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Carl's Summer Job
Part 4

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 4


Carl was standing by the shower area in Mr. Schmidt’s basement, his cutoffs on the floor down at his ankles. As he was all summer he was commando today, so baring his bottom was an easy task for his spanker.


When Mr. Schmidt learned that Carl did not have his change of clothes he unbuttoned and took down the boy’s cutoffs. He’d never done that before, so Carl knew Mr. Schmidt was particularly displeased. You’ve been told to bring a clean change of clothes every time you come here. If you can’t remember a simple instruction you will be spanked until you do. Three more swift smacks. Now, take off that t-shirt, hand it to me with your shorts, take your shower, and then you’ll get the real spanking you’ve earned.

Yes, Daddy, Carl said meekly. As the summer had gone on he’d come to call the man nothing but Daddy, which made both of them happy, though the boy still did not understand quite why it did for him. Mr. Schmidt was aware that the short spanking and promise of more was having an effect – the start of an erection was evident. Once in the shower it became full. Carl was uncertain what to do. He knew he’d be watched if he masturbated to make it go down. He was not comfortable with that idea. So, he tried to relax and let things take their course. Even so, when he turned off the water and toweled off, things had not receded and it was a firm erection that led the way as he crossed the room to face his spanker.

The fact of the matter was that Carl could not honestly say that the lack of clean clothes was forgetfulness. As the summer had gone on he found himself wanting the attention that a spanking gave him. He wasn’t enjoying them, but did find himself anticipating the next one and, for the first time, provoking one. He would again. Mr. Schmidt caught on that this was the game, but never commented. Carl regularly remembered the laundry bag he’d been given to take the clothes back and forth, so Mr. Schmidt suspected a motive when Carl did not have it and when it happened a second time he was sure of his suspicion. At home, Carl’s mother appreciated what appeared to be the boy’s thoughtfulness, yet did wonder why some weeks he returned in the same outfit he’d left in without it being filthy. She accurately guessed that the washing was being done by Mr. Schmidt, but thought it all quite innocent and likely that her son was wearing a bathrobe when his wash was being done. Little did she, or Carl’s father, suspect the nudity and spanking that was going on.

Mr. Schmidt guided his young charge over his lap. This was the first time that Carl was erect when going over which meant that Mr. Schmidt placed the boy’s hardness between his legs. This was the first time he had touched Carl there and Carl gave a shiver of excitement at this small bit of intimate, erotic touch. Before the spanking began Mr. Schmidt had more to say. This cannot keep happening son. If you need so much help in remembering then the next infraction will warrant the hairbrush! He felt Carl slightly go tense over his lap. Both knew that the hairbrush would make an appearance before long.

Now it was time for Carl to experience something new – a spanking to tears over Daddy’s lap, something Mr. Schmidt was quite adept at, even with the rare adult man who found himself in this position. Oh yes, teens were not the only ones who benefitted from good spankings in this house, though spankings for adults were the exception. Mr. Schmidt knew how effective either of the brushes were at inducing tears, but preferred to do it with just a hand spanking. Having his bare hand to the boy’s flesh was the best way to read the subtle signs and guide the spanking in just the way he felt was best. Of course he never told the victim that tears were in store for them. Ever.

His decision made, the spanking began. With such a spanking Mr. Schmidt liked to start easily, giving the boy a false sense of security. Carl fell right into the trap. He immediately thought that this would be nothing more than a reminder spanking, likely to result in a good sting, but nothing he couldn’t deal with or hadn’t felt before. Mr. Schmidt knew that every boy had this reaction. He was not sadistic, but he did enjoy the surprise given when the spanking changed to being quite serious. A few more mild swats, then a quick series of hard spankings landed. SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK. As every boy did, Carl jerked in reaction to the harder swats, along with a yelp of surprise. The swats kept coming, not getting harder, but steady and firm. This was beginning to feel like that spanking from Dad!

SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK. As if on cue, Carl’s legs started to kick and he was letting out with a loud ow! with every swat. So far the spanking was going according to plan, which always pleased Mr. Schmidt. He never was out to brutalize a boy. He sincerely believed in his role as a father figure providing needed guidance. Some called it tough love. All his boys knew when their summers ended that these spankings were from love. No one had ever felt otherwise. He was always thanked, sincerely, for what he had provided, and some returned to him during their college years (and even after) for naked time over his lap.

As with all the others, Carl was not being brutalized, but he was learning an important lesson in life. Yes, both knew that the boy had brought this on himself, but that, too, was part of the lesson to be learned. The kicking got harder and the yells became louder. No one could hear, Mr. Schmidt had discretely made sure of that many years ago, so any boy was free to make as much noise as he needed to. Some were quite stoic up to a point, others yelled loud and long from this type of spanking. Carl was somewhere in between. From his point of view, this was the loudest he’d ever yelled in response to a spanking.

Now, though he could not know it, he was being deftly guided by his spanker to the desired result – sobbing tears. He could feel changes coming over him. His erection had long since subsided. The discomfort in his bottom mounted. Now he was feeling some regret at his decision yet still taking comfort in this closeness with Mr. Schmidt, even if painful. Suddenly a new sensation swept over him, he went limp and dissolved into tears, crying like a small boy who has been given some quick swats to get him in line. Mr. Schmidt smiled in the satisfaction of a job well done. There were more swats to be felt, that was always necessary. These, however, were back to the milder ones, added to remind the boy that his spanker was the only one who determined when the spanking was completed. Often it induced harder crying, which it was doing now.

The last few swats delivered, Mr. Schmidt stopped, rested his hand on Carl’s now very warm bottom, and let the boy sob it out for as long as he needed. Carl, lying across that lap and for the moment unable to control his crying, could not tell how he felt. There had been a bit of anger which was inevitable. It passed. He hadn’t cried from a spanking since he was a little boy, which made this humiliating, even with his trust in Mr. Schmidt. For now he could not know that humiliation was one of the goals. Or that ultimately it was good for him. As most boys do, he gave in to his sobs and let himself go, crying it all out, naked over his spanker’s lap.

The sobbing subsiding, Mr. Schmidt gave him a bit longer to get it out, then gently guided the boy from over the lap to sitting on the lap, his arms around Carl in a way that gave the boy complete comfort and security. Mr. Schmidt now made another intimate gesture, lightly rubbing Carl’s back in a fatherly comforting manner. The back rub made Carl relax with an erection the inevitable result. Mr. Schmidt had something to consider here. Sooner or later the boy would want to give in to the natural urge any eighteen-year-old felt when hard. Carl was quite unusual in that he took his erections in stride, seemingly unbothered by that display in front of an adult, nor did his hand immediately go to his erection as soon as it was full. Mr. Schmidt admired this. Erections were normal. If anything, they should be a source of pride in a male of any age. Over the years every boy at least once had given in to the urge and masturbated in front of Mr. Schmidt. Some quite shy or even a bit embarrassed about it, some giving in to an exhibitionist urge they had never realized in themselves. More than one boy, once he had masturbated in front of the man, made sure he did every time he was naked for his shower.

So here was Carl, naked and hard, leaning into Mr. Schmidt, giving him better access to the boy’s back. For Carl it provided a comforting and pleasant feeling of intimacy after his spanking and crying. Carl had an arm around Mr. Schmidt’s shoulders, but was not hanging on as many boys did. For quite some time nothing was said, both enjoying this special time together. What the kids call a mellow feeling developed, making Mr. Schmidt feel it was time to discuss things.

You understand why you had to be spanked, don’t you son?

Yes, Daddy. I need to be better at paying attention to instructions. I know you have to spank me when I don’t. This catechism was making him feel like a child (which in some ways any boy that age still is), yet there was something reassuring about it, too.

How do you feel about this spanking, son? Mr. Schmidt knew he did not have to directly address the crying.

Carl was hesitant. In fact, he really wasn’t sure what he thought. I know I deserved it, he finally managed to say, but neither of them thought it a good answer. Mr. Schmidt allowed him a few more moments of silence.

Are you embarrassed that you cried?

Um. . . I guess not. . . I mean, if it were my dad, maybe, but. . . He didn’t know how to put into words that being brought to tears by Mr. Schmidt was special and perhaps cause for a feeling of humiliation, but not embarrassment. Nothing that had gone on here this summer embarrassed him, except if he made a mistake he knew he should not have done.

It’s good for a boy to have a cry. Do you feel better now that you’ve had a good cry? Carl had to admit he did. I’m sure you will cry again before the summer is over. The need to cry varies from boy to boy. You definitely have benefitted from it today which means that a repeat can only do you good.

Yes, Daddy, Carl said, not knowing quite what to make of this. It really wasn’t pleasant to cry but the man was right, something felt good, too. If it was coming from Mr. Schmidt, Carl would accept it again.

Carl’s erection had gone down during the conversation which settled that question for Mr. Schmidt. Nonetheless, he fully expected it would happen that Carl would perform for him, whether intentionally or not. These were special moments for him with every boy, be they shy or uninhibited. Carl was proving to be quite special which meant that his first masturbation would be, also. On the next visit Mr. Schmidt would enquire about Carl’s post-spanking masturbation habits. That knowledge always told him a lot about a boy.

It’s time for you to get home, son.

But, my clothes! Carl said, realizing that he had not seen Mr. Schmidt take the clothes to the laundry. He did not want to go home publicly naked. Mr. Schmidt laughed.

No worries there, my boy. I have some things that will work. He went upstairs, returning shortly with a pair of gym shorts (short ones, at that), and a t-shirt. Mr. Schmidt had collected clothes that boys had left behind over the years and they proved useful in cases like this. Carl put them on and they fit perfectly, hugging his sore bottom nicely and, like his cutoffs, showing his legs to good advantage. I thought those would do. I’ve collected a few things over the years, as you can imagine. If Carl didn’t leave the cutoffs behind at the end of the summer Mr. Schmidt had decided already that he would request them.

Now, son, what can I expect when you return on Saturday?

Carl gulped, but answered directly. I will bring these back, nice and clean, and will have a fresh set of clothes to change into when I’m done showering.

That’s a good boy. If you don’t do that?

I will be spanked. The catechism was part of Mr. Schmidt’s style and Carl found it helpful for remembering just what was expected of him.

Spanked how?

Naked over your lap, Daddy.


Carl gulped again and thought that tears might start again, too. Um... I’ll be. . . spanked with the hairbrush.

That’s right, son. Now, get your shoes on and run along. I’ll see you Saturday.

Yes, daddy, and the boy was out the door. The house was empty when he returned. He quickly peeled off his shoes and the t-shirt and shorts. He’d been hard from the moment he left Mr. Schmidt’s house. He meant to take his time, but excitement overtook him and he quickly brought himself to climax. In bed later that night he wondered what this all meant. His life was changing, and it felt good.

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