Tag: spanking

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by ccallenreese ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

blissfuldominance:

Showing him that I care about about him. 

Your dad never did this to you, your teachers never did this to you, and your last boyfriend never did this to you – all the men in your life have failed you, boy. You’re completely out of control and ill-behaved. Lucky for you, you still have 75% of your life left, so there is hope for you yet. It’s up to you how much of that time is filled with me spanking you. Right now, that’s a lot of time. I can’t remember when your butt wasn’t pink! But it’ll get better. I have faith in you. I trust you. I love you, and care about you.

You can start impressing me by taking it like a man. Now count out loud.”

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Text is fictional.

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by ccallenreese ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

Joseph came home from his job as a broker to find discipline needing to be issued. Blake had greeted him kneeling at the door, offering up the broken pieces of a nice Pyrex ceramic baking dish. Joseph hated to see the shame on his face. He gave Blake a kiss hello, then instructed him to remove his pants and bend over his knee as he sat down on the sofa. Blake was older than Joseph, but he absolutely worshiped Joseph as the more alpha male of the household. He did exactly as he told, eager to prove he was strong enough to handle it. Blake had been working on hard on being a stoic boy during spankings. He was usually so embarrassed by how silly he sounded whining and squeaking with every swat, kicking his legs like a kid learning how to swim.

Blake put one hand behind his back as a symbol of submission, but Joseph interpreted it another way. He grasped his boy’s hand. Blake was surprised to feel his Master’s touch, but seized it up with a big squeeze back. Even though Blake couldn’t see it, Joseph smiled.

“Twenty,” Joseph said gently. He felt his boy sigh under him.
“I’ll take them.”
“I know.” Joseph raised an open hand and delivered twenty, evenly spaced and relentless swats to his boy’s soft rump. What a nice way to unwind from work.

By 10, Blake was gripping Joseph’s hand hard; by 12 he was tensing and quivering with every swat, punctuated by tiny yelps. By 17, he was sucking air through his teeth and he was kicking a little. By 20, he was staring at the floor through teary eyes and trying so hard to fight the urge to squirm away.

“There we go,” Joseph said, “All done. You took your punishment well, boy.” He pulled Blake up. “Your bottom is a nice shade of red. Looks fitting on you.”
Blake sniffled and raised his arms, Joseph pulled his boy towards him, let him wrap those arms around his neck. It turned Joseph on immensely feeling that hot skin pressed upon his thighs through the thin fabric of his slacks. Now wasn’t the time for sex though. Joseph embraced his boy and rocked him, nuzzling him, until most of the discomfort had ebbed away.

“I’m sorry I broke your baking dish,” Blake said, his eyelashes still damp.
Joseph kissed him on the lips. “It’s alright. It was an accident, and it’s replaceable.”
Blake look relieved. “I’ll be more careful in the future. I was rushing to put the dishes away when they were still a bit wet.”
“Haste makes waste.” Joseph said.
Blake thought about it, then nodded, impressed by Joseph’s wisdom. “That’s a good lesson Sir. If…if I’m forgiven, may I take off your shoes, kiss your feet perhaps?”
Joseph raised an eyebrow. “How about you bring me my cotton pants and a loose T-shirt, and you can undress all of me and kiss my feet?”

Blake’s face lit up. “I’d love to Sir. Permission to fetch those items?”
“Permission given.”
Joseph watched him bounce off, admiring his glowing ass. He was really such a good boy. He wondered how he got so lucky as to find him. Joseph might be an underling at the office, but at home he lived like a King. He imagined some real Kings would probably be jealous.

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Text is fictional.

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He sighed, “But Daddy-”
“The only ‘but’ I want to see is the one facing me. Go sit in the corner for your time-out, or I will double it.”
He pouted but shuffled over on his knees and did it anyway. I watch his cock jiggle between his legs as he lowered himself to the floor. Such a big dick on that boy!
I cleared my throat. “Tell me what you’re being punished for.”
“For staying up late, falling asleep with the TV on, and not turning on the dishwasher.”
“Yes. You broke your bed time curfew, and your TV curfew, and we had no clean dishes for breakfast this morning, so you are going to sit there for an hour and think about how you can improve for next time. …Don’t pout at me, it won’t work.”
“I’m sorry I wasn’t more responsible Daddy.”
“Good. You will learn. 32 is too old to not have any discipline. You will be under my supervision until you are at least 35.
He sighed again. "I appreciate your investment in me, Daddy. Still sucks sitting in time out though.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Would you prefer a spanking?”
“No!”
I gave him a slightly evil-sounding chuckle. I loved spanking him, because he absolutely hated being treated like a child. I got a thrill out of him flailing helplessly, feeling his cock harden and leak against my leg as his cheeks turned redder and redder. I saved that for big punishments though, as they were very effective. “That’s what I thought. I’ll come check on you in a bit.”

“…Am I still going to be allowed to play paint ball tomorrow with the guys?”
“Maybe. If you’re well-behaved today and give proper service to my cock.”
“I’ll be good I promise! I’ll do that thing you like with my tongue on your balls.”
You know exactly how to make me go weak, I thought. “Actions are louder than words, boy. You can show me later. Now you sit there, and think about why I put you there.”
“Yes Daddy.” He hung his head.
“ Good boy. I’m proud of you for understanding that I know what’s best for you.”

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Text is fictional.

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by ccallenreese ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

blissfuldominance:

This is what happens when you act like a snot. As soon as we get home, we go to the bedroom and eliminate that type of behavior. 

“If you want me to take you to Joel’s All Male Christmas Party at the end of the year, you better adjust your attitude boy. I know you’re looking forward to it. This spanking is a warning to change your snotty attitude, or you’re going to stay home and clean while I’m out having fun and drinking and partying.”
“Ow! I’ll be good, I’ll be good!”
The spanking stops.
“Oh thank god.”
Then it started up again.
“Ack! What the heck?!”
“I gotta do the other cheek now.”

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by ccallenreese ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

I had gone to the dungeon as a last resort. Years of psychological damage from childhood and poor self esteem had left me fragmented and hollow, and therapy could not touch it. I wanted release. I wanted to break through. I wanted to crumple and die and be reborn on the other side.

I was terrified when they tied me to the A frame with ropes and cuffs and chains, spread eagle and naked for a handful of naked and leather-clad spectators. I wanted to use the safe word. It was on the tip of my tongue. Instead I used “yellow”, over and over and over again, until I was sure the man in the mask would frustrated with me and tell me to get out. He did not.

Instead, he listened. He went slow. He spanked me and whipped me until I screamed and my muscles shuddered after each strike. I saw nothing but stars. Over and over until I lost track of them all. I could hear the others murmuring but could not make out what they were saying. I could hear him heaving from the effort. Then, he said, “Good boy,"  and gave one final strike. At that moment, I felt myself come apart. I ejaculated all over the floor. That gross, ugly, dirty shadow of shame that had clung to me ripped away and left me fresh and new and exposed on the frame.

"Stop” crossed my lips as I burst into tears. It hurt to cry – my face ached, my throat hurt. It felt as if my body had sweated out all its liquid and was pulling water from deep inside of me. The masked man and his assistant immediately untied me. The masked man set aside the whip and brought me to the floor and wrapped me into his strong arms. I did not care about his scent, or that his biceps were damp from sweat. I clung to him like a buoy as if I were deep out in dark waters. He rocked me and shh’ed me. His assistant brought me water; I drank it so fast I got hiccups.

The masked man chuckled and soothed me through my hysteria, cleaning my nose and my eyes with a handkerchief.
“There there…it’s alright. Come down now. That was very intense for your first session. I was impressed by your stamina. Alright, breathe for me. Yes, that’s a good boy now.”
“Am – Am I really – good?” I stammered.
He blinked down at me. ‘Yes. You’re a good boy,“ he said, petting my hair.

At that moment, I fell in love with him. I didn’t know his name. I hadn’t seen his face. But I loved him. I curled up against his broad chest and just breathed. No one had ever called me a ‘good boy’ before. No one had ever told me they’d loved me and meant it. No one had held me like this in my life.

I heard a new voice at that moment and realized it was the voice of his assistant. "Master Beaumont, I must say, I think he’s yours.” I looked up at him through swollen eyes, but I did not understand the expression on his face or the sentence he just said. I didn’t care. I fell asleep.

I woke up in the nurse’s office in the dungeon, under a blanket. My back felt hot, but numb. They must have put something on it. I was on my side. I tried to sit up. The noise of the blanket gave me away and a man came into the room.
“You’re up,” he said, relieved.
When I heard his voice, I realized it was Master Beaumont. His face was like a charcoal sketch, angles and lines with a sweeping jaw and bright curious eyes. My love for him did not weaken.
“No – no don’t sit,” Master Beaumont instructed. “Your bottom is still quite tender.”
I reclined back down to the pillow. “Yes sir.”
“Good boy,” he said, almost on reflex.

I tried not to weep more. I was completely dry. He gave me more water with a straw in it and had me drink. I felt better.
Master Beaumont said down on a chair next to me. “Peter said to me – that he’s never seen a session like that before. When I was rocking you at the end, he also said you the same expression his dog had when he adopted her from the pound.”
I gazde up at him, smitten, although I didn’t know what to say exactly. “Keep me,” I said.
He let out a slow breath. I knew he wanted to say something, but instead he said nothing and just thought.

I live in his house now. I serve his needs. I serve his body. I care not for my clothing or the importance of a career or some resemblance of identity. All I seek is for him to seek me. Even an offer of his warm hand stretching forward to cup my cheek makes me melt away. I love these simple moments, these delicate caresses when he shows me the same love I feel for him. And if he wants to make me the happiest person in the world, he will add “Good boy” for a job well done. It’s all I’ll need for the rest of my life.

I have broken through, and here, on this side, there is peace.

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Text is fictional. Still looking for source.

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by ccallenreese ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

rip-spank-jerk:

regretting his predicament

Sean loses it after five swats. He covers his face but it doesn’t stop the tears. He knows better than this! He’s so ashamed to be getting a spanking after seven months of not getting one. He used to get them every other day, and thought he’d finally proved to his Master he was a good, obedient boy who did not make mistakes. He feels so helpless, like he hasn’t made any progress at all, bent over his Master’s knee. His cock has long been locked up, so he’s frustrated and uncomfortable and everything just sucks. Each strike stings and makes him yowl. Soon he’s just bawling.

All Sean wants is to be a good boy, but when he closes his eyes all he sees is the disappointment on his Master’s face when he came home. Sean had gotten his chores done early, and so he decided to dust the bookcase and his Master’s CD and vinyl collection. It wasn’t something he’d been told to do, but it was noticeably dusty so he decided to do it anyway.
It was an open bookcase and there was a gap between the displayed goods and the wall. In the process of moving things around to dust in the gap, a record slipped out of its sleeve and crashed onto the wooden floor, snapping in half. In the haste to catch it, Sean dropped another and it chipped and cracked.

The first was a rare, limited edition copy highly sought after by collectors. The second Sean had damaged had been one of the records given to his Master by his deceased father. There was nothing Sean could do expect wait until his Master got home and explain his errors in a heavy, sad voice. Fibbing would only lead to worse punishment once it was discovered.

Oh, he knows better! He really does! He’d been given very clear instructions – he was free to clean anything in the house, but never his Master’s personal things without permission. He’s fucked up, and for it, he got the wooden spoon. Sobs wrack Sean’s body each time the implement strikes red flesh and his muscles tremble; his Master spanks him until his hand begins to hurt. He then lowers the spoon and massages the tender muscle with his other hand.

When he spoke, Sean could hear that the seething anger in his voice had dissipated. “I want you to know, boy, I did not enjoy having to do this. To say I am disappointed is an understatement, but it also reflects on myself. I got comfortable and you got sloppy. I do not like hearing you cry, boy, but you know I had to punish you. The records cannot be fixed, but they will be replaced. I’ll talk to Miguel about getting you some labor hours to work off the debt.”
Sean only gasps and hiccups. “I’m so so sorry Sir, I’m so sorry. Thank you Sir for allowing me to work it off. I feel so ugly for having failed you.”

“It is good to work out your weaknesses while still fresh out of training. You’re released, but I have instructions for you. First, go blow your nose, wash your face, and fetch me a clean pair of pants as you leaked all over these. I’m not mad at you for that, I expected it. Then, you’re going to drink a cup of water, then go to your cot with an icepack and think about how you can be a better houseboy. If you ever want to ascend into training to wear my collar, you will think very hard.”

Sean’s throat is tight and he can barely push any more words out. “Y- yes Sir. Exactly as you said Sir.” Sean sniffles, his face the color of a ripe tomato.
“That’s a good boy now.” He helps Sean to his feet, stabilizing him as he blood rushed downwards. In a moment of impulse, he gives Sean a brief hug. Sean returns it instantly and exhales a ragged sigh. “I’ll be better Sir.”
“I know. And that starts now. Go on. You’re dismissed.”

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Text is fictional. Source is the watermark.

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by ccallenreese ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

Sebastian knew he was not allowed to touch his Master’s musical equipment. He could only run a feather duster over their surfaces. A lot of it was very valuable, some probably more valuable than he was as a replaceable houseboy. Yet, out of everything, the keyboard tempted him the most. He went to close the window because rain was on the way, and lo and behold, the keyboard was right there. He was mulling over the temptation to press them and didn’t hear his Master wake up from his nap.

The notes of Für Elise drifting down the hallway were unmistakable. Sebastian’s Master knew instantly his boy was breaking a cardinal rule. He caught him red handed, guilt all over his face. Sebastian knew it was against the rules and had done it anyway, had given into temptation.

Sebastian tried to smooth this over by placing his hands against the wall and pushing out his ass, assuming the spanking position. His Master stood behind him for a moment, quiet, until he said just one word: “Why?”
“Instruments were meant to be played Sir…I’m sorry I gave into temptation, Sir.”
His Master sighed. “Well I am disappointed. You know I don’t like anyone else’s fingerprints but mine on my instruments. At least your Für Elise was on point. You are going to get a spanking, boy. Face forward.” Sebastian heard him rustling around. “Now you can’t see this, but in my hand is a tuning device. When I strike you, you will tell me which note it sounds like. You’re getting 25. For every missed answer, you will get another swat, doubling your number. For every right answer, you’ll get five minutes to masturbate under my supervison.”
Sebastian’s eyes went wide. “Sir that’s-!”
“A challenge? Yes. If you think you are so accomplished at music that it excuses putting a houseboy’s fingerprints on my things, I want evidence.”
Sebastian groaned. He really did know better and felt stupid the had no one to blame for this but himself. Still, a part of him was impressed at his Master’s creativity and brilliance in keeping him in line.

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Text is fictional.

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by ccallenreese ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

A good, hard spanking will realign any errant behavior – but nothing drives that lesson home faster than a sharp strike to the balls. It’s also a good reminder for the boi why he must be naked when he’s over your lap, so every part of his body is available to receive punishment. Every ounce of him must learn these lessons, not just so he can serve men better, but so he remains disciplined and focused in every aspect of his life. Even when the tears collecting on his eyelashes dries up, the flesh stops stinging, and the bruising fades, the humility he feels will last a lifetime.

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Text is fictional. Source is …eh, porn probably.

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badgroveboy:

woodshedofwonder:

otkdude:

Out in the woodshed, waiting for dad to escort his son in for a “chat.”

My Dream Shed!

Donahue Senior led his boy to the woodshed with a firm grip on the back of the boy’s neck. Clif was trembling a little, sniffling, nervous. He’d been begging his dad to lengthen his curfew to midnight over the summer now that he was out of high school, and his dad had agreed if he got a summer job. Clif had done so, and his dad was pleased, but now he’d erred. Clif had been invited out to a lake party with some friends, drank a little too much beer despite being under 21, and lost track of the time. He came home at 1:15 in the morning to find Donahue Senior reading the paper in the living room.

Clif began to apologize profusely, but his father said “son.” and that was all he needed to say. Clif shut his mouth and lowered his head. He let Donahue Senior lead him outside. The day his son was too old for spankings was the day he handed Clif off to his future husband who would take his place. He’d known Clif had been gay since he was 5, but as his father, he was determined to instill some old-fashioned values on him.

They got to the shed and the father turned on the light. He took the stool and the belt out to the side of shed, next to the wood pile. Clif sniffled miserably. Disappointing his father had been worse than the guilt. He watched his father lay the strap across it. When Clif began to undo his pants, he was confused when Donahue Senior told him to stop. He handed Clif a bottle of leather oil and a cloth.

“You made a mistake tonight, son. You not only broke the law drinking under the legal age and risked driving intoxicated, you flagrantly flaunted curfew and lost track of the time. You’re almost a man, Clif. You’re learning about how much you can get away with in life, but you need some reminders about limits. Now, this strap is stiff because I haven’t had to use it on you in a long time, and I’m proud of that. I want you to sit there and oil that strap and the bench and think about what you did and how you can be more careful next time. I’ll be out to check on you in a bit. If you do a good job, I will take some marks off your punishment. You’re gonna get a couple, but I want the alcohol to wear off first.”
Clif hiccuped. “Thank you, thank you very much Sir.” At least he’d be able to sit down somewhat tomorrow.

“You’re a good son, Clif. I got into a fair amount of trouble when I was your age myself. I have high hopes for you as a man. Don’t disappointment me again.”
Clif hung his head. “Yessir.”
“Good boy. I’ll be back.”

He left the boy there to contemplate his wrongdoings while trying to stay awake. Thirty minutes later, he came back to find Clif’s hands stained with oil but the strap and bench gleamed with his efforts. Donahue Senior tested the leather and admired how it creaked. “Damn impressive job, boy.”
Clif managed a little smile. “Thank you Sir.”
“Alright, I was gonna give you 30, butt I’m gonna cut it down to 10. Can you manage that without throwing up all that booze?”
Clif winced. “Yes, and thank you Sir, but I have to piss.”
Lightweight. “Take off your pants, then go do it in the corner by the tree there.”

He watched his son remove his pants, then shuffle over to the corner, and remove himself from his underwear. Donahue Senior then he heard the stream hit the ground. He had to chuckle. Clif must have drank a lot, it went on forever.

Eventually, Clif shook the last drops off and obediently got into position over the bench. Donahue Senior walked over behind him, tugged down Clif’s underwear, and admired the sight of that supple ass. Shame fucking your son was illegal in most states. Clif was growing a pretty impressive set of balls that would be fun to play with. He’d definitely make a man very happy one day. Donahue Senior shoved a hankie into Clif’s mouth, braced himself, and strapped him. It was out of love, more than anything, because he really did want what was best for him. He believed that men learned best that way, through physical correction. It a personal secret that it also gave him a throbbing erection. God, he loved that sound of leather striking flesh.

By the end, the tears had started and the red rectangles were appearing on Clif’s ass. Donahue Senior took a tube out of his pocket and massaged some salve into the burn. He hiked up his underwear and gave his son his pants back with the salve in the pocket, and once Clif was dressed, pulled him into a reassuring hug. He wiped Clif’s eyes and gave him a reassuring pat on the back. “You did good. I’m proud of you, and I forgive you.”
“T-t-thank you Sir,” he sniffled, “I’m still really sorry, too.” He paused, “The beer wasn’t even that good.”
His father coughed out a laugh. “If you’re curious about beer, just ask. If you’re gonna drink it, might as well drink the good stuff. It’s best in moderation anyway.”
He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “Thank you Dad. You’re the best.”
His father beamed at him, his chest filling with pride. “Thank you son. Now off to bed with you, it’s late.”

Donahue Senior nodded and watched Donahue Junior delicately walk back to the house. Once the adrenaline wore off, he’d be mighty sore. Clif’s father returned everything to the shed, but he didn’t turn off the light right away. Instead, he sat down on the bench, took his impressive prick out of his jeans, and milked himself dry.

From his bedroom window, Clif stared at the light on in the shed and wondered what his father was doing in there. After past strappings, sometimes his father would linger in the shed, but Clif figured he was just rearranging things or dusting, but why now, so late at night? He adjusted his crotch from side to side. Getting spanked made him horny for no reason and his underwear felt cold and damp. He also felt disgusted at how much it turned him on to have his ass up to an older man like that…even if that man was his father.
He briefly wondered if his father ever wanted to fuck him. It felt like he did, but why hadn’t he? Clif shook his head, realizing what he was thinking was kind of gross. Still…. Clif remembered what his father said, about the beer – If he was curious, he should just ask. Well, he was curious about sex. His father could teach him about that right? The young man tossed his head to clear the fog. God, once he was in college that autumn, he was going to find himself a big, dominating man and get that urge taken care of. He was a virgin still, and his cherry was growing ripe.

Clif was nice and hard now, but his ass was starting to throb. He sighed, let the curtains fall back into place, and went to brush his teeth and take a quick shower before bed.

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Text is fictional. Source I think is here, a het spanking Tumblr. I do wanna say that I often feel kinda weird writing incest stories because incest normally implies a lot of psychological dysfunction and possible child abuse; however, this is erotic fantasy, so for the sake of fantasy, so I’m going to declare that the Donahue men are sane, consenting, and no one is getting any lifelong mental scars …and no one is getting pregnant.

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by ccallenreese ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

“Oh puppy, what are you doing? Did you drop one of your toys behind the sofa again? This is what happens when you play on the sofa instead of the floor,” I chide him as I climb onto the cushions and peer back there. Something is wedged between the sofa and the wall. I get off the sofa and pull the furniture far away from the wall enough so not only does the the item fall, but so I can take a few steps forward and retrieve it. When I see what it is, I shake my head and sigh.

“Puppy.”
“Woof?”
“I’ve told you this before. Dildos are not chew toys.’
He still tries to snatch it out of my hand with my teeth.
"No! Bad puppy! Bad. This was an expensive dildo and now it has teethmarks in it.”
He stops wiggling his butt at the tone of my voice and lowers his head, giving me big sad eyes. I fold my arms. “You have chew toys. Use them.” I sigh again. “I’m afraid you need to be punished for this. Go fetch the paddle.”
He pouts at me, and whines. When he sees I’m not going to relent, he begrudgingly goes to get it. I give him 15 swats, then shut him in the bathroom for an hour with a proper chew toy. Of course, he whimpers through half of it before falling asleep for a quick nap on the bathmat. So stubborn!

He wants me to feel bad, and I do, but he has to learn. When I let him out of the bathroom, I do give him a cookie and a back scratch to let him know I’ve forgiven him. I since have hidden the dildos better. When they’re not up his ass, they’re hidden away safely away and out of reach from chewy pups.

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Text is fictional.