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: 24 Jan 2018
Three hours later, they were pulling up to a smaller, older dock at the island. Mr. Weaver tied up the boat and helped the two, young men transport their goods ashore.
Steve thanked him, telling him they would send word for the exact day in early September they would need a pick up to go back to the mainland.
Just ask the guy at the little, general store to call me,
Mr. Weaver agreed.
Well, boys, have a great summer. I assume your parents know where you are, and how to get hold of you, really through me, in case of an emergency, he inquired.
Ah, our parents are, ah, deceased, Steve responded.
It’s just the two of us now, he added.
Well, in that case, take care of each other; and you, youngster, behave yourself and obey your brother, understand? He emphasized his words with several, sharp swats to the skinny butt confined in the seat of the younger man’s bicycle shorts.
Mark jumped, turning his head to glare over his shoulder at Mr. Weaver, who repeated his question while swatting the young teacher again, before turning to go back onto his boat for the return trip to Wheeler’s Point.
That unnerved Mark more and he tersely muttered,
Ah, ye-es, ah, ah, I will, albeit with a resentful tone of voice.
Four older campers, standing on shore next to Mark and Steve, watched and listened to what was transpiring. One of the men suddenly grasped Mark’s arm, squeezing it firmly and forcing him to look into the old man’s soul-boring eyes.
Don’t get an attitude, kid. You behave yourself, and listen to your big brother! he admonished,
swatting the seat of Brent’s bicycle shorts a couple times more. Mark leaped forward, his face, neck and ears instantly turning deep red, and feeling hot, like a thermometer.
Feeling very diminished and juvenile, it struck him he must look like, and people must think, he’s a lot younger than he really is to be getting swats and spanks so much. Stammering a facile, juvenile-like reply, his voice cracked,
Okaaay, ah, ye-es, ah, sir.
Turning away quickly to pick up their goods, the two brothers (young assistant coach, and younger teacher) together began a trek down a path into the deepening woods. They walked maybe 6 hours deeply into the woods before sighting a small clearing not far from the shoreline. They decided to pitch camp there for the night.
Steve showed Mark how to set up the tent, care for their things inside the tent, and where and how to build a campfire. It was quite cool in the darkened woods, but the air was warmer in the long-lasting, summer daylight, and Mark was no longer chilly, though he did long to get out of the bicycle shorts he’d been wearing for the last, two days.
Once the fire was going, they put some potatoes and chicken legs wrapped in foil on the grill over the coals. Grabbing his younger friend by the back of his skinny, stick-like neck, he steered Mark along with him out of the clearing, through the woods, to the lake.
They both stripped off their clothes and dove into the lake to refresh themselves. The water was quite cool, and Mark was shaking again as they ran out back up onto shore.
Grabbing light stadium blankets at the temp, they wrapped up and headed over to the fire. Steve heated some water for tea, pouring large, metal cups for both of them, before retrieving their dinner from the foil wrappings.
Sitting around eating and drinking in the late-fading light of dusk, something different, relaxing, peaceful, even spellbinding settled over the two, young men. They both felt the unspoken realization of the special circumstances of where they were.
As sun set and darkness enveloped them, the fire supplied the minimum light to find their way to the tent. They emptied their bladders into the woods, before sequestering together in the tent, tying the flaps closed, and sitting in the buff atop their sleeping bags.
Mark could feel himself, body and emotions, relaxing. The tent was cool in the chilling night air, and Steve directed them to zip up their bags together, into one large one for them to share. Mark did as directed, sliding down into the warm covering.
Steve joined him, lying supine and grabbing the younger man to pull him on top of him. In the initial instant, Mark stiffened again, but let loose and relaxed after the coach swatted his bare bottom while hauling the young teacher on top of him.
They lay together, entangled in each others arms and legs in the dark. Steve planted a fervent kiss on this
kid brother atop him under the sleeping bag. Mark tensed, but surprisingly, quickly, relenting, he returned the kiss.
He was shocked and rattled momentarily at finding his own bare, young manhood reacting by surging to a stiff, hard erection, stimulated repeatedly by contact with the big coach’s thick, engorged hard-on. When Steve reached down and touched, then stroked and caressed the younger man’s member, Mark moaned and squirmed slowly, instantly falling under the erotic spell cast on him.
Steve sat up, dumping his younger subject backward while holding onto his arms to keep him in place. Diving his head under the bag, he found and subsumed Mark’s bone in the coach’s mouth.
That made the young teacher jerk and jump, but the coach held on with unrelenting suctioning power. The young teacher’s response was articulated in multiple syllables as the coach moved his lips downward on Mark’s member enlarging every second, until the entire shaft was buried in and surrounded by Steve’s mouth.
He let his lips slide back up to the bulbous, mushroomed cap of his now hard, swollen, circumcised penis, sucking on it like a lollipop. Each time he descended and slid back up, his tongue flicked around the tender, sensitive meatus, the opening where urine usually emptied, and where the gathering storm of ejaculate was now surging.
Up and down, he continued at the same, rhythmic pace on the saliva-coated missile. Mark was rattled in his head, deep to his roots, mumbling unintelligible sounds that he was unable to re-frame in any comprehensible fashion.
All at once, the young teacher’s skinny legs and body stiffened as if in a seizure. He inhaled an incredibly deep, long gasp, crying out in passionate ecstasy as he exploded in his bigger, older mentor’s mouth.
Like a semi-automatic rifle, repeating jets of semen over and over, he blasted into his bigger, older mentor’s mouth, erupting like an overflowing volcano. He was moaning, more desperate sounding with each successive, draining spurt. Steve did not quit, but continued to vacuum every drop of ejaculate he could suck out of the younger man’s tool.
The assistant coach’s hands reached down to grasp around the young teacher’s smooth, narrow, fin-like buns, holding him steady in place. When at last, he drew up and off the fading shaft, Steve continued clutching the small, lean buttocks.
Mark was wide-eyed, almost trance-like, staring in shocked awe at the experience he’d just undergone. After the blow job wilted, he yielded to being pulled and held in on his coach-masseur until eventually both, now-weary, young men fell off to sleep, Mark on his stomach, and Steve on his side, arm thrown over his younger friend.
The next morning Mark awoke very sore. Needing to relieve himself, he scrambled out of the sleeping bags and pulled on the navy blue bicycle pants. The unyielding scraping and tight hold on his bottom was agony, but so was the need in his bladder.
He stepped up, outside the tent, in his flip flops and hustled over to some trees where he released a long stream. It was chilly out and Mark immediately remembered the butt-blistering spanking he’d gotten from the boat owner yesterday morning, to
warm him up after complaining about being cold.
Hastening back to the tent, he quickly pulled the bike shorts off, which only made him grimace more. Speedily slipping back into the sleeping bags, he was surprised at finding himself grabbed and pulled in closely to Steve.
Been up to pee, little guy? Steve asked gently, to which Mark answered yes.
I guess I better do the same. It feels cool.
It is, Mark confirmed.
Stay put, little buddy. We need some morning time together, young man, Steve directed. He slid out, pulled on his jeans, and like Mark raced outside to release a fire hose emptying his bladder.
In less than 2 minutes, he was back in the tent, in the bags, and lying on his face and chest on the young teacher’s back and backside. Sliding his long, strong arms under the skinny teacher, Steve lay atop, pulling the gaunt frame up into himself.
He nuzzled Mark’s neck, adding some tickling that set the younger, smaller man wriggling and giggling. At the same time, both men were growing eager, morning wood.
When Mark was gasping amidst his giggling, Steve stopped. Reaching down between the skinny, narrow buns beneath him, he found the target and began moving the rocket into place. Mark gasped loudly, stiffening, yet raising his rump up off the bag to meet the oncoming missile. In a minute or so, he was speared and squarely impaled.
The two men began a rhythmic, increasingly coordinated and intimate activity that only incited their mutual excitement and arousal more. Steve was ploughing the boy’s channel; Mark was being propelled into take off that launched him into irresistible waves of inner orgasms, and higher erect condition.
With Steve pistoning the young teacher under him, he leaned forward, biting gently the bony shoulder just below the stick-like neck. That slightly rough sex ignited Mark’s release, firing under him with repeater rounds of semen, which in turn triggered Steve’s not explosion inside the thin, younger man.
What a way to start the day! The mutual thought flashed through their minds. Steve was a good, happy mood, continually holding Mark close in his hold.
Finally, he announced,
We can’t stay here like this forever. You go on over to the lake shore and get cleaned up, little man. I’ll get the fire going, and some coffee brewing.
Rolling out, he wiped himself off, pulled his jeans back on, and headed out to get the fire started, putting a steel coffee pot on the tripod grill over the fire. Once it was burning, he turned and ran to join Mark at the lake.
It had taken Mark some time to get up the nerve to make a run into the cold water. It shocked him, but he quickly became somewhat normalized to it. Steve’s arrival brought the bigger, older young man, quickly divesting himself of his jeans, into the water, swimming up to Mark.
They hugged again in the lake, and began washing down their bodies, with Steve initiating scrubbing Mark’s now clean, bare, naked pubic area. That stirred another boner for Mark which led Steve to push him closer to shore, then down on his back and butt.
The assistant coach consumed the young teacher’s recharged member, suctioning it until the reservoir of semen was drained from his accepting, young subject. Afterward, sitting up with a stunned, quizzical look on his face, he reached out and up to embrace his captor-coach.
Life is good, Mark. We’re very lucky, little man, Steve uttered, one larger, naked young man
holding onto the smaller, younger one.
Let’s go get something to eat and some coffee, he eventually
Steve pulled Mark up onto his feet, and the two, young men walked together, arms around each other’s waists, back to the camp site. They sat down to steel bowls of oat meal with dried fruit each, drinking several cups of the freshly brewed coffee together.
After a while, feeling good about the developing progress of his subject so far, Steve got up and Mark followed him back at the tent. Steve pulled out some older, jeans cutoffs and a long, baggy t-shirt for himself.
For Mark, he pulled out a pair of thin, red, nylon, running shorts, and another t-shirt. Neither young man had any underwear to wear. The coach pulled out two, lightweight, rain, orange, hoodie jackets, for each of them.
When Marked hesitated to pull on the running shorts, Steve told him to put them on immediately. Mark did, and it was evident they were very scant and snug on even the gaunt young man’s hips, butt, and thighs.
What’d you expect, little man? Me to rent tuxes that fit you to wear in the woods? he joked his question at Mark. The young man grinned slightly, realizing they were in the wilderness after all; what mattered was comfort and some, meagre modesty; and he didn’t have any control or say about it anyway.
They extinguished the fire, packed up, and set off to hike quickly to the shoreline and travel alongside it for a while. At first, their hiking was mostly in silence, but slowly, as the time passed, the younger man warmed up, loosened up, and began to talk.
He revealed how he had been dumped by the girl he’d planned on marrying, and how depressed and dejected that had left him. He told Steve how his landlord had become his friend, and Mr. Strauss had helped him several times, in several ways, to cope with his sadness and loneliness.
Steve listened at length, letting Mark talk out what was on his mind. The young teacher mentioned he missed Mr. Strauss, expressing his concern that the kindly, older landlord was worrying about Mark.
I need to get back to him soon, Mark mused aloud.
Maybe I could call him if we stop at the general store.
He’ll be alright, little buddy. When we get back, you can call him and let him know you’re okay. For now, you just be a good, little boy: listen, go along, do what you’re told.
Mark felt a tinge of frustration and displeasure at being controlled and forbidden by Steve. He put those feelings aside when their lakeshore hike ascended onto a high peak, from which a narrow peninsula jutted out, sloping downward to the lake.
There Steve said they would halt, set up camp, and get something to eat. It was almost 3 p.m., and they’d eaten nothing since breakfast. Mark was more helpful and they set up camp more quickly, getting their campfire going too.
Steve directed Mark to join him in going to the lake to wash off and refresh from their hours-long trek. The two, naked, young men enjoyed the cold lake water, coming out to sit in the sunlight to dry off.
How about it, Mark? Are you happy? Is this good?
The younger man was torn with mixed angst. He truly was happy, relaxed, satisfied in soul, and sexually satiated, luxuriating in more-than-satisfying pleasure.
Yet he was also frustrated and irritated by being kept under the complete control and dictates of Coach Steve White, not able to do or say or go where he might want to, to communicate with his landlord or parents, to return to life apart from this confinement and restriction with Steve.
Ah, yeah, sure, ah, Stuh-eve,... it is... ah, exciting and hot. It, ah, really, um, affects me. I know you can, ah, tell that, but,... Mark began his response.
But what, little man? Would you really want to go back to being in the unsatisfied state and condition
you were existing, and suffering, through? I just cannot believe that.
Well, ah, no, ah, I mean, a lot of my problems and, ah, issues are not, ah, bothering me any more, ah, now, ah, thanks to, um, you, Steve. But I can’t, ah, stop thinking, ah, ah, bout my landlord, and, um, my parents,... they’re worrying and, um, wondering about me, and, ah, I need and, ah, want to be, um, with them,... I, um miss that too, Mark stammered his explanation.
Look, Mark, we’ve gone over this already. They’re all fine, and you can contact them when we get back. But we belong to each other, right here and now, forever. You belong to and need me; I belong to, want, and am committed to you. That’s what you really need, and want, Steve answered the young subject back.
Ah, maybe, ah, probably, ah, but can’t I have my life with, ah, them too? I mean, I could just go to the, ah, general store, and, ah, call them, and get, um, transportation back.
Seeing Steve shake his head negatively, he blurted out,
Why are you keeping me captive, a prisoner,
here with you? It’s not, um, fair. His strained voice evidenced that urgency of his frustration and
Listen up, little man. It’s taken a lot of time, patience, and effort to get you past yourself, your own built-in barriers and obstacles, to let go, let down, and accept what you need, what you want, what truly satisfies and pleases you, Steve explained.
That’s what this time together will do, show you what you truly know already, what I know. We belong to each other. Nothing else will fulfill you like belonging to me, being my own little buddy, forever. Deep down, you know it. Like always, it’s just a matter of getting you past your own resistance and reluctance to admit it, and do it.
The discussion was swiftly being brought to an end, and Mark knew he could not oppose or change it. What that meant about himself he was not sure, or perhaps not willing to come to grips with and admit. He bit his bottom lip, choking back rising subs, blinking and squeezing his eyes to prevent tears from slipping out.
Having dried off, Steve got up, pulled his little buddy to his feet, and the two, nude, young men trod back to their camp site. Steve put his cutoffs and shirt back on, and Mark pulled his t-shirt and skimpy running shorts back on.
Before long, their early evening meal, and the first solid meal since breakfast, was ready. They ate potatoes, carrots, peppers, and dried beef, cooked over the fire until hot and soft enough to bite and chew.
Steve filled their thermos tanks with water from the lake, heating it for more tea with their dinner. They sat together in easy, relaxed silence. Steve pulled Mark up close to him, then onto his lap, as they sat in the declining sun after dinner.
Alone in the pristine wilderness beauty surrounding them, the two young men released their shared feelings to, and for, each other. Steve cuddled Mark, kissing him off and on.
In short time, Mark discarded his own inhibiting restraints to accept the affectionate and protective emotions of his friend and coach, and to vent and express his own caring feelings for his friend and coach. Both young men sensed their closeness in that moment.
The temperature was dropping, and grabbing Mark up from sitting on his lap, Steve hustled along, carrying the light, slight, young man to the tent. Lowering the young teacher to his feet, he urged him to empty his bladder, while Steve did the same, before they scampered into their tent, and the sleeping bag, together.
Warm within their combined sleeping bags, Mark did not hesitate to slide up next to, and snuggle into, his captor, Coach Steve White. That triggered an erotic reaction for them both, but the young teacher neither drew back or away, nor tried to hide his excitement.
Despite their sexual adventures together in such a short time, the two, young men quickly began their cooperative, charged sexual activities. Mark turned and slid up onto Steve, raising his diminutive, little rump up, ready to be speared by the coach’s huge pole.
Within, and under, the sleeping bag, the young teacher rode the bigger, stronger coach’s rod like he was riding a bucking bronco at a rodeo. Eventually, both young men screamed loudly in the throes of their ravished ecstasy, Mark shooting his weapon inside the sleeping bag, Steve emptying his inside Mark.
They clasped each other in the post-climax receding of their exchanged passions. In less than a half an hour, they were both soundly asleep.
Some time before dawn, Mark was awakened before the end of a dream. He was hanging, bare-bottomed, over his Father’s lap, being spanked with hard smacks by a hair brush on his hurting fanny, while his landlord, Martin Strauss watched, observing.
He was awakened both by the events of the dream, and the abrupt ejaculation it produced. Lying still, he let his heavy breathing subside before slipping stealthily out of the bag.
Reaching down on the floor, he found the little, red, running shorts Steve White had made him wear the preceding day. Pulling them on, he felt also for the t-shirt, picked it up, and quietly stepped out of the tent in his flip flops.
Away from view of the tent, he stopped, pulled down the front of his shorts, and emptied his bladder at the base of a tree. Quickly re-dressing what scant clothes he had, he hurriedly set off.
He did not know where the general store he had heard about was located, but thought if he got far enough along on the hike, he might meet someone who could help him get to the store. Once there, he would call for help, transportation, to take him back to the mainland, where he would call his Dad and Mr. Strauss, for assistance in getting back to Virginia.
It was still before dawn when walking up the narrow peninsula he stepped onto some soil that gave way, causing him to lose his balance and stumble. Frantically trying to get some steady feet under him, he became slightly disoriented in the dark, toppling downward, feeling himself sliding down on his back until he dropped with a splash into a deep gully of water.
Mark panicked. He still could not see where he was, much less how he might get out. He desperately concluded he could do was tread water and float until daylight broke.
Dawn brought clarity but frightening realization. He had fallen off the peninsula down into a crater-like hole filled with water. Fortunately, it was deep enough to have cushioned his fall into it; but he could see no way to climb up the steep rock walls to get out.
How long he floated, circling around and around, trying to fine some crevice or fissure that might afford him a means of climbing out, he had no idea. He was thoroughly soaked and feeling chilled immersed in the cold water.
Meanwhile, Steve White awoke with the break of dawn, turning to discover Mark was gone. He jumped up out of the bags, threw on his clothes from the day before, urinated outside, and swiftly set off looking for Mark.
Walking along the peninsula trail, he shouted his call for
Mark! Mark! Mark!
He heard nothing for almost an hour of walking until, suddenly, from over the side of the peninsula, he heard.
Here, Steve! I’m here! Help me! I can’t get out.
Spying the disturbed ground, he got down on his stomach and crawled to the side to look downward. There, bobbing in the water hole below was Mark.
He called out to Mark, and the young teacher waved his arms, calling out,
Help me, Steve! I can’t find a way to get outta here!
Steve looked around in vain to find a way to gain access to the younger man trapped in the water hole. He knew he need a rope, but there was nothing there to use like one.
I’ll get a rope, Mark, he called down.
Don’t panic! Stay calm. I’ll be back and get you outta there, little buddy.
Okay, Steve, thuh-anks, Mark called up to him.
Two hours later, and mid-morning, Steve was back with a rope from their tent supplies. Tying a loop in the end, he tossed it down, letting it fall to Mark’s reach.
Get in the loop, and pull it tight around you, under your arms, little man! Steve instructed. Mark did as directed, floating, waiting.
Steve tied a knot in the end for better grip, and began pulling the rope slowly, stubbornly up the stony side. Once he had Mark’s weight against the rope, he slowed and began pulling harder, running the rope around a tree to support holding the younger man in place while Steve pulled up more.
Breathing hard, and breaking into sweat in the cooler, windy air, he thought to himself he was glad Mark was so skinny and light. It would have been a lot harder is he weighed 25 or more pounds.
Finally, he could see Mark’s arms reaching up for the peninsular land. Keeping the rope I place by the tree, he raced over, dove down on his stomach, and extended his arms to grasp Mark’s hands.
Sliding backward on the dirt, he pulled his dirty, doused, young friend up to the safety of solid land. Grabbing Mark, he hugged him, heedless of the dirt and wet.
He made Mark sit down and wait while he collected the rope to take back with them. After that, he extended is arm and hand, and pulled the young teacher up onto his bare feet. They set off for the hour-long walk back to their camp site.
By the time they arrived back, Mark’s dirty, skimpy clothes were merely damp. Steve ordered him to strip, take off those clothes, and wait there nude in the tent for him.
With fearful dread, Mark watched Steve exit and heard him breaking off a branch. The snapping sound sent a chill down the skinny, young man’s bare, skeletal body, as he watched the assistant coach strip the leaves off the supple branch.
Whuh-uht, ah, are you-ou doooo-ing? Mark asked.
Come on, now, kid. You know what I’m doing, and going to do. You’ve been spanked plenty in the past. We both know that.
Spanked, with thaaaat?! Mark’s tense voice cracked as he registered more fearful anxiety.
Of course, little man. It’s punishment, as you know. For what you did, and what could’ve happened, you deserve, and have coming to you, a switching.
Mark froze in place, unmoving, his face and eyes riveted on the instrument of terror in Steve’s hand. Out of fear and the cool, summer air, he trembled slightly.
No, Steve! Please, nooo! Nah-ot thaaat! Nah-ot ah-ah switching, please, Steve! the young teacher cried out.
You deserve to be punished, need to be. You know that. Steve’s voice was soft, almost gentle, but firm nonetheless.
You act out, misbehave, and say its because you’ve got issues. Really, you’re so troubled and mixed up, riddled with feeling of guilt and self-condemnation. You keep trying to ignore, deny, reality, but it doesn’t help you deal with or escape that guilt, does it, little man?
Meanwhile, you really act like a brat! You cause trouble, create problems, place yourself and others in risk of harm. If anybody ever deserved and needed a stern switching, it’s you, Mark!
Opening his mouth to protest, Mark quickly closed it again. He didn’t want to admit it, but his friend and coach was right. He did feel guilty, and self-loathing, all the time. He suppressed it, buried it, but it always resurfaced, to confront him again; and then blew up in his face with problems spread everywhere.
Docile and submissive, he submitted as Steve grabbed the young teacher’s thin arm, pulled him along with him, finding a fallen tree trunk to sit down on, jerking the apprehensive, naked young man up off his feet to fall draped across the coach’s lap.
Mark slumped as the switch stated its initial series of stinging strikes against his backside, stripes of fire covering every single inch of his skin. It was excruciating pain was, exacerbated by he gouging guilt, the self-loathing, he felt inside.
Even as he lay sprawled over the legs of his mentor-coach, Mark knew this would be a severe licking. The thin, wire-like branch attacked his tender buttocks, laying down line after line of searing fire.
Mark wrestled around, trying to escape the relentless torrent of increasing pain that was setting his buttocks ablaze. He fought to escape from the very firm grip of his friend and coach’s left arm around his waist.
Steve knew beyond any doubt he possessed far more than the strength required to subdue the younger, smaller teacher in place across his knees. Battering his young subject’s buttocks with the switch, the coach whipped away at the boy, face down, bared bottom high, for another five minutes.
Mark wriggled and writhed, waving his flailing arms around, kicking his legs wildly, his head thrashing to left and right and up and down (like a horse does when it neighs) as his friend and mentor slashed away. The agony in his backside was intense.
His legs thrashing about so much in his continuing struggle and reaction only renewed Steve’s vigour and determination to finish this bare-bottomed switching with the total abnegation of his younger buddy. This boy needed to learn to, and know he must, accept the assistant coach’s authority and dictates, and obey.
The fiery stripes were intense as they licked and bit on the young teacher’s bare behind, eliciting immediate tears into and from his eyes. It was like his backside was target constantly smitten by the flaming strikes against his painfully, charred flesh.
Mark struggled on a bit more, pleading, begging, promising, apologizing, all endlessly between his gulps and shrieks, gasping for breath. It was all to no avail. Steve continued switching the hot, angry red little rump, not willing to stop at that time.
Shortly, Mark gave up and gave in completely, hanging and dangling over Steve’s knees, his squalling taking over, as he gasped, choked, sobbed, and shook. He felt the fiery blistering on his bottom driving him to still deeper wailing and weeping.
Steve was so engrossed in his disciplining task, and Mark so overcome and defeated with pain and indignity, neither one heard the sounds of activity outside. Their attention was momentarily diverted by the observing, spectator campers
Amidst his desperate, screeching and collapsing sobbing, Mark looked up to see four, older campers hiking the same path, stopping to stare at the spectacle of a skinny, naked youth being spanked across the older, young man’s lap.
Assuming they were witnessing the younger brother getting a sound and humiliating licking over his bigger brother’s knees, the same man who had admonished and swatted Mark the day before called out to Steve.
Give that bad boy a talking to with that switch he’ll never forget! Let him know you’re in charge, he’s got to listen to his big brother, and obey. If not, the brat will get his behind laced with a switch that lays down hell fires. He’ll shape up, that’s a certainty!
Mark’s tear-filled, reddened eyes met their astounded ones, and he trembled under the gaze. Looking quickly away, his conscious attention was refocused on the fiery painful inferno igniting his seemingly endless, singed behind, and the frantic shame and helplessness he felt.
Mark threw his arm back, trying to shield and protect his behind. Steve anticipated it, and simply pinned Mark’s arm, twisting it back and up against his bare back, between his damp shoulder blades, while continuing the slashing smacks to Mark’s behind.
Oh, no you don’t! You’re not going anywhere, little man! Steve barked at the boy sprawled across his knees, while firmly placing his arm around the young teacher’s bare waist to keep him securely in place.
Like a machine gun the fast, fiery cutting slashes of the switch into the ultra-sensitive undersides of Mark’s bottom continued igniting a growing inferno on those vulnerable, tender, lower parts and thighs of the boy for whenever he might to try to sit down afterward.
He could not help himself kicking and screaming fiercely. The stinging stripes were too much for his tender bottom that felt like it was being skinned raw by the bigger, stronger man’s hand.
Ooo-ooo-ow-ow-ow-owwwww-uh-huh-uh-uh! Mark wailed
No-ooo-mooore! Please, no-ooo-mooore! Staaaahp! Ooo-ow-ow-no-aaa-ow-huh-uh-ow-uh-uh-aaaaaa!
His crying, sobbing pleas and protests were soon replaced by loud wails like an animal being tortured as the switch returned to land on previous fire lines laid down by biting licks only minutes earlier.
When his entire backside, from the crest down to mid-thighs, had been set afire, flaming, seared, Steve decided this punishing discipline was at an end. Lying beaten and defeated, sorrowfully subdued, Mark felt the big, strong coach him up off the lap on which he’d been punished.
You are headed back to bed in the sleeping bag, little buddy. I’ll bring you some breakfast, but you are flat on your face and tummy for the rest of this day. We’ll address and deal with the rest of your behaviour at another time.
Steve’s decree would govern the rest of this day for Mark, and days in the future as well. As he led the broken, sobbing, heaving, young teacher to the tent, and down in the sleeping bag, the spectators observing the entire disciplinary incident broke out into applause, calling out their agreement.
Way to go, young man! You showed that boy what a bad brat needs and deserves! More power to you!
Steve ignored them, knowing that their presence and reactions only added to the pain, shame, and penitence
of the switched boy now confined to the tent and bed.
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