A Fresh Start
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 Jul 2012
The spring break he spent with his Grandparents and Mom was a special, treasured time for Tommy. Even after the shock of the arrival spanking from Grandpa Schultz, Tommy quickly became close to both of his Grandparents over that week together.
Returning to Huntsville, Tommy was met by Jake Mueller who picked him up and brought him back home. The resumed regimen of college life and study were less attractive on arriving back after a drastically different change of pace, followed by another long, exhausting bus ride. The experience of the discipline administered surprisingly and quickly by his Grandfather, however, only served to remind Tommy that he needed to be on his best behaviour back living with the Mueller family.
He was even more conscientious and careful to do what was expected, what he was asked or told to do, and to steer clear of what he knew was forbidden or unacceptable to Mr. Mueller. The spring semester concluded, but Tommy did not return to his Mom's place in Mobile.
Instead, he accepted a minimum wage job at the Mueller Engineering offices. It was some income, as well as experience in an engineering practice, and he was familiar and comfortable with the living arrangements – and even the working environment – by now.
That was the summer after his second year at college, and the summer after Anna Mueller's first year. Although there were more than 4 years difference between their ages, during that summer, the surprising interest that she had shown Tommy, when he had been alcohol comatose, continued. He became more aware of it as the fall semester began, especially after learning that she had broken up with her boyfriend from high school days.
At that point, Tommy's recurrent thoughts of her – which he had fought to suppress for 2 years – began to preoccupy his conscious time. During the summer, at work with her brothers, he listened hungrily for any information they might have about her. It was from them he learned in August she had ended the relationship with her high school boyfriend.
As the fall semester proceeded, he found at meals with the Mueller family he furtively absorbed glances and notices of her – at times caught by her eyes and returned with a warm, inviting smile. Remembering the past, straightforward admonitions from Jake and Marty about their sister, Tommy decided to deal with his growing interest, now that she was no longer dating her previous boyfriend, by speaking with Mr. Mueller directly.
One evening, about 9 p.m., he left his apartment, descending the stairs and walked across to the Mueller house. Entering, he went to Mr. Mueller's study and knocked on the closed door. Hearing Mr. Mueller's deep, resonant voice beckon him in, he entered, and walked in to stand before the large desk where Mr. Mueller was seated.
"Yes, Thomas. What is it? Is there a problem, son?"
"No, sir, no . . . not at all, . . . except I wanted to say, ah, I mean ask, um, well, ah, . . ."
"Get to the point, boy. What's on your mind?"
"Well, I, ah, heard from Marty that Anna broke up with her boyfriend from high school, and, um, I, ah, . . . I'd like to ask Anna to go out, um, but I want you to know and, ah, don't want to, um, make ah, ah, . . . problem."
Max Mueller exhaled a sigh of relief, smiling slightly. "Well, Thomas, I appreciate your forthrightness. You understand that with you being a part of our family, it is rather unusual," – Tommy's face reflected his instantly disappointed feelings – "but, not impossible, after all, since you're not really blood siblings."
Now, he suddenly felt some hope. "However, it presents obstacles that have to be avoided. Do you understand, Thomas?"
He really didn't, but was embarrassed to admit it. "Ah, yes, um, sir, . . ."
"So what are they, and how shall they be handled, young man?" Mr. Mueller was calling his bluff by putting the burden of identifying problems and offering solutions on Tommy.
"Ah, sir, I, um, I, ah, don't, ah, really, um, know what you, um mean."
"I thought not, but you weren't honest about it, Thomas. That's a bad thing. Always be honest – no matter what. My sons' biggest troubles have been when they weren't honest. Understand?"
Tommy sure did understand this talk. "Yes, sir. I'm sorry, sir. I will, sir," he replied.
"Well, Thomas, here are some of the problems. You live here with us, albeit in the above-garage apartment. That could present a temptation and opportunity that wouldn't occur if you and Anna were each living in different locations. So, one way to handle that is that Anna should not be in your apartment, understand?"
Oh, yeah, he sure did, and Mr. Mueller was nothing but frank about it. "Yes, sir. Okay, right, sir," he responded.
"Another is if problems occur, they cannot be brought back here, or brought up for everyone one else to have to deal with. Of course, Anna is our daughter, and if she wants and needs her mother's support or advice, she'll do it. You cannot expect to do the same thing with her brothers, however. Do you understand, Thomas?"
"Ye-es, sir," Thomas stumbled his reply.
"Another concern is that you both have rules that you are expected to live by – like your curfews, for example – and other ones. Those don't change because you are with each other on a date or otherwise. And if they're different, you have to comply with the stricter one. Understand?"
"Yes, sir," Tommy answered slowly, now beginning to understand more fully.
"Another thing is if she doesn't want to go out with you, or she changes her mind or loses interest, that's it, Thomas. You can't and don't go to Jacob or Martin and try to get them to help you with her. None of us can choose sides or enlist with you against our daughter. You understand, I know."
He did, indeed. "Ah, yes, sir, I do, . . . completely, sir, " Tommy assured Mr. Mueller.
"Alright, then, Thomas, with these understandings in mind, you go to Anna and see what she wishes. But don't forget these things, because if you do, you will be the one to regret it."
"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir," Tommy ended the conversation that was plainly already concluded. "May I, um, leave, sir?"
"Yes, of course. Good night, Thomas, . . . and good luck."
"Thank you, sir," Tommy retorted as he stepped back away from Max Mueller's massive desk, opening the door to let himself out.
So, began a new and exciting time in the life of Tommy Corbett. For a couple of weeks he was too shy to approach Anna, or raise the subject, suspecting that she had learned of his conversation with her father.
As the third week began, during dinner one Tuesday evening, there was talk about a new movie opening on Friday. Tommy had heard of it and wondered aloud if it would be worth the time and expense. Anna surprised him by stating she would like to see it, and "why don't we try it together?" That remark attracted the attention of everyone else at the dinner table, while immediately colouring Tommy's face a deep crimson.
Turning to stare directly at her, she beat him to the punch. "Well, how about Friday night?"
"Okaaay, ah, yes, . . . Friday night would, um, be great," he concurred. "Ah, want to see the 9 o'clock showing?"
"Sure, we can have dinner here, then leave together," Anna completed the plans.
"Okay, ahm sure, . . . that'd be, um, great," Tommy stammered.
So he and Max Mueller's daughter, Anna, began dating from that clumsy beginning. It turned out over the next few months that their interest – then involvement – in each other was mutual and fervent. Tommy, for whom Anna was his first girlfriend ever, found himself struggling with seemingly incessant, preoccupying thoughts of her. He had to exert strong self-discipline to return his attention to his classes and studies, and remain a high grade point, engineering student.
At the same time, he was also constantly and keenly cognizant of the dictates of Mr. Mueller when he had asked his approval to begin dating his daughter. So, he assiduously avoided ever seeing Anna anywhere alone at the Mueller home, and never in his apartment. He also consistently observed her curfew times, which were a bit earlier than his – especially during the week. He avoided discussing, or any conversation about, his relationship with Anna – with her brothers, or her parents. It felt a little stiff and strange, but he understood that this was what was required.
Then, in December, just as the semester was over, he and Anna planned to go out to dinner together, and then a movie, to celebrate the end of the fall semester. It was already snowy and icy in Huntsville and they dressed warmly to cope with the harsh winter climate.
Leaving shortly after 7 p.m., the drove slowly to Papou's, a restaurant known for its Greek cuisine. They spent a couple of hours there, then left to go to Stadium 18 movies for a 9:30 showing. The movie ended a bit before midnight and they hurried to Tommy's frigid Corolla, shivering while waiting for it to heat up.
Not ready to return home right away and end their time together, they drove to a lake not too far from the city. The route was less winter-readied, and they drove through snow to reach a plateau overlooking the lake. It was worth the drive, however, as the scene of the moon reflecting off the frozen, snow-covered lake was spellbinding.
Tommy was overcome with the beauty of the location and the evening with Anna, as well as the emotional drive of his hormones. They sat snuggled together, kissing, as the engine idled, allowing the heater to keep the car interior warm. Suddenly, Anna's hands were pulling up Tommy's sweater, shirt, and t-shirt.
Reaching down, she unbuckled his belt, unbuttoned his waistband, and unzipped his zipper, plunging her hand below his boxer's waistband, grasping his raging boner. Tommy was jolted as if touched with an electrical shock. His tongue dove into Anna's mouth, and he began unbuttoning her shirt, pulling her bra up off her breasts. His mouth dropped to surround and suction her breast and nipple while writhing on the seat from her hand that was raising his sexual temperature.
He tried to reach down and under her skirt, but she turned away, denying him access. At the same time, she began tugging and caressing his inflamed rod with her right hand, while pinching his left nipple with her left. Still sucking on her breast, he felt himself ignited, then proceeding to lift off, and exploded in her hand, copious rounds of semen shooting from his pistol. He lifted his mouth of her breast, gasping heavy breaths.
They exchanged saccharine declarations of love, while now snuggling together in partly dressed conditions. After a while, she said, "Look at the time, Tommy. It's 1:50 – almost 2 a.m.! We've got to go!" He reacted by acknowledging the correctness of what she said, and making a hasty attempt to tuck his shirt and t-shirt back in, zip up and fasten his pants and belt.
Putting the transmission into reverse, he depressed the accelerator and the little car moved sluggishly backward about 3 feet. He shifted into forward, stepped on the accelerator, and the wheels spun, grinding down in the slush. He tried backing up and moving forward for momentum, but the car was stuck. Now what?!
Given the hour, and the fact they were both past their curfews, and the condition o the ground and the car in it, Tommy decided he would have to take drastic steps.
He asked Anna to slide over behind the wheel as he stepped out into the icy, muddy terrain. Immediately, he sunk beneath his ankles. Sloshing around, he found that the back wheels had dug two ruts into which they'd sunk. He spied some rocks over closer toward the lake, and began tromping around, back and forth, carrying rocks to put in front of the rear wheels – and some before the front wheels – to provide for a trail on which traction might be gained.
Calling to Anna, he told her to wait until he got behind the car to push it, and then on his signal to begin accelerating forward. Pushing hard, he called out to her to move ahead, and she did – and the Corolla began its move forward, actually gaining speed as the momentum assisted it reaching drier land. As the car lurched ahead, Tommy pushing it from behind, lost his balance and fell face forward into the icy mud.
He was completely covered – and cold. He struggled to his feet, and came around for Anna to see. She made a face and asked what he was going to do about the mess he was. He told her to pull open the trunk, and he sloshed back to it, where he pulled out a couple of towels and a blanket. Then, treading around to the passenger side, he opened the door and began stripping off his shoes and socks, then his pants and all his clothes down to his t-shirt and boxers, that weren't yet soaked.
He tossed the messy pile of clothes onto the back floor, and hopped in to wipe his feet and legs, and hands and face, with the towels. Then he wrapped himself in the blanket to try to stop the rapid, near-violent shaking he was seized with from the cold. Anna turned the blower for the heater up high, and began driving Tommy's car home. He sat curled up under the blanket, trying to get warm again.
It was almost 3 a.m. when Tommy's car pulled into the drive and parking area in front of the garage apartment where Tommy lived. Anna handed Tommy the key, and they exchanged a quick kiss. She turned to open the car door, only to be shocked with astonishment at seeing her father standing by the door.
"Go into the house, and to your room and to bed," he directed in a low, but firm voice. She got out of the car and immediately hurried into the house. Turning his attention to Tommy, Max Mueller interrogated. "Where're your clothes, Thomas?" Then spying the pile of dirty, soaked clothes and shoes on the back floor of the Corolla, he ordered, "Go up into your apartment, Thomas, and wait for me. I'll bring these with me."
About to reply that he'd get them, Tommy looked at Mr. Mueller's face that registered a gravity not to be ignored, and gulping his unuttered words, he got out and fled up the snowy, icy steps barefoot, retrieving a key from under the mat, unlocking and opening the door, and stepping in. He had scarcely closed the door, standing still shaking under the wrap of the blanket, when Mr. Mueller opened the door, stepped in, and closed it.
"I know you are aware of the hour, Thomas," he said.
"Yes, sir," Tommy acknowledged.
"This is totally unacceptable. What happened? Tell me the truth."
Tommy stammered in terror, standing still wrapped with the towel around his t-shirt and boxers before Mr. Mueller. "I, ah, the car got stuck in ice and mud, . . . and I had to, um, push it out. Anna drove, we got it out, but I fell down in the wet mud, . . . ah, fortunately, I had towels and this blanket in the trunk, so I, ah, took off those messy clothes and wrapped up, um, in the blanket."
"Where were you when you got stuck?" Mr. Mueller asked the penetrating question.
"At, at the lake, ah, sir, . . . ah, we, ah, I mean, ah, . . . I mean nothing, um, happened, sir," Tommy was extemporizing an explanation that would answer the question truthfully without supplying too much information; but he knew he was in a cul-de-sac.
"It better not!" Mr. Mueller burst out his response. "But you are not to be in a situation where it could! You know that!"
"Ye-es, sir," Tommy replied meekly.
"But you were; and you disobeyed clear orders, and your own promises, in so doing, Thomas." Mr. Mueller's voice had dropped in volume, but had not changed in icy, emotionless, somber firmness.
Tommy looked down, unable for his eyes to meet Mr. Mueller's
"Just look at you. You're a mess. Before we can deal with your disobedience, we've got to get you cleaned up. Drop that blanket, and let's get you in the shower, young man."
He tugged the blanket away from Tommy, leaving the shivering youth in just his wet boxers and t-shirt. Grasping Tommy's arm, Mr. Mueller frogmarched him into the tiny bathroom, turned on the shower to heat up, and pulled Tommy's t-shirt up over his head and off him, followed by yanking down his boxers to step out of.
When he reached in and found that water quite warm, he grasped Tommy's arm and steered him to step into the tub and cascading shower. He pushed Tommy's head directly under the shower, dousing his head and hair, then poured shampoo onto the young head, trying to massage the suds into the light brown hair. Tommy squirmed and shook his head, which only evoked another series of smacks to his bare, wet bottom.
He stopped instantly. So did Mr. Mueller, however. He soaped up a wash cloth and began to wash down the sweaty, muddy body, starting with Tommy's neck, but proceeding down his back to his butt. When the sudsy washcloth delved between his buttocks, touching his anus, Tommy jumped forward, turning and writhing, trying to elude the grip of the older, stronger Mr. Mueller. Tommy tried to put up resistance – to fight, really protest and fuss, against – being bathed, at his age and status, by someone else.
To his horror, shock, and shame, he suddenly found himself pulled, wet and bare, out of the shower and dragged over the knee of Mr. Mueller who was seated on the commode top. The large, granite hand of Max Mueller began a regimen of spanking the wet, rapidly reddening bottom of Tommy Corbett as if he were a young, small boy.
Kicking and squirming, he cried out, "Nooooo! Ooooo-aaaa-stuh-opppp-it! Huh-uh-noooooo-uh-uh-oooooo-uh-I'm-uh-sarrrrr-uh-eeeee-uh-suh-arrr-uh-eeeee-huh-uh-puh-leeeez!"
Mr. Mueller's huge hand prints marked Tommy's previously pasty white buttocks and thighs, while the older man promised a further, harder spanking – with the hair brush – after his bath, for trying to refuse to do what he was told, and for disobeying the rules he knew from the outset concerning Tommy dating his daughter.
Needless to say, by the time he was ripped up off Mr. Mueller's lap, and pulled down to sit on his wounded bottom in the tub, to be bathed by Mr. Mueller, Tommy was one sorry, shamed, but compliant, young man, who seemed very small and boyish at that moment. Mr. Mueller stopped the drain to fill the tub, directing Tommy to step into and sit down in it.
With the quick, rough motions of a busy, strong man in a determined hurry, he began to wash Tommy's face. The young man's involuntary reflexes jerked and flinched as the wash cloth touched his face. Having his forehead, ears, nose, cheeks, jaw and neck scrubbed was a humbling, almost degrading experience, for this 25 year-old, college student.
His eyes were fixed on Mr. Mueller's washing hand throughout the ordeal, until he had to close his eyes while having his hair washed. Mr. Mueller returned to massaging shampoo into the light brown hair, while Tommy, with eyes still closed, twisted his head from side to side.
When the big, older man's hand descended to cleanse Tommy's chest and underarms (making him squirm and gasp with ticklish reaction), then drop lower to his abdomen, Tommy's eyes opened, and became wider and more alert with concern. When the wash-clothed hand dropped deep into the water, scouring the youth's feet, up his calves to his knees, along his thighs, Tommy unthinkingly leaned back.
As the inevitable clutch of his penis and testes occurred, he closed his eyes, trying to block out the occurring events. The scrubbing of his balls and dick, with repetitious, circling insertion into his anus, unnerved and rattled Tommy, making him inhale sharply and jump upward.
Mr. Mueller was insistent, unyielding, almost incessant, and the youth, to his horror and self-revulsion, instantly began sprouting a long, thick, stiffly extended boner. "Letting this control you is what will get you into a lot of trouble, Thomas," Mr. Mueller scolded while rasping up and down, and around and around – especially at the young man's mushroomed penile head.
Although he again shut his eyes tightly, Tommy was trembling in the tub water, inevitably lifting his hips and buttocks up off the tub until he could not the trip wire being pulled, and he exploded into the wash cloth. Although knowing what was happening, Mr. Mueller paid no heed and simply continued the scouring rubbing along with his lecture. "You keep this in your pants – to yourself – young man. Do you understand me, Thomas?!" With the last question, he grasped tightly and firmly the young man's now fading member.
"Aaaaaaugh-huh-uh-ye-es-uh-uh-sir-uh-aaaaaaa!" he exclaimed, opening his eyes to stare with deeply blushing face up at Mr. Mueller.
"All right, then turn over, and let me finish with your bottom, Thomas."
The command was obeyed instantly, with abased mortification. Tommy hated everything that was happening, but could do nothing other than resign himself to it. The deeper insertion of the wash cloth around Max Mueller's large finger, and slow, firm motions deep inside Tommy, not only caused him to lift his butt upward, but also gasp in protest, grunting and lurching forward, while commencing another woody.
When he had finished, Mr. Mueller unplugged the tub and lifted Tommy up by his arm to stand as the water drained away. Pulling Tommy from the tub, Mr. Mueller picked up a bath towel and began drying him, vigorously, from his head of damp hair, his face and ears, down is chest, and especially between his legs, up his thighs, and all over his manhood. Tommy was boiling with outrage inside, wanting to scream, "Stop it! Stop touching me! I can do it myself, can dry myself!" But he knew better than to try it.
Dry, but still naked, Tommy found himself being maneuvered along out of the bathroom into his bedroom. Standing ill-at-ease, still nude, he watched Mr. Mueller pull out the old, armless, desk chair and sit down. That was when Tommy spied the hair brush in Mr. Mueller's other hand.
In a crisp, brusque voice, Mr. Mueller explained to Tommy he was going to give him a spanking he would not soon forget. The fear in Tommy's eyes and on his face was unmistakeable, a product of knowing what was coming, the shame of being naked and hanging over this big man's lap once more, the humiliation of having to accept such punishment, and the anguish of recalling the pain the hair brush inflicted.
Having not fully recovered from the squalling sobs he'd wailed while being hand-spanked over Max Mueller's knees in the bathroom, Tommy began to stammer through crying tears that were resuming.
"Uh-uh-please, Mr. Mueller, sir, uh-uh-nuh-ot, um, uh-uh-nuh-uhther-huh-uh-spuh-uh-annnng-kuh-uh-eeeeeng!" – he hated even to utter the word. "Augh-uh-suh-irrr-uh-I'm-uh-25 – allll-uh-uh-most-huh-26 – and, um, uh-sirrrrrr, uh-uh-it's-uh-uh-ooooooo-haugh-nuh-uh-ooooo-augh-uh-riiiiiiight! Oooooo-hoooo-uh-uh-I'm-uh-uh-tooooo-huh-uh-oooold – aaaa-ooooo-uh-uh-an-huh-uh-uh-dult-aaaaaa-huh-uh-oooooo-uh-haaa-uh-waaaaaaa!"
"Young man, you are never – ever– too old for a good spanking when you need it," Mr. Mueller interrupted. "When you get too big for your britches, and think you're too old, I'll haul them down so quickly, and you over my knee, you'll end up one, sorry, but well-spanked boy, with a whole new attitude to boot. Understand me?"
Tommy gulped, evidencing a panicked, chagrined, look on his face.
"That's exactly what you need, and what you're getting right now, Thomas. It how you've been acting – and it's the sure remedy for it! Now, over you go, young man," he narrated the involuntary toppling of the naked, young man down and across his lap.
The pain was unbelievable. It almost completely took Tommy's breath away, so that most he could react with audibly was a loud, choking gasp. It took only a few seconds for the brush's repeated pain in his butt to register with his brain.
"Please, Mr. Mueller! Please no more! I've learned my lesson, I promise! I'll do what you saaaay! Ooooo-ow-uh-uh-ow-ow! Pleeeez-huh-uh-staaaaahp!" Tommy pleaded. "Oooo-please! It's-uh-uh-stinging! Oooo-uh-ow-ow-uh-uh-ow-it-uh-hurrrrrtz! Ow-ooo-ow-ow!"
Without saying a word, Mr. Mueller raised and applied the brush again and again, so that in short time it was landing one smack atop of earlier ones. The pain was intense.
The spanking took longer than Tommy even imagined in his worst dread. Mr. Mueller began with a long, rhythmic series of repeated smacks to the young man's rump and thighs, letting the cumulative effect of the stinging build before going to hard strokes. Even during this initial phase, Tommy was fast apologizing and begging: "Uh-uh-I'm-uh-suh-arreeee-uh-uh-Mr.-uh-Muell-uh-uh-errrrr! Please-oooo-please! Please-huh-uh-nooooo-uh-stuh-aaaap-huh-uh-oooooo-uh-doooo-uh-n't-uh-uh-oooooooo!"
When the faster, more intense, harder-striking spanks were applied, quickly the pain being inflicted began overriding everything else, and Tommy was reduced, reverting, to a small, broken, punished boy, crying his heart out. Bucking, kicking and thrust his legs out and apart, crying frantically, he threw his arm back, trying to shield, to cover, his agonizing rearend and upper legs. Mr. Mueller simply grabbed the youth's arm and twisted it upward, pinning it against his back, between his shoulder blades.
Mr. Mueller shifted gears to administer, if possible, a far worse, more severe spanking than anything Tommy had ever before endured from this older, stronger man. Mr. Mueller applied what he determined was exactly what was called for, and what Tommy needed. Tommy's bottom and thighs were aflame. He shrieked and screeched in hysterical, frantic pain, his voice sounding like the young boy he looked and acted – and felt – like as he was reduced to a naughty juvenile being spanked for misbehaviour.
Even when the spanking was concluded, Tommy did not try to move away or off of Max Mueller's lap. When finally, the strong, older man began to firmly and gently lift this punished youngster off his lap, Tommy almost jumped straight up into the air. His hands flew back to his bottom and upper legs, rubbing and kneading them, while crying desperately.
The tears that were still flowing amply from his eyes, and down his face, flew off as he jumped and bounced the spanked-boy dance, bawling as he stomped. Meanwhile, despite the inner feelings of horror, shame, and disgrace he would experience when recalling it, at the moment he was unaware of the spectacle of swinging, flapping penis and testes he displayed.
Mr. Mueller pulled down the young man's bedclothes and stood waiting while the still nude youth clambered in, stretching out and sinking down into the mattress and pillow on his stomach and face. "You are getting another one of these tomorrow night, Thomas, and you are also grounded for the next month. You are not going anywhere other than to school and work – and you and Anna are to stay away from each other. We will see what the new year brings for both of you."
Tommy's squalling grew louder and harder as each condition of his sentence was pronounced. Then Mr. Mueller turned off the light, called out, "Good night, Thomas," and left, leaving Tommy Corbett to cry himself to sleep like one broken, spanked boy punished for his naughty misbehaviour.
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