Barely Caught, But Caught None the Less

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This story is intended for adults only. It contains depictions of forced nudity, spanking, and sexual activity of preteen and young teen children for the purpose of punishment. None of the behaviors in this story should be attempted in real life, as that would be harmful and/or illegal. If you are not of legal age in your community to read or view such material, please leave now.

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BARELY CAUGHT, BUT CAUGHT NONE THE LESS
By, Running Bare

My name is Cara Johnson. At the time of these incidents, I lived in a middle-class neighborhood with two of my three children--Jack just turned 13 and Kathy 11. Sharon, my eldest, was 21 years old, married and lived 3 miles away. In the absence of a husband, I have always used Sharon as my sounding board for raising her younger siblings. Because of the age difference, she and the younger two didn’t get along very well. I guess that was normal under the circumstances. I think there was an element of them knowing I consulted her about them that added to the animosity. But, hey, it wasn’t so long before that she was a kid too. Her advice was very timely. Bruce, my estranged husband, left me when Kathy was two. The court was sending me the alimony and child support check every month. Other than that, I have no idea where Bruce lived. He has never attempted to contact me or the children. I guess I liked it that way.

I must admit when it came to Jack, I often relied on Sharon’s 25-year-old husband, Jason’s, advice. At times I even asked him to take a belt to Jack for me. I’m old-fashioned enough to believe a boy needs a man’s attention to straighten out wrong doing. I’m sure Jason’s eagerness to whip the fire out of Jack’s bare ass didn’t help in their relationship either, especially when Jason insisted that we three girls witness the entire punishment session. He said requiring him to be totally exposed in front of us built humiliation, something my son desperately needed. I think he was right. Whenever Jack was to be disciplined, Jason made the boy strip completely naked before he entered the living room for his whipping. Jack, almost always tried to shield his usually erect penis and scrotum from our view. Thankfully, Jason wouldn’t allow him that privilege and made him interlock his hands behind his back and face us while he or I explained the offense and what the punishment would be (as if we all didn’t know already). We girls enjoyed his embarrassment as he stood before us, usually crying, and that boner sticking out parallel to the floor. Sometimes I couldn’t resist pinching his “mushroom” head and pulling on that stiffy to punctuate my annoyances while I outlined his misbehavior.

The boy was, well, is really hung. The length of his appendage had intrigued people since the day he left my womb. Not that he was freakishly long, but during his childhood I’d say he measured three times the length of most of his friends’ who I’d often seen naked when they’d spend the night at our house. People used to fight over who got to bathe him just so they could satisfy their curiosity and fondle that intriguing phallus until it was a full woody just to see how long it got. During his first nine years, teenaged sitters used to insist on bathing him so l “didn’t have to”. Like I didn’t know their true motive. I mean who bathes seven, eight and nine year old boys? Why, people who were intrigued by one thing and “it ain’t his ears”.

Because of my motherly pride during those same years, I made him play nude in the backyard so my friends, neighbors and I could admire his beautiful body; he could even out his tan; and I could provide a photo ops for family and friends. Secretly, I had other motives as well not least among them was putting Jack in highly embarrassing and humiliating situations. It was a turn-on watching the kid blush and try to argue his way out of being fully on display, and he always tried. Up until age seven, once her brother was naked, I allowed bikini clad Kathy and her friends to play with his penis, scrotum, and anus as they wished, usually against his frequent complaints. Those times were so cute to watch anyone would have forced him to comply.

We lived in a middle-class suburb. The homes were older and somewhat closely situated. Ours was a two-story colonial on a corner lot. Our next-door neighbor had a two-story Tudor separated from ours by about 30 feet.

Three years prior to our “incident”, Norma and her children moved in next door. Norma Radcliff, the owner, was a widow with two younger children, Terry, a hyperactive five year old boy, and Lisa, her sweet, shy, six year old girl. Though she seemed to be friendly, she came across as a fundamentalist prude who was more than happy to share her beliefs in a self-righteous manner. I was certain she would have a difficult time accepting my forcing Jack to play in the backyard in the altogether within her family’s eyeshot. To avoid offending her, and much to Jack’s relief, I allowed him to start wearing a skimpy Speedo or underwear briefs when he was in the yard. At least I could continue to put his muscular torso and legs on display, but the resulting tan lines those skimpy coverings caused annoyed me. Apparently, the bulge that attire highlighted wasn’t problematic for her—she never complained.

My initial impression of Norma changed a bit as a result of a soon to evolve incident. Apparently, my body shy twelve year old son wasn’t as body shy as I thought. He was being accused of putting on a show for the younger neighbors, who were then eight and nine years old respectively. He had purposely left his curtains open and the shade up each evening. He’d strip completely naked and pose at the desk in front of his bedroom window. This provided a clear and unobstructed view of his nude form to Norma’s children as they prepared for bed. It was just a matter of time before the younger kids would look out their window and down into his room. Turned out he anticipated it.

The next morning after the kids had gone to school, Norma complained about the situation over coffee. Knowing my son’s timidity, I was inclined to think it happened accidentally or he was totally unaware of his exposure. My neighbor quickly dispelled that explanation. She told me her children had been observing him in such a state nightly for over two weeks. She explained that she had fallen upon the view the night before she brought it to my attention. She said Jack, almost immediately, caught a glimpse of her looking at him and he quickly hid from her view. It was evident that he was fully aware of the situation. According to her, his penis was at “full staff”, and, it was her reasoning, if it was an innocent mistake he’d have been more flaccid. She also had a legitimate argument insisting he was aware of them watching or he wouldn’t have abruptly bolted when she came to the window.

Surprisingly, Norma said, “If he’s that interested in parading around naked in front of my children, I think he should have to do it openly and allow them the opportunity to explore his body to their hearts content. You know, take away the mystique”.

I agreed, about the mystique part. My thought was perhaps giving my family and even others free access to explore his nude body would satisfy whatever motive he had driving such indecency. Secretly, though, I got an erotic rush at Norma’s unexpected invitation which allowed me to return to making Jack submit to the embarrassment and humiliation of forced public nudity.

I was perplexed. All that time, I thought she was a prude. Apparently, I missed many opportunities to humiliate and embarrass my son. I also missed many an erotic opportunity for me to observe him having to succumb to the whims of other children and adults. To say Norma’s attitude and willingness to allow such things fed my voyeuristic inclinations toward my son’s sexual discomfort would have been an understatement. I was truly excited.

So as to disguise my willingness to make my boy the object of genital manhandling and reveal my lustful intentions, l lamely objected to her suggestion. I told her I needed to think about it and consult my son-in-law first. I did promise her I would have her children and her present when I confronted Jack, and to witness him getting the belt from Jason. Erotically for me, she wasn’t letting go of her request that she and her kids have on-going and total access to Jack’s “boy parts”.

“If he’s going to tease folks with such displays, he should be made to avail himself to touch exploration so my kids, and possibly others, can see it’s no big deal.” After a momentary pause she added, “Maybe, in his case, and from what I saw last night, ‘no big deal’ were the wrong words. I must say the boy is going to make some girl very happy someday. His package deserves some playful scrutiny.”

To my pleasant relief, I said it before and now I’ll say it again, “Boy, did I misread her”.

I spent the rest of that day celebrating Jack’s blunder. I called Sharon who suggested following Jason’s session with him, we put him on his back, spread his legs and allow Norma’s kids to whip his penis and balls with the belt. “They’re young enough they probably wouldn’t do lasting damage, but what a rush for those of us who get to watch.” I really got aroused just imagining that still prepubescent package getting stung by a belt wielded by eight and nine year old kids. I mean Terry and Lisa should take part in the punishment, shouldn’t they? They were the aggrieved parties, weren’t they? Jack should feel the pain and embarrassment for his behavior shouldn’t he? Of course he should. I was committed to making Sharon’s idea come to fruition.

After kicking my plan for dealing with this around, I asked Norma to bring her kids to the house that Saturday morning for an “intervention” with Jack. I assured her, that following embarrassing him, her kids could participate in the punishment session. She seemed generally satisfied.

That Saturday, when he woke up, I told Jack to stay in his boxers. Of course that signaled something ominous might be in his cards. “Why can’t I get dressed?” I didn’t feel the need to explain.

“Because I said to stay in your underwear, that’s why! Don’t get me started today, young man. Just do as you’re told.”

At eight thirty Sharon and Jason arrived. That didn’t trigger any further concern from Jack as his sister and her husband often stopped by on weekends for breakfast. Neither Kathy nor Jack had any idea what would befall the boy shortly after nine. The two of them ate breakfast trading the usual insults. Admonitions from Sharon to both of them just made everything seem normal. Jason sat at the table smiling with anticipation. I really believe he loved taking out his pent up frustrations when he got to whip Jack’s bare ass with that belt. He enjoyed it too much. But, hey, so did I every time he did it.

At about nine fifteen Norma and her kids showed up. Immediately, I sensed a change in Jack’s demeanor. His face reddened and he tried to run upstairs presumably to put on more clothing. Before he got to the landing, I ordered him to come back down and go to the living room. He tried to argue that he needed to get dressed first. I just remained adamant and told him to report to the living room in his boxer shorts. I don’t know if it was my tone or Jason’s scowl, but there was no further argument.

Norma and her kids were crowded on the couch with Kathy. Jack was shyly standing in a corner of the room with a crossed armed Jason standing next to him. Sharon and I were seated in the two arm chairs.

I opened, “I guess I’ll start. Earlier this week something unfortunate happened. Jack, you want to talk about it?”

He squirmed and his face grew redder as he tried to fake a look of obliviousness. “What?”

“Did something happen in your bedroom Wednesday night you’d like to talk about?”

Kathy started to show the shit eating grin of anticipation that could only be interpreted “Oh, this should be good”.

“No, nothing happened that I know of”.

The brief silence was broken by Lisa, “Uh, ha, you got naked and were showing us your privates. Didn’t he, Mom?”

Norma silenced the girl, “Lisa let’s let Jack tell us about it.”

Jack nervously tried to explain, “Oh yeah, that. I forgot to close the curtains before I got undressed. I guess they must have seen me.”

Norma responded, “The kids told me that you have ‘forgotten’ (she made air quotes with her fingers) to close them almost every night for the last two weeks. How do you explain that?”

“That’s not true,” he shifted on his feet.

Terry jumped in, “Yes it is. You walk around with a hard peepee right by the window all the time. We watched you.”

The ball was back in my court, “Is that true? Have you been exposing yourself to these kids?”

As a last ditch denial my son half whined, “No, Mom. I didn’t do that.”

“Mrs. Radcliff saw you Wednesday. She said as soon as she came to the window you quickly hid behind a wall. You had to have been aware they were looking at you or you wouldn’t have noticed her.”

“I swear, Mom, I just happened to glimpse up as she came to the window. I didn’t even think about being seen until then. It was an accident.”

“The children told their mother you were always hard, erect, when they saw you. If it was always an accident, you would have been soft most of the time. Unless, of course, you are in a continual state of arousal. You aren’t, are you? I’ll tell you what, why don’t you take off your boxers so we can see. Go ahead take off your underwear and hand them to Jason. You don’t have anything anybody in the room hasn’t already seen. Take off the underwear.”

He started to balk, “But...”. I just held up my index finger and repeated the command.

There was total silence as all eyes were glued on him. He started to whimper as he hooked his thumbs over the elastic waist and slowly lowered his shorts. Perhaps it was the gravity of the situation, but his four inch appendage was limply draped over his loose scrotum. He left his shorts bunched below his knees as he tried to cover his genitals with his hands.

Jason took charge, “I believe Mom said to take them off. Do it!”

Now the humiliated boy was crying. He lifted each leg removing his boxers and handed them to Jason. Before he could cover up, I ordered him to spread his legs and put his hands behind his back. Tearfully he complied.

“We’ve decided that since you like showing off your body so much, you should stay naked for the next few months. Unless I tell you otherwise, no clothes except for school. You should really like that, huh?”

He pleaded, “Please Mom, please don’t make me do this. I promise it will never happen again. Like I said it was an accident.”

“You will do this. There are some ground rules. First, until I tell you otherwise, I want you to wear a pair of those baggy track shorts to school every day, no underwear either. No socks higher than your ankles. I expect you to dress like that even through the winter. After all, if it makes you feel so good to expose yourself, we want your schoolmates to have the opportunity to at least get some sneak peeks throughout the day, don’t we? When you come home, everything, and I mean everything, comes off. Do you understand me?”

Jack was sullen and just stared at the floor.

“While you are naked, anyone who wishes may play with your boy parts whenever they wish. You will allow anyone to feel ANY part of your beautiful body they wish to explore. You will allow anyone to take pictures of you and you will pose anyway they ask. I think that about does it for your new dress code. You shouldn’t be too embarrassed. A wise person once said, ‘Little boys shouldn’t have any modesty.’ I’m inclined to agree. Besides, you apparently like being naked. What do you say?”

He took the opportunity to plead through his tears for me to change my mind. I just picked up from there, inviting Terry, the only male child present, to “yank on Jack’s penis and play with his balls”. The kid eagerly complied. I wanted Jack hard for the beating portion of the punishment. Lisa eventually crowded in to join her little brother exploring Jack’s erect penis and scrotum.

I couldn’t resist, “Lisa, is there any hair around his penis or on his bag? If you see any we’ll have to get rid of it. After all, we want to keep him clean looking, don’t you think?”

Actually, I was surprised she found none. It was obvious my “little” boy had started into a genital growth spurt. His penis was no longer the circumference of a kindergarten pencil. Not only was it long but it was showing a notable increase in girth. His testicles had descended considerably since the year before and his scrotum was no longer the little plum of the past. Hair had to be next. But, no fear, I was committed to removing it one way or another whenever it showed up.

Our little neighbors were quite successful in coaxing Jack to an erection. Once achieved, I made him lay on his back on the coffee table. I instructed his sisters to each grab a leg and spread them to each side of the table. I had Norma stretch out his left arm, while I held the right. I could sense the now fully splayed boy’s nervousness as to what was going on. He didn’t have to wait long. “Jason, would you give Terry your belt, please?” He did. The eight year old looked perplexed. “What Jack did to you was not nice. We have to teach him to control his penis. So I want you to spank his boy parts with the belt until I tell you it’s Lisa’s turn.”

Jack cried out and writhed trying to free himself before the boy landed the first blow.

“Terry, go ahead. Get started.” His mother directed.

The kid grinned, shrugged his shoulders, and landed a blow right on target between Jack’s legs. After my son’s scream, I picked up on my instructions, “Come on Terry, a strong boy like you should be able to whip harder than that. Really, let him have it.” Terry’s next shot didn’t disappoint. Jack’s still erect shaft was developing a pinker tone. After I coaxed him to another strike, I had him hand the belt to Lisa. She giggled as she got into position. Her three strokes were in rapid succession. Jack was now crying hard and writhing violently trying to free himself from what had to be a very painful punishment. Because she wasn’t too effective with her initial barrage, I instructed her to take two more swings at it. After she had, we guardedly released Jack’s arms and legs. Sobbing, he almost immediately pulled himself into a fetal position and rolled around on the floor while cradling his package. It was evident round one sent the intended message.

After allowing fifteen minutes for him to recover, I told him he still had to endure my part of the punishment. I ushered the still tearful, snotty face crying boy to the couch and folded him over the arm. “Jason, your turn.”

Jason’s belt snapped repeatedly as the leather contacted Jack’s bare backside. He was struggling so much it took three of us to hold him in place. After six lashes, I began to feel satisfied the price had been paid and my nod signaled to Jason that was enough. We released him and he again fell to the floor sobbing. I rubbed his head and reassured him the painful price had been paid in full.

Lisa approached as I continued to rub my sobbing son’s head. “Mrs. Johnson, can I stick my finger in his butt?” Shit, I couldn’t believe my ears. The nine year old daughter of a woman I initially branded a prude felt fully comfortable asking permission to rummage around my son’s rectum with her finger. Maybe it was just the naivety of her age.

“Lisa Radcliff, shame on you. Where did you come up with such an idea?” It was obvious that request embarrassed Norma.

“It’s okay, Norma. She’s just curious.” I was really turned on with the idea of watching her do that. I lifted my son’s leg. He was too weak to protest. “Lisa, you or Terry, or your Mom, can stick your fingers in there whenever you want. If he doesn’t let you, come tell me and we’ll punish him and then make him let you anyway.”

“You mean I can whip his wiener again, if he doesn’t let me?”

“Yep! That’s what you can do. Go ahead now, shove your finger in there and feel around.”

As she inserted her index finger Jack flinched but he didn’t complain. He didn’t dare. He was a well beaten boy, and, as such, very compliant. His, sister watched with complete amazement. I don’t think Kathy had ever entertained such an idea.

For the next few days Jack’s balls were very sensitive to being handled. I assumed that was a direct result of the neighbor kids’ belt work that night. He’d flinch and cringe whenever he was fondled. I think the memory of that discomfort stuck with him for the following two years. The mere suggestion of genital punishment evoked immediate compliance to any directive he was hesitant to follow.

To say the following two years weren’t fun for me would be erroneous. I made the kid romp naked indoors and out and I refused to let him dress for anything. His sisters and our neighbors seemed to gain a large collection of friends who seemed enjoying visits to our home. I can’t imagine why!

His tan did even out, and when he’d dress for school, his bronzed muscular legs were exposed from the bottom of his ass cheeks to five inches above his ankles. If you asked me I’d have proudly told you he was a “Greek god hottie”. I was told by Kathy, the kids at school had discovered his genital display too. She said it was the talk of the student body. Boys would tackle him and spread him out on the grassy part of the playground and they’d lift the legs of his shorts displaying his goods for the girls. The teachers would eventually intervene and free him from them, but, according to Kathy, they’d be laughing too when they did it.

Everyone was gratified that I made him wear those shorts even on the cold days of winter. I wasn’t all bad though. He could wear long sleeved flannel shirts and coats to keep his upper body warm. I wasn’t completely unreasonable. I did love being able to display his really handsome and muscular boy legs though.

Six or seven months after we began his forced nudity, Lisa and a few friends discovered the fuzzy beginnings of Jack’s first pubic hair. I let them watch as I quickly removed them. I think Jack was embarrassed further as I kept mentioning I was using a girls’ leg razor for the job. As he continued into puberty his penis and ball sack continued to grow. As the penis girth increased, without the pubic hair bush to nestle it, it really appeared bigger than it might have otherwise. I couldn’t help but appreciate the doctor who circumcised him, the head was well pronounced and the cut was clean. That clean cut and perfectly shaped head combined with his uncommon length made that bad boy almost scream, “Fondle me! Fondle me!” So, most everyone did. The girls in both families loved to pull on it. If he complained they’d either flick or squeeze his balls, he cry out in pain and following a minute or two of rolling around, he’d be more submissive to their play agenda.

It’s worth noting that when Terry or some other boy would engage in physical contact. They almost always gravitated to the anus. It was really hot to me when they ended up impaling Jack with their fingers, sticks or other objects. I guess it was just natural for males to seek out body cavities. I expected the little boys to be more reserved in their exploration, you know their natural fear of being called “gay”, but they weren’t. They heard they had a green light to play with anything and they went right to work.

When it came to Jack’s genitalia, the older boys were far more likely to be aggressive, even violent, in their “experimentation”. I had to be on my toes when they were present. They would hold him down and attempt catheterizing him with all sorts of things—wooden matches, sticks, electrical wire, etc.—he’d scream in fright at their threats and I’d have to intervene to avoid them injuring him. Older boys were into veiled threats that kept Jack on the defensive—“Let’s cut his balls off.” Or “Hey, let’s cut his bag open so we can see what balls look like”.

Sharon was the one who intervened when three fifteen and sixteen year olds pinned my naked son, face up to the picnic table. It was evident they were attracted to his boy parts. One suggested they should “cut the bag to see what they looked like”. Another of them actually pulled out and opened a pocket knife. Jack cried out and begged them to let him go as he struggled against their hold. Thankfully, his distress calls caught Sharon’s attention. She said she was sure they just wanted to scare Jack, but she defended her brother just to be sure. I’m still skeptical about how far they might have gone, so I’m glad she was within earshot that afternoon. They let go of him and were on their way laughing and highlighting Jack’s “scared shitless” facial expression. Ever the teacher though, Sharon rounded up an old medical text so she could show them pictures to satisfy their curiosities next time they came around.

I really enjoyed his embarrassment at being on display. One of my fondest turn-ons was that first winter. There was an evening snowfall resulting in an accumulation of somewhere between six inches and a foot. I told Jack he had to go out and shovel off our walk, driveway, and then do the same for Norma. Terry was just too young to shovel hers and Lisa was treated as a “little princess” who would never be asked to exert herself. Of course Jack argued for sweat pants and shoes to complement his heavy coat. Yeah, like that was going to happen. I remember the conversation.

“After breakfast, you need to shovel the sidewalk all the way around and then the driveway so we can get out. I think you should shovel the Radcliff’s walk and driveway too”.

He balked, “Come on Mom. Why can’t her kids shovel their walk? Why me?”

“Because Mrs. Radcliff shouldn’t have to do it all. Terry and Lisa are too young to do it. And, I think, all things considered, you owe it to them after what you put them through”.

“I put them through! Really, Mom? Really? For the last couple of months I’ve had to let them and their friends play with my dick and balls and poke my butt hole. Not to mention, Mrs. Radcliff and her friends, copping lots of feels and taking lots of pictures. Having to be naked where everyone can see me. And, you say what I put them through. Shit, Mom, what about what you and them put me through?”

“You watch your language, and don’t ever raise your voice to me again. I’ll call Jason and have him whip that little bare ass until it bleeds. Do you understand me, young man. You won’t sit for a month”. I was pissed.

After he silently pouted and toyed with his food for ten minutes. Then he asked if he could wear shoes and pants with his wool coat to do the shoveling. He knew better than to ask for any covering from his waist down. That would never happen. As far as his waist length heavy wool coat, I allowed him to wear it to school but had never allowed him that coverage during his naked time at home. Shoes were no problem in my mind. In a momentary period of weakness, I glanced out the window at the garden thermometer. It read between twenty five and thirty degrees.

“You may wear shoes, but nothing else. It’s twenty seven degrees out there. That’s warm enough. The cold will do you good. You need to cool off before you get yourself in more trouble”. He cried and re-pled his case. I just said, “Keep it up, and you’ll be barefoot as well”. I knew he didn’t like the idea of being that visible to passing motorists and the rest of the neighborhood. Too bad for him, because I got a rush just thinking about it. I watched from the warmth of the house for the entire time. That boner he had when he went out the door had subsided within minutes as his penis retracted seeking the warmth of his abdomen. Funny how that reaction is engineered in males.

His skin did take on a pink tone from the cold air. I really admired his cute, tight butt cheeks when they took on that blush.

I most enjoyed watching his ball sack tighten up when he was outside in the winter. It went from two cherries in a baggy to a plump peach in a matter of seconds when his balls chilled. I loved the feel of the firm wrinkles and peach like tightness of his scrotum when it was like that. I’d make him lay in what had become known as “the frog pose” (on his back, hands behind his head, knees bent, soles of feet together) so I could rub that firm orb until it relaxed and his rod was stiff as a tree limb. When I couldn’t warm him up one of his sisters or their friends were quick and eager to do the honors.

Secretly, we all loved doing it even more six or seven months later after he started shooting. He’d squirt and, at Jason’s suggestion, we’d make him wipe it off his abdomen and elsewhere with his fingers and then he had to lick them off. The girls and I would tease as he begged not to have to comply with licking his fingers, “Now you need to put it back inside, suck it off your fingers”. What a turn on. I can’t speak for the others, but after that I would have to retreat to the privacy of my bedroom to get some relief myself.

It was amusing watching the younger girls work that penis. As it hardened they put it between their palms and rotated it like a butter churn. It didn’t take very long before he erupted. Soon after his first wet orgasm, one of Kathy’s friends was working it, and I guess she felt his semen rise, because at the moment the first spurt left the tip of his head, she yelled in a deep voice, “Thar’ she blows!”. I’ll bet the cum shot three feet in the air. Talk about laugh, everyone watching had tears from laughter. Of course, Jack was embarrassed and cried as we made him consume his ejaculate before we dismissed him. From then on, we’d make him loudly announce his own eruptions, “Thar’ she blows!” If he failed to do so, we’d punish him by rapping him on the balls with a wooden spoon. He learned after two such punishments to make the announcements.

Much to Jack’s chagrin, we kept this program in effect until his fourteenth birthday. He just doesn’t know how lucky he was it stopped then. If it hadn’t been for his father’s insistence on stopping, I’d have kept it up throughout his high school days. His Dad’s argument centered on pubic hair and communal showers he’d be required to take in high school and the embarrassment my shaving his genital area would cause. Guess he was right. I mean the explanation for his clean package would have shifted the embarrassment back on me. It would have begged the question, “What kind of a mother would do that?”

(End of File)