My New Punishment Part 1

My New Punishment Part 1
By Nocti Raven
[email protected]

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This story is intended for ADULTS ONLY. It contains explicit depictions of sexual activity involving minors. 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.

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Constructive criticism is welcome.

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My New Punishment Part 1

Ryan had come over to my house to work on a project for ninth-grade English class, and I was certainly not happy about that fact. I had always considered him arrogant and annoying. But at least he was smart, so I tolerated him as an academic partner. I just didn't like the idea of him making himself at home in my house.

He did, of course, make himself at home. He kicked off his shoes haphazardly in the front hall, poured himself a glass of milk from the fridge, then waltzed into my room and sat down at my desk. Then he booted up my computer and started working away. I was really mad at mother right then for not letting me password-lock my computer. At least a password would have given me some control over the situation.

I tried to evict him from the chair, but thought better of it. We were of similar height, but Ryan had some lean musculature whereas I was awkwardly skinny. When I approached him he placed his hand squarely on my chest and pushed me away, asking that I give him space. I did. For the hour we spent working, Ryan sat at my desk and operated my computer while I sat on the bed reading out the project guidelines. It was like I was the guest in his room, and I really resented that.

But things went from bad to worse when my mom got home from work. She peeked into my room-without knocking-to see whose unfamiliar shoes were in the front hall and Ryan greeted her cordially. I think she even blushed.

Now I don't know why I made such a big deal out of Ryan taking his shoes off, because that's what we normally do in this house anyway. Mom actually has a rule: No shoes past the front hall. That was why she was so mad when she realized that my shoes were still on. In my irrational anger at Ryan I had kept them on just to avoid looking like I was following him. And worse yet, there were brownish dirty scuffs from those shoes on the carpeting in my room, and a few marks on my bedspread too.

And Mom had just washed that bedspread.

From the moment she laid eyes on the carpet, I began putting two and two together. She traced the scuffs up to my soiled blanked, and I knew this couldn't end well. I looked for a way to apologize, to promise to clean it up, to cancel my impending punishment or at least postpone it till after Ryan was gone. But at the same time I couldn't bring myself to supplicate while my arrogant classmate was watching.

Nothing came out of my mouth. My mother must have seen from the look on my face that I knew exactly what was going on. So instead of telling me what I already knew, she addressed our honoured guest (who miraculously knew the house rules about shoes even better than permanent residents). She explained that some rules, like the shoes-off rule, that were so simple and so essential that violating them earned a punishment that was equally simple. It was necessary for Ryan to learn all this because he was to participate in that punishment.

My mom's spankings were designed to embarrass as much as to hurt. She didn't care for the traditional over-the-knee arrangement. She went for a much more humiliating position. You see, I had a little run in with bedwetting when I was 6, and Mom put me back in diapers for almost a year. And when I was being diapered, on my back with my legs held up and spread wide, Mom would give me a few swats for whatever I'd done wrong lately. Usually it involved hitting my sister or something like that.

In fact, hitting, teasing, or otherwise annoying my sister Jessica (who's 2 years my junior) accounts for about 90 percent of the spankings I'd received in my lifetime. So when I was being spanked and had the urge to lower my legs to protect my naked butt, Jessica was given the job of standing behind me (usually this was done on the sofa or a table) and holding my legs in place. She developed a nasty habit of spreading them wider than comfort allowed.

But Jessica wasn't here today. It was just me and Ryan. So Ryan, the honoured guest and, as far as Mom was concerned, perfect angel, was going to be her little helper. My classmate, my academic rival, who irritated me with his every word, and who had already made me feel like a visitor in my own home, would be holding my legs apart so my mom could administer a bare-bottom spanking, the likes of which no one in our year except me had experienced in half a decade.

He oh so nobly agreed to help however he could.

Knowing my place and fearing Mom's wrath, I kicked off my shoes and began to disrobe. In a minute I was naked, and probably more embarrassed than I had ever been. I had thought that Jessica seeing my bare junk was the greatest humiliation possible, but Ryan was worse. He didn't grin like Jess did, but he smiled with his eyes. The rest of his face just looked critical and unimpressed. I could practically feel his smug superiority as he examined my knobby knees and my narrow shoulders and my hairless limbs and my shrivelled, tiny dick.

I struggled not to cry.

At Mom's recommendation, Ryan sat on my bed, leaning against the wall. He spread his legs wide apart and I was ordered to sit between them with my back to him. I did. He was wearing shorts, and I felt a little bit sick as my smooth legs brushed up against his slightly hairy ones. I felt even more uncomfortable (and a little bit violated) when Ryan slipped his arms under mine and lifted me a little, pulling me toward him until I could feel his chest against my back and the cold, hard zipper of his shorts against the small of my back. Then he reached over my shoulders and grabbed each of my thighs, hoisting them up and back, causing me to sink down into perfect diaper position.

He had me then. I had never felt so weak and helpless in my life. I looked up and saw the underside of his chin. He was looking down over my pathetic form. Down to my unimpressive equipment and my bared butt.

Mom spanked me with a big plastic hairbrush she had bought for Jessica. She had bought it specifically to be my personal spanking brush. It kept me off Jess's back a lot of the time because she could always go get it from her room when I was bugging her. She didn't have the authority to use it for anything but brushing hair, but the sight of it usually had a strong effect on me.

As if my predicament wasn't embarrassing enough, I started crying earlier in the spanking than usual. I was so lost in my sobs of agony and humiliation that I lost count of how many spanks I'd gotten. But as usual, my pale butt slowly approached the same shade of pink as that hairbrush, and then surpassed it in redness. I was vaguely aware of Ryan's grip tightening before each spank, pulling my butt skin taut to receive the full force of Mom's anger. He didn't even open his mouth, but I could hear him laughing inside my head.

After about a minute the hairbrush's periodic motion stopped. The room had fallen silent. The only audible sound was my own sobbing.

As she always did after a spanking, Mom asked me if I'd learned my lesson. I always said yes, but this time I was crying harder than ever. I was too short of breath, too weak to croak my answer. Mom was about to ask again, to threaten, as she always did in this situation, to continue the spanking until I could tell her I had learned something. But she didn't ask.

She didn't ask because Ryan asked her something instead. He asked if another kind of punishment would help me learn my lesson. He pointed out how plainly available my balls were in this position, and how sensitive they can be to the slightest stimulation. I stupidly dared to hope that my loving mother would say no to that-but thinking there was any chance of mercy would make me as stupid as Ryan thought I was.

The warmth of Ryan's fingers was even more of a shock to my scrotum than it had been to my legs. They curled all the way around and slid the skin around playfully.

"Sorry Jake," he said, "but this is what disobedience and rudeness get you. I just hope I can help you learn to respect your betters."

Again I wanted to scream for Ryan's arrogance, that pompous jerk, but I could only shiver with fear as he held the cores of my pathetic manhood in his hand.

He squeezed. The pain was beyond anything I had ever experienced. It was like a grinding, wrenching, crunching stomach ache, amplified tenfold and shifted lower. I did scream then, for all my lungs were worth. Through my cries I threw out words, begging to stop, please stop. Ryan squeezed even harder.

Then he let go, and my screams died in my throat. I was so drained I could barely sob. I almost heard him say something, but couldn't quite make it out over my cries still ringing in my ears. Presumably he'd told me to get up, because when I didn't respond he put his hands under my arms again and lifted me right up as he slid off the bed and got to his feet. He let me go in a standing position, but I crumpled to the ground clutching my privates.

Mom left after that, after commending Ryan on discipline well done. Ryan sat back down at my computer and continued working on our project alone. It was almost an hour before my pain had faded enough for me to try to get up, and when I did, Ryan just looked at me and shook his head, now truly smiling.

He told me that I might as well stay naked. Since he'd seen all there was to see, I had nothing to hide. Then he quipped that I hadn't had much to hide to begin with. I was too embarrassed to disagree. Too embarrassed to say anything. I sat on my bed, naked now, while Ryan did the project for the both of us. He did it his way, the way I knew would not get us a mark over A minus.

Mom invited Ryan to stay for dinner that night, and he did. We sat around the table as a family that night, Mom and Dad and Jessica all chatting animatedly with Ryan, and me, still naked, avoiding eye contact with all of them. Ryan recounted the tale of my punishment for Jess and Dad, and both laughed like it was all a big joke. I gripped my glass of ice water until my hand was chilled, then cupped my aching balls to numb the pain.

Then Jessica asked if she could punish me the way Ryan had. Mom loved the idea, and insisted that she learn firsthand from "the master."

A few days later, after I considered myself fully recovered, Ryan came over for dinner again. But before we ate, everyone crowded into the living room for a special presentation. I was asked to strip naked, and, even though I knew I hadn't done anything wrong, I knew better than to disobey. Ryan sat on the sofa, legs apart, and I got into diaper position once again. While my parents looked on approvingly from their easy chairs, my dear little sister delivered her first of many spankings with that damn hairbrush. Then, to our parents' applause, she gave the encore performance of her first ball squeeze.

A few minutes later, as I sat at the dinner table with a pack of frozen peas between my naked thighs, my newly proclaimed Official Disciplinarians treated us all to the spectacle of their first kiss.