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The Life and Times of Stewart and Falstaff
Chapter 1 – Prologue - Punished At School, Hided At Home

by PJ Franklin

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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: 18 Feb 2018


Get your facts first, and then you can distort them as much as you please. – Mark Twain

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* Based on the fond true life yesteryear recollections of RH *

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Chapter 1 – Prologue – Punished At School, Hided At Home

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Stewart ...

Mister ... Stewart, Mr. Caines scowled at me from the doorway of his office. I glanced up at the ornate sign above his door. The one that all of us boys, including me, would love to tear down and burn, Abandon hope all ye who enter here, in big black cursive lettering that pretended to look old-fashioned.

In fact somebody beat me to it about six months before. Only he tossed the sign into a nearby garbage can, unburned. Didn’t matter. Caines would have replaced it anyway. A substitute teacher at the time, some old biddy, just happened to see him toss it in the can.

I have to say, watching the kid getting his comeuppance in front of a school assembly a few days later was a sight indeed. Caines gave him ten hard paddle licks over his underwear in front of us all. It made me smile both glad that it was not me getting a public punishment like that and glad that later I would beat off because it turned me on so.

I was sure that if it was me that the old biddy had caught tossing the thing into the can that Vice Principal Caines would have made me take the public licks bare ass even though that was supposed to be off limits in public. That would not have stopped him just because it was me and would have been a bitch. And a turn on later.

After all, you can’t keep a boy like me from Rhode Island down for long. Not at fourteen and almost fifteen. Well, sometimes my dad can. Bradley Stewart. That was the only downside to getting it from Caines at school. Dad would find out and that meant round two. Paddle, belt and-or hand, all depending.

Dad didn’t fool around, either, with any of his sons. Me, Alan. And the twins, Alex and Aaron, both eleven and almost twelve. He tanned hides very efficiently. He had too. Me and my brothers kept dad’s arm very busy at times.

He often said that is why he played squash with his friends at the athletic club on Marvin Avenue. To keep in shape to keep us in shape. That’s my dad. Always willing to put health, his, before his sons’ need to keep pain off of our backsides. Always bare by the way. Always.

The one time I tried to spare my humiliation to keep covered and fought him over it in front of my brothers when I was thirteen was probably the only time he spanked me bare in front of them anyway and then made me stand in a corner, my bare red behind on display in their room for thirty long boring minutes.

Not worth it. I didn’t blame the twin terrors for sitting right there in the room with me poking fun at my predicament for at least half of the time as I would have as well. Then they got bored and left the room and that was even worse from my end, but I got back at them or tried to. The very next time that I babysat them while dad and my mom, Nanci, went for a parents’ only night out on the town, I lied to them about their bedtime.

I told them that dad said that they had to go to bed at 8:30PM that night instead of the usual 9:30PM, Daddy would have told us, Alan, and you know it! Alex protested my fake bedtime rule, Well he didn’t this time now did he? Keep up the complaints and I’ll spank both of you, I retorted hoping to distract,

No, you can’t. Daddy and mommy both said you can’t spank us. We heard them say that to you, Alan, Aaron’s turn to protest. I knew that, but I was desperate for revenge, I’m in charge. Father said so. I get to decide things when I’m in charge, I started my rather weak argument,

You will get to bed when I say or you will get spanked, thinking that as they often did, they would start to argue among themselves, either one of them would finally get cold feet and cave to my demands convincing the other to obey my faux bedtime.

In fact Alex turned to Aaron, Let’s just go to bed Aaron. Then we’ll tell on him and daddy will spank Alan and maybe we can watch him get it! not a bad ploy though I doubted father would spank me over a simple hour lack of non-bedtime. Not father’s style really.

You’re crazy. Spank Alan over an hour’s worth of bedtime? Aaron argued. Damn. Smart boy, my brother, He lies, Aaron. You know daddy hates liars. He’ll spank him for lying, Alex argued, And that too might be true in this case and context, but I still doubted it. Father might indeed tan my hide for lying, but over an hour of bedtime? That could go either way.

To bed, now! Or you will both get your bare bottoms spanked royally hard! I issued the threat as I loomed over them both, hands authoritatively on my hips like our parents sometimes did. Should do the trick, But you can’t spank us, Alan! Daddy said so! Aaron almost shrieked his insistence, but his tone told me that he was getting desperate and about to give in.

I don’t want to go to bed now. It’s too early! Alex stomped his feet as if on cue. This was going to work. Alex had forgotten the best argument about me not being allowed to spank, Yes, it’s too early. I won’t either! Aaron joined in him also now distracted from his anti-spanking demand and now it was time to do the countdown, If you’re not in your bedroom and getting ready for bed in ten seconds, I will bare both of your bottoms and spank them raw over my knees!

Alan no! I don’t want to go to bed now. I don’t want a spanking! Aaron said, I don’t care what you want Aaron. Do as I say. You have to. Dad and mom say so, I applied what should be the final coup-de-gras, Your choice then. Ten ... nine ... eight ... seven ... and at the count of seven I could tell that the countdown was having its effect as now they both looked increasingly stubborn as they often do,

Six ... five ... four ... three ... two ... one ... zero! Time’s up. Spanking for you both and then you will be put to bed anyway. Follow me! I said and started to stomp towards their room as they followed close behind.

I knew then that I had finally won as I now heard sniffles from Alex which then affected Aaron as it always did, I’m sorry Alan. I’ll go to bed now. Please don’t spank me! he started to wail, Yes please big brother. No spanking. I’ll go to bed! Aaron added his wails and plea.

I smiled congratulating myself on my victory, hollow though I knew that it would likely be. I ignored my sensible inner Alan that told me that I should stop this nonsense and at least not spank them. I could get away with the bedtime thing, but not likely the spanking. Dad would hide the hell out of me if they told and the chances of one of them not, seemed zero to none.

And yet, I could be very stubborn that way and by now I was angry that they argued with me at all when they never argued with our father. I think that was the sticking point within myself as I walked into their bedroom, Get ready for bed, now! I said which meant PJ tops and bottoms. The boys quickly complied, sniffling and adding the last of their cute, but muted little pleas for mercy. I was by then steadfast.

Come here the both of you, I said sitting on Alex’s bedside as they finished their preparations. The boys came over looking very defeated and wearing their cute PJ tops and bottoms, Closer! I said and now they were in arm’s reach, You disobeyed. Spankings for you both. PJ bottoms down now please,

No big brother, please don’t! Alex wailed which started Aaron to wail, No spanking please! but as effective as their pleas actually were, I ignored them, Fine, I grasped Alex’s arm, brought him in closer and reaching out loosed his PJ bottom tie and watched them dropped to around his ankles,

No Alan! I’m sorry! Alex wailed, but did not fight me as I pulled down his cute little Superman undies and then did the same with Aaron letting his Batman undies fall to around his ankles, Please no big brother! Aaron’s plead as he was also quickly made bare,

Over you both go! I said and then pulled them Alex first over my right knee and then Aaron over my left, their cute bared bums up for punishment. One thing was certain. Father had taught us all very well to never physically resist him during our corporal punishments.

Why we boys obeyed that particular directive as well as we always did I’ve no clue save that it would never cross my mind to do so. Somehow that was just intrinsically or automatically out of bounds for us Stewarts. Take your medicine and do so properly each and every time and so it was now with my little brothers.

I saw their bare bums white and now intended for them both to be red. My palms would be sufficient and so I drummed my spanks back and forth, Alex and then Aaron, but not at the same time. They cried profusely and now I could understand a bit how it might affect father when he spanked us. Well, me when I was much younger, but not older. I no longer cried, well much anyway.

I rained down alternating spanks as the boys wiggled a bit, but stayed still otherwise. I’ll tell you one thing, once you start to spank, it’s damn hard to stop. That is until the boys started to bawl. That is when father always stopped with Aaron and Alex and so I did too. Besides, I felt that I had doomed myself now and already was asking myself, Was it worth it you idiot, Alan? and immediately knew the answer.

OK. To bed boys, I stopped the spankings, stood them both up. They looked sorrowful at first and then I saw the glint in Alex’s eyes of I’m going to get even with you big brother, and in a way I was glad for it. I knew I had done wrongly and crossed a line.

One or both boys were going to tell father after he and mom got home. And I would get the dickens for it and they would get to watch ... again. Still, they both waited for their after-spanking hugs because that is what young Stewarts do in our family.

I hugged the boys and then softly patted their now covered bottoms to their beds, Good night, I said turning out the light as I passed out of their room, but my guilt was already building. Now I felt like the condemned waiting for father to return and the boys to turn me in like they do in the movies before the authorities send out the cops to rustle the miscreant to jail.

The next hour or so was miserable, but an hour only last sixty minutes. I felt like I had counted out the last ten minutes of it by single seconds. Mom and dad came through the front door and I swear, I almost broke out in a grin of knowing laughter that as soon as the front door opened, out from down the hallway my little brothers ran up to my parents,

Daddy! Alan was naughty! He said you said we had to go to bed an hour early and then he spanked us daddy! You said he couldn’t do that, but he did anyway! Alex revealed my heinous crime. My father sighed, OK. I’ll take care of it. Now back to bed for now you two, father told them calmly, but I could see his neck start to pinken-up some. I was in for it.

I stood as the boys obeyed our father and walked back down the hallway. Mom never cared to participate in anything to do with her sons’ discipline. She kissed dad good-night and then came over to me, Alan. Good-night son, she said without emotion pecking my temple, Night mom, I said pecking her back and then it was just me and my old man.

You spanked them? he asked as he walked towards me not bothering to mention the reason as it was not relevant now, Yes sir. I was angry and wanted my way with them to get back at them for them getting to watch me get my last spanking bare, I told the truth of it.

He nodded. His big palm came over and landed firmly on my shoulder, I understand. I do and I’m not going to be angry with you, Alan. You are old enough to have your reasons, but you also crossed the line. I hope it was worth it. To your room, get ready, is all he said. A quiet man during this kind of drama my father is. He never, ever shouts as some parents do. He never spanks from anger, ever.

Yes father, I said head down wishing that I had not crossed the line now, but I had and then sighing I walked the green mile down the hallway towards my doom. I walked inside and then started to undress to nakedness knowing that I would not be allowed to wear one thread.

When father then appeared in the doorway with my brothers in tow I was neither surprised nor upset. They both deserved to watch me suffer and from what father now held in his fist, I was going to do that very well. It was going to be the paddle. The one that he and mom had picked up long ago in an antique store. It was old, a bit worn from all of the spankings it had given children over its years. It was kind of familiar and in a way comforting that way.

He walked in, my little brothers in their PJs after him. They looked grumpy, no surprise there. I knew what to do and naked I grabbed the pillow, walked around to the end of my bed, set the pillow down and then went over it up on my toes and prepared to be paddled.

Father never announces the number of licks. They always vary according to the sin and the reaction of the sinner to the hiding. I knew that this punishment may even start up the waterworks and did. Father paddled me hard. Five licks and then up to ten and I was already on the verge of an all-out bawling session which was not my usual style, but I was being forced to it.

Then the paddling stopped, I thought prematurely. That was a bad sign, Get up, he said calmly and I almost begged him to keep paddling because what was next would seem worse to me. I got up. My fanny was on fire and throbbing. I even reached around to my rear and let my fingers gently feel that indeed, my butt was a mess.

Over my knee, he said the awful words and then I just could not help my proud fourteen-year-old self, Please no daddy. No spanking, I said softly feeling younger than my little brothers at that moment and some tears running. Father said nothing and I could see my little brothers, almost cheerful as father paddled me, now looked a bit regretful at what was next.

Father said nothing as I strode to his knees and then laid myself across them. I was entirely defeated as I should be. Father wasted no time as his palm then slammed into my paddled rear. I tried my best to fend off sounding like Alex or Aaron but it was quickly too much, Dad please! I wailed as father put me well into my proper place with just his palm.

I did my best to limit my blubbering, but finally cut loose and then father stopped the spanking as he always did. You see we had a silent agreement with our father. Crying and blubbing is OK as long as it is honest because dad always uses it to gauge effectiveness and length. One never wishes to lie about something so important and intimate like that.

Finished. Get up, he said flatly. I did and quickly wiped my face with the heels of my bare hands and faced him, my bottom tore up as well it should be. I even was shaking a little, but I leaned forward into his hug, Think twice next time, son, please, he said quietly. I nodded, Yes dad, I said. He pecked my temple and I pecked his. I got a quick hug further and then dad backed away,

To bed you two, he said to my little brothers, After you give hugs, he quickly added. I bit my bottom lip as both boys’ faces and eyes were red. Alex wiped a tear as he hugged me, I love you Alan, he said quietly, I love you too squirt, I said to Alan taking (and enjoying) his gentle squeeze, I’m sorry Alan, Aaron said when it was his turn, I know little man. It’s OK, I reassured him and then I was finally alone in my room.

I went over to my dresser mirror and turned. I winced and let my fingers survey the damages. They were commensurate with my crime. Never too little, never too much. Just right. In this case, bright red and swollen and as I pawed at myself something else was getting swollen.

I quickly checked my door and then returned to my visual and manual inspection as my penis stiffened, something that had been happening for at least three years after a good hiding whether at school or at home. I had discovered that a good masturbation after a good spanking was the perfect ending and once again, taking up my jerk-off rag I allowed myself the pleasure of my own company and went at it with fervor and pleasure and then hit the sack. I’ll say one thing, a good hard spanking always makes a boy sleep well afterwards.

I averted my gaze down from the hateful little sign and stood up. It was time to face the Vice Principal’s dreaded paddle once again. I didn’t say a thing nor did I show any emotion as I walked past Caines and into his office. He closed the door behind us, Five licks, he said flatly,

On your bare this time, Stewart, he quickly added, And take note that next time it will be seven or even ten. Unless you care to stop pushing and shoving in the lunch line anytime soon? he queried sarcastically as this was my second go around in two weeks’ time. Horse play on the grounds of Hopefield High School was strictly forbidden. We all did it anyway, girls included.

Only girls tended to get let off with stupid stuff to do like more homework or detentions. Boys got detentions as well. I hated detention. I’d rather take licks at school and then more at home rather than spend even one minute of any Saturday during the school year in a classroom doing nothing or writing something moronic to satisfy the detention teacher on duty that day.

I did get detention once. I ran away in the middle of it. I got caught too. My dad took my pants down in front of the detention teacher later that Saturday, put me over his knee and then gave me one hell of a hard hand spanking for it in front of the aggrieved detention teacher’s grin of approval.

Then good old dad did get me off of the detention thing that day and suggested later during one of our many parent-teacher conferences that my needs were best served with corporal punishment and not detentions. Caines surprisingly agreed and from then on I would get more corporal hidings from him in his office instead of detentions on weekends. That meant more from dad later as well and all that was fine by me.

I rolled my eyes as I undid and pushed my jeans and underwear down to my ankles and then took up position as always, laying across the side of his desk as he came around with his big paddle and lined me up. I do admire how he paddles however, you have to.

Each lick is a thing of beauty. He never leaves ass skin untouched. You are thoroughly blistered by the time he is finished. I have to hand that to him as afterwards I shook his hand as I always did. I never disrespected any authority as long as I thought it fair. It, he, was fair and that was that.

He respected me as well and trusted me to tell my father later about the punishment. I never did not tell dad. I don’t know why. I guess I knew that there were limits and as long as I stayed inside of basic boundaries that I could still mess around and tickle the edges of the rules, have some fun and then pay a reasonable price later, one that I would never begrudge.

I didn’t bother this go around to go to the boy’s room and look at the damages on myself after as I sometimes did. Boys love looking at other boys’ paddled rears, at least they did at my school. Nobody touched because that would be considered by most of my peers as too gay.

Though I wasn’t gay myself, I entirely didn’t like the notion of too gay because I thought it could result in bullying and besides I did think early on that I was at least bisexual. I looked at boys and girls. I found things about each gender that were erotic to me.

Breasts, hair and legs for the girls. Cock and ass for boys and oh yes, lips. Lips on either sex. Kissing them. Yum! It seemed the best of both worlds. I wanted to marry later and have children and play squash so that I could spank them effectively like my father did.

But before that I wanted to experience sexuality with a compatible boy. Believe me, there were no compatible boys at my high school in Rhode Island. At least none that appealed to me so I was still zero in that department.

I got on the school bus later and rode home and stayed in my room doing homework until I heard dad’s car in the driveway. Dad is a security expert and auditor for a firm that does security for both national and international corporations. Sometimes he is away for days or even weeks.

I hate when he does that. There is this fear that I have that one day he won’t come home alive. That would kill me and my brothers. We love our father no matter what else. I knew that because of my antics and punishment at school that I was going to get a spanking from him soon, but I didn’t care. He was safely home.

Even after he returned home that day I waited a few minutes before I barged in on him and announced that he was not quite finished working that day as I didn’t want my behavior at school to be the first thing he faced. He worked hard and deserved a moment’s respite at least, but I finally left my room and found him in his home office standing behind his desk sorting papers out of his brief case.

He looked up. He saw the look on my face, Alan. What’s it this time? he asked looking all fatherly and a bit perturbed because now he knew. I shrugged, The usual. Horse play in the lunch line, and dad rolled his eyes,

Aren’t you a bit old for that kind of thing, son? he asked. Let’s see. Eye-roll or no eye-roll. We both knew that I knew that his question was entirely rhetorical. We always play this verbal game a bit before pretense is dropped and the action begins. It’s kind of fun actually,

Should I try and burn the school down next time? I cheeked and sans eye-roll as well as with pursed lips he replied, No, Alan. Horse play in the school lunch line will do just fine, he cheeked right back at me with equal sarcasm. Our little dance together so I could not help but smile a little as my dad has a sense of humor even when things can be grim,

Go to you room. The belt. Bare, he said and I nodded, turned and walked back to my bedroom and got ready. I took off my school clothes and donned a simple T-shirt from the pile of my dirty things from a few days before.

Why put on anything clean when all you’re going to do is mess it up again? So I didn’t. I slipped the shirt on and looked down at myself. I was getting a boner. That was happening a lot more lately even before punishments. I wondered why for a while and then just gave up wondering and started enjoying. After that is.

I had even contemplated spanking myself months before to experiment if it might be a good substitute for the real thing and just as hot, but not only wasn’t it arousing, but it also just felt stupid. I may be a brat, but I am not a stupid brat so I just sat and waited and finally dad walked into my room closing the door.

He didn’t often let the twins watch any more unless it involved them. They were home, but he said nothing to them so that we were alone. I stood and moved to the end of my bed and bent forward over the pillow-draped foot, up on my toes and up on my elbows, eyes ahead.

As when he used the paddle, dad never announced how many belt licks. It was always around twenty now give or take. Less if he intended to hand spank me later. More if not. More if the deed seemed especially grievous or heinous to him, less if not. He started in. Each lick precise. Each centered equally side-to-side though some of them higher and some painfully across my thighs. Those really stung!

I made the count to myself as dad was really laying them on. Damn that squash sport of his! I was getting fried but good this time! To ten, then fifteen and lastly to a full twenty. It was horrid! OK. Enough. Don’t dawdle long. Mom gave me a grocery shopping list to do later and you and your brothers are going with me, he said as I continued to wince and grimace as the throbbing lingered a bit longer than usual.

I got up and didn’t bother to rub. I went directly over to dad and we hugged briefly and lightly. He didn’t say be good or anything any more to me, but he did peck my temple and me his. It was always a well appreciated if brief moment with him after punishment that later on in life I would repeat with my own sons without exception.

I waited until he left and then I really inspected my burnt posterior. My cock was already hardened by now as I did. I grabbed it into my fist and stood sideways in the mirror, one hand pawing at my seared rear and the other flogging my prick. I usually would get my jerk-off rag, but this time I didn’t care to bother to get it. I didn’t last long, never did rag or no rag.

I shot my load spraying it down onto the carpet and then cleaned that up wishing that I had waited to use the rag as the mess after is always disgusting. Mom had complained once to dad about the carpet stains that my semen always seemed to leave. That gained me a lecture. No spanking that time. But there was a spanking when I did it again. That was a paddling that really made its point on that occasion.

I was satisfied, got cleaned and dressed up to wait for dad to marshal his sons for the shopping trip during which the twins found me, You got it again, didn’t you, Alex smirked, Yes, so what? I replied, You’re a bad influence. Mother says so, Aaron added, And she says you both are the reason she is never having children again, and they both looked at me as if I had just said the worst thing in the world.

I’m gonna tell! Alex blurted, Go ahead. You know what dad does to tattlers in our family, I smirked and about then dad walked in on us, Everything all right? he asked a bit suspiciously, Yes sir. Alan was just saying that you are going to treat us to ice cream later after shopping? Aaron lied on behalf of us all.

Oh did he? Did he offer to pay as well? Dad smirked at me and then back at Aaron, Yes. He said you can empty his savings for ice cream. He doesn’t mind! which started dad to laugh. I had to laugh as well and dad looked at me, Well then, fork it over Alan, he held out his hand a moment to me and then when money did not appear, took it back and looked at each of us again,

If I bothered to believe half of what you rascals tell me, I’d lose my shirt to your wild schemes. Come on. All right. Ice cream after shopping, and there you have it. My brothers and I always at odds with each other and also always on the conspiratorial prowl to pry things we wanted out of our father who would sometimes, like now, give in.

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Falstaff ...

There were times when I was very proud of my family name and times that I wished it were just Jones or Smith. This was not one of those former cases. The tittering behind me as I tried to continue to verbally explain to them all of my family ancestry in Mr. Beranger’s social studies class as required was pissing me off. I wanted to turn, flip them all both of my middle fingers and tell certain of the boys to fuck off.

Quiet down. Let Mr. Falstaff finish, please, Mr. Beranger said from his desk, head down reading some damn book and looking less interested in my hard-fought-for blown up coat of arms poster than my classmates. He can be an arse that way sometimes.

I liked the damn thing, the poster that is. It was colorful. The main shield in the middle divided up into fourths, each alternating bright yellow and royal blue squares. The silvery looking knight’s helmet at the crest of it on top looked cool or I thought so as well as the fancy flourishes on either side.

So did my father, Bertram Falstaff or Bertie (which he hated) or just Bert. I just called him dad or father or my old man. You know the guy that I alternately loved or just barely tolerated, the latter when he decided that I had crossed yet another of his many lines and then out would come the plimsoll, belt or even the cane as well as the hand for yet another usually well-earned hiding and-or spanking.

I felt dangerously close to both my teacher’s and therefore also my father’s future ire if somebody did not tell arsehole Philip Paulsen sitting three rows back to shut the fuck up. The moment he saw my coat-of-arms poster before class he was evidently envious and started in even before class,

Falstaff ... Falstaff ... right then. Shakespeare. The guy with the fat arse, just like yours Rhys (pronounced Reece). Fat and stupid, he glared at me and then tried to snatch it from me, Keep your grubby, shitty hands off it Paulsen or I’ll have to kick your arse from here to Maidstone and back, I had threatened him protecting the visual part of my class project concerning personal ancestry.

And I was almost finished relating the boring details that even I didn’t care about. Something about the fucking Battle of Hastings in 1066 and the Duke of Normand winning and passing out land to all of his friends and relatives and such, one of them apparently being some sot named Fastolf who married so and so and so and so and then they changed their name to Falstaff way back when I didn’t really care.

If I got a good mark from Mr. Beranger for the project then I would swear everlasting fealty to the family name. If I did not maybe I would change my surname when I was of age. Then I heard it again from idiot Philip, Fat ... and Stuupid! he dragged out the word like grating your knuckles on hard pavement.

The class erupted into raucous laughter. I turned to look at him and flipped him off. A double-barreled duo middle finger shot that I knew that I would pay for dearly and did. Mr. Beranger took exception of course and after the class calmed and I finished what little I had left to tell, was sent straight away to the Head’s office.

Headmaster Farley did not take visual digital representations of anal intercourse during class hours lightly, You know the drill, Falstaff. Six of the best on the bare. Prepare, and I did. Only six now. Father would not be so kind because this would be what, the second time in as many weeks that I had been sent home from school, the prior time after a pushing and shoving match during physical training. Soccer match that went a tiny bit awry and I ended up in a fist fight with another boy.

That cost me half a dozen from the P.T. manager over my shorts with his slipper and later on at home a full on bare bottom belting as well as a good hand spanking over father’s knee. He even let my younger brothers Alf and Hal watch.

Alfie is ten and Hal is nine to my nearly but not quite fifteen years of life. Mum, Lillian, always said that Alf was planned and Hal came along later because he had nowhere else to go and came to us as a special prize.

He was special all right. I could sometimes special him right square in his impertinent little face. How could one of my little brothers be an angel (most of the time anyway), Alf, and then special boy, Hal, a total dick and at his age!

I guess I was somewhere in between. I loved my brothers, but once in a while I could sell both to the gypsies. To be fair, even little Hal did not fool father. Hal even had his own little hairbrush that father would tan his naughty little hide with now and again when he got out of hand.

I know. I had watched father do it a number of times and I even tried to use it on him one time against my parents’ wishes while babysitting both of my little brothers. They knew that they could never refuse what discipline that I thought was fair when I sat them and they had not, but neither was I supposed to spank either of them. So boy did he give father an earful or what when he and mum returned?

I did not deny it and told father that Hal had been especially naughty that night not getting to bed when asked and bothering me when I was doing homework and then going into my room and rummaging about saying that he was looking for a toy. Likely story. He was nosy that way.

Father had remonstrated with Hal over his behavior which he did not deny and then didn’t let Hal watch me get my arse beaten in father’s study. Plimsoll and belt that time, lucky to have not gotten the cane nor the bare hand treatment as well.

I sighed, undid the belt of my hateful regulation required Buckner-Hill Grammar School (BHGS) grey shorts right in front of Headmaster Farley and then pushed them with my regulation tighty-whities so that they did a little free fall down past my equally as hateful knee-high regulation grey knee socks to my ankles as I stood just in front of the chair.

Then I jack-knifed my torso over the back of the chair and grabbed the seat with both hands. My regulation BHGS school tie dangled down to the seat under my chin like it always did as I was still wearing my regulation white long sleeved shirt of course.

In short, I was familiarly positioned for the usual caning that Mr. Farley gave boys like me. One tap of the rattan junior sized cane on my arse and we are off to the races. The race to see how much damage that bloody cane of his can do before father gets his mitts on my beaten bum later. At least it wasn’t the senior sized rattan that I would be eligible for upon turning fifteen-years-old.

Oh GOD that thing hurts, the junior cane that is. Not more than what father does with shoe and leather or his cane, just saying. The only fun thing later is showing the bloody stripes off because no matter if nobody is within fifty yards of knowing that I was up for the six, somehow they just find out or know and drag me into the bloody loo and make me show myself off.

Not that it matters if they do. It’s OK if they do. OK, I like it when they do it because to be frank I myself enjoy looking at other boys’ bare bums and especially when they are all striped up as mine was about to be. Most of them anyway. Some of them are very pretty you know. Like sexy-pretty because well I’m like that and have always been like that.

Mum knows. So does dad, but he never goes on about it as mum occasionally does when it’s just me and her. Unfortunately my being that way never buys me any favors or get-offs from home punishments with my dad. Not that I want it to, I don’t.

If you’re going to get the shoe or the belt or the cane or even the hand, may as well enjoy yourself a bit after, right? And I had and I would soon I was sure. At any rate, Farley swung his stick and hit his target, me, right square across the center as always.

And as always I gritted my teeth and swore as much as possible under my breath so that he wouldn’t hear me and then stop, What’s that again, boy? I didn’t quite hear you, he would say and now no matter what you told him you would get extra or extras depending on his understanding of the gravity of your complaint.

I got away with that one. He swung again and hit his target just below the first. That made me swear again, only loudly, What’s that again, Falstaff? Speak up boy! he said. I sighed, Nothing sir, I said which was of course a mistake, Nothing you say? I’ll give you nothing. Those first two did not count. That’s nothing, right Falstaff? he said most smugly.

I groaned. That would be eight. Father would inspect me and see that it was eight and not six and I would be lucky if he didn’t add a few cane cuts before he used the belt or the slipper or his bloody palm and really teach me a good hard lesson this go around.

Cuts three and four replaced one and two, but did not replace the extra jaw tightening grimaces and bitten lips so that I didn’t utter anything but a long, loud groan of pain and misery. The four more that followed were horrid stingers like angry wasps wrestling about on my nether regions, stingers unleashed.

Nonetheless I took my punishment without too much writhing and kicking about, Get up. Get dressed Falstaff. You will remember to mention this to your father, please, Mr. Falstaff, Mr. Farley said as usual, Yes sir, thank you sir, I said managing to be extra polite because if I did not, he would remember and the next time may not be very pleasant at all. Still, I really did not begrudge the Head to do his sworn duty to put boys like me into some pain for our mischiefs. OK, into a lot of pain.

As usual, boys knew and in fact some had listened in and as I left the Head’s office I was ushered like a downtrodden celebrity into the loo for post-caning inspection. Sure enough, there was shithead Philip Paulsen, eager as always to take part.

He always wanted to touch my welted stripes as well. No fucking way. Not Paulsen. Now, if Julian Emery wanted to touch that would be grand. Julian could touch me all he wanted. Julian could ask me to suck his cock and I would right in front of everyone (in my fantasies anyway.)

Julian could ask to fucking bugger me in the loo right now as well and I would do that in front of everyone including fucking Philip whom I was sure would whine over his lack when all he wanted to do was just touch my stripes a little and I would refuse him straight away. Sadly, Julian said nothing. Just blushed and stared at my stripes like the other boys who did not blush.

I was in the middle of wondering what Julian’s blush really meant until just then the door to the loo burst open and we heard a familiar female voice, You boys had better get busy and get out, we shut the circus down and that was that.

I walked home that day by myself as usual after a punishment. We did live not far from B-H Grammar which was nearly square in the middle of Ashford, Kent just about mile and a half or about a twenty minutes’ walk to my home.

Mum and dad wouldn’t let me ride the bloody bus. Said I needed the exercise, but would take me or pick me up if the weather was being a bastard which it can be in Ashford. It’s in England after all. The weather in England is not all sunny and pleasant all the time like it is in some places.

Dad was home before me that day so I marched to my room, set my school things down and then without bothering to get out of my school uniform found him in the kitchen munching on some left over bangers and mash. Fried sausages with fried potatoes and onions you know. Delightful!

Don’t tell mum. She’ll scold me about ruining my appetite for dinner, father joked with me as I walked in on him, Do you want to share some of this? Say, you don’t look well, Rhys. What’s happened? he asked then. I told him about getting the stick at school bare bum.

He sighed, Rhys! and then set the snack of food to the side, What was it over this time? and I told him and he shook his head, You need to have a little more tolerance for ignorance, son, and then taking up his snack again, he gave it one last nibble before he said, OK. Let’s go make short work of this, and we did.

Having to unclothe myself from my school uniform which I loathed (can you tell?) for the second time that day to get my bum scorched was not the best idea I ever had. It made me feel like dad was the Head instead of my dad. Not that it mattered physically; but it did mentally, to me anyway.

Your father beating your bum is not at all like your school master. Can’t say why, it just is not. Maybe it’s the hug afterwards from him as well as the when I was a git of a boy years ago, stories that he liked to tell after his punishments of me now and again. I kind of liked the time with him even if it was under duress because it was MY time and not shared with my little brothers and I together with him.

Father inspected my bared bum, Ol’ Farley was in good form this time. Eight you say. That’s certain. Rhys. I’ve told you and told you. If Farley has to beat you this hard, you cannot expect a lot less from me, he admonished.

I sighed. I was dead meat and knew it, Yes daddy, I said in my best humble imitation of my little brothers hoping it would help me off even a little of what was certain to come, Still. I don’t blame you for reacting as you did. As unwise as it was to do so in front of a teacher, I might have done the same in my day ... and gotten the same as you are to get, he said and waited my reaction.

Head down and nodded, Yes sir. A damn good thrashing. I’m ready for it, father, I said with honesty as I was, Very well. Over my lap son. I am going to give you a good hard hand spanking only this time, all right? he said.

All right? It was bloody better than just all right, Yes sir! Thank you father! I said with great gratitude because it was. Dad could have caned and paddled or slippered me as well as hand spanked me after and instead he had limited the punishment to only the latter.

I hurriedly flopped across his lap before he changed his mind. I pushed my hips far up to show my submission and willingness to give it my all. Well, father gave it his all with his palm. I don’t know what I was thinking that just a hand spanking is all that much better than the slipper, belt or even the cane. It’s really not.

My father’s hands are huge and though he didn’t do manual labor and have them all knurled and calloused, still. Nonetheless I kept my bottom up high and took it all, all bloody forty palm smacks to my already still tender posterior. I kept my small blubberings to a minimum, but it was not easy.

What was easy and fortunate in my view was that the hard hand spanking over the Head’s cane welts removed any possibility of my damn willy getting excited over it as it was becoming prone to do during my hidings. I knew father would not fuss over it and didn’t care, but I cared still.

I cared so much that I was now willing father to really give me a hard beatings to force the silly thing to stay soft in front of him. It worked this time you’d best believe; but I knew eventually that it would be an issue or worse as now I was resorting to doing other ill-advised things to myself after my father’s spankings.

Father finished and let me up. I held my hand out to shake as always. He shook it as always, I’ll try and do better, I said as always, I know, son, I know, he said as always and then left the room. Now it was time for a good after spanking self-pleasuring.

I waddled over to my mirror and looked at the damages. I winced just looking. I thought WWIII was not yet underway. Apparently it was. On my arse! I deserve something extra this time, I said to myself which was, of course, pure rubbish as I would do it anyway no matter how harsh my punishments had been or not.

I readied my wanking sock to catch my stuff and then concentrated on my opening effort. That meant a spit-wetted middle finger slowly shoved up my own bum. Oh the delight! Oh the relief it would bring. I slowly ran my palm to between my beaten cheeks.

I penetrated my bum crack with a big shit-eating grin on my face. I diddled myself, teased my opening a little and said, Rhys you naughty boy. Don’t do it or daddy will spank your naughty bottom again! I said to myself provoking a huge shivering thrill and then leaning forward a little slowly penetrated my finger tip.

I shivered again, this was so wonderful, finger in bum, that I more quickly moved it in further and further. My torso bending further and further over and then as my digit was fully seated as I went to grab at my anxious hard pecker with my other fist and then ...

What you got your finger up your bum for, Rhys? I’m going to tell daddy! You’re being naughty! came the familiar voice of my idiot little piece-of-shit brother, Hal, who had just walked in on me just then and then ran from my room.

HAL! I screamed at the top of my voice picturing myself just then pitch fork in hand, skewering the little shithead solidly on the end of the razor sharp tines and then slowly roasting him over the Fiery Pits of My Mind’s Hell!

I knew that this would not go anywhere, but I still wanted to make sure that Hal was not let off. He wasn’t. Unwisely as sometimes Hal was, he blurted out his discovery of me to my father just at the end of it as I had quickly made myself decent and stomped my way up the hallway to father’s study.

But daddy! Hal wailed obviously already set well back onto his little heels by father. My dad looked up at me. I feared an inquisition at the least, another hiding at the worst, but none of that came to pass.

What did come to pass was my now bug-eyed little brother, Hal, being lifted effortlessly up by one of my father’s big strong arms in front of father’s big desk, his pants and undies divested of his use of them to his bare by the other. Then father sat as I calmed myself down and put Hal across his knees.

All poor Hal could do was to look at me with his little red face, tears steaming and then he howled as father’s palm spanked him and hard I’d say. Very hard for Hal, anyway. As always Hal put on a great show more than necessary which never did him, any of us in our times, really, any good. Father spanked away until like with me, he knew it was enough.

Still, it was satisfying and Hal even had to apologize to me after he calmed down. He did. We hugged, I sorrie. Wuv you big brudder, he ended up saying sniffling back snot, Love you too squirt, I said and I meant it and he knew that I did as well. And I adored my father for never saying anything to me over what I was sure Hal had told him and father had, I was sure, believed it. He even looked at me after Hal left the room,

Maybe it’s time we considered a lock on your bedroom door, son, he said. I smiled, I’d like that, please, hoping for one sooner than later because well, fingers and other things not as innocent as fingers up my bum was high on my future bucket list of things to do before I was too much older and I wanted privacy to do them.

I returned to my room feeling both vilified as well as emboldened and closed my bedroom door not at all worried that Hal would do it again. I stripped fully naked this time and resumed my position in front of my mirror, turned sideways and this time ... this time two fingers up my bum with my other fist on my prick wanking sock in hand as well.

I glared threateningly at my own beaten bum and finger fucked myself like I knew that one day I wanted from another boy of my liking with his hardened prick from my having sucked on it. Maybe even after he spanked the bejesus out of my arse, to a ripe red crisp and then ... I shot my load into my sock nearly falling over with a bit of faintness over the entire affair.

The Life and Times of Stewart and Falstaff – Chapter 1 – Prologue – Punished At School, Hided At Home, © Copyright PJ Franklin, February 17, 2018.

 
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