TBC3: Taking Back Control Part 3
(multiple FM/mbg, torture, cbt, extreme, spank, mast, humil, nc)
by Nialos Leaning
[email protected]
CAUTION! This story tends
toward the extreme side and may be
too intense and/or graphic
for some readers.
a "Little Boys Shouldn't Be So Modest" Festival story
For Little Boys Shouldn't Be So Modest Story Festival
details and submission guidelines, and to find all of
Nialos' Leaning's youth punishment and sexual humiliation
stories, plus those of selected guest authors, visit the
always free /~nialos
Copyright 2005 by Nialos Leaning, all rights reserved.
Permission for noncommercial free (no charge) electronic
distribution and personal use reproduction of this story is
hereby granted. All such distribution, re-posting and
reproduction must be without alteration of this story in any
way, must include this entire copyright notice, and must in
their entireties retain the following statements:
"This story is intended for ADULTS ONLY. It depicts preteen
and young teen children of both sexes being subjected to a
new community program involving public nudity, sexual
humiliation, spanking, and other very painful punishments.
If you are not of a legal age in your locality to view such
material or if such material does not appeal to you, do not
read further, and do not save this story."
"This story is pure fantasy, written for the enjoyment of
adults. Behavior depicted in this story may in real life be
illegal or considered by society to be abusive, harmful,
unacceptable or undesirable. The author neither advocates,
condones nor personally engages in any such behavior."
"This story, as is all fiction, is fantasy and not reality.
The author does recognize the difference between the two.
Please do understand that some of us, including the author,
enjoy such fantasy material."
"Compliments and constructive criticism are always welcome."
* * *
This story is inspired in part by the story "Pain Factor" by
Platypus available on my site at
/~nialos/spartan_boys.html
and by "The Little Boys Shouldn't Be So Modest" stories by
Sir Cum Sizemore available on my site at
/~nialos/sizemore.html
as well as the
boy spanking stories of Jeffrey R. Keller found at the
Male-Male Spanking Archive, http://www.malespank.net
This story uses some concepts from those stories, but also
incorporates many elements not found in those programs in
order to meet the community's desire to "take back control"
and to lessen their boys' excessive false modesty. The
characters, settings, situations and overall plot of this
story are all vastly different than those in the stories
that inspired it.
* * *
Taking Back Control Part 3
by Nialos Leaning
a "Little Boys Shouldn't Be So Modest" Festival story
"You guys have to obey the law, don't you?" twelve year old
Josh Myers asked his parents. A very naked twelve year old
Josh Myers who this Saturday morning was sitting across the
breakfast table from his nightgown clad ten year sister
Julie.
"Of course," replied his mother. "Why do you ask?"
"I think that you broke the law last night."
"What makes you think that?" inquired his father, police
Lieutenant Tom Myers. "We didn't do anything to you that's
not allowed for community property."
"I know that," said Josh. "I have to let everyone touch and
masturbate me."
"That's right," confirmed his mom, "and do some other stuff
too, so what's the problem?"
"Not me, but Julie and the Barrington kids," the still
confident he was right boy replied.
"Mommy and daddy would never do anything against the law,"
little Julie animatedly defended her parents. She didn't
like what happened to her last night, nor what was likely to
happen to her today. But like most young children, she had
an almost primal unconditional trust that her parents could
do no wrong and always knew what was best, even in those
decisions she disagreed with.
"Yeah, well," Josh made his case, "mom told me the law said
that when kids are naked in private, or as punishment
they're naked in public, their parents or whoever's watching
them can make them jerk off."
"That's correct," said his father, "but I still don't see
the problem."
"Julie, and the Barrington kids," Josh went to the heart of
his argument, "aren't community property."
"So?" prompted his bemused mother.
"You and their parents made us masturbate each other," Josh
described the infraction as he saw it, "and you grown ups
all jerked off Blake."
"Ah, now I see your difficulty," said Mr. Myers. "Seems us
adults are going to have to be more careful in explaining
the law."
"What mom said isn't the law?" asked the no longer so
confident Josh.
"What she told you is the law," explained his father, "but
not all of the law. The law also says that whenever someone
can make you masturbate, they can also let others masturbate
you."
"See, told you they wouldn't break the law," gloated a
beaming Julie, her trust reaffirmed.
Just then the phone rang, ending the legal debate. "I'll
get it," said Mrs. Myers.
Returning to the kitchen, mother informed family, "That was
the Community Support Center people. They've asked that we
not go over there till this afternoon."
"Why's that?" husband asked wife.
"Seems because of some problems that arose during the day
yesterday, they've needed to modify some rules. They need
this morning to get the Board to formally approve the
changes and to begin implementing them."
"What about our trip to the mall?" asked Mr. Myers. "I'm
anxious to see what kind of goodies they have at that new
store, Kippers."
"And I want to check out the new kids' clothing store," said
Mrs. Myers. "I know, I'll call Blyth Barrington and arrange
to go to the mall first. CSC said the shops are aware of the
changes and in fact suggested some of them."
* * *
Breakfast over, Mrs Myers announced, "Okay, time to get
ready. In thirty minutes we're meeting the Barringtons at
the mall, in front of the arcade." Josh groaned, the adults
had picked the very spot in the mall likely to have the most
kids around, kids who were going to see him naked. Naked,
with his hairless small genitals on display and available
for handling by whoever wanted to play with them.
"Josh, you're going naked, of course," said his dad. "Julie,
go put some clothes on."
"No fair," Josh launched another of his now famous protests,
"she's under punishment too."
"Josh, I've already told you," snapped his somewhat irate
mother, "one, that little boys shouldn't be so modest, and
two, that girls need to have more modesty than boys."
"Still not fair," muttered the boy.
"Another word from you," warned his father, "and you're be
sporting both a red bottom and a hard dick the whole time
you're at the mall."
"Joshie's going to be naked at the mall, naked at the mall,"
Julie couldn't help taunting her older brother.
"So should you be," Josh couldn't help but retort. A retort
his parents elected to ignore, given the circumstances.
"No I shouldn't, I'm a girl, you're a boy, a naked little
boy," Julie continued baiting her older brother.
"Julie, that's quite enough, stop this instance," demanded
mother of daughter.
"Julie," her father took control of the escalating
situation, "we weren't going to make you get naked till we
got to CSC, but I think instead we'll start right now. Get
naked, now!"
"But, but," blubbered the little girl.
"Do it, now," sternly ordered her police officer father in
his best police officer manner, "or you'll be walking around
the mall with a red bottom while you're rubbing away on your
pussy."
"You heard daddy," Julie's mother chimed in, "stop whining
and get out of that nightgown, now."
Josh smirked at his sister, his sense of fair play
satisfied.
"You can stop smirking this instant," mother admonished son.
"For your yet again protesting, you're to start masturbating
right now, and you don't stop until you've cum two times.
Get up, and begin!"
Knowing the futility of making another protest, Josh did as
told. Soon he was rubbing away on his little dick, bringing
it to full attention. Not long after, feet tapping the
floor, shaky legs vibrating back and forth, he had the first
of his dry cums of the day. He was sure, based on his
experiences yesterday, that this cum was only but one of
many more to come. "I'm cumming!" he shouted out,
remembering his rule just in time.
"I'm cumming!" rang out again a few moments later as in
front of his entire family Josh danced through his second
embarrassing dry cum.
Julie now pleaded with her dad for a reprieve. "Please
daddy, can't I go dressed? I don't want to be the only
naked girl there."
"You wont be, I can guarantee that," responded her father.
"Tell you what, I'll call Bryce to find out his plans for
Brooke. I know that Brady and Blake are going to be naked,
I have a feeling so will she." Neither Bryce, as the
district attorney in charge of the new Parental Assistance
Unit, nor Tom, as commander of the police department's newly
formed Parental Enforcement Patrol, wanted to be perceived
as being softer on their own kids than the other was on his
own, nor than on those of other people. PAU and PEP worked
hand in hand to ensure that kids submitted to parental
control of their general behavior, modesty and privacy and
that kids complied with all conditions of any punishment.
* * *
"I have some public property right here," Josh's mother
repeatedly repeated, pointing to the naked boy. As the
Myers family made their way through the mall toward the
arcade, strange hands continuously groped at Josh's very
public privates, causing him to dry cum twice before they
met up with the Barrington family. To her relief, and
Josh's irritation, Julie's parents wouldn't let anyone touch
the naked girl.
The Barrington children weren't so lucky, their parents
allowing a free-for-all on three of their kids' bodies. As
the Myers arrived, both boys, thirteen year old Brady and
nine year old Blake, were cumming. Brady, his somewhat
larger than Josh's genitals topped by a lightly haired pubic
area, shot a few white drops onto the floor. Little nine
year old Blake shuddered and danced from the dry cum caused
by the hands manipulating his little hairless dick and
balls, dick and balls noticeably smaller than Josh's. As
predicted by Tom Myers, the Barrington's eleven year old
daughter Brooke was also naked, her hairless pussy and just
starting to sprout breasts being rudely felt up by many,
many hands.
"Hey everyone," announced Mrs. Myers to the crowd, "fresh
meat here. Both of them." With that, the assault upon
Josh's most intimate parts began anew and Julie found her
hairless pussy, bare bottom, and flat chest the recipient of
many interested hands on inspections.
After a few minutes, a few minutes in which three of the
five naked kids came once and Blake and Julie twice, Mrs.
Myers brightly announced, "Let's go shopping!"
* * *
First stop was at the newly opened "Not So Modest Kids"
clothing store.
"I like one this for Josh," said his father, holding up a
short shirt obviously cut to end well above the navel. A
bright red shirt emblazoned "Public Property" in big bold
letters, both front and back. To leave no doubt as to where
that public property was, immediately below the lettering
arrows pointed downward.
"So do I," said his mom. "Too bad he can't wear it."
"Of course, he can," replied Mr. Myers, "it doesn't cover
anything important."
"He sure can," agreed the friendly female sales clerk,
perhaps all of seventeen years old.
"But," countered the boy's mother, "he's CSC mandated public
property and has to be naked."
"The rules," explained District Attorney Barrington,
"require only that the area from top of navel to top of
knees be exposed."
"I remember now, that's what Mrs. Durkle said yesterday,"
remembered Mrs. Myers.
"We'll take it," Mr. Myers told the clerk. "Josh, come
here," ordered his dad, "and let me put this on you." CSC
punished kids weren't allowed to dress or undress
themselves, someone else had to do this for them.
Meanwhile, Mrs. Barrington had found the "perfect" shirt for
little Blake. "Let's try this on you, Blake."
Soon, the blushing red faced nine year old stood center
floor for all to admire. The front of his bright pink
shirt, ending an inch or so above his navel, invited all to
"feel here." As with Josh's shirt, an arrow indicated
exactly where to feel. The back side, again complete with
arrow indicating the spot, asked all to "spank here." Two
"peek-a-boo" holes in the top allowed his nipples and a
little bit of the surrounding skin to show.
Not wanting his eldest son left out, Bryce Barrington
"discovered" a shirt for Brady. The requisite arrows on the
brilliantly green shirt instructed "squeeze here, hard" on
the front and "insert finger in hole" on the back.
"Dad, I can't wear that!" protested Brady, the first of the
boys to protest their new wearing apparel. "Every kid I see
will try to do what it says."
"And you'll let them," responded his father. "Starting now,
you're public property; so are you Blake."
"Dad, no," Brady continued protesting this latest turn of
events.
"Dad, yes," replied his dad. "Get that shirt on, now!"
"When you're done here," the clerk helpfully ventured, "you
may want to visit Kippers, they have all kind of goodies
that will help adjust his attitude, if you know what I
mean."
"Thank you," said the prosecutor in charge of making kids
comply with the rules, "we're planning to do just that."
"That reminds me," said the clerk, "they changed the rules
last night."
"In what way?" asked Lieutenant Myers, wanting his police
unit to have the most up to date regulations.
"Community Property has to be identified," said the clerk.
"How?" asked Prosecutor Barrington.
"By wearing a colored wrist bracelet or band of some kind,"
answered the clerk. "Red for CSC community property, yellow
for all others. So that there's no misunderstandings, non-
community property naked kids can wear green, but don't have
to. We have a nice selection on sale at the checkout
counter."
"Makes sense," said Mrs. Myers, "we'll get some of each
color on the way out."
A shout from the sleep wear section carried through the
store. "Mom, don't!" sounded the desperate voice of a young
boy, "leave them on!"
"Looks like we need to be of service," Lieutenant Myers told
District Attorney Barrington. The entire entourage made
their way to the scene of the commotion.
A twelve year boy, naked except for his boxers, was
resisting with all his might his mother's determined efforts
to remove his only remaining article of clothing. She was
yanking down, he was pulling upward, the boxers only moving
an inch or two in either direction, not revealing what they
hid.
"Marty, stop that and let me get these off you," demanded
the irate mother.
"No way!" hotly retorted the boy. "No one sees my stuff!"
"Son," said Tom Myers, flashing his badge, "if your mother
says they do, then yes they do. Unless you want a ride
downtown in the backseat of a police car, naked, you'll let
her get those underpants off."
"And, if the Lieutenant arrests you," said Bryce Barrington,
showing his own identification, "my office will make sure
you get severely punished."
Knowing defeat when it so blatantly stared him in the face,
Marty grudgingly let go of his waistband. Kneeling, his mom
triumphantly whisked the offending garment down and off.
"That's much better," she commented for effect, deliberately
ogling his now exposed genitals. His balls were larger than
either Josh's or Brady's, but surprisingly his dick was no
larger than Blake's. He had a few pubic hairs just starting
to grow, but considerably less than Brady's light
smattering.
"Okay, put these on," commanded the blushing boy's mother,
handing him a set of pajamas.
"Those completely comply with the nudity rules," commented
the department clerk, a grand-motherly looking older woman.
"They're perfect for your sleep over tomorrow," exclaimed
Marty's mom as he modeled his new pajamas. Pajamas with a
top that, like the shirts, ended a little above the navel,
an elastic hem on the bottom edge holding it snug. The
footed pants ended just above the knees, hemmed elastic tops
again ensuring they stayed in place. Several thin strips
running up the side of the boy's hips connected the bottoms
to the the top. By design, the pattern was more suitable
for an eight year old than a twelve year old - race cars,
planes, and locomotives liberally decorated the cloth.
"I can't wear these at Joey's," claimed the blushing Marty,
"I'll look like a dork, with my underwear showing."
"Oh, no, no underwear," said his mother. "It says so right
here in the instructions. Besides, the whole idea is to
show you and your 'stuff' off. Like they've been telling
you in school, little boys shouldn't be so modest."
"No way, mom," blubbered the now crying Marty, "I can't let
the other guys see me down there, it'll be way too
embarrassing."
"Well, you'll just have to get used to it," responded his
mom. "Besides, I talked to Joey's mom, and the other boys
will all be showing off their goodies too. It's her house
rule, and starting now, ours."
"Mom!" was all the exasperated boy could get out.
"Okay, Marty, you can take them off now," mother instructed
son. Turning to the clerk, she said, "we're take them, and
that pair over there, also."
As the now completely unclothed Marty reached for his
clothes, his mom snapped, "Leave them!"
"Mom, no!" came the again exasperated reply.
"Since it's obvious you don't like being naked, and you need
to get used to it, you're staying naked the rest of the
day."
"Ma'am," interjected Tom, "he can only be naked here in the
mall if he's being punished."
"Well than, he is," Marty's mom answered, "for giving me a
hard time about the pajamas."
"That's the way," encouraged Mrs. Barrington. "Don't accept
any nonsense from him, I don't from mine."
"From now on, I don't intend to," came the reply. "As
they've been trying to teaching him at school, but he
obviously chooses not to learn, I'm the one in control, not
him."
"Exactly," affirmed Mrs. Myers.
"Marty," mother addressed her son, "we don't want anyone
missing your little thing, so get it hard now, and keep it
hard."
"Mom, you can't make me do that!"
"Yes she can," said Bryce. "You're under punishment, she can
make you masturbate anyplace you're naked."
"And let whoever she wants masturbate you," added Tom.
"That's right," agreed the mother, glancing at her still
soft son. "Would you two girls like to make him hard?"
Julie and Brooke were only too happy to oblige, and took to
hand their task with an enthusiastic vengeance. In no time,
they had the embarrassed and humiliated boy dancing and
shouting to an orgasmic high, culminating with several clear
drops of very watery cum oozing from the tip of his dick.
"I make my two announce all their cums," said Mrs. Myers.
"As I do my three," said Mrs. Barrington.
"A rule all five seem to have forgotten today here in the
mall," commented Mr. Barrington.
"Well, I'm sure Kippers will have something suitable to deal
with that bit of rule breaking," said Mr. Myers.
"Kippers?" inquired Marty's mom.
"It's this great shop down the other end of the mall," said
the clerk. "They have all kinds of toys to use on your
kids. Toys I'm sure you'll like, but I guarantee you they
won't."
"We're going there right now," his mom informed Marty.
"We won't be far behind you," said Tom Myers, anxious
himself to see Kippers' collection of child discipline toys.
Toys designed to exert on errant youngsters the price of
defying adult control.
"What did I tell you about staying hard?" was the last words
heard from Marty's mother as she and her son exited the
store to hurry to the promised land of Kippers Punishment
Emporium.
The excitement over for the moment, outfits were quickly
found for Brooke and Julie. Brooke's was a pants set
similar in design and cut to Marty's pajamas, except they
didn't have feet. This style, of course, left her
completely exposed, front and back, from navel to near the
top of her knees. Most embarrassing to the twelve year old,
however, were the two large openings in the top, openings
larger than those on Blake's shirt that left her small
breasts completely on display. "While not required by the
rules," the young shirt department clerk explained, "parents
are encouraged to leave their girls' tits uncovered."
Adding to her embarrassment, instead of the cars, planes,
and locomotives print pattern of Marty's pajamas, her outfit
featured many arrows, small to medium sized. Arrows which
around the openings in the top pointed squarely to her bare
breasts. Everywhere else, the arrows were angled to point
directly to her exposed pussy and bottom.
For Julie, her mom found an adorable yellow "sun dress" of a
design more suitable for a four year old than a ten year
old. The frilled hem, of course, ended above her navel,
leaving her exposed pussy and bare bottom on full public
display. The top ended just below her flat chest, two
crisscrossing shoulder straps ensuring an unobstructed view
of her nipples. Complementing the dress were a pair of knee
high yellow socks, each topped with a small pink bow. At
least she could take consolation in that unlike the other
four kids, there were no arrows on her new "not so modest"
clothing.
For good measure, before leaving the store, the two shopping
loving mothers picked out a selection of additional items
for their children, shirts, additional pants sets in both
boys and girls styles, more sun dresses, pajamas, knee high
socks. They even purchased swim wear, swim wear that was
nothing more than a few very thin strips of cloth that, just
as the sales poster stated, cleverly hid nothing of any
importance modesty wise.
* * *
On the way to Kippers, the two families stopped off at the
video store. Ostensibly for the adults to find some movies
for the weekend, but in reality to expose their five naked
kids to the cruel curiosities of the many other youngsters
in the store. Bryce and Blyth were engaged in animated
conversation about possible titles, apparently ignoring the
kids. Tom was involved in discussion with a fellow officer
- uniformed and assigned to mall duty - that he wished to
recruit to his unit. Beth Myers was talking to a clerk
about upcoming releases.
"Hey you community property kids, come with me," demanded a
fourteen year old boy. Two other boys, a smirking thirteen
year old and a grinning eleven year old, stood by the older
boy.
"Why?" demanded Brady, sensing trouble.
"Because we want you to give us blow jobs," answered the
older teen.
"We can't do that, you can't make us!" shouted Brady.
"Yes they can," said a resigned Josh, "we're community
property and have to do whatever anyone tells us."
"Not entirely true," came Prosecutor Barrington's voice.
"We could arrest you three right now for breaking the law,"
said Lieutenant Myers, accompanied by his newest recruit.
Clearly the parents had been paying much closer attention
than they had appeared to be doing.
"For what?" demanded the somewhat arrogant fourteen year
old.
"How old are you three?" Tom countered with a question of
his own.
Before they could respond, Tom's recruit said, "The older
two are fourteen and thirteen, the younger one eleven. I
know, I almost arrested them here in the mall yesterday."
"What did they do?" asked Bryce.
"They were feeling up two naked kids without permission, an
eight year old boy and his nine year old sister."
"We didn't know they weren't community property," the
thirteen year old defended his actions.
"The only reason I didn't actually arrest you," replied the
officer.
"Guess these bands are a good idea," said Tom, indicating
Josh's plain red wrist band and the equally plain yellow
ones on the two Barrington boys. For good measure and their
protection, both girls sported stylish green bracelets on
their left wrists.
"To answer your question," Tom brought matters back on
point, "it's perfectly legal for you to make community
property kids jerk off themselves as well as jerk or suck
each other off."
"You can also," added Bryce, "do jerk off or suck them, as
long as that doesn't involve them also doing it to you. But
no screwing by anyone, either in anyone's butthole or a
girl's front hole."
"That means," clarified Tom for everyone's benefit, "you can
make them jerk off themselves or each other, or make them
suck each other's dick. Actually, like Brady's shirt says,
you can even make them stick something small like a finger
or a carrot up their buttholes, but no dicks. Or you can
jerk off or suck them yourselves.""
"You can't," Bryce picked up the legal lesson, "make or ask
them to blow you, screw you, jerk you off, nor can you screw
them."
"What about girls," asked the thirteen year old, "can you
put things in their pussies?"
"Only your finger, and only one," answered Lieutenant Myers.
"And if you do, you better be darn sure you don't cause any
damage."
"Does everyone understand?" asked Bryce.
"Dad, won't sticking things in our hole hurt? asked a
frightened Josh.
"Sure will," his dad cheerfully agreed. "That's the whole
idea, cause a lot of pain in your hole. After all, you are
being punished. But just so you know, there are limits on
the size of what can be stuck up there, I'll have to check
the regulations to find out exactly what they are."
"What happens for breaking the law, like we just did?" asked
the visibly shaking eleven year old.
"We didn't mean to," blurted out the thirteen year old,
crying over the prospect of going to jail.
"If you're over sixteen," said Bryce Barrington in his best
District Attorney manner, "it's a class four felony and the
law says the judge must send you to prison for one to three
years. For kids thirteen to fifteen it's a first class
misdemeanor and by law the judge must put you in the
juvenile detention home, that is, kids' jail, for ninety
days, naked and community property the whole time. For
under thirteen, it's a class three misdemeanor; while you
can't go to detention for that, the juvenile court judge
will make sure you spend plenty of time doing community
service while naked and community property."
"Uh oh," is all the eleven year old could muster, now
shaking even more visibly.
"Are they in trouble again?" asked one of two women walking
up to the small gathering.
"Yes, ma'am," replied the uniformed officer. "They were
braking the law again."
"Are you going to arrest them?" asked the other woman.
"Not this time," said Lieutenant Myers. "They didn't
realize what they asked was illegal, we're simply educating
them."
"Well, I'm tired of my two getting in trouble over this
stuff," said the first woman. "I think they should learn by
first hand experience. You two, strip, right now," she
demanded, pointing to the fourteen year old and his eleven
year old brother.
"You, too," commanded the other woman, pointing to her
thirteen year old son.
The fourteen year old was clearly well into puberty, with a
modest patch of pubic hair and a genital package somewhat
larger then average for his age. Down there, the thirteen
year old was a slightly bigger version of Brady. A little
more hair, a little longer and thicker dick, a little fatter
set of balls. Puberty hadn't started for the eleven year
old, his hairless dick and balls only a smidgen larger than
Blake's, and very noticeably smaller than Josh's.
Once all three were completely naked, both mothers declared
them to be community property and demanded that their dicks
be brought to proper attention.
"Here, you'll need these," said Beth Myers, digging three
yellow bands out of her purse. "Good thing we bought
extras."
"I think I'll start having my officers carry a supply of
them around," said Tom.
Once the two mothers of the three newly naked boys learned
the nature of the offense, they insisted that their
offspring also experience first hand what they'd demanded
the other three do to them.
"Great idea," exclaimed Josh's mother. "I think right
outside the store, by the fountain, would be perfect."
The fourteen year old was teamed with Brady, the thirteen
with Josh, the eleven with Blake.
"Start sucking, and no stopping until we say so," commanded
the mother of the two boys.
"And no letting those dicks out of your mouths, either,"
commanded the thirteen year old's mother, "no matter what."
"Considering that your mouths's are full, you don't have to
announce your cums," Mrs. Myers magnanimously allowed.
Quickly, slurping sounds mingled with moaning sounds as
reluctant mouths worked over not so reluctant dicks.
Instantly hard dicks whose owners writhed over the tiled
floor, to the amusement of the ever growing crowd. First
Blake had one of his dry cums, followed almost immediately
by Josh and the eleven year old. The thirteen year old
erupted a small amount of cum down Josh's throat just before
Brady made his own small deposit into the fourteen year old.
A fourteen year old who reciprocated with his own much
larger offering.
"Swallow it all!" loudly demanded the first mother.
"Keep going!" just as loudly demanded the second mother.
Keep going they did, until Blake and Josh had come three
times, the others twice.
"Well, we're off to Kippers," said Mrs. Barrington.
"You may want to try them, too," Mrs. Myers told the two
mothers of the three now very red faced boys. "I hear they
have some great stuff for keeping little boys, and girls, in
line."
* * *
At last, the moment all five naked kids dreaded most
arrived, their arrival at Kippers Punishment Emporium.
"Welcome to Kippers," greeted a clerk near the entrance, an
older high school boy.
"What does Kippers mean, anyway?" asked the scared but
curious Josh.
"Well, they were going to call it the Kids in Punishment
store," said the clerk. "But they decided Kippers
Punishment Emporium sounded better, and scarier."
"More like Kippers Torture Chamber," commented Josh, eyes
wide at all he was taking in.
"Exactly," said an older gentleman, name tag identifying him
as the manager, "but the mall people wouldn't let us call it
that."
Josh wondered to himself why the people working in these
special stores all seemed to be either high school kids not
that many years older than him or someone's grandparent. As
he was pondering this perplexity, he did a double take when
Marty, the twelve year old boy from the clothing store,
walked by. A wildly crying Marty, hands cuffed behind his
back. He had a very sore looking, very red dick. A
circumcised dick on which Josh could swear he saw a blister
on the head, not far from the peehole.
"What the heck happened to him?" he asked, sensing somehow
that he would suffer the same fate.
"Oh," said the manager, "I guess his mom tried out our penis
grilling unit on his little dick."
"Ouch," commented Mrs. Myers. "Isn't that dangerous, and
illegal?"
"Not when used according to instruction. It'll hurt like
hell, but won't do any permanent damage or cause injury
needing medical intervention other than maybe a little pain
relief. Which, as with all our devices, we recommend you
not give. Why use pain as a punishment if you're going to
make it go away right away?"
"Exactly," agreed Tom. He and the manager were obviously
very much on the same page when it came to the matter of
boys, pain, and punishment.
"Now, if you'll follow me," invited the manager, "I'll be
glad to show you the penis grill, and if you want,
demonstrate on one of the boys."
"Josh," said his dad, "yesterday I promised you a special
punishment for today, and I think we just found it."
"Dad, no!" screamed the already hysterically crying boy,
"don't burn up my dick!"
"Honey," Beth interceded on her son's behalf, "don't you
think that's a little severe."
"No I don't," he replied in his best police officer voice of
authority. "As you've noticed, spankings aren't proving to
be enough to bring him under control. It's time to
escalate, and pain is the best form of punishment for
defiant little boys. So, we need to step up the pain a few
notches."
"I guess you're right," she conceded, somewhat reluctantly.
But also very much curious to see what effect a penis
grilling would have on her son's cute little dick.
As they passed a display of various straps, canes, paddles,
floggers and other spanking implements, the manager paused.
"You may want to use one of these to tenderize and warm up
his little friend before we really turn up the heat."
"No way," screamed Josh, "you ain't hitting my dick with
that thing." That thing was a short thin strap, split into
three narrow tails. Tails each with a small spike like
metal stud embedded near the end.
"Oh yes we are," said his father, "we want that little
wiener of yours properly prepared for its little cooking."
"Aren't those metal things dangerous?" asked Josh's mom.
She obviously had "dangerous" and "safety" on her mind.
"Not at all," assured the manager. "They might cause a
little bit of nicking, but their real purpose is to make the
soreness last much longer."
"I see," replied the now less concerned mother.
"If you want that soreness to be more short lived," said the
manager, "use this one without the studs."
"Let's use that one," Josh's mother said to his relief,
"considering what's going to happen to his dick afterwards."
"Excellent," responded the manager.
"What about hitting his balls with that?" Beth asked as
almost an afterthought.
"We don't recommend testicle strikes, with any object,
there's too much chance of doing serious harm," answered the
manager.
"Oh dear," said Josh's mother. "I let lose with a few ruler
smacks down there yesterday, and later he received a few
more from his dad and Mr. Barrington here."
"Well, for those few number of hits, you most likely didn't
do any harm but cause a lot of hurting," the manager tried
to reassure. "Nothing wrong with that, of course. But the
problem is that even one moderate strike in the wrong spot
can cause major damage."
"What about CSC?" asked Tom, "their machines can hit the
boys' balls, and the girls' pussies for that matter."
"You have to remember," said the manager, "that the machines
were designed by experts to minimize potential damage. But
if you go back, you'll find that they've already modified
their procedures to lessen the danger even more."
With that, the party moved toward a section of the store
containing glass walled booths. Glass walled booths from
which the scrams and cries of punished kids could be heard.
In one, a ten year old boy was receiving a traditional over
the knee bare bottom hair brushing. In another, an eleven
year old girl was over her mother's lap, bare bottom being
nicely reddened by a small paddle. In yet another, the
thirteen year old boy who had been Josh's sucking partner
was being soundly thrashed all over his body by his mother.
A mother wielding a whip like flexible cane, the last few
inches split into two.
"Isn't hitting him all over like that dangerous?" Beth once
more voiced her safety concerns at what she was witnessing.
"Not as long as the implement is light to moderate weight,
and whippy," answered the manager. "And you stay away from
the lower back near kidneys and liver, the testicles, and of
course, needless to say, anywhere on the head, the head on
their shoulders, that is."
"Oh," was her reply.
As they made their way to an empty booth they passed one in
which Brady's fourteen year old partner was sitting on a
very strange chair, obviously in much distress and pain.
"That's our hot seat," chuckled the manager, "it burns up
much more than just little dicks."
Outside the booth, the fourteen year old's eleven year old
brother stood, bugged eye at the ordeal his big brother was
undergoing. "You're next," his mother, standing next to
him, gloated. The young boy's body was well marked and
reddened, obviously having undergone the same whipping
treatment now befalling the thirteen year old.
"We'll have to try that seat on Brady," commented his
father.
"It'll be my pleasure," said the manager.
Without further ado, Josh found himself in a booth, awaiting
his newest painful ordeal. A string tied at one end to a
hook in the back wall and at the other end to just below his
glans stretched his penis nice and taut for its impending
spanking. A spanking that commenced without warning as his
dad snapped the strap down squarely onto his dickhead. A
dickhead that immediately throbbed and erupted into pain.
Only to be followed by more and more pain, as blow after
blow rained down on his little member. Blows on the head,
blows on the shaft, blows to the top side, blows to the
under side, twelve blows that left the boy shrilly
screaming, feet maddingly pounding the floor, hands vainly
clutching his aching penis, a penis he knew was about to
suffer much worse.
"Hand away," ordered his father. "Now for a little
sizzling," he gleefully added to his son's ever growing
trepidation.
"Before that," said Bryce, granting Josh a brief reprieve,
"I want my two boys to taste this." He was holding one of
the penis straps, the model with the metal studs.
Little Blake's reactions to his strapping was more
pronounced than Josh's. Louder screaming and wailing, more
furious dancing, redder looking dick. A tiny dick clearly
showed several nicks, one cut dribbling a small amount of
blood.
Brady as the oldest of the three boys was determined to be
the toughest and show how much of a man he was by not
breaking down and carrying on like his brother and Josh.
Through a supreme effort that both Bryce and Tom privately
admired he managed to avoid any screaming, with only the
occasional sob near the end of his ordeal. He couldn't,
however, prevent the tears from silently flowing. Like the
other two boys, his savaged dick was a very red color with,
like his brother, a smattering of smarting nicks and cuts.
The penile strappings over, both families placed their
orders. "I'll take two of each kind," said Tom. "Oh, I'll
also need a selection of spanking instruments."
"Our 'spank to the max' kit will be ideal," pitched the
manager. "It contains ten implements in all."
"What are they?" asked Beth, curious as to what their money
could buy.
"One of each type penis strap," inventoried the manager,
"two full body floggers, one with more sting the other, two
split end canes, one lighter than the other, an old
fashioned hair brush, two paddles, smaller and larger, and
of course a full size strap, split into three tails."
"I'll take it," said Tom, not bothering to ask the price.
"But I'll only need one additional of each penis strap."
"I'll need two kits, please," said Bryce, "one for each of
my kids. And an extra two of each of the dick straps."
"Thank you, both" said the manager. "Oh, by the way, not
only the penis straps, but many of the kit items also work
great on the soles of feet, just don't give more than fifty
or so at a time to each foot. The kit booklet gives all the
details."
"Won't hitting their feet like that cripple them for a
while?" asked the still safety conscious Mrs. Myers.
"No, not at all," said the manager, "the human foot is very
tough and can take a lot. I will say though, that for a
while afterwards it will make walking, shall we say, an
interesting proposition. They'll be able to walk, but they
definitely won't like how it feels."
"Thank you for being so helpful," responded the grateful
Beth.
"You're welcome," replied the manager. "Now, shall we try a
little grilling?"
"By all means," said Tom, "I promised Josh, and I always
keep my promises to my kids."
All too soon, Josh again found himself in a glass booth,
this time securely strapped to a chair. A small metal tray
was placed on his lap, strapped in position snug against his
belly, covering his balls. Two sliding vertical metal
plates, one near each end of the tray, extended several
inches upward. Several wires run from the tray to a small
controller device sitting on a table. The controller was
plugged into a standard wall electrical outlet.
"First, we make a snug fit," said the manager, sliding the
two plates toward Josh's soon to be very hot dick, until
they were firmly touching that now very hard appendage.
"Next, we ensure his little penis is laying down nice and
flat," explained the manager as he pushed Josh's hard on
onto the tray. "And to keep it down, and to make sure the
top side isn't ignored, we use this." He forcefully jammed
a half inch thick metal plate between the vertical plates,
positioning it firmly onto the top of Josh's doomed dick.
"The unit comes with various sizes of these top plates,
simply use the one that gives the tightest fit."
"Won't the bottom of the tray burn his little balls?" asked
Josh's mother. For his part, the already distressed Josh
was dismayed at how the adults were constantly referring to
his boy parts as being "little."
"Actually, no," answered the manager. "The underside of the
tray is designed not to get as hot as the rest of the unit.
And even if it did, the only real effect to his balls would
be at most a feeling of discomfort, most likely not even any
reddening of the scrotum."
"Again, thank you," said the ever polite Beth, her concern
for her child's welfare abated.
"Shall we begin?" asked the manager.
"Yes, let's do it," Tom gave his final assent to what his
son was about to endure.
How old is Josh?" asked the manager.
"He's twelve," Beth answered.
"Well," said the manager, "the normal twelve and older
setting is 123 degrees Fahrenheit for ten minutes, position
two on this dial on the left."
"But, he's small for his age," pointed out Beth, her concern
again surfacing.
"That's why I was about to recommend the under twelve
setting, dial position one," recommended the manager.
"What's that?" Asked Tom.
"One hundred fourteen degrees Fahrenheit for five minutes."
"Okay, do it," Tom again give his final consent.
"All right, here we go. Josh, ready for a little cooked
wiener?" the manager jokingly asked as he flipped a switch.
"No, please dad!" Josh pleaded for one last desperate time.
"Josh, hush up now," admonished his father, "you know I
always keep my promises to you and Julie."
For the first fifteen seconds nothing seemed to happen.
Then it started. "Please, please turn it off, my dick is
getting too hot," begged the now crying boy.
"Come on now, son," responded the manager, "it can't hurt
yet, it's no where near full temperature." Turning to the
adults, he explained, "The unit has several built in safety
features. Full temperature is deliberately set one degree
under what's considered maximum safe setting, it takes one
minute or so to reach the full temperature, it starts
cooling down fifteen seconds before shut down, and cools at
least another fifteen degrees the first minute after
shutdown. As soon as it shuts down, the side plates slide
away, making it easier for you to remove the top plate and
the tray. Just be sure to wear these gloves, as the little
stickers say, the surface is hot."
By now, Josh was definitely feeling the effects of his penis
grilling. "Oh, ouch, eeoowww, turn it off, turn it off, it
hurts, it hurts bad!" Copious tears fell onto the hot
plate, the heat quickly evaporating them into smoke, adding
to the Josh's perception that his dick was being cooked
right off of him, ready for someone to eat.
As the torture continued to escalate in intensity, so did
Josh's agony, struggles, and wails. Try as he might, with
all his might, he was unable to either escape the chair or
dislodge the burning grill so effectively tenderizing his
most prized body part.
While this was going on, the manager gave a few more details
about the controller. "You can also manually set the time
and temperature, using these two dials here on the right.
The third one lets you specify some other body parts, such
as feet or palms."
"Is that safe," asked Beth, still in her safety mode, "to do
those parts and to override the age settings?"
"Yes it is," responded the manager, amused that a mother who
was willing to submit her son to such torture was also so
safety conscious. "The controller has a built in processor
chip that won't allow any temperature and time combination
that could be dangerous for the selected body area."
"Of course," District Attorney Barrington rendered his legal
opinion, "the user has to take responsibility for ensuring
the dial is set to the correct age and body part."
"Or be arrested if any serious harm occurs because of their
deliberate negligence," chimed in police commander Myers.
"Exactly," the manager and Bryce said almost simultaneously.
In the end, when the bell finally dinged after five long
minutes, Josh's screams were being clearly heard throughout
the store, despite the insulating capability of the booth.
Upon removal of the tray, the wildly shouting Josh was
amazed to discovered that his dick wasn't a charred
blackened ruin. As the manager had predicted, it hurt like
hell. It was very definitely red, and had two blisters that
hurt worse than the rest of his fried organ. One blister
was on the top, just below his glans. The other was on the
left side, not far from the base.
For the first few minutes after his release, Josh's dad had
to hold the wildly gyrating boy, still wailing away like a
banshee. Josh constantly struggled to escape his fathers
arms, desperately wanting to reach down and try to ease the
pain in his seriously sore dick.
"Here, you may want to use these," said the manager, pulling
a pair of red cloth wrist cuffs from his back pocket. "We
have them in a variety of colors."
"Why, thank you," said Tom, taking the proffered cuffs. "I
have my own cuffs for work, of course. But I like these for
home use, please add a half dozen to my order. And, a grill
also."
"Can it be used on their bare bottoms?" asked Blyth.
"You can make them sit on it," answered the manager,
"there's a dial setting for it. But I recommend our hot
seat as being much more effective and versatile for that."
"Let's try that next," said Bryce, "on Brady, like I
promised. But first, I want to grill his dick on that tray
thing."
"Dad, no!" the young teen parroted Josh's earlier protest, a
protest that was just as futile. Once more Brady attempted
to brave it out, delaying voicing his suffering for as long
as possible. Gritting his teeth, hissing and moaning,
rocking back and forth ever more rapidly, he held on for
four minutes before letting out the first sobs. Sobs that
were quickly followed by his first screams. Screams that
grew louder and louder, until his time was up.
When it was all said and done, the screaming Brady's
sizzling sausage had him in extreme agony, an agony that he
could do nothing to assuage. Like Josh, his hands were
cuffed behind him. Having been "cooked" for twice as long
and at a higher temperature, his almost smoking dick was
noticeably redder than Josh's. He also had three painful
blisters to Josh's two. And, just to add to his misery, he
suspected that the hot seat was going to be even worse.
Satisfied with the results, Bryce Barring ordered two of the
units, one for each of his sons. If he ever had to put
Brooke's feet to the fire, so to speak, he figured he'd just
"borrow" one of the boys' units.
Little Blake was spared having his little dick fired up, but
with the manager's assistance, his mom found another
effective penile torture device. A plastic spring operated
pinching device, the serrated business end designed to look
like some fearsome's creature's claws. This she firmly
attached to the head of her youngest son's dick, eliciting
an immediate foot stomping painful response. "Ow, ow! Ow!
Take it off mommy, take it off, it hurts, it hurts!"
"That stays right there till I say it comes off," mother
warned and threatened son, "or else I'll have daddy use that
cooking thingie on your dickie."
"You can also," said the manager, "use that to pinch other
body areas. Toes, or in between them, fingers, nipples, a
thigh, buttocks, side of the rib cage, abdomen, anywhere but
his balls or his head and face other than the ears. We have
them in a variety of designs and shapes, shark mouths,
giant's hands, snapping turtles, and many more. The lion
paws is designed to cause scratching, and the piranha model
has a particularly vicious bite."
"In that case," responded Blyth, "I'll take a dozen. No,
make that two dozen, I have a lot of kids to use them on.
Make sure you include some of those lions and piranhas."
Not to be outdone, Beth put in her own order for two dozen.
"Never know when we'll have young guests over," she
explained.
All right," said Bryce, "no rest for the weary. It's time
give Brady a hot seat."
All too soon, the now completely naked Brady, his shirt
temporarily removed, stood staring at the strange "hot
seat." It was made mostly of wood, except that where his
bottom would be there was a metal plate, a plate that curved
upward a little distance onto the seat back. He suspected,
correctly as it turned out, that the upper part of his
bottom, that part that wouldn't be on the seat itself, would
be pushed against the portion of plate in the seat back.
The chair arms had metal plates right near the end, where
his palms would rest. A footrest also contained a metal
plate, more than sufficient to completely contain his two
feet. From his ordeal with the penis grill, he knew exactly
what all those plates were going to do to him. But most
ominous to the crying boy was the three inch long rounded
metal peg sticking straight up from seat, about where his
asshole would be. It didn't take a genius to figure out
where the peg was going, or that it was going to create a
"hot time" up there.
"Won't that peg hurt going up his hole?" asked safety
monitor Beth.
"Absolutely will," answered the manager. "That's the whole
point of punishment anal penetration, pain. We have a great
collection of punishment dildos and plugs, by the way."
"Isn't it kind of big for such a small hole?" persisted
Beth. "Won't it tear him up and cause damage?"
"No, it's only an inch in diameter," the manager pointed out
another of his store's many safety precautions. "The
maximum recommended safe size for age twelve and over.
"What about a small kid like Josh, or one Blake's age?"
asked Beth.
"For an eleven or maybe even tens, the one inch is probably
safe, but just as a precaution, I'd opt for no more than a
three quarter inch diameter," replied the manager.
"Well, then, wouldn't that one be too big for Josh?" Tom
asked, pointing to the seat, his mind already made up that
his son would be getting a hot seat of his own.
"As I said, probably not," said the manager, "but its
interchangeable with an three quarter inch diameter model,
which I recommend for him. There's also a half inch
diameter peg for even smaller kids, but we don't recommend
the seat for kids under eight."
"Do the pegs heat up?" asked Tom, already suspecting the
answer.
"Sure do," confirmed the manager.
"Their insides have to be more sensitive, won't that burn
them?" inquired Beth, still striving to ensure safety
prevailed in all this torturing.
"No, it won't," said the manager. "At full temperature, it
creates a burning sensation and pain, but not any actual
burning. But for safety, the peg heats up two degrees lower
than the other heating elements on the seat."
"How hot do the plates get?" asked Bryce.
Knowing he definitely had at least one sale, the manager
patiently explained, "the temperature settings, time
durations, and safety precautions are exactly the same as
with the penis grill. Matter of fact, they're made by the
same manufacturer."
"I guess that answers all the questions," said Brady's dad,
"so I think it's about time we fry Brady's ass."
Still trying to be a brave soldier and a man about all this,
Brady successfully resisted voicing the protest he so
desperately wanted to make.
"First," the manager began the demonstration, we need to
grease the peg up a bit, so it goes in a little easier.
Trust me, it'll still hurt, bad." Greasing quickly
accomplished, a struggling but mostly silent Brady found
himself just as quickly being impaled onto the peg,
forcefully pushed downward by the two fathers. As promised
by the manager, it did indeed hurt, very much.
Before Brady could make any move to free himself, he was
being strapped in. First, a strap around his mid-section.
Next each leg, at mid-calf, feet pressing on their plate.
"You strap his feet and ankles like this," demonstrated the
manager, "so that he can't lift his soles up off the plate."
"I do think Brady is going to have a hot foot," joked his
dad.
"Two of them," his mom joined in the levity.
The manager moved on to Brady's arms. "Strap his hands and
arms like this," said the manager, "so his palms are firmly
on the plates."
"Looks like he's ready to go," said the hapless boy's
father.
"Not quite yet," said the manager. "I have a few more
accessories to show you."
"Please do," invited the now intrigued Blyth.
"This pad here," said the manager, strapping a pad across
Brady's chest, "does a very effective, and painful, job of
tenderizing the chest area and nipples."
"I like it," said Bryce.
"And this one," said the manager, strapping another pad
across the boy's abdomen, "is great for inducing a hot pink
belly, actually, a hot red belly, if you know what I mean."
"Great idea," enthused Bryce, remembering his childhood days
of suffering through and giving his share of "pink bellies."
"And finally, these," said the manager, strapping a pad to
each side of Brady, right over the ribs, "are fantastic for
painfully cooking a little rib meat."
"Won't all that at once be a little too much?" asked Tom,
his police officer instincts deciding that it would be
prudent to exercise a little caution concerning this
upcoming torment.
"Yes it would," agreed the manager. "That's why we don't
advise using all the elements at once. That might be
intense enough to cause fainting, or possibly worst. And
that could possibly require medically necessary treatment."
"Well, if I get one for Josh, I certainly wouldn't want to
have to arrest myself for breaking the law I'm supposed to
enforce," Lieutenant Myers joked. "How do we pick and
choose?"
"On the controller," explained the manager, "there's an on-
off switch for each heatable component, including the peg."
"Good," said the soon to be toasted boy's father. "Whenever
Brady is on his seat, his bottom is to be roasted. So let's
turn that plate and the peg on."
"Done deal," said the manager, flipping two switches.
"Let's also do his feet," said Blyth, "after all, we did
promise him some hot feet." Another switch flipped to on.
"And to space it out, let's do his chest," concluded Bryce.
"Excellent arrangement," said the manager, flipping the
chest pad switch on. "Shall we start cooking"
"Yes," shouted Bryce and Blyth in unison.
"No!" shouted Brady at the same time, his resolve not to
break forgotten in his growing panic. But the yeas outvoted
the nays and the manager, after making sure the dial was set
to the "12 and older" intensity setting, pressed the master
"on" button.
"I'll take mine medium rare," Blyth Barrington injected a
little humor into the situation.
"Make mine well done," Bryce Barrington lightheartedly
joined in as his eldest son began roasting on the seat.
The ten long minutes dragged on very slowly for the
suffering boy. Every minute, his "cooking" body areas grew
ever hotter, ever redder, ever more excruciatingly painful.
For three minutes, Brady managed not to scream, until he
couldn't any longer stand the growing pain in his feet.
"Shit! My feet, my feet!" suddenly screamed the now near
hysterical Brady. "Get them off, get the off, they're
burning up, I can smell them burning!"
"Well we don't," calmly replied his father. With good
reason the adults didn't smell any burning flesh, there
wasn't any, it was all in Brady's now feverish over
imaginative mind. Yes, as promised, he was enduring
terrible heat induced pain; but, as also promised, no, he
wasn't actually suffering burns anywhere.
The manager took the opportunity to explain more about the
controller. "Similar to the penis grill, for each heating
element you can manually override the automatic temperature
and time settings, again a microprocessor won't permit any
dangerous combinations."
"That could make it interesting," commented Bryce,
contemplating the possibilities.
"Sure is," agreed the manager. "And one of those
interesting things is that if you wanted to really burn up
his feet and hands, it's perfectly safe to double the time
for those parts. Although you'll almost certainly end up
with some blistering, you still won't have any actual
burns."
To his surprise, the ever hoarser growing screaming Brady
discovered that his chest, and especially his feet, were
hurting even worse than his bottom and superheated rectum.
Brady's pain was beyond unbearable when the bell sounded,
putting an end to his latest torture. Once off the chair,
the wailing, crying boy found being on his feet to be an
agony in itself. Every step on his thoroughly reddened, but
not blistered, feet brought froth a fresh stab of pain;
fortunately for him this continuously lessened as the day
wore on, as did the pain in his chest and that on his bottom
and in his aching hole. To his dismay, the pain in his
grilled and spanked dick subsided the most slowly, a process
impeded by his parents demand that he now keep it hard until
they arrived at CSC.
Not to be outdone by the family Barrington, after a
refitting to the smaller three quarter inch peg, Tom Myers
said, "Our turn to try out the hot seat. We cooked Josh's
front side, now it's time to turn him over and cook his
backside."
"Dad, no," the still crying Josh once more begged, "I can't
take any more."
"Honey, maybe he's right," Beth advocated for her son.
"Nonsense," replied Tom. "We've hardly touched that side of
him today, and we still need to punish him for not
announcing his cums. Besides the harsher we are now, the
less we'll have to be later."
"You're right," wife acceded to husband, trusting his
judgement in these matters.
"Aren't you going to punish Julie for not saying she was
cumming?" asked the sobbing Josh, afraid that once more his
sister would be let off much more easier on the grounds that
"girls needed to be punished less."
"Her spanking at CSC will be enough punishment," declared
Mr. Myers to both his children.
Josh was hooked up exactly as Brady. Just like Brady, he
discovered that going down onto the peg was a very painful
ordeal in and of itself.
"Let's make his jerking off a little more interesting," said
Josh's father, "by heating up his palms for three minutes."
"Dad, no!" shouted Josh, "I need my hands!"
"Of course you do," replied his father, "and you will have
them. It's just for a while they're going to hurt a little
bit every time you use them."
"I think his feet should get the full treatment," said Beth,
her earlier concern for Josh's suffering dissipated.
"Good idea," agreed Tom, "ten minutes for his soles."
For the first three minutes, Josh's hands grew warmer and
warmer, and mildly painful. As did the soles of his feet.
But after the three minutes, while the palm plates began
cooling down to a tolerable level, the foot plate just kept
heating and hurting. At the five minute mark, with Josh
already screaming in pain, the fire started on his bottom,
in his hole, and across his chest. When the ten minutes had
fully elapsed, Josh was a blubbering wailing sobbing mess, a
dancing jiggling ball of extreme pain. No matter how
gingerly he stepped, he found being on his very red and
blistered feet to be an agony of torment, causing a hurting
even worse than on any of his other scorched parts.
"Okay, Blake," said his father, "your turn."
Shouting, "No! no! No!" the little boy dashed out the booth
onto the main sales floor. With the aid of a glad to assist
customer, a gentle giant behemoth of a man, Bryce and Tom
easily recaptured the little runaway.
"Daddy, no, don't put me on that thing," wildly crying,
badly shaking Blake pleaded. "Don't!"
"Blake," responded his father, "you have to take your
punishment for breaking the rules, just like the other
boys."
"But I won't be able to stand it!" blubbered the terrified
little boy. "It'll hurt worse than when I burned my hand on
the stove last year."
"Tell you what," said Bryce, realizing the cause of his
son's terror, and knowing that justice sometimes called for
mercy, "we'll only put you on for four minutes. And we'll
only heat your bottom, nothing else, not even the peg."
"I don't want to!" wailed Blake, still desperate to avoid a
burning. But a burning he did get. He was impaled on the
half inch peg, despite the manager's assurances that the
three-quarter inch model would be perfectly safe for the
little boy. Due to his shortened time on the seat, and only
having his bottom toasted, the crying, screaming Blake had
it much easier than the other two boys. But still, when
removed from his torture throne, the howling prancing boy
sported a very red and sore looking bottom for all to see.
A thoroughly delighted Bryce ordered two hot seats, one for
each of his sons, complete with all the accessories.
As with the penis grills, he'd use one of the boys' if he
ever needed to sit Brooke down for a little warm up. An
equally delighted Tom also ordered a seat for his children's
use, primarily Josh's.
The pleased manager promised to have everything delivered
the next day, despite it being a Sunday. On the way out,
the two families stopped by the dildo display to make a few
selections. Once each family had a good supply of safe
child sized toys, Blyth Barrington asked, "Do you have any
that will cause nicks and cuts in there?"
"No ma'am," responded the female clerk, another picture
perfect grandmother type, "we don't sell those. They create
an unacceptable safety risk."
"How's that?" asked Beth Myers in support of her new friend
and co-worker.
"Nicking and cutting the anus, that is the opening and the
so called 'rosebud', is generally safe," educated the clerk.
"But internal rectal lacerations create too much likelihood
of infection, you're just asking for trouble. It's all
explained right here in our 'Safely Using Dildos On Kids'
booklet."
"Thank you, I'm glad to know that; safety first, always,"
said Beth.
"Glad to help," replied the clerk, "education is a big part
of our job. Oh, and don't forget not to use too big of a
dildo for the child's size."
"Your manager already explained that," said Blyth, "one inch
diameter at the most. For added safety, three quarter inch
for under 12 and smaller older kids, and one half inch for
really small kids like Blake here."
"Exactly," said the clerk. "Otherwise, you'll certainly
tear up the mucous membrane lining the rectum, and that will
always mean serious bad effects and permanent damage.
There's a handy age-size-weight chart in the booklet that's
more detailed in more precisely choosing the proper size."
"Thank you again," said Beth.
Just before they reached the cashier's station, Tom came to
a halt at the enema equipment counter.
"We have some great items here," said the young male clerk.
"Guaranteed to cause a painfully cramping time. Can I
interest you in something?"
"Maybe another time," answered Mr. Myers, "I need to get a
lot more information on the subject first before I'd be
comfortable trying it on my kids. Even though I do believe
in arming my arsenal with a wide selection of weapons."
"You'll want to read this, then," said the clerk, handing
him a small paperback book entitled "A Parent's Guide to
Punishment Enemas."
"Thank you," said Tom, "I'll be sure to read it."
At the cashier's stand, they made one final purchase. A
selection of creams and lotions to rub onto little dicks and
pussies.
"If he's hesitant about jerking off in public," explained
the cashier, "use this one. It itches and irritates like
crazy, I guarantee he'll be rubbing away in no time. I know
my fourteen year old does."
"I'll take four tubes," said Beth.
"Me too, but I need six," said Blyth.
"This one," the cashier continued her add-on selling,
"produces a burning like sensation. The heat aids in
achieving arousal of course, but also drives the kids crazy.
My ten year old absolutely hates having it put on his little
thing."
"Four of those, also," said Beth.
"Six for me," said Blyth.
"And these are just for fun," continued the cashier.
"They're a luminescent glow in the dark mixture of perfectly
safe to apply ingredients. Comes in assorted colors."
"Give me a red, a yellow, a green, a purple, and two pinks,
please," said Beth.
"Double that for me," said Blyth.
Purchases complete, credit card balances much closer to
their limits, the two families departed the mall for their
naked children's appointments with the spanking machines at
the CSC.
Just as they reached the mall doors, Blyth said, "Just a
minute, time for this to come off." With that, she pulled
the pincher off little Blake's little dick. The little boy
screamed as the renewed blood flow caused a new pain to
erupt on his abused dickhead. "Now, let's try this one,"
she said. Through the left side hole in his shirt, she put
a piranha on his nipple and nearby flesh. His screams grew
even shriller. "And we can't forget the other side," she
added, adding a lion on the right side. Blake's nearly
earsplitting screams echoed throughout the parking lot.
* * *
After all the boys had been through already, the visit to
the Community Support Center was almost anti-climatic.
Julie and the Barrington children were quickly assessed
punishments by the on duty Discipline Officer. Brady and
Blake were each given five days of naked time, all to be
served as community property. They had to report to CSC on
each of those five days for a session with the spanking
machines. Not surprising to Josh, the girls were much less
harshly treated. Twenty-four hours naked time, no community
property time, and only one encounter with the machines.
Once in the park for their spankings, the Discipline Officer
made all five masturbate to orgasm, the girls once, the boys
twice. This, of course, awakened even greater levels of
pain in all three of the boys' already hurting dicks.
As Josh already knew, and his sister and the Barrington
Bunch quickly found out, the spankings from the machines
really hurt, really bad. Mr. And Mrs. Barrington decided
that Brady and Blake needed to join Josh in getting a
"little something extra" down there on their "little
somethings." The boys discovered that the Kippers manager's
prediction was true, extra precautions were being taken to
protect their balls from the straps. In the form of a shock
absorbing furry pouch, many tiny spikes protruding from the
interior lining. The pouches were tightened around their
ball sacks so that the spikes were just barely brushing
their scrotums.
"Every time the straps hit the pouch, and each time the boys
jerk around as they're spanked," explained the machine
operator, "those spikes are going to make it feel like a
thousand paper cuts on their balls." To their dismay, the
boys found that the operator was precisely accurate in his
statement. The six times the tails hit their genitals, two
on their already extremely sore dicks, two on the pouches,
many intensely painful "paper cuts" did indeed pepper their
helpless sacks. Fortunately for them, like real paper cuts,
the pain and resultant bleeding was very short lived.
"I sure hope you wash those things between uses," said Beth
as she noticed the red stains on the inside of the ball
protector just removed from Josh.
"We sure do," said the operator, "and sterilize them too."
To Josh's relief, for the rest of the day his parents eased
up and didn't inflict any new pains on him, other than
making him jerk off his still sore dick three times before
bedtime. The exhausted boy didn't even bother protesting
the "unfairness" of Julie only having to masturbate once to
his three.
Just before going to bed, Josh overheard his dad ordering
more items from Kippers. To his dismay, he distinctly heard
his dad say "enema kit, deluxe model."
And so ended Josh's very painful Saturday, his body aching
in places he had never imagined could be punished, nor so
severely. He fell asleep wondering just how much more
terrible his Sunday would be, knowing only too well that
things only seemed to get worse with each passing day of his
punishment period.