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

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I was alone in the house that afternoon having tons of homework and studying for finals to do as the school year was drawing to an end.  The olds had gone off to visit relatives right after lunch.  After an hour of intense studying I took a break and saw Marty Gabel, our neighbor home from college, jump the fence in the back of the yard.  My first thought was that I wished that Dad was here.  The why is very simple that I would get to see a great show.  Dad would lecture Marty and then roast his tail good and proper for his trespass.

Marty could have avoided such an unpleasantness by simply ringing our doorbell and politely asking for permission to fetch his ball that had gone over the fence.  Long ago Mr. Gabel and my dad had made the arrangement that he had permission to punish his son for such misconduct.  A few years later, the reciprocal deal was made putting my butt on the line in the same way.  Let me assure you that "turn about is fair play" is NOT funny no matter how it is wrapped.

Now starting when I was five and Marty thirteen I got to see how a teen boy got spanked.  It was awesome to say the least.  The misbehaved youth had to drop his pants and even his undies before assuming the position.  Dad would take the heavy leather strap from the drawer and calmly give him a proper lashing.  When it was over, Marty would do the spankers' dance and rub his butt vigorously.  Eventually he would pull up his pants and be sent home.

I enjoyed it every time.  Father said it was an object lesson which is why I was allowed to watch.  I will report that it was a good lesson which I took to heart.  Alas, it was not perfect for Mr. Gabel got to roast my poor tail a couple of times and, of course, Dad did that many times.  I took it better than Marty did.  Of course, Marty gloated but that was to be expected.

Dad was very taken by the concept of respecting property rights so he installed a simple speaker system in the yard to be able to take a trespasser to task without yelling.  He even justified it as Mom was the most likely to see the criminal committing the crime as she worked in the kitchen.  He made it simple with a pre-record message so that it was always his commanding voice.  This time I raced to kitchen and pressed the button.© YLeeCoyote

A few seconds later "MARTIN GABEL YOU ARE TRESPASSING.  GET UP HERE ON THE PORCH IMMEDIATELY!" blasted from the speakers in the back yard near the fence.  I saw Marty jump like a scared rabbit.  That was enough to make my dick hard in anticipation of a good show later.  My reverie was interrupted by the bell; the rear doorbell.

Marty was surprised when he saw it was me – the runt – the brat – the pest – for years who was there.  "I thought your dad was out." he said surprised and without regrets that he was caught.

"He is and you can come back at 8:00 p.m. for your just reward, Marty.  I will enjoy your visit with my dad and his returning the ball." I said pleasantly as I snatched the ball he was holding loosely and tossed it down into the cellar.  He was completely nonplused.

"If that is an inconvenient time, I'll tell my dad and he will arrange something with your dad."  Marty remained nonplused.  "You know the rule – you can't have your ball back until your butt is strapped."

Marty did not like any of this.  "Good afternoon.  I must get back to my studying for finals next week.  I'll see you for your strapping from dad later."  As I said that I realized that there was another option that I would like, er, relish, er, love far more.  I decided to try for it as Marty was standing there like a goofus with his mouth open.  "I guess I could take a couple of minutes to save Dad the trouble and strap you myself now."  The goofus was surprised so I continued with "I watched Dad do it a zillion times and even felt it myself so I know exactly how to do it."

That was not the entire truth for a year before my best friend and I experimented with the strap and I learnt the best way to swing it.  My buddy said I was almost as good as Dad was and now I'm a year older and stronger.  But Marty doesn't need to know this fact.

I waited a couple of minutes as the rusty gears turned in the goofus' head.  "OK.  Decide!  Get your butt downstairs or leave!" I pressed him.  I could not have been more pleased or surprised as Marty headed downstairs.  I closed the door and followed.

I got the strap from the drawer and commanded: "Drop 'em and assume the position."  That was positively elating for me.  I'm sure that Marty felt very different as he slowly pushed down his shorts and boxers.  He looked about the same as the last time I saw him getting it from Dad.  As I got into position, I adjusted my tackle to be more comfortable.  I raised the strap and brought it down on target as hard as I could.  That seemed proper since I was just thirteen and he was twenty-one.

He reacted with a howl and jumped up.  "Back into position, boy!" I barked happily just like father would have done.  Once he was back in position I could see the red stripe forming across his butt.  I got harder.  I raised the strap again and repeated the action.  Another yell but he managed to stay down.  As I let the pain spread I remembered my phone in my pocket and fished it out.  Again I gave him a WHACK and this time snapped a picture.

I was delighted that I made him sob and his tail was flaming red when I stopped.  I had him stay in position for a minute so I could get another picture.  Then with the phone safely back in my pocket I told him to get up, take his ball and scram.  He did so without a word of thanks, the ingrate.

I returned to my room and happily jerked off looking at the pictures before returning to my studies.  Before dinner, I told Dad what happened and he said that I had done well.

This is one of my fondest memories.

The End

© Copyright A.I.L. December 31, 2019

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