The Living Room

Disclaimer: This is a story of fantasy and is not only not intended to condone or approve of the behaviors contained herein, there is absolutely nothing about treating children as sexual objects that the author approves of, desires, or would dream of doing to an actual child. This work is written in the context of age based role play.

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.

The naked boy spanked in the living room theme is one of my favorites. Lectured and then sent to his room to get undressed and ‘ready’ for his spanking. The anticipation of what is about to happen makes him clumsy with fear. Then, that long walk back though the cold house and past all the open windows creates a conflict between the embarrassment of being seen and unintentionally rushing toward the punishment. His privates are displayed to everyone inside and outside. His scrotum contracts in the cold air as he darts past windows and shuffles when he can’t be seen. 

Facing his angry mother, she lectures him with the few points she forgot the first time or didn’t think he heard. He fidgets not sure where to put his hands. She sounds so loud he is sure everyone on the block can hear. His penis feels exposed. The cool air gently caressing his bottom startles him as he realizes how it will burn and sting in just minutes. His mouth goes dry as his hands and feet get cold. 

The time for talking is over and he is positioned over her lap. The silky fabric of her dress and the softness of her thighs under his chest and penis feel warm, motherly, and safe. The leather paddle rests for a moment on his buttocks and even it feels soft and gentle. Then it is gone and he braces for what he knows is about to come. 

The spanking is blindingly painful from the very start. And loud as well. First, it is just the sound of each spank echoing off the walls but then her voice continuing the lecture adds to the volume. A third voice adds to the din and he is surprised to find that it is his own cries for mercy and yelps of pain.

 

By the time that it is over, he is certain the whole neighborhood knows about his punishment. The still spring late afternoon ensured that everyone’s windows were open, children were out, and gardening was being done. Even the smell of lit charcoal grills telegraph to him the reality of the audience within earshot. 

Standing with his hands behind his head and crying softly in the corner, he hears the world outside; the world that heard his misdeeds read aloud, his punishment administered, and his humiliating cries of distress. The girl two doors down and a grade above him must have heard it all. She sunbathes in her bikini in the summer, rides her bike wearing little shorts, dresses pretty for church, and seems to always be washing the car. He loves her and is afraid of her. Everything about her is beautiful and perfect from hair to lips to her painted fingernails to delicate feet. Her plump bottom and flat stomach haunt his thoughts even as the sting fades from his abused bottom. 

What would she think of him now? Would she despise him for crying during his spanking or want to comfort him after his ordeal? The thought of those beautiful lips kissing away the tears on his face as she whispers how brave he was invades his mind. Her hands gently caressing the abused flesh. He imagines her wanting to make it all better, to reward him for his bravery. She kisses down his chest, then stomach, and finally brings her lips to the mysterious appendage at his groin, that appendage that he knows is important but doesn’t fully understand why. 

With horror at the realization that his penis is erect, he snaps back to the present just as his mother walks into the room and dismisses him from his corner time. He blushes, shakes, and even begins to cry anew as he turns to face her: the naughty boy thinking naughty thoughts even with a freshly spanked bottom.