The following story is fiction about strappings in domestic situations.  The story contains scenes of strapping.  If this subject is offensive, uninteresting or if you are a minor (i.e., child) please leave now.

This work is copyright by the author and commercial use is prohibited without permission.  Personal/private copies are permitted only if complete including the copyright notice.

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My Immature Neighbor
Lollygagging Has Consequences

By

YLeeCoyote@juno.com

I had recently relocated and was working in my yard.  My next door neighbor's son, Kory, was working in his yard and I struck up a conversation.  The mid-teen was a comely lad and seemed to ooze self-confidence as we spoke about basically nothing.  I figured that his self-confidence was based not only on his good looks but his well-developed body and sharp mind.  After we had talked a bit, he indicated that he had better get back to work or his "ass would be toast" if his father noticed.

I had met the father, Kent, a few days before and he was intimidating for he was a big man and no less confident then his son.  I guess it was a case of like father, like son.  I was happy to talk with Kory and, unfortunately, did not consider what was right for the lad.  He was too polite to disengage from me.

Kent appeared on the scene a few minutes later.  He was angry that Kory had been lollygagging with me rather than working and made it very clear.  Not only did he order his son to the garage but indicated that I deserved a strapping for leading his son astray.  I could barely murmur an "I'm sorry, Sir." before he was following his son into the garage.

I surely should have minded my own business and moved to the other side of my yard but I stayed where I was and listened to what was happening in the garage.  "Give me your belt, boy." the man growled.  I imagined that I heard Kory pull his belt from his jeans.  "Drop 'em and get into position." was the next curt order.

I visualized him dropping his jeans and boxers and bending over.  Was he leaning on the car?  Or leaning on a workbench?  I don't suppose that it matters.  Then I heard the first cut.  It sounded hard and perhaps the lad grunted.  There were some ten hard cuts which the lad took stoically.  I, however, winced for each of them.  Then came the final orders.  "Get up and get back to work, boy."© YLeeCoyote

I rushed to the other side of my yard so they would not see that I had been listening.  When I glanced back I saw that Kory was working diligently.  I figured that I should give him some room to minimize his embarrassment and not let him think I had been listening.

* * * * * * * * * *

It was a couple of days later after dinner and I went out to see the wife off for her evening with the girls.  Of course, as I closed the car door, I said: "Enjoy your evening with the ladies, dear."  Just about the same time I saw my neighbor Kent and his wife drive off.  I had no idea that the next hour would be most memorable.

I was heading back to the house, delighted at having some private time.  I already knew what I was going to think about – the strapping that Kory got from his father.  I had the perfect sound track and knew how easy it would be to add visuals.  The boy dropping his jeans and undies and getting into position.  I was not sure if he was hard to start although I knew he had the necessary equipment from the bulge I saw in his jeans.  I was starting to get hard and even gave myself a rub as I turned to hurry back to the house.

Then I heard my name.  "Hey, Teddy, hold on for a minute."  It was Kory calling me.  I could not resist as he had a voice just as commanding as that of his father.  I responded and he started to explain what he wanted.  I was shocked at all the things he had to say.  It was my fault that he got strapped because I would not stop talking.  That I was a sneak for listening to the strapping.  (He saw me on their security cameras.)  That I was a pervert for getting hard and rubbing it.  Schadenfreude is naughty to say the least.

I could not believe how he was scolding me.  I was twice his age but I was just standing there with my head bowed staring at the ground.  I tried to say something but all I could manage was "Er…."  I felt like I was a naughty little kid being reprimand by his dad.

"You need to experience the real thing, boy.  No more just eavesdropping on others."  I was frozen in place.  He grabbed my arm and said: "Come."  I followed him like he was in charge of me into the garage.

"DROP 'EM, boy." he ordered as his pulled his heavy leather belt from his jeans.  I obeyed because of his command presence.  "Lean on the stool, boy." he commanded and I did.  My bare ass was up in the air.  My heart was racing.  I was excited and scared.  "Don't move until I tell you may, boy."

I heard the snap of the belt as he pulled it after folding it.  Then the swosh as it approached my skin before inflicting great pain.  I yelled.  I jumped up.  And I grabbed my ass in hopes of putting out the fire.

"Back in position, pussy-boy.  That stroke does not count." he snarled.

I resumed the position and gripped the bench tightly.  The belt struck again.  I yelled again but managed to stay in position.  My ass was already on fire and we had just started.  I was already ashamed for he had not yelled like I had.  Then the belt bit again.  I could not suppress the yelling and my knuckles turned white because I was gripping the stool so hard.

I quickly lost count as the belt struck over and over.  My yells lessened as I began to cry.  Eventually, after an eternity, he stopped and told me to get up.  "Get dressed, boy."

"Yes, Sir." I mumbled as I pulled up my pants.  "Don't eavesdrop again, boy."

"Go home and cry."

I obeyed.

* * * * * * * * * *

I did the best I could to put out the blazing infernos that had taken up residency in my bottom.  I rubbed some and put ice on it.  That is how my wife found me an hour later.  I had to tell her the entire story.  She was not sympathetic in the least.  Worse, she thought that I had gotten exactly what I deserved for being noisy and inconsiderate.

Then she made me write a thank you letter to Kory.  I had to address him as Mister and Sir and admit how he had been ever so correct to chastise me in such a fair and traditional manner.  To make it even worse, I had to beg him not to hesitate to discipline me as a naughty little boy should be if he ever notices any failing on my part in the future.

Then after I had handwritten it neatly (which took several tries) I was required to put it into an envelope with a stamp.  "I'll post it in the morning," my wife said taking it, "… for you often forget to post things."  I was positive that it would not be very long before the belt and I had another painful discussion.

End of Part 1.  Go to Part 2

© Copyright A.I.L. February 27, 2019

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