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"Proud" Challenge
Proud #21

by Y Lee Coyote

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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: 17 Apr 2011

The following story is fiction about judicial strappings.  The story contains scenes of strapping.  If these subjects are 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 buds and I love to go the Judicial Punishment Center (JPC) downtown to watch – not participate – in the proceedings.  We are all in high school now and have moved on from OTK spanking by our fathers to more mainly things – belts, straps, paddles, slippers and even a cane.  The details vary, but when we have earned a whipping, it's "UP AGAINST THE WALL, BOY."  Not quite that way but to bend over and lean on it with our bare butts stuck out for our fathers and others to thrash.  None of us like doing that, but it is an entirely different matter to go to the JPC and watch the proceedings.

Occasionally, we all go to watch after school.  The unlucky guys who are still in school are assigned reporting times after school hours although most of them are JD's who cut all the time.  It is fascinating to watch some of these tough hoods act like little pussybois when they have their pants down and their bare butts up for the state's strap.  Sometime, they even are whimpering before the first stroke.  Those end up bawling like babies after they are freed.  They rarely start with hardons and always finish looking like they had just gotten out of a cold bath.

To be fair, some of them are really tough and take it quietly so that they can boast to their buds how macho they are.  Occasionally, one of them will shoot a load and even remain hard as he walks off the stage showing off their hot red tails defiantly.

Today was different.  School got cancelled after the first period because of some fire violation with the oil system.  Who cares – we got the day off and hot footed it down to the JPC.  In the morning, it is more interesting for that is when the older guys are scheduled.

One gets to see real criminals who get a score (or more) of the heavy strap before they are shipped off to the penitentiary.  For the most part, they take it quietly.  After all, it not a good idea to be tagged a crybaby when you are going to the pen.  They also do the minor offenders who have gotten traffic tickets and the like.  The behavior of these guys varies a great deal.  Anyway, it is mixed bag what one sees on any particular day.

We got there early and got great seats.  I have learnt to pee at the beginning so I have an opportunity to slip a condom on.  These strappings are very [s]exciting and this prevents me from having an embarrassing wet spot on my jeans.  It was more than enough that I got razed about one a previous time.

Anyway, we were sitting waiting for the show to start.  By then we all have at least half hard ons but by the time we left we had all have iron rod tent poles demanding attention.  The first dozen were routine strappings.  A third of the men take it, well, like men and a third like boys with the rest in between.  We kidded each other about how we each take our strappings from our dads.  Truth be told, we are all about average, and it varies with how many cuts and how angry our dads are each time.

Then came the shocker.  Ben suddenly punched me in the arm.  "Dude – that's your old man."  I looked and sure enough it is.  In case I had any doubts, it was up there on the screen.  He had gotten a speeding ticket – nine strokes with the medium strap as the sentence.  I was torn about staying or not.  My buds had no such problems and wanted to watch.  They insisted that I stay.

At least I was not initially embarrassed for he kept himself in good shape for an old man of forty.  No paunch, toned and a reasonable sized dick.  I wouldn't have mentioned that except the guys did.  At least they were not laughing or making fun of him (and indirectly of me).  I guess that I got caught up in what was happening as he was bent over the spanking bench.  They always put a thick strap over the guy's back to be sure he does not move.  The man wielding the strap was all business as usual.  He approached, knowing exactly where to stand and proceeded to swing the strap.  The reports filled the hall as it always did.  I saw the first red stripe form on my father's behind.  He did not scream or yell.  Fortunately, he did not embarrass me.

After all nine strokes were done his ass was a hot red swollen pain center.  He had not yelled or anything.  He took it just the real tough criminals did – in silence – like a true man.  I hurt for him.  Although I had not swing the strap myself I was beginning to understand why he always told me that it hurt him to spank or strap me.

My friends were very impressed about how well he behaved.

"He did not yell." said one.

"Your dad is tough." said another.

* * * * * * * * * *

That night, after dinner I asked dad if we could have a private talk away from my siblings and even mother.  We met in his den.  The place where I had gotten uncountable lectures and many spankings and now even strappings.  This time was very different.

"Dad," I started, "I was at the JPC this morning."  I could see the surprise and then concern on his face.  "No.  Not hooky; school was cancelled.  I saw you get strapped."  I took a big breath.  "Dad, you showed how a real man takes his punishment.  My buddies were impressed but not like I was.  I'm so PROUD of you and that you are my father."

The End

© Copyright A.I.L.  April 17, 2011

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