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Carl's Summer Job
Part 3

by Brhmsj

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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: 12 Dec 2017


Carl’s Summer Job, Part 3
 

Over the course of the summer there were some days when rain prevented outdoor work. If it rained on a work day Mr. Schmidt always had projects indoors which needed attention, often projects where he could enlist a young man’s aid. This was just such a day. Carl was always expected every Saturday, unless his family was away for the weekend. Saturday was for mowing the lawn, if nothing else. Most weeks he also worked on Tuesday and Thursday, depending on how much needed to be done.

Tuesday looks like it’s supposed to rain, but I’d like you to come by anyhow, Mr. Schmidt had said when Carl was leaving on Saturday. As I’ve told you, there is always something to do around the house if we can’t be outdoors. Carl agreed. He enjoyed his time at the house; it gave him a feeling of freedom that he had nowhere else. It was agreed that he’d arrive late morning so that he could be there for lunch since likely they’d be forced indoors.

Tuesday he set out shortly before eleven. When he’d be working indoors he was allowed to not bring a change of clothes, so he did not have other clothes with him when he set out. Though the sky was threatening, there was no rain and he didn’t think to put on a raincoat or bring an umbrella. When he was about halfway to Mr. Schmidt’s the sky opened up and it was a very wet bedraggled boy who arrived at the man’s house. Carl went around to the back door leading to the cellar rather than go directly into the house. He knew it would be open and he let himself in. Mr. Schmidt heard the door and came downstairs to find his young worker soaking wet. Fortunately it was a warm day.

Well, well, look at you, he said when he reached the bottom of the stairs and got a good look at Carl. Someone didn’t plan well, he added, with a smile.

No, Daddy, I guess not, Carl said, glad not to be chastised, but still feeling a bit foolish being so wet.

Those clothes have to come off and into the dryer. Carl was in shorts, not cutoffs, but as he was doing all summer, he was commando, so it was quick work to remove his wet clothes and hand them over to go into the dryer. By now he’d been spending enough time here that he gave no thought to being naked in front of his employer. If anything, the idea of a naked day appealed to him so he had no regrets about his wet state. He took a towel and dried off his hair while Mr. Schmidt took care of the wet clothes.

Once he had the clothes in the dryer, Mr. Schmidt made no move to offer the boy any clothing, robe, or other covering. Carl hadn’t been sure what to expect, but had no objections. Together they went upstairs.

I have some books and things I need rearranged and organized in my library, Mr. Schmidt said as he led Carl to that room. Carl had only been in the basement thus far, so was excited to see the house. It was not lavishly furnished but there was every indication that money had been spent wisely to make the house handsomely appointed and comfortable. The library was all bookshelves, along with a desk which clearly Mr. Schmidt used regularly for whatever written and computer work he needed to do. There was a very comfortable looking couch along with a recliner chair that showed signs of much use. The lighting was dim both due to the grey day and the low setting Mr. Schmidt used for the lights. Carl immediately liked the room and looked forward to spending time there today.

Mr. Schmidt sat in the recliner and made the now common request sit on Daddy’s lap with the additional comment and I’ll tell you what I need done in here. Carl, feeling a bit cool from his soaking, even in the warm weather, relished the idea of snuggling up to the man and feeling warm and safe. He readily took his place. Basically the job was to get some books down from a couple of top shelves and exchange them with the lower shelf books. Mr. Schmidt wanted books that he needed now more accessible so was exchanging them with books he could put aside for a while on the upper shelves. It was an easier task for a youngster to lift and move stacks of books, and he could stay below and be handed books or hand them up depending on which phase the project was in.

I have enough books I want to move around that I think it will take a bit of time. Fortunately we have all day. Do you need to be home at any specific time?

Well, for dinner, that’s all, I guess.

Good. If it takes longer I will call your parents and you can have dinner here, too. They chatted for a while about other things, mostly Mr. Schmidt learning more about his young friend’s life and activities. He brought the subject around to spanking. Do you ever spank with your buddies?

Carl blushed. Other than a couple of times with Dan and Joe he hadn’t. Frank found out about Carl’s time with the boys, but did not press to add spanking to their fun together. With some hesitations that story came out, with Carl making it clear that he had been reluctant to get, or give, a spanking, and that he did not get the thrill out of it that his friends definitely did. Along the way it was inevitable that Carl had learned about how Tony fit into all of this, though Frank never shared the more intimate details which were just between him and his brother.

Yet you seem to have accustomed yourself to spankings here, Mr. Schmidt observed when Carl had finished.

I. . . well. . . I don’t know. I guess I. . . Carl really did not know what to say. So much already this summer with Mr. Schmidt had seemed weird, though always harmless enough. Admitting that in some way he liked being spanked or wanted to be was a bit disconcerting. What if the admission led to more spankings? Did he really want that from Mr. Schmidt? Well, he knew he could maneuver a spanking by forgetting his clothes. It was that simple and in the back of his mind he knew that sooner or later he would. So, he must be wanting it from this man.

Well, no need to answer that now, son, Mr. Schmidt said in his usual kindly, fatherly fashion. We’ve talked for quite a while and it is past Noon already. There is work to be done, so let’s have a quick lunch and get to it. This sounded good to Carl. Still there was no mention of him covering himself in any way. He just followed the man to the kitchen where a quick but satisfying lunch of sandwiches was eaten, then back to the study.

Let’s start by emptying these shelves, Mr. Schmidt said, indicating which lower shelves needed attention. Start here and take out the books all the way to the other end, he added. Carl went to it, making small neat piles of books on the floor. This sort of job was always a pleasure for Mr. Schmidt if his handyman was naked as he got to watch him bend over, giving a nice display of his bottom, Mr. Schmidt’s favorite feature of a boy’s physique. Inevitably the balls would be on display, too. Over this boy’s visits Mr. Schmidt had taken note of the lad’s package. At full erection Carl was a bit bigger than the average. His balls were also a bit on the larger size, like two nice eggs nested in his scrotum. His balls didn’t hang too low when they were hanging, just enough to make a nice picture, especially today when he’d bend over to retrieve books. Otherwise they were snug and full. Intent on his work, Carl was oblivious to these admiring glances.

Lower shelves empty, it was time to empty the upper ones. Mr. Schmidt allowed a short break during which they went to the kitchen for a drink. Ready for the next phase? The man asked.

Guess so, Carl replied with a smile. By now he’d quite forgotten his naked state and was quite intent on the task at hand, which pleased his employer. Back in the study Mr. Schmidt produced a wooden stepladder, just the right size for getting to the upper shelves. He told the boy which shelves were to be emptied. It was an easy instruction as each shelf in question would be fully emptied. Mr. Schmidt stood below and Carl handed down books. This was a longer process as he went one-by-one and had to wait for Mr. Schmidt to pile the books as needed. A couple of times Carl nearly fumbled a volume, which earned him a quick swat to his available naked bottom. He also had to climb down the ladder at times to reposition it, so quite a bit of time passed in clearing out these shelves.

That done, another break was taken, Carl especially wanting to wash his hands which were a bit dusty now from handling the rarely used books which were not often dusted due to the height of the shelves. Break done, Carl was back up on the ladder, now receiving books from below. Again, a time consuming effort. Mr. Schmidt was enjoying this proximity to the boy with the young man’s pleasing bottom just above eye level. With a private smile, Mr. Schmidt decreed that this bottom would be red when it left the house today.

Setting books on these upper shelves did make for some wrestling with them to get them to stay standing while the next books were placed. No books were dropped and certainly no damage done, but it proved tedious and far less efficient than removing books. On a couple of occasions Carl gave vent to frustration at the uncooperative nature of the books and Mr. Schmidt was sure he heard a soft shit from the boy’s mouth. Just the excuse needed for that spanking. Not that he needed an excuse today – the boy would be spanked even if his work had been perfect. Mr. Schmidt wasn’t sure why he had decided this other than the pleasant view of the boy’s nice bottom. However, with many of his workers Mr. Schmidt would decide that a spanking for its own sake would be good. Sometimes it was nothing more than the view of an enticing bottom that made up his mind for him. Nothing was said. Yet.

The upper shelves done there was another break for refreshment in the kitchen. Over the course of the afternoon Carl’s focus on the job meant that his cock behaved itself. Now, though, as he sat at the table and relaxed, teen hormones did what they do and he had a hardon under the table. He blushed slightly which let Mr. Schmidt know what had happened. However, by now Carl had been on this job long enough, regularly naked in front of the man, and naturally hard in the course of things, that he was not concerned. Drinks done, they returned to the study. Carl was still hard, but by the time they were back in the room it had receded as he focused again on his work.

Now it was time to stock the lower shelves. This went more quickly as Carl needed no assistance beyond instructions as to what went where. Again, his bending over provided the older man with pleasurable viewing. This part of the job quickly finished Mr. Schmidt sent Carl across the bathroom to clean up. You’d better shower, Carl was told. Now that he was there to shower Carl looked over the room more closely than he had on his previous visits that day. As with everything in this house, it was well appointed; nice fluffy towels on racks, plentiful soap, and a fresh bottle of shampoo in the shower itself. Also catching his eye were a hairbrush of a good size on the counter by the sink. He found this odd as he didn’t see Mr. Schmidt as a hairbrush user. Then, when he was in the shower stall, he noticed various bath items including a wooden bath brush which did not show signs of much use. New, no doubt. Carl did give it a try to see how it was for washing his back. For some reason his mother had never furnished one in their bath.

Shower done, Carl toweled off, dried his hair, hung up the towel and went back to the study in search of Mr. Schmidt. The man was there, reading as he waited for the young man. Silently he patted his thigh, the now-familiar gesture for Carl to seat himself. With the boy in place, Mr. Schmidt asked did I hear a bad word out of you while you were working? Carl went white. Yes, he had said shit but thought it was unheard.

Slowly he replied, yes, Daddy.

What did you say?

Um, I. . . I said, shit, Daddy. I know I shouldn’t.

You’re right, son, you should not use language like that. It is one thing with your friends, but when you’re working it is inadvisable. How should we deal with it?

This meant a punishment, Carl knew that. So far in his life he had never had his mouth washed out with soap and he didn’t want to experience it now, so decided he would not offer that as an option. I guess I. . . I guess I should be spanked, sir.

Yes, that is exactly what should be done. Now get up, go back to the bathroom and bring me the hairbrush and bath brush. I know you saw both of them. Carl went white again. He hadn’t thought of those as punishment implements but now that he did he could only imagine just how much they must hurt! All over one little word. Tears were almost welling up in his eyes as he made his way to the bathroom. Returning, a brush in each hand, he stood in front of Mr. Schmidt who solemnly took each from the boy.

Now the pat on the thigh was an invitation to lie over it, not sit in it. Carl did as he knew he should. In place, he now received a steady hand spanking. He was unhappy about this one, but still knew that it was being delivered in a brisk fatherly, caring, loving way by Mr. Schmidt. Carl never questioned that aspect of any spanking he received that summer. The hand spanking did not reach the level of most; the boy suddenly realized that this must be because the brushes would be doing the real work today. He began to feel fear as to what would follow.

The hand spanking ended after a shorter than usual duration. Stand up, son, he was told, and obeyed. He watched as Mr. Schmidt placed the solid desk chair in the middle of the room. Bend over, hands on the seat of the chair, your bottom well up in the air. This was new! And scary, too! Carl did as told, doing his best to get his butt well up. This was the first time that Carl would be receiving more than a hand spanking, so Mr. Schmidt was not going to use both brushes, though he did not tell the boy. Best to keep him guessing. The bath brush really would do the best job, so the man took it up.

WHAP! Just one, for starters. Carl jumped at the shock of it and yelped, but did his best to keep his grip on the chair. Nothing had been said, but he suspected that releasing the chair or, even more so, grabbing his bottom, would not be acceptable. There was a pause before three more came down on the boy WHAP WHAP WHAP. Oooooowwwwww! Another pause and number five landed WHAP. Carl was jumping up and down a bit in pain, not taking his hands from the chair, though. He settled a bit, wondering if there would be more.

This is what should happen to all boys who use bad language, he heard Mr. Schmidt say behind him. Don’t move. Carl had no intention of moving until so instructed. He heard the man leave the room and return shortly. Something cold was squirted on his hot pained bottom. He jumped when it was applied, but stayed holding on. Then he felt Mr. Schmidt’s hand gently rubbing the crème into him, soothing the pain a bit. This was the first real intimate contact the man had made over the course of Carl’s time there. In spite of the soreness, the gentle touch of the lotioned hand felt good and Carl was growing. Mr. Schmidt knew the likelihood of that response, but said nothing or gave any indication of his awareness.

A second application of crème was done. When it was over Carl did feel better, though he suspected he’d feel the sting for longer than he had from any previous spanking. In that he was right! After Mr. Schmidt had cleaned his hands he released the boy from the humiliating position. The sting was returning to the front of Carl’s consciousness and his erection quickly receded, which was a relief. Carl had not cried, nor did he fear that he would. Now he was rubbing his bottom as he faced his spanker. Mr. Schmidt had no intention of inducing tears with this paddling, but did have every intention of having a weeping Carl at least once before the summer was over. He knew it would be good for the boy.

Given that he knew how Carl’s bottom felt, Mr. Schmidt did not invite the boy to sit on his lap. Rather, he wrapped the boy in a warm, loving, fatherly embrace, quietly saying soothing things into the boy’s ear, letting him know that he had taken his punishment well, reminding him that all spankings given here were because he cared for the boy and was helping him to become a man. Carl understood. He had come to understand and appreciate this aspect of his summer job, already knowing that he was benefitting. He would know it better when he left for college in September and would thank Mr. Schmidt often for the guidance, even returning on school breaks to visit and sometimes to spend time naked over the man’s lap. That, however, is another story.

The embrace continued for some minutes, finally broken when Mr. Schmidt announced that it was close to dinner time. If you don’t need to rush home you are welcome to dine here. Would you like to call your parents?

Yes, daddy, if I may. Carl was not eager to go home yet after his ordeal. Sitting for dinner might be tricky, so better to face it here with his spanker, from whom he had nothing to hide.

Of course. Carl ran down to the basement where he’d left his cell phone. His mother had suspected the day’s job would keep him late and had not planned on him for dinner, so did not hesitate to grant permission. Not that she really needed to. Her son was eighteen and could make these decisions for himself. Still, she appreciated the courtesy.

A soft pillow was provided for Carl to sit on, for which he was grateful. It did sting as he sat, but he adjusted. Over dinner Mr. Schmidt, for the first time, discussed his philosophy of spanking, told (in quite general terms and revealing no names) about some of the Carl’s predecessors as summer handymen. Carl knew slightly a couple of the boys who had worked here before him and now was trying to imagine them naked over this man’s lap. Carl appreciated hearing this and told Mr. Schmidt that already he knew he was benefitting. Mr. Schmidt beamed with pride and pleasure, happy that his work was proving successful. Between the work and the spankings, boys learned discipline and self-control. At least, that was his goal.

Before dessert Mr. Schmidt retrieved Carl’s clothes. Get dressed as you wish, he told the boy.

Carl gave a nervous laugh. Well, I’d kinda forgotten I wasn’t. He made no move to dress.

Mr. Schmidt chuckled. That’s fine, my boy. Over dessert Mr. Schmidt probed to learn more about Carl’s new-found enjoyment of naked life. He was curious about this friend, Frank, wondering if he would meet Carl’s buddy sometime. He returned to his focus on the boy at hand. For obvious reasons we can’t have you naked outdoors, at least in daylight, that aside said with a smile, but inside you are free to wear whatever you wish or nothing at all. You seem quite comfortable with it.

You don’t mind, Daddy?

A full laugh. Not at all, my boy! You’re a fine looking young man. Carl blushed at the compliment, but accepted it in a way he would not have from just about anyone else he knew.

When dessert was done Carl felt he should dress and leave. He was due back Thursday and the weather report indicated that outdoor work was likely. As he walked home he wondered what to say to Frank. He’d said very little about the job and Frank had shown no real interest. He had his own summer job, at a fast food place, so the likelihood of his getting spanked was non-existent. Or so Carl thought. This was between him and Mr. Schmidt, their special bond, and Carl wanted to keep it that way. Eventually the boys would share more of their summer experiences, but not now.

At home he switched into a pair of loose gym shorts and a t-shirt. He was glad that the couch in the family room was plush and soft so he easily could sit to watch TV, making no one the wiser. Later in bed (he always slept naked now), for the first time after any of these summer spankings, he masturbated. The memory of his spanking and paddling was vivid, he grew hard as he remembered it, and had an intense session. This was a turning point, though he didn’t know that yet.

 
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