TBC4: Taking Back Control Part 4
(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" story. For Little Boys Shouldn't Be So Modest Story 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 4
by Nialos Leaning

a "Little Boys Shouldn't Be So Modest" story

"We can't go to church like this," twelve year old Josh Myers protested to his mother.

"Yeah," agreed his sister, ten year old Julie. "It has to be a sin to be naked in church."

"I'm sure Father Timmons wants people to wear clothes at mass," Josh pressed his point.

"You are wearing clothes," responded Mrs. Myers, indicating her son's shirt and daughter's sun dress. A bright red shirt emblazoned "public property" that did nothing to cover Josh's abdomen or his exposed bottom and hairless slightly bigger than little boy size genitals. A very short yellow dress that only covered the otherwise naked Julie from just below her flat chest to just above her waist, leaving her bare bottom and bald pussy on full display. Complementing their outfits, each sibling wore a pair of knee high socks, red for Josh, yellow for Julie. Both sported red bands on their left wrists, signifying their status as community property.

"Josh, come here," demanded his father, police Lieutenant Tom Myers. A newly appointed lieutenant newly in charge of the newly created Parental Enforcement Patrol that assisted parents in enforcing rules for their children's behavior and modesty.

"Please, dad, no," begged Josh, sensing trouble as he spotted the tube of lotion in his father's hand.

"Now," barked the lieutenant, in full police officer mode. "We've warned you that any protesting would mean additional punishment."

"Daddy's absolutely right," Josh's mother supported his father.

"I think," said Tom, "that this cream from Kippers is just the ticket. Honey, would you do the honors?"

"Of course," replied Beth Myers. Josh's face grew redder and redder as his mom massaged more and more of the cream into his small dick and balls. "Now, young man," she admonished her errant son, "I don't want to hear any more complaints about you being naked and community property."

"But, mom," the already crying Josh replied, penis hard from his mother's ministrations, "it'll be too embarrassing to be like this in church. The mall was bad enough."

"That's too bad," mother informed son, "I've told you before, and I don't want to have to tell you again, little boys shouldn't be so modest."

Josh was about to voice an unwise retort when the cream's effect kicked in. "Ow, ouch, yow, get it off, get it off, it's burning me, it hurts!" Retort forgotten, the hapless preteen launched into an energetic dance, hands quickly flying to genitals in a futile attempt to ease the suffering.

"Hands away," demanded his father, "you know better than to cover up." Moving quickly, Tom Myers pulled Josh's hands from his painfully burning dick and balls. Just as quickly, the determined father was securely holding the boy's hands behind his back. Beth handed her husband a pair of cloth cuffs, red to match his church clothes. Cuffs that very shortly were on Josh, denying him any use of his hands for any reason.

"What is that stuff?" asked the sobbing Josh, still wildly dancing, genitals furiously bouncing in a comical show for all to see.

"Oh," said his dad, "it's nothing more than the same stuff athletes use for muscle pain, first it's cool, then it heats up."

"It's killing me," shouted Josh, the acute pain not abating in the least.

"No it's not," said his mother.

"Says right here on the label," informed his dad, "harmless for external use."

"Harmless," screamed Josh, "it hurts almost as much as that penis grill thing."

"Well, it does also say," said his father, "causes an intense burning sensation and extreme pain when applied to genitals according to label directions. Also says causes prolonged arousal."

"That means," his mother helpfully explained, "that you're going to have a hard on for some time to come."

"Julie protested too," the continuously gyrating Josh demanded equal justice, "how come you didn't use any on her?"

"I've told you before," explained his exasperated mother, "that girls don't need as much punishment as boys."

"That's right," confirmed his father, reciting almost verbatim from the training manual. "Boys defy and resist adult authority much more than girls, and usually much more seriously so. They just don't make good choices and therefore get into trouble. That's why we parents are all taking back control of your behavior."

"It's still not fair," Josh voiced his opinion, "I'm old enough to make decisions about what I wear and do."

"No you're not," declared father to son.

"Your behavior the last few days proves that," added his mom.

"Time for church," announced Tom, ending the discussion. "We don't want to be late."

"With luck," said Beth without really meaning it, "the cream will wear off enough that you won't have that little hard on of yours when we get there." Josh blushed once more at this deliberate calling of attention to his erection.

* * *

"That was so embarrassing," Josh complained to his parents, "being naked and having a boner in church."

"Complaining again, Josh?" his dad asked as the family entered the Community Support Center.

"No sir," the preteen wisely answered, "just saying."

"That's good," said his mother, "because any more complaints and I'll ask the CSC folks to give you additional days on the spanking machine."

"Which also means more naked days for you," added his father.

"Oh good," said Beth, pointing toward the waiting area, "the Barringtons are here already."

Thirteen year old Brady's sparsely haired genitals, somewhat larger than Josh's, were painted green, matching his short shirt and socks. A green shirt that, like Josh's, hid nothing from navel downward. A shirt reading "squeeze here, hard" on the front and "insert finger in hole" on the back, pointing arrows leaving absolutely no doubt as to where to squeeze and where to insert. The red faced boy sported a full erection, the tip slightly glistering in the light.

Like his older brother, nine year old Blake wore a short shirt that left his hairless little boy genitals and bare bottom exposed. His bright pink shirt, arrows pointing to the target areas, encouraged one and all to "feel here" on the front side and "spank here" on the back side. His nipples and surrounding flesh peeked through cut out holes two inches in diameter. He too had an erection, his little dick pointing almost straight up. A little dick that was colored a bright pink, as were his small balls.

Eleven year old Brooke had her own problems. Her small just beginning to grow breast buds poked through holes in the top of her pants set. A pants set with a missing mid-section, the top of the bottom half ending just above her knees, the bottom of the top half ending just above her navel, leaving her hairless pussy and naked behind on full display. Thin strips of cloth running up the side of her hips connected the bottom portion to the top. Small arrows repeatedly pointed to all her interesting, and usually private, areas. Areas that this morning, like the other four kids, were community property for anyone to touch and fondle. She found little consolation that, unlike her brothers, her genitals were unpainted and she wasn't ticketed for the spanking machines.

"Blyth," said Beth Myers, "I see you used the coloring lotions on the boys."

"Sure did," replied Mrs. Barrington.

"We tried the burning cream on Josh this morning," Beth told Blyth, pointing at Josh's still erect penis.

"How did that work out?" asked an interested Bryce Barrington. Bryce was the assistant district attorney in charge of the Parental Assistance Unit. PAU worked with Lieutenant Myers' Parental Enforcement Patrol to enforce kids' compliance with adult control and adherence to punishment conditions.

"Let's just say," said Tom, "that it definitely got his attention."

"It still hurts," Josh affirmed the cream's effectiveness.

"Good, that's the whole point of using it," responded his mother.

"When did you color the boys?" asked Tom.

"Last night," answered Blyth. "It was so cute the way their little packages glowed in the dark." Brady winced at the inference that he was "little" down there. Though far from older teen size, he was proud of what he had between his legs, clearly outdistancing both Josh and Blake in the size department. And, of the three, he was the only shooter, the other two boys still being dry cummers.

"The two little girls from next door sure thought it was funny," said Bryce.

"Daddy!" whined little Blake, blushing pink at the reminder of the mortifying remarks the two constantly giggling girls, eight and ten years old, had continually made about his little pink dick and balls.

"Young man," admonished his mother, "that just earned you an extra punishment when we get home."

"Speaking of getting home," Tom told Bryce, "I hope they call us soon. Kippers should be delivering our new toys in about an hour."

"I can't wait," the excited persecutor confided to the lieutenant. "I ordered some extra stuff last night."

"Me too," said Tom. "What did you order?" In low voices, out of earshot of the kids, the two fathers revealed to each other the additional punishment goodies they had coming.

"Is that safe to use?" Tom asked in a voice loud enough for the kids to hear.

"Sure is, if used according to instructions," answered Bryce. "To be certain, I talked this morning with one of my office's consulting pediatricians."

Brady shuddered, strongly suspecting that he wasn't going to like in the least whatever extras his dad had ordered. He knew for certain that whatever it was, it was going to hurt bad, especially if his dad had to check with a doctor first.

* * *

"It's still not fair," Josh protested, "Julie and Brooke don't get put on the spanking machine this morning."

"Josh," warned his father, "anymore complaining and I'll ask CSC to add another day to your punishment."

"Yes, sir, sorry, sir," the twelve year old compliantly complied.

"Besides," said his mother, "that's the punishment CSC gave them, twenty-four hours naked time and one trip to the machine. Which they had yesterday."

"As we keep reminding you," his father added for good measure, "girls don't need as much punishment as boys."

Waiting their turn on the spanking machine, the two Barrington boys and Josh were joined by three other youngsters. Next to Brady stood a boy of fourteen, by far the most developed and genitally largest of the boys, with the most hair. An eleven year old boy, hairless but with noticeably bigger dick and balls than Josh, was placed next to Blake. The eleven year old's nine year old sister anchored the end of the line, next to her brother.

"Start jerking off," ordered the Discipline Officer in charge, "and no stopping until I say so." All six kids faces went red at what they were about to do. While the command was not unexpected by Brady, Josh and Blake - they had been made to masturbate before all their previous public spankings at the CSC - they still found bringing themselves off in public to be an extremely embarrassing experience.

The eleven year old was the first to reach orgasm, a spectacularly energetic and noisy dry cum.

"That's an extra day as community property," the Discipline Officer told the still cumming little boy.

"Why?" the distraught boy was able to gasp out.

"Because you didn't announce you were cumming," came the response. "Keep rubbing, I didn't say you could stop."

"But, but," protested the boy, "my mom didn't make that one of my rules."

"Doesn't matter," the officer informed the now crying boy, "as of today announcing all cums is a CSC rule for all kids we make community property."

"I'm cumming," Josh shouted out his own dry cum, complying with his mom's existing, and the CSC's new, rule.

"I'm cumming," the nine year old girl let the world know at the same time Blake announced his own foot pounding cum.

"I'm cumming," the thoroughly embarrassed Brady informed all and one, squirting a few white drops toward the ground.

Seconds later the fourteen year old boy made his own cum known, copious white gobs shooting out a respectable distance from the tip of his cock. Immediately afterwards, Blake and the eleven year old boy both came again.

"Okay," said the Discipline Officer, "stop now. It's time to get you in the machines."

All six were due for a front side as well a back side spanking. Quicky they were placed into the special chairs designed to facilitate such whippings. Much too soon for him, Josh found himself strapped in, his widespread legs pulled up and back, forcing his knees to his ears. Knees that were firmly attached to the seat back. His hairless genitals, bare bottom, and gaping wide open asshole all blatantly exposed to the onlookers, and the soon to descend whips.

"Hey, what about the bags for our balls?" Josh asked as the technician left him to attend the next victim, Brady. Josh hated those bags, they were lined with many tiny spikes that unmercifully cut and nicked his balls. But they had been told it was too dangerous to let the straps directly hit their balls without some kind of protection.

"Oh, we're not using them today," answered the tech.

"Is that safe?" Beth asked. "Yesterday they said the bags were needed for safety reasons."

"Oh, we'll still use them sometimes, just for variety," responded the Discipline Officer standing next to her. "But we don't need them anymore, the machines now use horsehair whips."

"I thought they looked different," said Tom, indicting the thin long stands mounted on the machines.

"Yes," replied the officer. "Horsehair is very soft, but stings like crazy. It doesn't take much of an impact to make an impact, it you now what I mean."

"Well, I can't wait to see that impact," Tom commented, to the chuckles of all the adults.

The first impact of the four tails on his bare behind had Josh howling in pain and anguish. It felt like an entire swarm of bees had descended onto his bottom, all stinging at the same instant. The next two strikes greatly intensified the stinging, then the dreaded fourth strike added to the screaming Josh's agony. This hit landed squarely on his genitals, two tails terribly stinging his little dick, two tails awakening a horrible itching in his small ball sack. It was as if a million wasps had all decided to practice on Josh's not very private privates. He was convinced that his own ear piercing shrieks, and those of his five machine mates, could be heard in the next town over.

The fifth stroke gave Josh, and the others, even more agony, all four tails landing inside their butt cracks, the tips of two nipping into their assholes. The stinging just grew and grew as the cycle repeated itself five times, twenty-five blows in all, including six to genitals and five to little anuses.

Once released, all six furiously danced about, hands desperately trying to rub the intense stinging away.

"You know better than to cover up," barked Tom Myers, now in his police lieutenant mode. "Don't make me arrest you, get those hands off those privates, now!"

"Since they want to touch," said the Discipline Officer, "I think we should let them. Start jerking off again, now!"

For all six, masturbating was now pure agony, only making greater the discomfort in their aching genitals. But masturbate they did, until all had again cum.

"Alright," Tom Myers told his family, "lets get on home, Kippers should be arriving any minute."

* * *

"Bend over and grab your ankles," Josh's mom ordered him, "and don't move."

As soon as he was in position, Beth Myers inserted her gloved lubricated finger into his hurting anus. Josh grunted in mild discomfort.

"I don't know why all the noise," mother told son. "My finger's nothing compared to that," she indicated the thick nozzle protruding from the bulging red bag sitting on the seat of a hard wooden kitchen chair. A bag that Josh would be soon sitting his already extremely red and sore bare bottom on. A bare bottom not only sore and red from his morning spanking at CSC, but also from a just completed session on his hot seat. A hot seat that for five long minutes "cooked" his behind at 114 degrees Fahrenheit, while an inch diameter metal dildo heated his asshole to 112 degrees.

"It hurts in there," squeaked Josh, "that thing burned me bad."

"It may hurt," interjected his dad, "but it most certainly didn't burn you. Your seat doesn't get hot enough to do that."

"All done," announced Beth, "you're nice and slick back there."

"Okay, Josh," said his dad, "you have thirty seconds to be sitting all the way down on the bag, the nozzle all the way up you."

"Yes, sir," replied the dejected boy.

"Every ten seconds longer you take will be five minutes with the penis grill, so I wouldn't be dillydallying."

"Yes sir," son answered father.

"The count starts now."

The twelve year old positioned himself over the nozzle and slowly begin descending. The tip brushed his anal opening, and reluctantly and hesitantly Josh began pushing his body downward. Instant pain blinded him as the bulbous head started forcing its way inward. Josh screamed, pulling up and off.

"Fifteen seconds," warned his dad.

Again Josh tried, again Josh failed.

"Time's up," said his father, "you're in penalty time now."

Gritting his teeth, screaming all the while, Josh again attempted penetration. This time he made a determined effort not to give in to the pain, a pain made worse by his asshole already having been scorched by the hot seat. The nozzle punched through his anal sphincter, intensifying his screaming. Ever so slowly he went down, until finally his sore bottom contacted the somewhat hot bag, renewing the agony in his already roasted behind. His screams reached an even higher volume of anguish. He started lifting up off the seat, in an effort to take some heat off his hot seat.

"I keep counting till you're sitting, and stay sitting," warned Tom. "You're now up to ten minutes of grill time."

Josh went back down and stayed down, although too slowly to avoid additional penalty.

"You have fifteen minutes total of grill time," Josh's father advised him. Deciding to make it easier for his son, Tom cuffed the boy's hands behind his back. He cuffed Josh's ankles to the legs of a low stool positioned in front of the chair. Now it would be very difficult for Josh to push off of his latest torture device. Reaching underneath Josh, Tom released the nozzle's valve.

Immediately, propelled by his own weight, the warm soapy water shot up into Josh. He screamed some more. And more, and more, as the irritating mixture more and more annoyingly worked at his insides. Before he had taken the full quart, the cramps set in. Josh's screams were now shriller than ever, his urgent begging to be let up completely ignored.

Ten minutes of severe cramping later, Josh was finally released to rush to the toilet room adjacent to the kitchen. "You don't let a drop come out onto my floor, or else," warned his mother. Fortunately for him, he made it to the porcelain throne of his relief without soiling his mother's floors.

Staggering out of the bathroom, Josh was informed by his father that he would get a little break before his next ride on the enema bag. A five minute break of his little dick sizzling on the grill.

"No dad, not that, please," pleaded Josh, vividly remembering from yesterday the extreme pain the penis grill would cause his little penis, still somewhat sore from the cream and the horsehair whips.

"Yes, that," Tom Myers responded to his son. "In the next few days, you have three sessions of five minutes each coming your way, so we might as well get started."

And get started they did. Josh was secured onto his hot seat, metal dildo uncomfortably stretching his hurting hole. A hot seat that fortunately his dad did not activate, instead electing to use it as a convenient restraint device. As the delivery men from Kippers had explained, the chair was not only good at cooking little bodies, it was also great for restraining and for time outs.

Quickly the grill was secured on Josh's lap, his soon to be hot dick firmly pressed to the surface by the two sliding side plates and the top plate. Minute by agonizing minute the pain grew agonizingly worst, the penis grill grilling his penis hotter and hotter, tenderer and tenderer, sorer and sorer. Josh's screams filled the house, his terrible day becoming even more terrible.

Finally the bell sounded, signaling the end of his five minute ordeal. Once released from the grill, Josh was again amazed that his sizzled dick wasn't a blackened charred ruin, but rather just an extremely red, extremely sore penis sporting several blisters, including one right on the head.

After Josh calmed down a bit, his dad announced, "Okay, time for enema number two."

"Please, dad, not again," begged the sobbing boy.

"Yes again, and again. You're getting three more of them by bedtime tonight."

"Daddy, no!" Josh shouted his horrified protest.

"Daddy yes," replied Tom Myers to his son, "and this time I'd try not to earn anymore penalty penis roastings. Because I will award them, you know how much I like hot wieners when we have cookouts."

* * *

"Looks like you have your first customer already," Blake's mother commented, pointing to the ten year old girl walking up the street toward the naked nine year old boy standing on the sidewalk in front of his house, hands behind his head. "You know what to do when she gets here."

"Please Marcie," begged Blake, "will you rub my privates and make me cum?"

Marcie hesitated, looking at Mrs. Barrington comfortably seated on a lawn chair. "Can I, really?" the girl asked the boy's mom. Like most kids in the neighborhood, she knew that the three Barrington children were under naked punishment and were community property. But with Blake's mother sitting right there, community property or not, she was afraid of getting in trouble if she touched without permission.

"Of course you can, dear," said Mrs. Barrington. "He is community property, you don't need my permission."

"I know that Mrs. Barrington, I just didn't want you to get mad at me," replied the little girl.

"I won't be mad at you, I promise," responded the bare boy's mother. "Besides, this is punishment for mouthing off this morning. He has to get three people to jerk him off to orgasm."

With that encouragement, Marcie went to work on Blake's small hairless genitals. She quickly had him hard, and within another minute energetically dancing to a powerful dry orgasm. "I'm cumming!" he shouted out his required announcement for all the block to hear.

Shortly after the smirking Marcie departed, a twelve year old boy approached, accompanied by his fourteen year old brother.

Again Blake did his begging. "Please, Frankie," he requested the younger boy, "jerk me off, make me cum."

"It's okay boys," interjected Mrs. Barrington, "it's a punishment for him."

"Can I spank him while Frankie jerks him?" asked the older boy. While not a bully, Charlie did have a reputation for at times being mean spirited.

"Go for it," approved the beaming Blyth Barrington.

Frankie began jerking, Charlie began spanking. Pleasure from Blake's front side mixed with pain from his backside, as the two grinning brothers continued their assault upon the naked nine year old. Tears and howls of pain mingled with moans of enjoyment as the little boy approached yet another dry cum. A dry cum even more spectator than the one before. Between sobs, he managed to croak out a not so loud "I'm cumming!" to the amusement of the two older boys.

Frankie and Charlie thanked the smiling Mrs. Barrington and the crying Blake for the fun time and continued on their way. In the next twenty minutes Blake, bare bottom and bare dick both red, begged several neighborhood boys who singularly and in groups wandered over to see his public display. All declined, declaring that they weren't gay and didn't do other boys. Blyth held her tongue, but couldn't help thinking that if any of those boys ended up community property, they were in for a very rude shock.

Finally, after about twenty-five minutes, Blake had his next willing "customer." A young teenage girl rapidly approached, hurrying along two naked boys busily masturbating each other.

"Remember," the girl admonished the rubbing boys just as all three came to stop in front of Mrs. Barrington, "no cumming without my permission, or you both get spanked."

"Well, well, what do we have here?" asked the grinning Blyth.

"Hello," replied the girl, "I'm Jackie and these two jerk offs jerking off each other are my brothers Danny and Stevie. As you can see, they're being punished."

"Yes, I can see, and I definitely approve. Boys, how old are you?"

"I'm ten," answered Stevie. He was classic little boy between the legs, hairless dick and balls just slightly larger than Blake's.

"I'm twelve," came Danny's curt answer. He had a plump little ballsack the size of a small plum. His dick, however, was still little boy size, not much larger than his brother's. Above his genitals, a dark dusting of very short pubic hair formed a very narrow band less than a half inch wide.

"And for the record, I'm fifteen," said Jackie.

"For the record?" enquired the amused Blyth Barrington.

"Yes," replied Jackie. "Seeing as you're new to the neighborhood, my mom thought you might still be looking for a babysitter."

"Actually I am," admitted Blyth. "Do you have much experience besides watching your brothers?"

"Since I was twelve, I've been the regular sitter for several families around here. I'll be glad to give you references."

Just then Danny screamed out, "Fuck you Stevie, you've making me cum, you asshole." Danny was doing a foot stomping dance, a few clear droplets of liquid glistering on the tip of his cock.

"Spankings, both of you, now," proclaimed Jackie. "And extra for you Danny for your language. And more extra for not properly announcing you were cumming."

"You don't seem to brook any nonsense from those two," commented Mrs. Barrington.

"Like I said," Jackie explained, "I have experience. And my family has been into the whole 'little boys shouldn't be so modest' thing and embarrassing naked punishments long before the new law. My mom and dad were on the committee that wrote the law and the rules for it."

"Oh," said a surprised Blyth, "perhaps my husband knows them. He's in charge of the Parental Assistance Unit at the district attorney's office."

"Our family name is Kipperson," informed Jackie. "I think you met my grandfather at Kippers yesterday, he's the manager."

"So that's where the store's name really comes from," commented Blyth.

"Yes," answered Jackie, "the Kipperson family is the proud owner and operator of Kippers Punishment Emporium."

"Wonderful job you all do," complimented the pleased Blyth Barrington, "we're very happy with our selections."

"Speaking of selections," said Jackie, "I need to use this on the boys." She pulled a small paddle about the size of a good hairbrush from her purse, waving it at the two still masturbating boys. Numerous short pointy spikes protruded from the business end of the ominous looking torture device.

"You're welcome to come in the house, I want my husband and other two children to meet you."

"Thank you," Jackie graciously replied.

"But first," continued Blyth, "Blake here has to find his third customer."

"Customer?" questioned the Barrington's soon to be babysitter.

"As extra punishment, Blake has to get three kids to jerk him off to orgasm," explained the blushing boy's mother. "Go ahead Blake, ask her."

"Please, Jackie, will you make me cum?" Blake again went into his begging act.

"Be glad to," Jackie again graciously replied. Quickly, she grabbed the nine year old's dick, beginning a slow steady rub. "No need to rush it," she commented, "we have plenty of time." For seven long minutes, she kept up the slow pace, bringing Blake agonizingly close to orgasm, but not letting him actually go all the way.

"Please, Jackie," begged the now crying Blake, the agony now too much to endure, "let me cum. Pretty please, please."

"Oh, okay, if you insist," came the cavalier reply. With that, the girl's hand picked up considerable speed and force. Within a minute, the blissfully uninhibitedly dancing Blake was shouting out a joyful, "I'm cumming!"

* * *

"Honey, I want you to meet someone," said Blyth as she entered the house accompanied by Blake and the three Kipperson children.

"Just a moment dear," answered Bryce, "I only have a few more to get." With that, Bryce lowered the tweezers he was holding back toward Brady's groin. The naked Brady was secured to his hot seat, a hot seat that was set to warm his bare bottom and rectum to a somewhat uncomfortable but not unbearable 107 degrees Fahrenheit, his feet to a more intense 115 degrees.

"Ouch!" hollered the tear streaked Brady as his father roughly plucked yet another pubic hair, "that hurt!"

"I sure hope so," responded his father, plucking another hair. "It's supposed to."

A few more yanks and the crying Brady's pubic area was as bald as Blake's. "There, all done," proclaimed the thirteen year old's proud father. "Time to turn your chair off and leave you up."

Once Brady was free, Blyth called him and the naked Brooke over to her. "Everyone, I would like you to meet our new babysitter, Jackie Kipperson."

"Pleased to meet you all," said Jackie.

"This is my husband, Bryce," Blyth continued the introductions. "Dear, you may already know her parents, they were on the TBC Committee."

"Sam and Bev Kipperson, I sure do," replied Bryce, "they're great, they have wonderful ideas about dealing with the too much modesty and bad behavior issues."

"This one," said the smiling Mrs. Barrington, pointing to the blushing boy, "is my son Brady. At the moment, he doesn't quite look like a thirteen year old down there, does he?"

"Sure doesn't," agreed the equally smiling Jackie, deepening Brady's blush.

"And, here we have Brooke," said Mr. Barrington, picking up from his wife, "she's eleven."

"Blake, who's nine, you already know," resumed Blyth, "quite intimately I might add." This caused Jackie to laugh, to the confusion of the other kids, none of whom understood the subtlety or the meaning of the comment.

"Who are the two little wankers?" asked Bryce, pointing to the two still masturbating boys.

"Those are my brothers, Danny and Stevie," answered Jackie. "Boys, you can stop now, it's time for your spankings."

"Spankings?" asked Bryce.

"Yes, for cumming without my permission," responded the confident in charge young teen. "May I?" she asked Bylth.

"But of course you can, be our guest," graciously replied the matriarch of the household.

Being younger, Stevie's spanking was first. His big sister wasted no time in draping the naked boy over her lap. Time after time the vicious spike riddled paddle attacked his rapidly reddening bottom. A bottom that the spikes used as a pincushion, repeatedly pricking the skin. When the wildly crying boy was finally set upon his feet to dance his dance of the spanked, droplets of red blood oozed down his red behind. A terrified Blake, hoping his parents didn't buy such a paddle, counted nine separate bleeding spots on the ravished little bottom dancing before him.

"That's some paddle," commented Bryce, "we're have to get two for the kids."

"Jackie's family owns Kippers," informed Blyth, "her grandfather is the manager we met yesterday."

"They never told me that," responded the surprised Bryce.

"That was on purpose," Jackie explained. "They don't want to create any appearance that they were suggesting things just because we sell the equipment."

"They needn't had worried," replied Prosecutor Barrington. "All their suggestions are well thought out as to why and how, and always make sense. Besides, Kippers isn't the only place to buy punishment gear."

"True, but it's the best," Jackie promoted the family business.

"Agreed," Blyth agreed.

"Okay Danny," your turn sister informed brother.

Danny's bottom blistering was longer and harder than his brother's. When Jackie finally stopped assaulting the sobbing boy's behind, Blake counted twelve bleeding spots on the twelve year old's crimson bottom, and a few purple bruises.

"Can I borrow your hot seat?" asked Jackie. "I need to restrain him for the next part. He has extra coming for his bad language, and for not announcing he was cumming."

"Use Blake's over there," said Blyth. "It hasn't been used yet and is clean. Do you want the peg in or out and the heat on or off?"

"Peg in, heat off," answered Jackie.

"You have it," replied Blyth. "A tube of lube is already on the seat."

"Also, if you have one, I need a penis strap."

"Spiked or plain?" asked Bryce.

"Spiked, of course," answered the Barrington's new babysitter.

Without the impressed adults' assistance, Jackie quickly had her screaming brother impaled and secured on the seat. "This is for your language," she said, quickly grabbing and squeezing his balls, hard. Danny ear piercingly screamed. "Okay, now I want everyone to take a turn giving him a good squeeze, you too, Stevie." One by one, the requested additional squeezes were applied, six painful applications in all.

When Danny's screaming somewhat subsided, his sister implemented his next punishment. Firmly grabbing and stretching the preteen's dick out as far as she could, she said, "This is for not saying you were cumming." She smashed the small spiked strap down hard onto her brother's small cock, eliciting a new scream. Ten times in all she spanked the small organ, leaving it red, sore, bleeding in two places, and with a blister on the head.

"You're going to do fine as our babysitter," declared the very pleased Bryce.

"That's for certain," agreed the equally pleased Blyth.

* * *

A few moments later, with Danny still screaming and dancing about, Bryce told Jackie, "You might want to stick around a little while longer, Brady's prick has a little pricking of its own coming."

"Dad, no!" shouted the panicking teen, "don't use the strap on my dick!"

"Oh, no, not the strap," calmly replied his father, "but these, and not only on your dick." Bryce was holding a plastic device that to Brady looked much like a wider and longer version of the lancets that his diabetic friend Nick used for blood sugar testing.

"No!" screamed Brady as his father twisted off the protective cap. To Brady's terrified eyes, the tip of the narrow gauge needle looked extremely sharp, and extremely painful.

"This shield here," said the now shaking boy's father, pointing to a small flared disc about a quarter inch up from the tip of the shaft, at the bottom of the handle, "ensures that we don't stick it in too deep. But I assure you, it'll be plenty deep enough to hurt a lot."

"Daddy, no!" again screamed Brady.

"Daddy, yes," replied the distraught boy's father, "in a few minutes you'll become a human pincushion. But first, we must warm up that bottom of yours."

"Please, don't," begged the already sobbing Brady.

Ignoring his pleading son, Bryce asked the new babysitter, "Jackie, can I use that paddle of yours for a few moments?"

"Yes, sir, sure can."

Twenty spanks later, Brady's bare bottom was again red and hurting. "Wow, Brady," said Blake, "you should see your bottom, it has these little holes in it. Some even have blood coming from them." This comment from his little brother only increased the thirteen year old's sobbing.

"Let's see now," said Bryce, addressing the boy still draped over his lap, "wonder how these would feel in those holes."

"Dad, Please, don't," sobbed out the tearful Brady.

Again paying no heed to his son's pleads, Bryce announced to the room, "Injection time!" Quickly, he swabbed an alcohol wipe over his intended target area, and just as quickly pushed a pin all the way to the hilt into one of the spike holes on Brady's behind.

"Yeow, owwwww, owwwwww!" screamed the now desperately squirming Brady, "it hurts, it hurts, take it out, take it out!"

"Sorry, no can do," cheerfully replied the pinned boy's father, "not till ten holes have been done." Hole after hole, Bryce swabbed and inserted. Hole after hole, Brady screamed out his anguish. Anguish that was about to get worse. And then, worse again.

"Too bad these can't stay in," Bryce told the boy wildly bucking on his lap, "you need to be able to sit." One by one, the father relieved his son of the painful pins.

"Too bad," said Blyth, "I was hoping the pins would give his bottom a constant reminder to behave."

"Well," said Bryce, "they tell me these pins are also great for scratching."

Hearing this, Jackie whispered something to Mrs. Barrington.

"That's a great idea," proclaimed Blyth. "I think you should have the honor of doing it."

"Rally?" asked the excited Jackie. "Thank you so much."

"Honey, do you mind?" wife asked husband.

"Not at all," Mr. Barrington agreed without even knowing the plan. "Jackie, go for it."

Jackie approached the cringing boy. "First we must sterilize the operation area," she said as she wiped a wide horizontal path along the center of his left buttock. "Doctor, scalpel pleas," she joked with Brady's dad.

Taking a pin from the Bryce, the grinning girl pushed it about halfway into Brady's left buttock. When the boy's pained movement slowed somewhat, she began etching out a word.

"Stop, stop!" screamed Brady, "you're hurting me!"

"Good," replied his mother, "that's the whole idea now, isn't it?" As Jackie continued, Brady's gyrations grew more and more energetic. Mother and father, working as a team, could barely retain the bare boy on Bryce's lap.

"You need to move about less," admonished Jackie, "we want people to be able to read what it says."

Eventually, the young babysitter finished her writing on Brady's left bottom cheek. After giving the vociferously hollering boy a brief minute's respite, she announced, "Now to prepare the other side." Quickly, she treated his right buttock with one of the wipes.

Brady's howls of protest grew ever louder as Jackie wrote away on his right cheek. The near blinding pain in his rear end caused copiously blinding tears to endlessly waterfall down his face.

"All done," the satisfied Jackie finally announced to one and all.

"What does it say?" Brady managed to shriek out between his shrieks of extreme discomfort. Discomfort that was about to become much more pronounced.

"It's bleeding a bit," the naked Brooke happily informed her older naked brother, "but I can still read it. It says, Spank Here!"

"Now," said Blyth, "until that heals, every time some one sees your bare behind, they're know exactly what to do."

"I still think he needs to be a pincushion for a while," said Bryce. "Wonder where we can stick these to stay in a while?"

"I hear putting them in the underarms hurts really bad," Jackie helpfully informed.

"As do, I bet," said Blyth, "in his little dick." Despite his distress, Brady blushed at his mother again inferring that his dick was "little" when in fact it was bigger than that of any of the other three naked boys in the room.

"I have a special set that doesn't go quite as deep to use on his dick," Bryce responded to the suggestions. "But, I like the idea of using these longer ones in his armpits.

Before the still dazed Brady could recover his senses, he was standing in front of his father, his arms tightly held up high by his mother. "Jackie," she asked the new babysitter, "would you please wipe his underarms, we don't want any nasty infections to set in." Gladly, the smirking teen girl took to her task, roughly running the moist disinfecting wipe over Brady's soon to be painful armpits.

"This is going to hurt you a lot more than me," Bryce joked as he shoved the first pin all the way home in Brady's left armpit. And hurt a lot it did, as Brady's resultant ear splitting screams attested. Four times Brady's left armpit was pinned, four times Brady's voice attempted to break glass with its high pitched anguished screeches of utmost agony. Before Brady fully caught his breath from the last insertion, his dad was working on his right armpit. Four more painful injections, four more vocal howls of protest.

Arms released, Brady's hands immediately flashed toward the painful pins. "Oh no you don't," said Bryce, quickly grabbing his oldest son's hands. Just as quickly, Blyth handed her husband a set of the cloth cuffs. Even more quickly, Bryce had Brady's hands securely cuffed behind his back.

"Those pins stay in till we say they come out," father informed eldest son. "Now, to finish up, we have these," he pronounced, holding out the box pf penis pins. "These will penetrate three-sixteenths of an inch, not as deep as the ones in your armpits, but I promise they'll hurt at least as much."

"Don't do it, Dad!" the sobbing Brady once more futilely pleaded for mercy. Mercy that wasn't forthcoming. "Dear, I think you should have the honors," the father told the mother.

"Love to," answered Blyth, grabbing hold of Brady's flaccid circumcised cock. With her free hand, she vigorously rubbed one of the alcohol wipes up and down her son's dick. And then, for good measure, she wiped him again. "Blake," she ordered her younger son, "I want you to do the first one, right here in his dickhead."

"Mommy, no," protested the little boy, "he's my brother, don't make me hurt him."

"Blake, I'm telling you to," responded Blyth, "it's part of his punishment. Think of all times he picked on you and was mean to you."

"But, but," protested Blake, "that's what big brothers do."

"And this is how little brothers get even," countered his mother. "Do it or some of these pins go into your little dickie instead."

With trepidation and shaking hand, Blake hesitantly took the proffered pin from his mom. With even greater hesitancy, he advanced the tiny torture device toward the head of his big brother's cock.

"Blake, please, don't," Brady begged his little brother.

"You don't ever tell your brother or sister not to do something I or dad tell them to do, understand me mister?" Blyth angrily told Brady, giving his already sore aching bottom a resounding smack.

"Yes, ma'am," croaked the crying teen.

"Blake, push it in there, now," Blyth demanded her youngest torture her eldest. Blake did, quickly decorating Brady's dickhead with the pin. Brady screamed, an ear shattering howl clearly heard all the way out on the street.

"Oh my God, it hurts, it hurts so bad!" shouted the agonized teen, "get it out, get it out, you're ruining my dick!"

"No he's not," responded Bryce. "He's only hurting it, and helping to decorate it. Calm down, you have five more to go."

But calm down Brady couldn't, not for the next insertion, courtesy of his sister Brooke, almost as hesitant as Blake. She pricked his prick just below the head. Nor for the next one, placed a little lower on his shaft by the not hesitant at all Jackie.

"Wow," the new babysitter said, reacting to Brady's reaction, "we'll have to get some of these for my brothers. Both Danny and Stevie paled at this pronouncement, wanting no part of what the pins could do to their little penises.

Brady certainly couldn't stay still, or quiet, for the final three insertions, courtesy of his mother. When all was said and done, a row of six pins marched down the underside of his now very painful, very sore dick.

"Bet it gets interesting when he gets hard," Jackie commented.

"Sure will," agreed Blyth.

"We'll probably find out," said Bryce, "as they stay in for the next two hours."

The still crying Brady, tears furiously flowing, didn't protest this edict. He was concentrating on trying to shake the penile pins off by vigorously gyrating about, his cock flopping about wildly. But no matter how hard he shook and flopped, the dreadfully hurting pins wouldn't budge even a bit from his very pained pricked prick.

"I'd love to stay around," Jackie said, "but it's time to get these two home for dinner."

"Drop by anytime," Blyth told the girl, "and you too, boys. Brady and Blake aren't always being punished, you know."

"Thank you," said Jackie. "Boys, where are you manners?"

"Thank you," Danny and Stevie sheepishly replied in unison.

"Oh, don't forget to leave your phone number," Blyth said as the Kipperson trio headed toward the door.

"Yes, thank you for reminding me," answered Jackie.

While Blyth exchanged the necessary information with the Barrington family's new babysitter, Bryce informed his daughter, "Brooke, your punishment time is up. You can go get dressed now."

* * *

About the same time over at the Myer's household, Julie was getting the same good news about her punishment being at an end.

"No fair," protested Josh, "why is she always punished less?"

"I told you why before," his again exasperated mother explained yet once more, "little girls don't need as much punishment as little boys."

"I'm not a little boy," Josh hotly replied, immediately regretting his outburst.

"Young man," declared his father, "that just earned you another punishment. Come over here."

Josh approached as ordered. "Please dad, I'm sorry, I won't complain again."

"Well," replied Tom, "this punishment is to help you remember that promise. Julie, would you bring a kitchen chair over here."

"Sure thing, daddy," the newly dressed nine year old gladly replied.

Chair in place, father ordered son, "Josh, stand up right against the back of the seat."

"Yes, sir," Josh wisely obeyed.

"You need to be a little higher. Julie, sweetheart, could you bring me that stool, please."

Again, Julie happily took to her task. "Here you are daddy."

"Thank you, princess."

"You're welcome."

"Josh," came his fathers next command, "move away for a minute." When Josh did so, Tom positioned the stool against the back legs of the chair. "Now stand up on the stool." Josh did as instructed.

"What are you going to do?" the frightened boy asked.

"This," answered Lieutenant Myers, grabbing Josh's genitals and placing them over the top of the seat back. "They still there till this is over," Tom admonished his son.

"I'm curious, too," said Beth, "what's up?"

"His dick," husband answered wife. "Josh, you start beating off, and you don't stop until you've cum two times. And no faking, I'll know if you are."

Immediately Josh began jerking off for his family, face yet once again blushing bright red. He had no intention of faking it, he didn't doubt for a moment that his dad would know if he did. His father had always known in the past when either he or Julie didn't tell anything but the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. Josh supposed this to be because of some sort of secret police officer training to know if someone was lying or not.

"Faster," demanded his father, "we don't have all day." Josh now discovered the trap, as his flying fist painfully smacked into his balls. Tears sprung to his eyes, but he kept on jerking, although a little more slow and cautious.

"I love it," said Beth. "Not only does he pound his meat, if he's not careful he pounds his little balls."

"Exactly," said Tom.

By the time Josh shouted out his first "I'm cumming" he had managed to "pound his little balls" three painful times. And when he finally reached his second dry cum, he had self punished his balls another four times.

At that moment, the doorbell rang. "Good, pizza must be here," said Beth. "Josh, go answer the door."

"Yes, mom," the abashed naked preteen replied.

* * *

The pizza, as it always is for twelve year old boys, was delicious. And marked the beginning of things getting better for Josh as his punishment wound down to it's end the next morning. Before bed, he did receive another, thankfully mild, spanking and had to jerk off one more time. In the morning, he had to put up with the ususal teasing and fondling of his classmates till his final session at the CSC. The spanking machine was terrible, as always. But Josh gritted his teeth and took it, knowing that this was the end of his ordeal.

Despite the tears, Josh was smiling when he was released from the machine and handed his clothes. His punishment was over. True, there were many public places, such as the beach and doctor's office where he could be made to be naked, punishment or not. And, he still would have to be naked at home from his early bath time to after breakfast the next morning. And he would still have to masturbate for his family on parental demand, and allow his mom to examine his genitals whenever she wished. He would just have to learn to put up with all the embarrassing "little boys shouldn't be so modest" rules, whether he liked them or not. And he definitely didn't like them, and was convinced he never would.

But even those rules couldn't damper his spirits, his punishment was over! At least until the next time he got in trouble and his parents had to again show him just who was in control.

End