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I Need A Spanking On My Bare Bottom
Practice Makes Perfect

by PJ Franklin

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Copyright on this story text belongs at all times to the original author only, whether stated explicitly in the text or not. The original date of posting to the MMSA was: 22 May 2009

“ I need a spanking on my bare bottom.”

“Again, only emphasize the 'my' better, it sounds more sincere,” Barry replied.

I said it again, trying to do what Barry was suggesting, “I need a spanking on MY bare bottom.”

“Good, that's good kiddo, that way, Dad will know you're sincere, that's important; remember practice makes perfect!”

I sighed. My new step brother was trying to prepare me. I had received a discipline slip from school. They weren't allowed to punish kids by spanking and such at my new school, so they sent us home with green slips of paper that told what we had done, so our parents could deal with us at home. Or in my case, my new step-dad, Mr. Keating, Barry's father, would deal with me.

My biological father had left me and Mum ten years ago when I was but five. Mum raised me as best she could until I was 13 and then got a new boyfriend, met him at her work. That's when Gerald Keating and my Mum decided to get together and they got married.

I didn't mind the idea that now I would have a new step-father, because he was a widower and had an only son, Barry. Barry was seventeen and treated me like I was a real brother from the first day. I was an only kid too, so it felt really special, but there was a hitch. Barry was used to a pretty strict upbringing. Mr. Keating had spanked Barry from a small boy until he got older. Now Barry got the belt and cane too, even at his age.

That meant that at my age, fifteen, I would qualify for the same, if I got in trouble. And I had.

Barry came over and sat beside me on my bed, putting his arm across my shoulders,

“Now listen. I know my Dad very well. He'll ask you if you think you're old enough to get the stick. It's a test really. It means he's offering for you to be more ... you know ... grown up and all. If you play your cards right, you can get a better bedtime and stay up later on school nights, so say yes. Then what he'll do is give you about four cuts on the bare, then put you over his knee and finish you up with a sound spanking, making you all red between the cuts.”

My stomach now ached, all this talk about spanking and caning. I wasn't used to it at all.

“But why does he do that? Isn't four enough?”

“That's just the way Dad has always done it. That's how I get punished, something you've not seen yet.”

We had only all been living together three months and the thought of Barry getting a bare bottom spanking over his Dad's knee with me watching seeming totally impossible. Barry wasn't a small boy, he was more like me, tallish for his age and good looking to boot. And I already loved him a lot. He treated me like an equal. We kicked a football together and played video games. He had introduced me to all his friends and spent time with me. It was like he was already my best friend.

“I don't want to see you get punished, so don't get in trouble, OK?” I asked, actually quite sincerely.

Barry laughed, “I can't promise you that mate, I've been getting in trouble all my life and expect I've a ways to go yet.”

“So what's it really like then? Mum never spanked me and they can't at school.”

“It will hurt, a lot, and it might make you want to cry. That's OK, just don't fake anything. If Dad thinks you're faking, he'll double your cuts, right on the spot. So whatever you do, just be yourself and don't be afraid. It gets over quickly really, faster than you imagine.”

“He'll let you watch right?”

“Of course, but if you don't want me to?”

“No! You have to. I'd ... I'll be less afraid if you're there.”

I felt a little water gather around my eyes from emotion and Barry squeezed my shoulder,

“It'll be OK, I promise, I'll be right there, so no worries?”

“No worries” I said worrying about it doubly so now.

I had heard about Dads who spanked their sons and used things like canes. I just never ever thought I would end up like that. But here I was, pacing the floor in my new home, trying to imagine it all being over with. I was OK until my step-dad got home from work. He and Mum drove together now. It was good, they still worked in the same office like before they got married. Mum loved Mr. Keating and he treated her grandly like she deserved. I guess that's why I figured to do everything so as not to make him angry with me and have him leave Mum. She deserved a good husband.

I didn't know what to do now, so I scurried back to my room. I had my own room just like in our old flat. Barry's was right next door to mine, but sometimes I spent more time in there with him, than in my own. I went in and sat on the bed, then got up and thought about closing the door, but didn't. Then I heard footsteps and almost panicked. I didn't know where Barry was. I couldn't do this without Barry.

Mr. Keating appeared at the doorway. My heart and stomach both jumped into my throat. He had my green slip and was looking at it, then at me. His face looked calm, even kind of sorry,

“What's this then Nicky?”

I looked at him a moment and swallowed, “Got in trouble at school, used a bad word in class.”

“I see. Did you have a chat with Barry about it?”

“Yes sir. He told me what to expect.”

“Good. I don't want you to think me an ogre Nicky, but rules are rules. I explained them at the start did I not?”

I nodded. He had, “Yes sir.”

“All right then, so where is ...”

“I'm right here Dad,” Barry said from behind. Thank God.

“Good, I'll get my cane and you wait in there with Nicky.”

“Yes sir,” Barry said.

I was already freaking out. I just couldn't control my feelings. Barry saw me,

“Hey, hey, come on Nicky, chin up, there's nothing to fear here, just a few stripes on your bottom and a little tanning up, you'll be fine mate.” Then he sat down next to me, hand up on my shoulder.

I didn't want to be a wuss. I wanted to look strong and confident like Barry was, only I just couldn't. I had heard Mum and Mr. Keating talking one night. She told him that I was fifteen years old going on twelve or thirteen for emotions. I didn't like hearing that, but I guess she was right. I was already willing to blubber about my punishment and I hadn't even had it yet.

Mr. Keating appeared again in the doorway, holding the stick. I had never even seen one up close.

“Nicky, I'm going to ask you this just once lad, so listen carefully. You're new to punishment, but your Mum seems to think you'll do fine on your own. Now, when Barry was your age, I asked him, like I'm going to ask you now if you think you're old enough to get the cane; otherwise, it will wait until there is a next time.”

I looked at Barry, then at Mr. Keating. I cleared my throat, “If it's ... um ... OK ... I'd rather ... um ... prefer the cane please.”

It was like the hardest thing I had said, ever. Mr. Keating nodded, he seemed pleased, “Good, I was hoping you would because I think you're old enough. Barry, help him please as we agreed?”

I looked at Barry, it was going to happen. I started to shake and didn't know what to do.

“OK mate. Now's the time to ask Dad for you punishment, like we practiced.”

I faced Mr. Keating again and looked at him, “Mr. Keating, sir ... that is ... Um ... Please, I need a spanking on ... MY ... bare bottom,” and then quickly looked at Barry. Barry smiled.

“That's very good Nicky, well said, OK, let's get on. Barry?” Mr. Keating said.

I had done it, just like I had practiced. Barry didn't know, but I had been practicing saying it in my head a hundred times in the last hour. Practice makes perfect you know!

“OK mate, up to standing, let's get those trousers off ya, pants too.”

I looked at the open door. I didn't wish Mum to see me and knew she was about. Mr. Keating saw it and closed the door. I stood up and started to take my trousers down. My hands trembled, I wished they wouldn't, it made me feel weak and unable. But I finally got my trousers off and stood there in my pants.

“Pants too mate, come on.” Barry said standing and looking a bit away. I sighed and slid them down to my feet. I had never stood in a room naked like this with other blokes, only with myself. It didn't feel good at all, not having clothes on. Barry then pulled out my study desk chair.

“OK Nicky, over you go, bend over the back of it, hands on the sides of the seat solid. Head down, feet hard to the floor.”

I stepped forward and stopped at the back of the chair. I looked at the seat and bent over the back. My bum went right up. I felt awful and awkward about it. I fixed my hands to the sides of the chair and gripped hard.

“Not too hard mate, just hold on and don't let go, OK? I'll be right here with you.”

I let my grip up a bit but said nothing and then Mr. Keating came to my side, “Four strokes Nicky, then your bum will be spanked as well, understand?”

“Yes sir,” I said not knowing what to feel or anything.

Mr. Keating stood back and I felt the cane tap my bottom. I closed my eyes and wished I were somewhere else. Then I heard something, a whispery sound, and then a harder sound and then my bottom got an awful sting, right in the middle of it! Oh it burned!

“That's one Nicky, good. Stay down lad,” Mr. Keating said.

Then he did it again, lower this time and it stung harder. I gritted my teeth, my bum felt on fire and made my cheeks pinch in.

“Two Nicky, keeping holding.”

Then the third, the worst one so far, lower down yet and made my toes curl. “Ouuuuu!” I said and felt a long hard pain across my bottom.

“Three, only one more remaining,” Mr. Keating said.

Then he gave it quickly. It wasn't worse than the third, but just the same and made my eyes water. It hurt like the devil! But I remembered that Barry said to not get up until told.

“OK son, you can get up now,” Mr. Keating said. He called me “son” every once in awhile. Mum and he told me that I didn't have to call him “Dad” if I didn't want too. I wasn't sure what I wanted to call Mr. Keating, anything other than Mr. Keating. Barry helped me up and I turned my head to see my new stripes. There they were, bright red lines and though they hurt awfully bad at the first, they were already feeling just a little better. I didn't dare touch them though.

Mr. Keating put the cane aside and then sat on the side of my bed and motioned me over. I went to him and stood there near his knee.

“Barry told you that you would get a spanking now?”

“Yes sir.”

“OK then, lay across my knees, bum right here at the corner” and patted the spot. My heart was pounding, my bottom was still throbbing and now I had to do this. I leaned forward and he helped me lay down. I felt my bum burn some when I moved it. I put my hands down on the floor.

“Keep your hands down Nicky, it's time to be spanked.”

The slaps started, one cheek then the other. He tried to keep between the canes stripes, but it was impossible. The slaps started to burn harder and harder. The spanking seemed even more painful than the caning and Barry was right, I could not stop from crying, so I did. I started to sob, but the spanking continued. It stung and burned all over and my ears filled with the slapping sounds!

“Please! I'm sorry, I won't get in trouble again, please!” I said and sobbed at the end. Mr. Keating then did stop.

“Next time young man, you'll get a full six cuts of the cane and another hard spanking. When you're older like Barry, you'll get the belt instead of a spanking, so beware.”

“Yes sir!” I said hopefully.

“OK then, ten more, count them out for me.”

I did. Ten times I counted and got ten hard stinging slaps to the lower end of my bum. Oh they hurt! But I didn't feel like crying any more and just took them.

“Good lad, up you come!” Mr. Keating then said and helped me up. Barry was right there. Naturally I craned my neck around to look at my bottom. It was red all over without any white skin. I had done it! I had survived like Barry had said I would. Now what?

Mr. Keating stood, hands on his hips, “Good job of it Nicky. Now be a good lad, OK?”

“Yes sir!” I said nodding my head and watched him leave the room to Barry and me. I turned and looked at Barry and he beamed back,

“See? No problem mate, you did it good, just like we practiced!” and that it, it was really done and over, or so I thought.

Barry gave my bum a good inspection, then left me alone for awhile, told me to relax and come out later. I wasn't really sure why he told me to do that until I lay back on my bed, then turned over, my sore red bum upwards. Then something happened. My dick got hard. I had wanked myself off like every other boy, but not after a spanking! I started to hump my bed top and then reached back to feel my bum. It felt warm and even good but it made my dick feel even better to do so.

It got harder and I got to feeling like wanking off, so I quickly turned over and grabbed my dick just in time. My body exploded and my dick sent this jet of spunk up to my chin, again and again! It was the hardest one I had ever had! And after a caning and a spanking! What was this then?

I could hardly contain myself, got up, got dressed and went to find Barry, but then stopped dead in my tracks. I wasn't going to tell him this. He would think I was daft or worse, a pervert of some kind, so I didn't, I kept it to myself. But now what?

For the next several days, I spent half of it inside the bathroom, my hand on my hard dick, pointed at the toilet bowl. All I had to do was relive my caning and spanking in my mind. I even imagined Barry was spanking me and then I would unload my stuff into the bowl. Talk about practice makes perfect. It was all I could think about and it started to worry me enough that I began to feel sick to my stomach. I had to do something, I had to talk to someone.

I didn't know what I would say, but I knocked on Barry's bedroom door a few days later.

“Come on in!” he said from the other side. I went in and closed the door.

“Hey mate! Say, are you feeling OK Nicky? You seem a little down lately, anything wrong?”

I nodded, “Yes there is.”

He sat up from his slouch, “What?! What's wrong? Something at school? Are you ill? Should we tell Dad?”

“No! I'm not sick like that,” I replied. I was worrying him worse than I was really worried.

“Then what? Tell me Nicky, please!”

My head went down, “After my spanking, I started to wank up a storm. I don't know why, and now I just can't stop.”

“Oh Nicky, is that all? You had me worried!”

I looked up, “Am I a pervert?”

“No mate! No! I'm sorry, I should have said something, but that's natural. I do it all the time myself too and it gets really good after a good thrashing from Dad's cane and belt.”

“It does? Why Barry?”

“I don't bloody know. I just treat it as a kind of reward for putting up with it, I guess. So you've been clogging the sewers have you?”

“Tell me about it,” and I sat on his bed so relieved.

“You're very normal mate. Don't let it worry you, just keep your stuff off the sheets and your underwear. Dad found a pair of old ones I had lost track of once. I caught hell for that, I'll tell you.”

“Did he make you stop?”

“No, not at all. I just got my bum blistered for being careless and leaving my mess for Mum to find, that's all.”

I could breath now and I thought it was over, but it wasn't.

Two more days later, the urge to find a way to get back that strangely good feeling after a spanking returned. I didn't know what to do now. No way I was going to tell Barry that I needed to be spanked again, so I could get off. That felt over the top even for him. Now I really did feel like a pervert. What to do now?

Easy. I got my own belt and went after myself. I carefully plotted when I could be home alone and then gave myself a good whipping as best I could, making my bottom as red as I could. That worked. I wanked up a storm after each whipping session. I pretended it was Barry giving me a good whipping, telling me that I was a bad boy for wanking off so much. I even repeated to myself, the same words I said for my step-dad,

“Please sir, may I have a spanking on MY bare bottom?”

I thought I had it all figured out, until one afternoon, I was naked in my own bedroom, the door closed and belt in hand. I was going to give myself another whipping and got started. My dick was hard as nails as I stood up this time. It was going to be easier to get a better swing on the belt. So I started in. I must have gotten in a good twenty or so decent cuts when suddenly, the bedroom door opened. There stood Mr. Keating, my step-dad.

I froze and dropped the belt. My step-dad looked kind of funny, but then closed the door and left me alone! What was he going to do? Tell my Mum? Had I ruined it for her!? You can't imagine how I felt at the moment. I was more lost than when I first found out I was getting my first spanking and caning. I didn't know what to do, so I did nothing and didn't move from my room. All I did was get myself dressed, and lay down, knees curled up to my chin and back to the door. I felt doomed.

A short while later, I was in the same position, knees curled up to my chin and there was a soft knock on the door, then it opened. It was Barry. I couldn't look up at him, but he came in and softly closed the door and came right over to me and sat down. I started to tremble. I knew Mr. Keating had told Barry what he had seen. His hand and arm across my shoulders was reassuring, but he hadn't said anything