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First the Punishment, Then the Crime

by No Name

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 Feb 2018

Frank Cardiff had tried yard work, car washing, dog walking, and even doing laundry, but he didn’t get much business, didn’t make much money, and disliked the drudgery. At the suggestion of an aunt, he decided to try his hand at the babysitting business. At the age of fifteen, before he could drive or really date, he had plenty of time on weekends – and as his aunt pointed out, lots of families with boys were looking for male babysitters. He could get top dollar.

His strangest experience, so far, had been with the Nelson family. The Nelsons had one son, Ned, who was twelve years old and by reputation a paragon of excellent behavior. Good student, dutiful boy, perfect manners. Should be a snap to babysit for. Mr. and Mrs. Nelson were going into the City for dinner and a show, and asked Frank to report for duty at 5:00 pm. They left hot dogs and the fixings for Frank to prepare for the two of them, with ice cream for dessert. While Frank was cooking, Ned sidled into the kitchen and started to make conversation. He was an intelligent kid, and Frank found him surprisingly fun to talk to. In the midst of a conversation about families and their differences, Ned threw Frank a question he was not expecting: Did my folks mention that you have spanking privileges?

Spanking privileges? Frank repeated. What do you mean?

You know. Spanking privileges. If I misbehave.

Listen, Ned, don’t worry about that. I’m sure we won’t have any problems. There won’t be any need for something like that.

They must have forgot to tell you. You see, my parents are really strict, and they expect my . . . well, I hate the word babysitter, but you know who I mean... to keep me in line the same way.

Strict had not been Frank’s impression of what Mr. and Mrs. Nelson were like. They seemed totally nice and easy-going. But it wouldn’t be the first time an outsider was deceived about the inner workings of a family. Frank just said, Okay. He didn’t regard the subject of spanking privileges as of any real practical importance. He had never felt the need to punish any of his charges, and he couldn’t imagine that Ned would be any exception.

Just thought you should know, Ned said. And the conversation shifted to other, more interesting topics, like sports.

After dinner, though, the subject came up again. Remember about your spanking privileges? Ned asked. Frank nodded, wondering where this line of conversation was going. Well, I guess ordinarily the way it works is that I misbehave and then you spank me for it. Frank nodded again. He was inexperienced in these matters, but he presumed that was how it worked. Well, what about the other way around? the boy asked.


How about you spank me first, and then I misbehave?

This made no sense to Frank. What on earth was this boy talking about? Was this some kind of joke? Misbehave? Frank asked. Like how?

I dunno. Maybe stay up an hour after my bedtime.

Huh? Would that deserve a spanking?

Well, I could do something worse.

This was getting stranger and stranger. Let me get this straight. You want a spanking now, in exchange for staying up an hour after your bedtime, or maybe doing something worse?

Well, I wouldn’t use the word want. I don’t actually WANT a spanking. Spankings are punishment. But yeah, that’s the deal.

Frank reflected. If I agree to that, will you shut up about the spanking privileges thing?


Okay then. Get over here. Ned trotted over to his babysitter, practically wagging his tail in enthusiasm. Frank grabbed him around the upper body and delivered five sound – but not painful – swats to the seat of his shorts. There you go. Now you’ve been spanked. Can we talk about something else?

Ned scoffed. No, no. We’ve got to do this properly. Let’s go to the family room. He led the older boy into the family room, where there was a three-seater sofa. There. You sit in the middle. Frank sat, wondering what the boy would do next. See, I will lie over your lap, and you can spank my . . . um, butt.

Okay, Frank said, going along with what he assumed was some bizarre kind of boyish joke. Then do it. Get over my lap.

Aren’t you forgetting something?

What’s that?

You have to pull down my pants.


Ned rolled his eyes. Surely you know THAT, he said, his voice dripping with scorn. Every proper spanking begins by pulling down the boy’s pants. It’s part of the punishment.

You want me to pull down your pants? Frank asked, sincerely incredulous.

I don’t WANT it, silly, Ned said, still affecting his scornful persona. It’s just the way things ARE. Weren’t you ever spanked when you were my age?

Well, the answer to that was no. But Frank did not care to discuss his parents’ child-rearing techniques with this odd boy. Well, pull them down yourself, Frank said sarcastically, not expecting the boy actually to do it.

Okay, if you insist, Ned said cheerfully. He pulled his shorts down to his knees, exposing a pair of blue briefs decorated with cartoon characters. But still he paused before getting over Frank’s lap. These too? he asked, indicating the briefs.

What about them?

Do I have to pull these down too?

Frank stared. What an amazing question. No, no. You don’t have to pull anything down. You don’t have to get a spanking either, as far as I’m concerned. You haven’t even done anything BAD!

Yet, the boy said. Then, after a pause, during which it looked like Frank might get up off the couch, he spoke again, with the patient tone you use when explaining something simple to a person who is too dim to understand the first time: I thought we had a deal. Frank shook his head in bafflement. If I misbehave, I get a spanking. I thought we were in agreement on that. I already told you I am GOING to misbehave, so you don’t really have any choice. It’s just a question of timing.

Frank was tired of arguing. Alright, he said. Get your butt over here. Ned climbed onto the babysitter’s lap, and braced himself for the punishment he deserved for the crime he planned to commit, whatever that might be.

How many? Frank asked.

That’s up to you. I know you’ll be fair. The youngster nestled down. He lifted his bottom, as if to identify the location of the target. Frank gave him a few desultory smacks, and pushed him away. No, man, that doesn’t count. That isn’t a REAL spanking. The boy’s scornful tone had returned. He repositioned himself expectantly over Frank’s lap. I deserve worse than THAT. Frank, who was starting to get annoyed with Ned’s attitude, spanked the boy’s bottom with genuine force, for a minute or two. He stopped pretty soon, though. He was afraid if he kept going he might starting liking it.

There. That was a spanking. Frank said. Now we’re even if you stay up past your bedtime.

You’re sure? That’s all you’ve got? Frank said yes, he was sure. Well, okay, the boy said, standing right in front of Frank and looking cute in his cartoon underpants. You’re the babysitter and I’m just the brat. He added, wistfully: Maybe I’ll misbehave even worse, if that’s all the spanking you’re going to give me.

That’s all, Frank said.

Seeing no inclination on the part of his babysitter to resume the punishment, Ned pulled his shorts back up. For the remainder of the evening, he made no more mention of spanking. Instead, he was an exemplary boy. He finished up some homework, cleaned his room, and proposed a game of chess, which he won easily, even though Frank was a pretty good player. Frank was impressed. What a good kid! Smart, too. He wouldn’t mind being friends with a boy like that.

Frank told Ned when bedtime came, but they both knew Ned wasn’t going to obey. That was the other half of the deal. Frank said nothing more about bed until the specified hour had passed. Now it’s time, he said.

I’m going to stay up ten more minutes, Ned said. He did not ask. He just announced.

No, Ned, I already let you stay up an hour later than your parents told us.

You did not let me, Ned reminded him. I disobeyed, and you punished me for it. Of course, in this particular case it was the other way around: you punished me for it, and then I disobeyed. But it comes to the same thing. Now you are telling me to go to bed, but I am going to stay up for ten more minutes. Would that be disobedience?

Well, sure.

Then we both know what has to be done. But not now. Do it when you come up to my room to tuck me in.

Frank just stared at this very odd boy.

After ten minutes of calculated disobedience, Ned went upstairs. He brushed his teeth, donned his pajamas (with no underpants underneath), said his prayers, and got into bed. When Frank heard him stop moving around, he went upstairs to tuck him in. Ned had left a bedside lamp lit. When Frank arrived, Ned threw the covers off of his body and flipped over onto his stomach. Then he lowered his pajama bottoms, revealing his bare bottom to Frank’s eyes. Is my butt still red from the earlier spanking? he asked.

Frank gave the boyish mounds a careful look. No sign of it, he said.

Then you’ll have to spank me harder this time, Ned said. He sighed, stretched out comfortably, buried his face in the pillow, and lifted his pelvis up an inch or two.

Frank stared at the naked bottom. It was round and smooth and boyish. He supposed there was nothing wrong with giving it a few admonitory slaps. He sat on the bed next to the boy. Taking careful aim, he swatted down on the boy’s right butt cheek. Umff, said the boy, and waggled his hindquarters in seeming appreciation. That first spank caused the entire naked surface to vibrate. Frank’s handprint – with five distinct fingers and a palm – appeared in pink atop the white surface.

Wow, Frank thought to himself. This was a new experience. Then he delivered a similar slap to the left cheek, producing a similar effect.

If your hand gets sore, I have a slipper under the bed that would work pretty well, Ned observed, moving his head to look back and see the handprints on his butt. Frank wasn’t really tempted by the slipper option. If he was going to spank, he rather liked the feel of bare hand on bare butt. He spanked the younger boy three or four more times, observing the difference in texture and responsiveness between the fleshy bottom half and the skinnier top half of the boy’s buttocks. He gave a rapid series of little slaps to the lower section, watching the whole thing jiggle, than gave a sharp smack, hoping to catch the boy by surprise. In response, he heard a gratifying, Yeah! He spanked some more.

I was right, wasn’t I the boy asked, in an I-told-you-so voice. Bare-bottom spankings are better.

Better for whom? Frank asked, punctuating his question with a series of vigorous spanks. He was prepared to believe bare bottom was better for the spanker. There was something primordially satisfying about having a naked ass under his control. But the boy couldn’t possibly know about feelings like that.

For you, I guess, the boy said. But for me too. I am learning a lesson from this, about the need to behave. You can’t learn much from a spanking unless you feel it. The boy sounded prim and self-righteous. Yeah, right. Frank was beginning to doubt this was about misbehavior and learning lessons or anything of the sort.

Here, try it out this way, Ned suggested. He rose up unto his knees with his face still pressed to the pillow. The effect was to elevate his bottom and make the butt muscles taut. Frank spanked the proffered backside. The effect was quite different with the boy positioned this way. His butt had lost its quivering resilience. Frank’s spanks imparted a sharper sting. Frank was uncomfortably conscious of the boy’s butthole and his dangling little dick. Seeing them so crudely exposed made Frank uncomfortable. Frankly – no pun intended – he preferred doing it the other way. He swatted the upturned cheek, and commanded the boy, Get you ass back down on the bed. I like it better that way.

Is that an order? Frank said he guessed so. Good, said the boy. Up to this point, Ned had been calling the shots and Frank had gone along with it. It was time for Frank to assume control and for Ned to do was he was told. That is what this whole discipline thing is about: learning to obey. Ned approved of the shift. Yes, Sir! he said. He lay back down, flat, his cute young bottom reassuming its relaxed, bouncy appearance.

After Frank had delivered another dozen spanks to his bottom Ned decided to raise the temperature of the proceeding up a notch. You motherfucker, he said accusingly. I think you are enjoying this. Ned NEVER used bad language, but he thought this might be a propitious occasion.

Frank was offended. I didn’t start this, BOY. You did. We’ll see who’s enjoying what. Frank increased the intensity of his spanks. He did not appreciate being called a motherfucker, and he resented the suggestion that he enjoyed spanking boys’ bottoms. Ned waggled his ass in intentional mockery, as if to say we’ll see just how hard you can spank. Frank wasn’t sure what the ass waggle was intended to communicate but he was more than happy to smack the insolent target.

The boy’s bottom was starting to assume a pleasant pink color. How much more can he take? Frank wondered – but apparently he must have said the words aloud.

A lot more than this, Ned answered.

Frank felt the reddened surface. It was emanating heat. He squeezed a handful of butt flesh and liked the feel of it. He gave the butt a good rub, and when Ned made happy little sounds, he proceeded to perform a full bare-butt massage, occasionally interrupting his ministrations with a resounding smack. Once he had started, it was hard to keep his hands off that cute little butt. It was just so perfect, so inviting, so available – so squeezable, so smackable, so spankable.

When he returned to spanking, Frank sensed that Ned was receptive to even harder smacks than before. He delivered: his spanks became harder, louder, faster, more painful. By now, the boy was kicking and squirming and emitting sounds of what might be distress. Is this too hard? Frank asked anxiously.

No! Frook no, the boy responded.

So Frank spanked the boy’s butt still longer and still harder.

When finally he had had enough, Ned signaled the end by slumping down onto the bed. No longer did he lift his buttocks up in invitation, or waggle his ass in appreciation. Obviously, the spanking was over. Frank stood and turned off the lamp.

No, wait! Ned exclaimed, leaping up from the bed and pulling up his pants. He ran to the mirror, where he lowered his pajama bottoms again and stared at the damage to his butt.

Red enough for you? Frank asked with a smile.

Yeah! the boy answered.

As Frank headed for the bedroom door, Ned stopped him again. One more thing, he said.

Yeah, what?

Remember how I told you my parents give my babysitters spanking privileges?

Yeah, so what?

Well, that is not really true. I am the one who thought of that.

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