The following story is fiction about family CP.  The story contains scenes of spankings and strappings.  If these subjects are offensive, uninteresting or if you are a minor (i.e., child) please leave now.

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I’m fifteen-year-old Robert and as you would expect live with my parents.  We share a two-family house with my father’s brother and his family.  Of great significance to this report are my twin cousins, Freddie and Nicky, who are just thirteen-year-old brats.  It seems that their greatest joy in life is to get me into trouble so that they can watch my dad whip my unfortunate butt.

Now, of course, I don’t like getting my tail roasted but that’s the way it is in my family and I can accept that without a problem when I have really done something wrong.  I am not so accepting when I am innocent of wrongdoing either by commission or neglect although complaints are always counter productive.

Last Wednesday morning I dragged the garbage cans to curb before ten in the morning which is my one of my responsibilities (sounds so much better than chores) so that they would be in place for the afternoon collection by the sanitation department.  I’m sure that you can guess how my father reacts when I forget to do that.  Then a few minutes earlier than planned my friend Van and his father, Mr. Wegman, arrived to pick me up as we were going to the ball game in the city.  I said to them: “Good morning.  Please give me a minute to wash up from handling the stinky garbage and to get my lunch and team hat.” and then dashed inside.  This would prove to be very important although I did not realize then or in the evening.

It was a great day with my buddy and his dad for our team played spectacularly well and was victorious.  Five minutes after they dropped me at home the day turned terrible.  Dad was more than furious and very disappointed in me.  “Robert Theodore Hayden you did not take out the garbage as you were supposed to before the pickup.” he berated me angrily even using my full name.

I was shocked!  “I took it out before I went to the game with Van.” I responded.© YLeeCoyote

“And how do you explain that it still here?  The cans are all full, young man!” he demanded.

I was at a loss.  Had I imagined taking the full, heavy, stinking cans to the curb?  Had they crawled back to the side of the garage by themselves so they could rot for another week?  What I did remember was that the twins watched me and asked if I was having fun.  That I told dad.  Just then Uncle returned with the two brats and Dad paused long enough to ask: “Freddie, Nicky did you see Rob take the garbage to curb this morning?”

“No Uncle Ernest.” they replied in unison.  That assured that my goose would be cooked.  Dad would not hear any more from me even when I protested that they were lying to get me into trouble.

Dad then took me to the garage and I had to open the big overhead door so that he had room to swing the strap as I lay over the trunk of the car where every passerby could see my naked butt.  And swing the strap hard he most certainly did with great vigor.  The strap was a heavy leather thing that had even been used by grandfather many years earlier on Dad and Uncle.  He was doubly mad because we had the stinking garbage for another week and because he was certain that I had lied as well as neglecting my duties.

I had mostly gotten to the point where I could take it like a man without yelling but not this time.  I got twenty very hard cuts (five extra) because of the multiple offences.  When I got up after a few minutes of intense pain I turned and saw the twins by the curb laughing as I pulled up my pants.  That strapping really hurt especially because it was unfair.  I ate dinner standing up and with Dad frowning at me.

* * * * * * * * * *

I told my buddy what happened and the next day Dad got a call from Mr. Wegman.  The details don’t matter but the important thing is that he told Dad that when he had picked me up in the morning the garbage was at the curb.  That strange fact left everyone puzzled.

A lucky coincidence solved the mystery.  Mom met Mrs. Heberlein, a neighbor whose house is three down the block from ours, in the supermarket who commented on what she thought was very strange.  “Last Wednesday when I was walking home, I saw the twins taking your garbage cans back yet the collection truck did not come for another two hours.”  Mom told Dad and they worked it all out.

That evening there was a meeting – Dad, Uncle, the twins and I.  The brats hemmed and hawed a lot but soon confessed to taking the full cans back and lying about our conversation.  I was relived to say the least.  This, incidentally, was not the first time they had lied about me and were believed when I was not.  Their punishment was that for the rest of the summer, since they liked moving the garbage cans, that it was now their chore to take them out and return them every week.  Also, because they caused me to be strapped they would each get strapped like I had been.  It was also triple damages meaning they would get their tail roasted three times and I would be allowed to watch.  They were not happy little boys.

I was delighted for justice and fairness were reigning supreme for a change.  The first round was to be now.  We all went to the garage and Freddie was first.  He dropped his pants and undies and leaned over the end of the car.  Uncle Rodger took the strap and worked out his position.  Dad gave him a couple of pointers since this was his first time to use the strap because that was not scheduled until the twins turned fifteen.  The first cut was loud but that paled compared to the volume of Freddie’s howl of pain.  A nice pink stripe appeared on the target bottom.  By the fifth howl and cut Freddie’s bottom was quite red and he was crying.

Uncle continued but stopped at ten when brat was bawling like a baby.  Freddie was out of control and surprisingly I was the one to give him some supports by holding him.  His brother, Nicky, did not do any better.  He howled and cried in the same way and his dad held him as he also proved himself a baby.  Their bottoms were both flaming red-hot.  It was clear that the scheduled punishment would take another five half-sessions rather than only two more as originally planned.

I found that it took some effort to overcome my lack of empathy because the twins had both caused me a lot of pain over the years.  By the morning I decided that they were too young for the strap and told my father what I thought.  He agreed that they probably should be spanked rather than strapped and shortly afterwards discussed this with Uncle Rodger.

That evening we had another meeting.  Dad asked me to repeat what I said to him.  “I don’t think that the twins are grown up enough for the strap.  They should be spanked like they always have been.”  For a change they were silent not wanting to admit that I was right.

I was then surprised by Uncle Rodger for he gave them an option.  “You have choice, boys.  You may ask Robert to spank you rather being strapped.”  I was surprised as they were and waited to hear their reply.  They conferred a bit and then came back and asked me to spank them.

“I agreed and told them that I that there would be three spankings spaced out over ten days.”  Everyone agreed to the plan.  I was thrilled for I really felt that they needed to be spanked and hoped that my doing it would change things for the better.  If nothing else, I thought that I would have fun spanking the brats.

* * * * * * * * * *

I was waiting for the two brats at the appointed time quite pleased that Dad and Uncle were not supervising but trusting me.  “You got a choice boys.  Either you strip completely for the first spanking from me or you go back to your Daddy for the rest of your remaining fifty whacks of the strap.”  They stripped and I got comfortable on the couch and called Nicky over.  He was not enthusiastic about laying over my lap while I definitely wanted him there.

I got a firm grip on his waist and started spanking him.  I alternated checks with increasingly hard spanks.  His naughty butt gradually turned a deeper and deeper red.  He was becoming increasing tense trying to accept the spanking just as I remember doing a couple of years earlier.  After a few more hard spanks, he could not resist and was sobbing.  I stopped shortly after that.

It was now Freddie’s turn.  His bottom was just as cute as his twin’s and I proceeded to paint it red to match.  Freddie succumbed to my hand sooner than had Nicky.  It was easy to spank the little boy hard and make him bawl just like he had from the strap.

I told them to get dressed and go to their rooms.  They did so quickly without bothering to thank me for all the hard work I had done to spank them, the ungrateful brats.

I soon realized that I was conflicted and that spanking them was not the simple pleasure that I had expected.  I began to understand what Dad meant when he said “This hurts me more than it does you, son.” when he spanked me.  Rather than the fun that I expected it to be but a necessary duty or chore like taking the garbage cans to curb.

* * * * * * * * * *

It was four days later that we got together for the next spanking.  I had given it much thought and decided that I would use a flip-flop for greater impact and to protect my hand.  This time it was Freddie’s turn to go first.  He was very nervous but he still followed my instructions.  Just as the first time I got a good grip and started with a few warm up hand spanks.  I then turned the pink to a deep red with a dozen hard spanks from the little rubbery pseudo paddle.  It was a lot easier for me and I could gauge the effectiveness by his yells.  Again he cried easily.

Nicky was a little more manly as he had been the first round but still no match for the little paddle for I soon reduced him to tears also.  I sent them back to their rooms and the ingrates did not thank me for all the hard effort I made to spank them properly.

* * * * * * * * * *

I discovered the pain that I felt giving these spanking far exceeded the joy of getting revenge.  I decided not to complete the series without consulting either Dad or Uncle.  When the twins showed up for the third session I told them that the last spanking was suspended as long as they behaved themselves with respect to me.  It was a probation of sorts and for a year.  They accepted the proposal.

I was relieved and it worked well as they stopped with their pranks directed at me.  It also earned me some points with the folks which is never bad.

The End

© Copyright A.I.L. January 7, 2021

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