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Jack and Brandon, Father and Son

by Latin Writter

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: 25 Mar 2018

At first, the pain had been uncomfortable, but now it was becoming less and less bearable. I tried to move my hips from side to side, but that blasted hand always found its target.

Stop! I demanded, trying once more to kick my legs, however, instead of getting my stepfather to relent on his assault, the swats seemed to become harsher and more rapid. Jack, stop it! NOW! I demanded of the man, trying to use all my fifteen year old bravado.

However, the man neither stopped nor spoke, fueling my anger and ire towards him. The man I had once called Daddy and Dad. The man that had raised me since I was six. When I was too young and stupid to know better and to think this man had once loved me.

Now I knew better. I knew this man only put up with me because of Mom. I’ll tell on you, you bastard!

That final threat made Jack stop, making me release a sigh I did not know I was holding. Once more, I tried to get up from the man’s lap, but instead of being freed, Jack moved me around like if I was nothing but a rag doll. How many times had I hated Mom’s genes that made me small and seem fragile?

Let go! I demanded once more.

Your behavior these past months has been atrocious, Brandon. Jack scolded, You think you can do whatever you please because Marie is not here? He stated, landing three harsh swats on my, until now, untouched thighs. Well, think better, little boy!

Again, my stepfather’s hand landed on my under curve and thighs, making my fists ball tightly. My eyes stung with the unshed tears, my breath ragged as I tried to move my locked legs.

Suddenly, the spanking stopped once more. It was the harshest spanking up till now that Jack had ever given me, and I was sure that it was over. I might not be your father, as you repeatedly remind me, the man spoke, making my heart clench painfully. I still did not understand clearly why I had said so several months ago, but I did know that I was still angry from before for a reason I had somehow forgotten.

It had been that time that I had come in late. I had come home two hours after curfew, making Mom yell at me for what seemed an eternity, but when Jack had stated I was grounded, I had lost it. You’re not my father, your no one! I had told the man, I wish my real dad was alive and YOU were dead! No one would have missed you!
Jack’s face had gone pale, he had said nothing and had simply gone up to his study. Mom had looked aghast, but pained and had said nothing as well. Ever since, Jack had barely spoken to me...before he had at least spoken to me like one would a stranger. Now, though, now he ignored me altogether...that was until he had dragged me over his knee for a spanking.

But that does NOT! A particular hard swat fell atop my left upper thigh, making me yelp for the first time, MEAN! Another hard swat on my right thigh, I will let you put your life in DANGER! And then, it happened, a barrage of swats fell all over my sensitive sit spot and upper thighs.

Despite the fact that I was trying to hold it, I was starting to lose control of my body and mouth. Yelps and soft cries and moans were escaping my mouth. I could only hope this would end soon and that my once father figure would return to ignore my existence. That the man I had once admired and loved would go back to wishing I did not exist.

And when I thought things could not get worst for my bare and currently vulnerable behind, the worst yet happened. Somehow, Jack moved me again, making my legs part. I then could feel air caressing my most secret places of all, making my face blush profusely.

I was confused as to what would happen. Would Jack, the bastard, rape me as well? Fear engulfed me as I felt my stepfather place his hand upon untouched skin, but then the hand disappeared and pain exploded once more. Making my eyes loose battle with the yet unshed tears, my body shaking in anger and shame.


The happiest day of my life had not been my wedding, like many men claimed. The happiest day of my life had been when a little six year old, black haired little boy had wrapped his arms around my neck and called me daddy. A title I had wished to earn but had lost hope to do so.

However, as time went through, my sweet little boy turned into a terror. I felt lost, I felt unable to connect with him any more. The boy, who had once followed me like a shadow, now pushed me away with all his might.

However, when had had stated I was not his father was the worst day ever. Nothing I knew could compare with the pain I felt that day. Ever since, Brandon had started calling me Jack instead of Dad.

It was not the first time I had to spank Brandon, and now that I thought about it, it wouldn’t be the last. I saw his small, bubbled cheeks. Once pristine white and pale, now a fiery and painful looking pink.

His thighs and under curve where already the same color as his cheeks. My stepson did not relent though. I could feel the anger in him still. With a thigh, I did what my own father had once done.

It was good Brandon was light and small for his age, barely 5ft compared to my 6½. I was able to part his legs and accommodate him better, giving me a new area to spank. His inner cheeks were white, his inner thighs untouched. I placed my hand on his inner cheeks, heat radiated from the spanked zone. I knew by experience this would hurt even more. I knew that the pain here would last at least a day and that every time he walked or moved it would hurt.

Despite the fact that Brandon was small and thin, he had a lovely little bubble butt that my wife and I once liked to tease him about. We used to pat his behind or tell him he looked nice with his big little tush. The boy had always smiled and blushed, covering it with his hand and denying that it was cute.

Well, now my hand rested on it, the tip of my fingers resting atop his little whole. Knowing where I had to spank, I raised my hand and let it fall.

It was only two or three swats later that Brandon was crying and yelping. This skin was more sensitive than any other area. I moved from his upper cleft down to his perineum, landing a couple of softer swats there.

NO! Please! Please...J-Jack! Before he could even finish his pleading I moved down to his inner thighs, knowing that we were almost done.

Five swats to each thigh later and Brandon was sobbing atop my knees. I went back to his cheeks and gave him the hardest three swats yet.

No more skipping school! No more smoking! And no more drinking alcohol until you’re 21! I finished listing the things he had been caught doing that day.

After finishing my tirade, I started rubbing his neck, passing my hand through his soft, slightly long hair with my left hand. My right hand, which I had been punishing him with, rubbed his lower back, then went to rub his abused behind and thighs, before going up to his back.’re ok, kid. You’re ok. I soothed him from time to time.

It took him only a couple of minutes to realize that he could get up from my lap, and he lost no time. Woah, steady now! I chuckled as he rose so suddenly he almost lost his footing. I held his arm as gently as I could looking up at him.

NO! He yelped, taking a step back and moving out of my touch, making him once more lost his footing and fall hard on his freshly spanked behind.

OOOWW! He cried, not even trying to get up, but simply laying on his side and grabbing his abused flesh.

Brandon, baby... I lost no time in kneeling by him, rubbing his back.’s ok, kiddo, it’s okay. I soothed, trying to lift him up. However, I stood frozen on place when, behind all his tears, his icy brown eyes stared at me.

Don’t touch me! He cried, trying to free his arm from my light touch. I raised both arms as if he was a hurt puppy, my heart clenching painfully as he balled himself, one of his hands still clutching his painfully looking bottom while the other rubbed his eyes.

I won’t, Brandon...I won’t. I swore, though all I wanted was to hold him in my arms and rock him as I had done countless times when he was younger. Let me help you to your bed, though. You can’t stay here, kid. I told him as gently as I could.

He said nothing, but then tried to sit up, emanating a yelp from him once more, his tears falling harder, if possible, from his eyes. Trying to touch him as little as possible, I helped him up and guided him to his bed only a couple of steps away.

He fell on his stomach and reached for his pillow, burying his head on it. Calm down, Brandon... I asked softly, trying to place my hand on his shoulder. He had other ideas, though, as he moved his body away from me, curling in to himself.

Leave me! He cried, clutching his pillow tightly. I hate you!

For a moment I wanted to refuse, for a moment I envisioned myself giving him a light swat to his behind for the harsh tone before gathering him in my arms, showering him with kisses and gentle praise for the knowledge that he was a good boy and would behave better. I wanted to sit him on my lap, to replace that pillow with my chest and comb my fingers through his slightly tangled black locks.

What I did, though, was stand from where I sat and walk out of the room. I silently closed his door, my heart clenching painfully as I could hear the loud crying that erupted from him. He was coughing and sobbing, his cries seemed to have increased with my leaving. However, I knew that the boy that had once called me father was gone.

Hours later, unable to sleep, I walked back to my stepson’s room. Everything at the house had been silent for a while now and as I opened the door I noticed he was sleeping.

He still remained clutching the pillow tightly. He had not bothered on changing his t-shirt, nor on putting on some pants or underwear. I doubted he had moved at all, actually.

Guided by the nimble light that entered from the hall, I moved up to him. He was sleeping, as I had deduced, his face full of tear tracks, his breathing light as he clutched the pillow tightly even on his sleep. I then looked back down to his bottom.

The bright pinkness that had been there was now light. It was evident someone had spanked him, but I knew that most of it would be gone by morning, only a remaining soreness lingering. Pulling up his bed sheet, I covered him with it, not before removing his only remaining sock. I knew he liked his feet to be bare when sleeping.

I covered him up to his shoulders, tucking him in like I had done plenty of times when he was a small boy. I love you. I whispered, before landing a kiss atop his head.


I had no plans on falling asleep after last night’s events. I was angry at Jack for it all. I was angrier at myself, though.

I had been stupid enough to want Jack to stay there. I had wanted for him to hug me, but I had once more been proved that I was not wothy or his time nor love. All Jack had done was leave my room until he woke me up this morning.

I had been happy that, at least at some point, I had covered myself with my blanket. I had not even bothered putting on some pants. My butt had been killing me last I knew. Now, though, it faintly hurt, though for a reason I could feel a slight soreness every time I walked or sat. it was rapidly fading, though, and I hoped it would be gone by the time I got to school.

Now, though, I sat before him. He had his usual cup of coffee and sat behind his newspaper, as I looked down at my now soggy cereal. The brightly colored loops moving around by the force of my spoon.

Happily, though, I noticed it was almost time for me to leave if I wanted to reach the school bus. I’ll be taking you to school today, Brandon. Jack spoke without even moving from behind the paper.

I stood frozen for a moment, before glaring back at him. I can take the bus, thanks. I replied, as I grabbed my paper.

You can, but you won’t. He stated, folding the paper and looking back at me. Finish your breakfast, we still have ten more minutes. He stated as he stood and took his empty mug back to the sink.

What the fuck is wrong with you?! I snapped back, as Jack froze before forcefully placing his cup down on the counter. I can take the fucking bus and get to my freaking fu—

ENOUGH! He bellowed, making me slightly jump. Finish your food and then go get your bag and coat. I’ll be taking you and that’s the end of it! He snapped, pointing to my forgotten cereal now and glaring at me.

NO. I stated, crossing my arms.

I’m tired of you defying me all the way, Brandon. He stated, walking towards me. His blue eyes glaring daggers at me. He stood before me now, making me feel small. I hated it all.

Jack was big and fit, though not full out of muscles, it was evident for anyone that he excersised and was in way better shape than even I was. Fuck you.

The words came out of my mouth before I even could register them. And before I knew what was happening, too, I was bent over the table, my nose almost touching my forgotten plate.

I fought to stand back up, but Jack held me still, my right arm locked tightly at my back by his hand, my left arm flaying around as I tried to free myself. Then I heard it. Jack was removing his belt. The sound that it made as it went through the loops unlike any other.


Even though I was wearing my jeans, the sting was evident through the fabric. OUCH! The yelp escaped my mouth, my eyes tearing up once more. My behind was still tender from last night. It was definitely not ready for more. Not today, and not ever!


Three more fell, one landing on my still sensitive under curve while the other on top of my thighs.


It seemed that the process was repeated, and I hoped that would be the end, I was already crying.


OOOOWWWW!!! That last one seemed to be given with all of Jack’s strength, and I couldn’t help but howl as it had landed just where my thighs started.

As fast as I had been bent over the table I was pulled upward, my right arm being freed. I have had enough of your behavior, Brandon. Jack stated, glaring at me and pointing at me with his belt. You have five minutes to finish eating, brush your teeth and be in the car. We can always have a repeat of this, though, if you feel like it.

I glared right back at him, though I was holding my abused butt with both hands now. I’ll eat. I muttered in between clenched teeth, my breath labored. Jack nodded and then sighed. Before he could say more, though, I stepped back and grabbed the bowl, swallowing the remaining milk and soggy loops in one whole drink. I was not that eager to sit.

He extended his hand for the dish which I basically all but threw to him before I ran upstairs to do as instructed.

Soon after, we were both on the most tense ride to school I had ever had. I sat, squirming on my seat, while hugging my bag to my chest. I had never been more eager to get to school as I had been that day.

Minutes later, Jack parked in front of the school. Brandon, He started, though I did not move. He had, after all, placed the stupid child lock and had yet to let me open the door. Brandon, look at me. He asked, his voice almost soft, yet stern.

I complied, glaring back at him, though I said nothing. Brandon...look buddy... I hated him. I hated him.

When is mom coming back? I interrupted whatever it was he wanted to say.

He looked sad, his shoulders sagging. She’ll be back next Tuesday. He answered, making me nod once.

I need to go. I told him fiercely, having to remind myself how much I hated him despite the fact that all I wanted was to wrap my arms around his neck. He hated me, though. He wanted me gone. I knew so. He had once told my mom so.

Ok...I’ll pick you up, today, okay? he told me, before relenting on the lock, despite the fact that the car behind us had already started honking.

I can use the bus. I reminded him, I’m used to it. I snapped back. It had been years since he picked me up at school. Why start now?

I know, but I’ll be here by three. He stated, finally looking back at the van behind us. Have a good day, okay? He told me, his voice sounding insecure all of a sudden.

I hate you. I told him once more, looking directly into his eyes. I wanted to rejoice at the sadness and pain my words caused on his blue eyes, I instead it pained me. I hate you and I wish you were dead.

Before he could say anything or my brain could register the tear that had just escaped his eye, I bolted from the car and all but ran inside the school.

I tried to forget everything that had happened at home on the last 24 hours and just go on with my day as if nothing had happened.

However, it all came to a crashing stop on fourth period. I was seating, trying to ignore the slight ache on my butt as I ignored the droning voice of my history teacher when some yelling started. Yelling followed by what sounded like a firing gun.

There was a shooting at my school. There was a shooting at my school and all I wanted right then was my dad. My dad, whom I had told that morning I hated him.


I concentrated on work as hard as I could. I knew I was driving my secretary crazy as she had been going back and forth around the office on my demand