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A Mother's Prescription for Adding a Little Humiliation

by Running Bare

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: 16 May 2018


A Mother’s Prescription for Adding a Little Humiliation

By, Running Bare

 

Kenny McLean is my son David’s best friend. They’ve been inseparable from Kindergarten right up to the current sixth grade. Both attend the Christian private school three miles our home. Kenny’s parents and I carpooled the boys over the years and it isn’t uncommon for one or the other families to deposit one or the other of our sons to spend the weekend the other’s house. It is a bit more difficult for me to fully reciprocate as I am a single mother. The Kenny’s parents have a solid relationship. As a divorcee, I envy their marriage.

The McLeans have two daughters, both younger than the boys. So, as you can imagine, getting the young males together as often as possible is kind of an entertainment imperative for their boy. David really needs the male childhood connection.

Since the day the boys bonded until they were in third grade, I looked forward to keeping Kenny overnight so I could enjoy bath time. For some reason, I fully enjoyed closely examining and cleansing both boys’ bodies, but especially that of my son’s friend. Am I driven to do so by some maternal attraction or need to dominate or care for young boys? I’m not sure what drives it. I do know, I find the domination of the boys somehow empowering and erotic.

In my mind, Kenny’s physical beauty is second to none. When they were younger, I was enchanted looking at him when he was completely nude. I took advantage of the opportunity to examine his rather well-endowed penis and truly enjoyed soaping it up with my hands. Often after drying the boys off, I’d encourage them to romp around naked until bedtime. I don’t know whether it was the kid’s shapely little legs, his beautiful smile, dancing eyes, well-endowed boy parts or cute little backside that held my attention, but the Kenny’s a looker. Not that David is unattractive, but Kenny seems to naturally catch your eye.

David has a sister Christine. We call her Chrissy. Being three years older than the boys, I occasionally allowed her to bathe them when they were younger. Taking my lead, when Kenny visited, she too enjoyed making them romp nude after drying them off. Letting them play naked was done so frequently it almost became the house rule. If we allowed them to don underwear after their baths, it was unusual. More often than not, I sent them to bed naked as well.

Chrissy made no secret of never getting enough of watching their bouncing appendages. Though I’m sure Kenny’s parents were aware of the amount of naked time I insisted on when he visited our house, neither Sharon nor Frank ever brought it up as a concern. So, it continued.

Discipline of the boys never is a problem. The McLeans and I are in full agreement, When he’s at your house, punish him as you would your own son. No questions asked. Thankfully, we are somewhat mirror images when it comes to the ultimate discipline—the belt vigorously applied to the bare bottom. Spanking makes perfect sense as they are both normal boys. Most of the time I use other forms of discipline, but there are times physical consequences are unavoidable.

I’m sure my intervention is nowhere as impressionable on them as when Kenny’s father is the disciplinarian. A few times, when David had been disciplined by Frank, Kenny’s dad, he still had telltale lines striping a slightly bruised bottom when he returned home. I’m fine with that. Kind of automatically answers the question, How was your stay at the McLeans’? Doesn’t it?

Lately, I’ve begun allowing Chrissy to sit with the boys for short periods of time while I run errands or if I’ve managed to land a date. Though, I never permitted Chrissy the spanking privilege with the boys, I do dole out any earned discipline in front of her when I return home.

Last Friday, I picked the boys up at school. School was out until the following Tuesday due to some kind of teacher training. Kenny was going to spend the long weekend with us. I watched as they left the building and approached the car. I was transfixed on Kenny’s muscular little legs. Both were dressed in their uniforms—khaki shorts and white polos sporting the school crest. Kenny was to spend the weekend at our house.

Sharon, Kenny’s mother, must have been similarly stimulated by her son’s physique as she always raised the hemline two or three inches on his uniform shorts. I don’t remember him ever having a pair that didn’t come to mid-thigh rather than the usual just above the knee length the shorts came in. Another quick observation to support my suspicion was she kept him in shorts year-round. This is notable, as it gets kind of cold during the winter months, sometimes down to twenty-five degrees. I’m not sure the kid has any long pants. Even his church attire is a suit with short pants and ankle length socks which is really rare for an eleven-year-old. I’m not complaining about it though, and I’m sure no other boy loving mother is either. In fact, I’m entertaining having David join his friend this winter so Kenny isn’t the only boy with bare legs.

As they rode in the back seat of my Volvo, the two traded punches, giggles, and silly conversation all the way home. I’d occasionally catch quick glimpses of them from my rearview mirror. I was overcome with a sense of pride that the two of them were so close.

When they got home, at either domicile, and the first rule of thumb for the kids has always been change your clothes, put your uniforms in the laundry. Chrissy and both boys have done that for years.

Friday, I had some quick errands so the kids piled out and I left Chrissy in charge. I distinctly shouted, You boys change your clothes before you go out and play. David shouted the usual retort, We will! You can imagine my surprise arriving home and finding the leg of David’s uniform shorts torn, the seat of Kenny’s with ground in dirt. Both white shirts were covered in grass stains and God knows what. I really doubted I could get the stains out of Kenny’s clothes and David’s shorts were totaled.

Chrissy immediately started her reporting. She’d reiterated the change your clothes order, but apparently the boys decided to save time and head off to the woods surrounding our home without doing so. In fact, Kenny had apparently smart mouthed her with Get off our asses. You’re not our boss.

What we had there were two offenses. First, was direct defiance of not just Chrissy’s order to change, but I’d also reminded them when I dropped them off. Disobedience was a capital offense and always ended up with one or both at the end of a belt. Kenny’s defiance and challenging remark was also a major breech of the house rules. They both knew it.

I ordered them to strip right there in the kitchen. As they trampled their shorts off and pulled their knit shirts over their heads, I whisked the soiled clothes from the floor. Standing there in their briefs, I told them I wanted them naked. Their faces took on that shy look signaling defiance. There was a hesitance in their response as if shedding their last vestige of modesty in front of David’s sister and/or possibly protesting the order for nakedness might delay what they knew was coming. With Chrissy watching and trying to act angry, they both begrudgingly peeled the last garment from their bodies.

They tried to hide their items of interest from our sight. It was clear they’d developed self-consciousness about being fully exposed, especially in front of a fourteen-year-old girl. A certain feeling of eroticism overtook me seeing them in such a protective stance and I developed a strong urge to force them to fully display their genitals. Their embarrassment just strengthened my motivation to order them to fully expose their penises to both my daughter and me. I demanded they put their hands behind their backs. Reluctant, but scared not to do so, they complied.

Neither Kenny at eleven nor David an early twelve, shows any outward signs of puberty. As could have been predicted, both penises were stiff and pointing parallel to the floor from their hairless groins. Kenny’s besting David’s by an inch or so.

I did silently question, What’s with that? At times like this, I always questioned how in the hell they both could be hard knowing that the belt was about to grace their backsides within a few minutes? One would think they’d be fearful enough, arousal would be the last thing to happen. Maybe it was being naked in front of Chrissy and me, but still, the taste of the belt was the expected consequence. One would think that looming eventuality would moderate the state of those penises. I guess, the male mechanisms will always be a bit perplexing to me. That said, I have to admit they were cute standing there, hands behind their backs, penises saluting, and unable to raise their gaze from the floor. I think Chrissy thought so too. Her line of sight was definitely glued to the same areas mine was.

For years I’ve kept the belt on a nail in the kitchen. My thinking is keeping it openly displayed makes it a visible deterrent to errant behavior. Not sure if that is the case though, as it comes off the nail often enough. Let me just say, Chrissy usually isn’t present during their punishments. More often than not, I do the honors in the privacy of David’s bedroom. But, that day they were so dirty I wasn’t going to let them leave the kitchen without shedding their clothes. Besides they offended Chrissy, too. She should get to watch their punishment. It just made sense.

Pulling two chairs out from the kitchen table, the boys knew the routine. They turned, and without direction, grasped the seat of the chairs and spread their legs part. They knew the routine. After presenting their backsides, the belt was quick to land.

First victim was Kenny. He gritted his teeth anticipating the sudden sting soon to arrive. The loud snap resulted in an audible grunt and notable lunge forward. The second snap was followed by a grimace and another grunt. The third stripe was accompanied by the first noticeable tear trickling down his red face.

His milky white backside was striped with pink. Funny, but my first thought was how Sharon and I should discuss evening out his tan lines. Keeping him nude and outside or at some beach would be highly entertaining for me. As the belt landed the fourth time, I was taken by the now pink background getting a momentary white tram line which quickly turned red. My attention was sadistically tuned to the enjoyable sound of the boy’s sobbing. Maybe the enjoyment was tied to a sense of justice instead, but I doubt it. I’m sure it was a sadistic enjoyment of inflicting pain on this beautiful specimen.

After the fourth contact, Kenny’s cry became pronounced. The fifth and six lashes were just icing on the cake for me. I wanted the assurance the boy’s vocal reaction and tears were real, not just a put-on to get me to stop. When I finished, with tears dripping off his cheeks, he offered the counter punishment bellowing out the oft heard I hate you! He was ushered by Chrissy to a corner behind the table.

Unbelievably, the kid’s penis was still hard! Really a cute sight, but I didn’t have time to ponder that, I had one more boy to take care of.

David seemed so brave as he stood there naked as the day he was born, bent over grasping either side of the kitchen chair, his bottom inviting my attention. He stared straight ahead with his eyes locked on some distant target as he prepared for the first stinging contact. I brought the leather forward with force. The result was a loud report that reassured me it stung. His forward lunge was pronounced and he’d already started crying. Timing my swings, as with Kenny, I left five or ten seconds between each.

My swings were always delivered from as far back as I could reach. This allows the strap to build momentum as its propelled forward to the target. My ex always made whipping David or Kenny look effortless. I don’t want to sound sexist, but I’ve always had to put a lot of effort into spanking the boy. I believe each contact of the leather should be painful enough to leave a lasting impression. After all, if you’re going to do a job, do it right.

While he was being dealt with, I don’t know how many times he cried out I’m, sorry! I’m sorry! but I would not be deterred until he’d receive the prescribed number of stripes across his fully exposed ass. If nothing else I would see to it the consequences were equally distributed.

By the fourth lash he had abandoned the apologetic cry in favor of the Owwweeee, owwwweee! cry. The tears and bawling continued.

After the sixth and last swing he stayed in position. It wasn’t until I’d hung the belt back on the nail that he realized it was over. He rose slowly rubbing his backside. His red, tear filled eyes producing droplets to grace his reddened face. His pathetic appearance was actually cute to me. Chrissy gently pulled him to the opposite corner of the kitchen. It was an unwritten rule that, following a belting, they were to remain naked and standing in the corner until being paroled by me. I left them there for fifteen minutes which I felt was sufficient time to them to pull themselves together.

As they turned around the both still seemed so pathetic. Still wet from tears, a quick survey of their bodies showed dirty knees, arms and hands from their after-school mishap. Their erections had subsided. I told Chrissy to take them upstairs and bathe both. Much to my surprise, David had the balls to contest my directive. He angrily argued that they were too old for someone to bathe them. I, on the other hand, was kind of aroused and determined to allow Chrissy some special, private, legitimate touching time. Subjecting them to the further embarrassment of having their most private parts attended to by a fourteen-year-old peer was one way I felt I could enhance their punishment and feed the eroticism I was experiencing by forcing them to submit to it. My reply was, if they wanted to act like little boys, I’d treat them like little boys. And, then to rub it in further and signal my intention to Chrissy, I reminded her to be especially careful but thorough with their bottoms and little boy parts. Yes, I secretly hoped she picked up on the later as a green light to hand wash their packages. I firmly believe humiliation is definitely a powerful corrective measure. Truthfully, this second undesired consequence probably was more powerful than the belt. Maybe it’s that each resulted in its own form of punishment. The belt produced physical pain to their backsides, while the nudity enhanced the corrective message by being a pain to their sensibilities.

After twenty minutes under Chrissy’s attentive touch, the boys came out of the bathroom with towels wrapped around their waists. David complained his sister had washed their penises with her hands. I just said that’s what I expected her to do. As they headed down the hall to David’s bedroom, I summoned them back. My counsel was that little boys couldn’t ruin their clothes if they stayed naked while they played. They could just stay naked.

Kenny was first to pick up on the direction the extended punishment was going and his jaw dropped. I held out my hand for his towel. David finally got the gist of my remark and began arguing that they were too old run around naked. My response was short, sweet, and to the point. I don’t think so. Because he hadn’t responded, I reached for Kenny’s towel and pulled it from around his waist. David stomped his feet but immediately relinquished his with tearful opposition.

The boys plopped down on the couch with their electronic entertainment and eventually became oblivious to their genital exposure. Within a half hour their erections had given way to flaccidity. Both Chrissy and I had gone from staring at their items of interest to a more nonchalant viewing pattern. Why stare when you can see it whenever you want?

God that Kenny is beautiful. I wanted to keep him completely naked for the full three days. I still haven’t had enough of him. I’ll talk with his mother about it. Maybe next time.


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