didn’t seem to care.
She couldn’t just let him be a pervert, right? She had to do something. Spanking had worked when he was little. He was a good boy. He was smart, respectful, athletic, attractive, and nice. But then his feet began to grow and voice would crack sometimes. She noticed that his genitals were becoming less like the little boy she knew and starting to resemble her husband’s.
She didn’t know if this was normal behavior for a boy going through puberty. Her husband–his father–traveled so much for work. Even if she told him, he would tell her he was too busy and that these parenting matters were her responsibility. That was the deal. He made the money and she kept the house running, the kid on tract, and her body perfect.
His bottom was clearly on fire but if the intent was to make him less of a horny little boy, it wasn’t working. More often than not, she would be greeted by his erect penis as she pulled down his pants, underwear, or pajamas before spanking him. She was taken aback the first time she saw his newly maturing penis in all its erect glory. It went soft and boy size during the spanking.
Then one time he stayed erect during the entire spanking. She decided that she had just needed to spank harder and longer. She tried but couldn’t bring herself to inflict that much pain on her little boy.
This time was a little different. She was determined to correct his behavior but as she turned his bottom red and then purple, she knew it wasn’t going to work. He was ferociously erect when she pulled down his pajamas. He was embarrassed but seemed excited as well.
He went over her knee almost eagerly like he wanted his penis hidden. Or maybe he wanted the spanking to start? He never was very good at expressing himself and this didn’t seem like the day he was going to change that.
As she spanked him, she had to restrain him. He kicked and tried to put his hand back to protect himself. She could still easily overpower him but it was like he wasn’t really trying. He was acting instinctively but there was no heart in it. He wanted it but he didn’t. He needed it but he was afraid. The pain was pushing him to act instinctively but he didn’t want to.
She watched his scrotum. It was so much larger now that he was growing up. His growing testicles seemed oversized on his small frame. He would grow into them and his feet. The package was pulled tight as if to keep them safe during this traumatic event. Yet it was soft, smooth, delicate, and precious.
His penis, however, was not visible but she could feel it pressing against her thigh. It was hard still which mystified her considering the punishment his little bottom was taking.
She didn’t know what to do. It had gone too far already and though she knew she should stop because she knew what was going to happen, curiosity and ego got the best of her. She had been told that parents are in a constant battle of wills with their children; that children are willful and stubborn. To stop the punishment before he learned the lesson she wanted him to learn would mean that he won. She wasn’t supposed to let that happen. She was supposed to break his will, bring him to tears, make him surrender.
But that didn’t happen at least it didn’t happen the way it was supposed to. Instead, she felt the penis of the man over her knee flex and pulse. He tensed as it happened. The experience was even more a surprise to him than it was to her. The already tight scrotum gripped his young testicles holding them and squeezing them. The muscle contractions pulled the semen from him and forced it through his urethra and out the narrow slit of his penis.
She felt the pulsing on her thigh and then the warm wetness of his ejaculate. He was still and quiet for a moment but her rhythm didn’t betray her knowledge of what had just happened. The spanking continued without interruption. Suddenly, the spanking came flooding back into focus and not only all of the pain of the moment was upon him but so was the realization of what he had just done. His crying returned but with renewed vigor and at a higher pitch.
To her horror, she realized that what had happened was her fault and not his. She should have known. She is the adult, after all. She should have seen the signs. Things would have to be different from now on, right? Or would they?
Dad didn't have girlie mags that I ever found, then I collected my own. Mom found 'em under my bed, the summer between 9th and 10th grade, and only made a comment, "The filth under your bed..."
ReplyDeleteYears later, she told my first wife,who told me, "I was relieved that he wasn't gay "