This is story is just fiction.  It contains scenes of public and private all male spanking.  If such a subject is offensive, uninteresting or if you are a minor (i.e., child) please leave now.

This story dedicated to Sawyer as it was inspired by  I, Babysatter by him which is on the MMSA site and starts at: https://malespank.net/viewStory.php?id=2852

This is a three part story and has a three part companion story,  It's Tough to be an Official Spanker.  The two trilogies overlap with parts 1/2/x/3 of the first corresponding to parts x/1/2/3 of the latter.

This is set in a more permissive time when the legal drinking age was eighteen rather than twenty-one-years-old as it 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.

The author would appreciate your comments – pro and con, including constructive criticism, and suggestions.  Please take a moment to email.

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My Official Spanker and I – Part 1/3

By

YLeeCoyote@juno.com

I was feeling very good today.  I graduated from high school last month and had a earned scholarship to college.  When the sun rose again I would be eighteen and a MAN.  This evening there was a to be a party to celebrate the occasion with my friends.  We had arranged for a private room for the ten of us.  My friends were a bit puzzled and annoyed that I insisted that Jimmy be there.  But he's only a kid not even fifteen yet and a not relative they objected.  Nevertheless, I said, he must be there and I added: "No Jimmy; no Doug!"

It was a great party.  Being the guest of honor has it advantages for everything was my favorites.  It was great listening to the toasts for me saying so many nice things and, yes, even the jokes about doing naughty things.  Jimmy was very adult to the surprise of my friends.  He and his father had visited the restaurant and made sure that the manager knew that this all had parental approval and that he would have soda and juice rather than any alcoholic drink.

By the time my turn came around, I was pleasantly, er, buzzed from all the drinks I had.  I thanked everyone for their gifts, being there and most importantly for being my friends and helping me through life even as they were struggling with the horrors of being teens also.  But I had very special thanks for Jimmy.

I know that you are all wondering why I insisted that Jimmy be here.  He is here for the same reason that Pinocchio would have his Jimmy at his special events; one does not exclude one's conscience from such important events.  Yes, dear friends, Jimmy is my conscience.  I know that there have been rumors and gossip about Jimmy spanking me.  Well, they are not just rumors for he has many times.  More times than I care to remember.  Jimmy can be very proud that there are three things are true about that: they all hurt, they all were justified and they all helped me.

I continued to my shocked audience.  Some four years ago my father made Jimmy his proxy to discipline me.  Actually, I thought that the deal was that Jimmy would do it once and then I would be done with spankings.  That first one was very weird for I had to instruct Jimmy in every detail.  He did not know squat about spanking and the first time I howled he even stopped because he did not want to hurt me.  He got over that idea very quickly; alas, much too quickly.  Eventually, he finished the job properly.  He proved his novice spanking skills by easily turning me into a contrite, bawling, red bottom, fourteen-year-old boy the next day with a command performance for my dad.  He was a quick study.  I though that it would hurt less being spanked by a kid rather than by my strong-arm dad so I went along.  Also I did not want to be spanked over my father's lap like a little boy.  At fourteen I knew I was too old for that.© YLeeCoyote

As is frequently pointed out, hindsight is twenty-twenty and we could always realize when I had done wrong and deserved to be spanked by dad's standards.  At first we just used this simple standard but as I got older, I realized that there was a gradual change for I saw the need for self-discipline: do wrong and I need to be punished.  Dad had taught me that punishment was being spanked.  At first I taught Jimmy what made a better, er, more effective, spanking because dad told me to but latter as I became more of a man because I wanted it to be.  I even gave Jimmy a card certifying that he was my official spanker and had the obvious licence.  You still got that card, Jimmy?

"You bet your sweet butt I do, Doug." Jimmy one-lined and dug it out of his wallet to show to one and all.  He had even laminated it.

So, Jimmy, thanks for all your help for helping me get this far.  I certainly would not have done as well without it.

"You're most welcome but I must admit that I enjoyed most of it."  The group went into hysterics.

"How about a demonstration, Jimmy." one of my friends yelled.

"Hear! Hear!" the group chorused.

What a horrible thought.  It took all the courage I had to properly thank Jimmy.  Everyone one was looking at him.

"This is not a game.  I only spank Douglas when we agree that he done something wrong and deserves it.  We have, er, … a special relationship; a trust." said Jimmy calmly and decisively.  Bless him I thought, he is so ethical.

"But he is breaking the law by drinking." slurred one of my friends.

"Yea, he won't be drinking age until dawn tomorrow." declared another helpfully.

I had that very sick feeling of being trapped.  Jimmy looked very pensive as he was working things out.  All eyes were on him.  He never before took this long to decide what to do.

When he stood up to speak one could have heard a pin drop: "There is a very special relationship between Doug and me.  Will each of you swear not to talk about this to anyone else for ten years."  They all agreed and Jimmy actually made them swear solemnly to keep quiet – the guys on pain of being impotent and the gals to be frigid – with their hands in their pants.  Also, to please be quiet what ever happens and close that door.

He moved his chair close to the wall so that it was away from the table and spoke: "Come here, Douglas Keith Browne."  I had become conditioned to obey when he summoned me in that tone.  As I stood there facing him, I could not see the silent but heavy breathing group behind us.  They knew that this was not going to be the usual birthday spanking.  "Have you been drinking alcohol, young man?"

"Yes, Sir." I answered quietly.

"Are you of legal drinking age, Douggie."  Already I was feeling like I was twelve.  He knew just how to do this from years of practice.  I just shook my head no.  "Then you broke the law, boy.  You even flaunted your crime in public.  You should go to jail."

I shuddered as I said what I knew I had to say: "I have been a very naughty boy drinking illegally.  Please spank me so that I don't go to jail."  The next thing that he said would tell me if I was going to be merely humiliated or totally and completely humiliated.  I waited as he made the decision of what and how.  Long ago we had agreed that once it was determined that I was to be punished, he made all the detail decisions and I obeyed without question.

"Take off your shoes, boy."  I did.  There was still hope.  He opened my belt and pants.  They fell to the floor and I stepped out of them.  "The socks too, young man."  I was now sure: totally humiliated for he was getting me down my birthday suit.

He stood up and unbuttoned my shirt and let it fall to the floor.  I was just down to my briefs.  He knew that I hated this slow stripping.  I had told him so.  He knew everything that I hated; everything that was most effective to punish me; everything to make the spanking more potent; everything to make me change my errant ways.  Everything!  I had irrevocably given him this power over me.  In my universe he was Gort*, the invincible and all powerful galactic police robot.  Even Klaatu barada nikto! could not save me.

He sat down in this chair and pulled me close.  He hooked his thumbs in the waistband of my briefs and slowly lowered them.  I stepped out of them.  He pulled me over his lap and held me in place with his left hand while he rubbed my butt with his right.  I loved that gentle feeling but knew it would soon be followed by another and hated feeling.  He raised his hand and brought it down hard.  He had lots of practice.  I winced as always.

He spanked  SMACK!  and lectured.  I forgot about everything except his hand connecting violently with my naughty, little boy bottom and his lecturing words in my ears.  "You must obey the law, boy."  "You want to go to jail."  SMACK!  "Will you be a good boy?"  SMACK!  SMACK!  SMACK!  SMACK!  SMACK!

As it had for the four years he been spanking me he was getting to my very inner being.  I was being treated like a little boy.  I felt like a little boy.  I acted like a little boy.  I started to cry.  I started to promise.  And, it was hoped, that I would learn like a little boy.  "I'll be gooooood."  SMACK!  "I'm sooooorry."  SMACK!  "I won't ever do it again, ever."  SMACK!  Then like the very first time  SMACK!  when I taught him that  SMACK!  he must break  SMACK!  me completely,  SMACK!  he proceeded to do  SMACK!  exactly that.  I just lay across this lap, blubbering and crying as he gave me  SMACK!  those insurance  SMACK!  spanks that  SMACK!  assured  SMACK!  I  SMACK!  truly  SMACK!  knew  SMACK!  I  SMACK!  had  SMACK!  been  SMACK!  soundly  SMACK!  spanked and soundly  SMACK!  punished and  SMACK!  thoroughly  SMACK!  humiliated.  SMACK!  SMACK!  SMACK!

He stood me up and held me close.  He wiped my face and told me he was sorry that he had to do this.  "It was your duty, Jimmy." I whispered back.  He continued to hold me; much longer than he usually did.  Then he led me to the corner.  Everything was quiet as I stood there.  I'm sure that they were staring at my glowing bottom.  To say that I felt bad would be a major understatement.  I had been completely humiliated by reduced to a blubbering little boy in front of my best friends at my own party on the eve of my eighteenth birthday.  I felt like I could walk under a low slung snake and not bump my head.

After a seaming eternity, Jimmy brought me my briefs and dragged me back to my chair.  He made a speech that I will never forget.  He told everyone how brave, grownup and willing to accept responsibility for my acts that I was to have voluntary accepted that public spanking to learn an important lesson.  He got a standing ovation.  He's a wonder.  First he rips me to bits good for nothing but dog food and then he miraculously makes me whole again so I can face my friends without shame.

The birthday cake and ice cream (a old tradition that must be followed) was brought in and everyone sang Happy Birthday to me.  We were about to break up when some one declared: "He still needs his birthday spanking."

Jimmy, bless him, was up to the occasion.  "His ass is still mine so you each get one ONLY at each check." he decreed.  He put me over his lap and pulled down my briefs but only to the bottom of the bottom so that tender area remained covered and protected.  As I lay over his lap, both checks glowed like stop lights while my friends turned the calendar on me.  They each gave a feel, noted the heat and gentle taps.  Jimmy finished up the count with pats so light I hardly felt them even on my sore butt.  After I was dressed he handled me the spanking licence card which I insisted he keep.  He put back into his wallet with a very wicked grin.

It was the greatest birthday party I ever had.

Jimmy and I got driven home by my friend Roger for we all lived in the same neighborhood.  During the drive, Roger could not stop asking questions about the relationship that Jimmy and I had.  The best that I could do was explain that Jimmy was sort of a tool (albeit with a brain) that helped me be accept responsibility for my mistakes in behavior.  It's not really "you have been bad and you need to be punished" but more of "I been bad and I need to be punished".  Sometime Jimmy helps me get to that point but a lot less than when we started this.  It's just one of the things one needs to do to be a real man – self discipline.

Roger was quiet for the rest of the trip until we got to my house and left me to drop off Jimmy and get home himself.

The next day Jimmy came calling.  He was concerned about what he had done but I assured him that from my perspective he did exactly right and praised the speech he made.  What others thought did not matter for this was truly between us.  Then he turned very solemn and asked why I was not at work.  "It is a holiday." I replied (not adding that it was a floating holiday for me on my birthday).

He walked over to my desk and looked at the calendar.  "Not by your calendar.  You are cheating your boss.  I think that this deserves, er, er, nineteen strokes Douglas Keith Browne.  Nineteen on each side.  Now strip and get over my lap, pronto."  He finished with a smile.  I quickly stripped and in my birthday suit lay down across his lap.  As always, he held me about the waist and then started to gently rub my still sore bottom with his hand.  Not only did he know what I hated, but also what I loved.  He raised his hand and brought it down quickly on my right cheek SLAP and cycled to the left.  SLAP.  One.  SLAP.  SLAP.  Two.

He was giving me the most loving birthday spanking that he could.  Gently, nicely, tenderly.  SLAP.  SLAP.  Eighteen.  SLAP!  SLAP!  And one to grow on.  I was crying with joy rather than pain.  He picked me up and held me tight until I recovered.  I did not know how he could do it.  Last night he reduced to me a blubbering little boy to teach me a lesson and this morning to a blubbering little boy to show me that he loved me deeply.  It was his birthday present that I will cherish for the rest of my life.

* * * * * * * * * *

It was the happiest day of my 23.5 year life – my son, David, was born heathy and his mommy was well.  There were three others born about the same time in the hospital and we went to the nearby watering hole to have a celebratory drink.  Well that turned out to be one drink each round for us and there were six rounds plus one from the house.  Then I drove home where Jim was waiting for me.  I was lucky to have made it without a crash.

Jim was thrilled that all was well but he caught one other thing.  I was legally drunk when I was driving.  Although he had not spanked me in a while, this was a very major transgression particularly now that a had a new responsibility.  He let me crow about my kid and all that stuff which let the my body metabolize the alcohol for a couple of hours before saying anything.

Once he started he was relentless and as strict as he had ever been.  He gave me a very long lecture with a series of damming question so that I was confessing my crimes just as I did ten years ago when this all started.  "I broke the law driving drunk.  I must remember my responsibilities to my new born son.  I should be soundly spanked."  As Jim pulled me over his lap, I saw my father standing in the doorway as did Jim.

"Good evening, Mr. Browne, and congratulations on becoming a grandpa."

"Good evening and thanks, Jim.  Please don't let me interrupt this."

And Jim did not for right then I felt the first blow of his hand.  It had not lost its cunning and still knew exactly where and how to strike.  At first I thought, actually hoped, that I could resist its power but I soon learnt that it was impossible as ever.  I soon began to feel the impacts through out my body and deep inside my subconscious I knew that I must yield as always.  I started to cry. And promise.  And beg.  Until I was broken and crying uncontrollably.  Yet the spanks continued pounding the lesson into me deeply and (hopefully) permanently.

Then I, just a red-hot bottomed, well spanked little boy of almost twenty-four years being punished, was placed in the corner to cry while my father and my official spanker talked.  Father was quite impressed with Jim's spanking talents anew and said that he was glad that he had entrusted my discipline to him although he was surprised that I was such a little boy even with hair on my balls now unlike the first time you spanked him.  I felt so small.

"Well, that's the fourth crop.  I've had to shave them off three times.  It was very effective in getting him to grow up and do his work particularly when he was a sophomore in college.  I kept him smooth for six months then.  He really hated that."

"Jim, I want to thank you for helping my son all these years.  He is a far better man then he would have been otherwise." said my father.

"Actually, I want to thank you, Mr. Browne.  It has does wonders for me for I had to live up to a great responsibility and that was very difficult.  I'm much better for this also."

When I was released from my corner, I managed to thank both of then and receive dad's congratulations on becoming a father.

End of Part 1.  Go to Part 2

*See the 1951 movie: The Day the Earth Stood Still  Go back

© Copyright A.I.L., December 24, 1999

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