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Carl's Summer Job
Part 8

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: 17 Jan 2018


Carl’s Summer Job, Part 8
 

As the summer went on Carl grew to think of Mr. Schmidt not only as my employer but also as my spanker. Carl had always been a kid who went with the flow so as weird as things had seemed at the beginning of the summer, Carl wasn’t letting any of it worry him. He was going along with it, enjoying the attention and feeling better about himself. Even in his youthful lack of experience he knew that some would view this relationship as abusive. If he had been underage he likely would have thought the same. Yet he did not think it abusive; it was making him a better person. Not that he liked being spanked, as he told Frank, but nonetheless he had provoked more than one spanking, simply to get the attention a spanking brought. He knew that meant that spanking was important to him. Specifically spankings from Mr. Schmidt.

As the summer went on Carl revealed more intimacies to the man, particularly about his still-blossoming sexuality. Mr. Schmidt eventually knew quite fully what Carl and Frank did together, noting to himself that spanking was not part of it, though he strongly suspected that spanking was in the background somewhere with both of these boys. Maybe not Carl so much, but very likely Frank. Mr. Schmidt used no labels and made no judgments, but as their conversations developed, he gently help steer Carl towards an awareness that in fact he was not interested in girls, preferring the company of boys, both as friends and as sex partners. Discretely Mr. Schmidt told the lad things about sex which were the sorts of things which made a loving relationship special. This did get Carl thinking about his friendship with Frank, reaching no conclusions. He revealed a bit about what he knew of Frank and Tony’s brotherly relationship. Mr. Schmidt had discerned some of this from his one talk with Frank, but was interested to hear more details.

Spankings for Carl were not regular, but did continue through the summer. As the summer went on, Carl knew that he wanted only one person to spank him, that being Mr. Schmidt. And he did want Mr. Schmidt to spank him. A couple of the times he provoked a spanking by forgetting his change of clothes, an easy way to do it. No one was fooled. Mr. Schmidt made sure the spanking hurt each time.

Another memorable spanking was another rainy day spanking. Carl had never been above the first floor. This day Mr. Schmidt wanted help sorting through things in his top floor. He had turned the attic into a large room where he kept various treasures, family items, and whatever else finds its way to an attic. A couple of old trunks had some things he hadn’t looked at in a long time. On the way up, Carl was given a look at the master bedroom which was most of the second floor, the rest of floor being a small TV room. Mr. Schmidt’s bedroom was impressive. Carl could see that a full bath was attached.

Being summer, hot air was trapped up there, even with windows open. A bit of a breeze was moving through, but Carl quickly felt uncomfortable. Mr. Schmidt never seemed bothered by heat, even with the exercise of giving a spanking. By now Carl gave no thought to being naked around the house; if anything, he preferred it. He peeled off what little he had on, even nude finding the room hotter than he’d like. Mr. Schmidt opened the trunks and set the boy to unpacking them. The things in the trunk were fascinating to a teen. Mr. Schmidt shared the history of some things, some of which were over a hundred years old. Carl treated everything carefully and with respect, but his attention wandered due to his fascination with what he was finding. More than once he had to be called to attention and reprimanded for his lack of focus. Carl knew he was courting a spanking when this went on too long, but his curiosity was constantly overtaking him.

Lunchtime arrived and Mr. Schmidt called a break in the work. They went downstairs. At the bottom of the attic stairs Mr. Schmidt said, you need to rinse off. Go ahead and use this shower. Carl thanked him and made his way to the spacious bathroom. There was a shower and hot tub, both of which impressed the lad. Carl knew he’d need another shower so did just enough to get the sweat and dust off.

When he emerged from the bathroom Mr. Schmidt was waiting for him. You have not been sufficiently attentive at all times today, son. You need some help staying focused on the job. Carl knew what this meant. Without being told he went over to where the man had seated himself and did the now well-known ritual of placing himself over the man’s lap.

SMACK SMACK SMACK. Not hard, but it had the boy’s attention. SMACK SMACK SMACK. The intensity was increasing. Carl felt sure he wouldn’t be spanked to tears this time, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. He had learned over the summer that he was free to react vocally and always indulged in that, today being no exception. Mr. Schmidt kept up his pace, bringing the boy to kicking a bit and trying to squirm away from the unrelenting hand. He never got away, nor would he now.

SMACK SMACK SMACK. Carl wasn’t yelling, but he was letting out with ow, ow, ow! as the swats landed over and over. This spanking was feeling longer than the usual. As it progressed the boy’s cries of ow changed to pleas for mercy. Daddy, please! I’ll be careful! Please, Daddy! It hurts!

Whenever he said it hurts during a spanking there would be a pause and Mr. Schmidt always said of course it hurts. Then the spanking would resume. Again the promises to be careful. This is what his spanker wanted, a wayward boy calling out his repentance. Carl always gave the man satisfaction in this regard when it was the goal of the spanking.

The spanking stopped. Are you going to stay focused on the job this afternoon?

Yes, Daddy, was the meek reply. Carl knew he’d earned this spanking and felt no resentment. Now that it was over he was enjoying that special feeling that a boy only gets when he is naked over a man’s lap.

He was allowed to lie there for a few minutes. It’s time for lunch. Carl was allowed up and they went to the kitchen. Lunches never were anything fancy, but always satisfying. After lunch they returned to the attic and the job was quickly finished. Carl repacked the trunks as instructed. Order restored, he gathered up his clothes and went down the basement to get truly clean. As he invariably did, Mr. Schmidt seated himself and watched the boy clean himself. Carl had long since stopped being shy about getting hard while showering. Mr. Schmidt had assured him that it was normal, healthy, and nothing to feel ashamed about. A man should be proud of his erection. Carl never really did feel ashamed and was learning to feel a sense of celebration at his hardness.

Showered and toweled off, Carl went over to where his spanker was sitting on the couch, in the center which was always a sign that a spanking was coming. Twice in one day? Nonetheless, Carl dutifully draped himself over the man’s lap for the second time that day and silently awaited the contact of the man’s hand. The man’s hand did land on Carl’s bottom, but this time it was not a smack, but a gentle touch of the man’s hand resting there. This was new and Carl let himself relax, enjoying the intimacy of giving his naked body over to his spanker. Even in his relaxation Carl was fully expecting another spanking, though it was not like Mr. Schmidt to spank without an explanation. It had never happened thus far.

Other than spankings, no one had done anything with Carl’s bottom. His play with Frank was always focused on their erections. A hand this way on his butt was new to Carl. It felt good. Just as he was becoming accustomed to it, Mr. Schmidt did begin a series of light swats for about a minute or two. If Carl didn’t still have a sting from the earlier spanking he’d have found this of no significance. Likely he’d have found it odder than he was finding it now. There was a different feeling of affection coming from these swats. Not the swats of discipline or guidance, but swats of pleasure for both parties. Carl arched and adjusted his position so as to better receive the smacks. He heard Mr. Schmidt give a small mmm of pleasure at the gesture. The swats continued, ever so lightly, for another minute perhaps.

The swats changed to caresses. This all was new. Carl now was experiencing a sensual pleasure from his bottom that he never imagined could exist. So far all he’d known was the pain of spankings, a pain which he strangely enjoyed when inflicted by this man. Now that same hand which disciplined him was making him feel pleasure. The hand took in all of Carl’s butt, and beyond to his lower back and upper legs. Instinctively he spread his legs slightly and Mr. Schmidt took advantage to touch the boy’s inner thighs as his hand passed. He didn’t know when it happened but Carl was aware that his erection was pressing against Mr. Schmidt’s thigh. The man gave no indication of awareness. He must be feeling it, Carl thought. Again, an instinctive act as Carl adjusted himself so that his hardon was lying flat against the thigh. Once positioned he gave a small sigh of pleasure and, as the hand continued, felt free to say, Daddy, that feels really good.

I’m glad you like it, son. Nothing more was said as the hand continued its gentle exploration. For all the movement, Mr. Schmidt did nothing overtly sexual or touch the boy in places that would lead to true eroticism. Even without it, Carl was feeling worked up. As he was reaching a point of feeling unsure of himself, Mr. Schmidt quietly said roll over, son. Carl did, a bit awkwardly, but soon was on his back across the lap, his erection standing straight up in the man’s direct gaze. Mr. Schmidt slid a pillow in behind the boy’s head to hold him up. Rather than the usual question, today there was a gentle command, cum for Daddy, son. Permission granted, Carl took himself in hand. He tried to go slowly but the new sensations overtook him and quickly he shot all over his chest and abdomen. Good boy, his spanker said quietly, smiling down at the teen. Carl felt like a good boy! After a few minutes Mr. Schmidt said I think you better rinse off again.

I guess so, said Carl. It was quick this time. When he was dry again he put the towel in the hamper then was enveloped in a warm hug from Mr. Schmidt. No roaming hands, but the warmth of a father figure.

Thank you, Daddy, Carl said in sincere tones. For everything today. He meant it. The spanking and this moment of new intimacy both were special.

You’re welcome, son, the man replied. Holding the boy he said you’ll be spanked again soon, we both know that. We both know that it’s good for you.

Yes, Daddy. Carl was beginning to stiffen again, even after such a satisfying orgasm. As they hugged, Mr. Schmidt reached down and put a couple of slightly harder swats onto Carl’s bottom, which made the boy jump as they added to the sting. When those stopped but the embrace continued, Carl realized that he had given himself over quite fully to this man. Gladly.

Finally he did dress and head home. All the way he thought about what was happening at that house. He’d been at a point where any oddness had ceased concerning him, but now he was wondering again if this was weird, or even right. Why not? It felt right. It might be weird, but it felt right. The next day in some quiet time with Frank, Carl learned all about Mr. Bailey. Suddenly Mr. Schmidt did not seem so weird. In fact Mr. Schmidt felt more important to Carl because their bond was so different from what Frank and the three other boys had with Mr. Bailey. Carl was one-on-one, just him, which is what he wanted. Needed. Loved.

Before the summer was over Frank would have another session over Mr. Schmidt’s lap, after which he’d reveal a lot about his spanking history. Carl at first felt jealous when he knew Frank had been spanked, but that turned to a good feeling as he realized it gave them something of their own to share. Carl also would spend a whole weekend with Mr. Schmidt at the house, only dressing to go out and mow the lawn. The freedom he felt that weekend was a high point of the summer.

All to follow.

 
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