I knew that even if we did try to make a run for it there was no escape: the vicar would be able to track us down and bring the full force of the unjust law down on our trembling bodies. He sat down, took some time to make himself comfortable, spread his huge legs wide, and pronounced, “Larry, take down your trousers and underpants and bend over my knee. Put across his daddy’s knee is is thrashed mercilessly, crying out in pain and begging daddy to stop his pants are pulled down and the spanking continues on his bare bottom. There was no negotiation, but it was immediately clear that if we took our punishment that would be the end of the matter; no police, no prison, no hurtful revelations to our employers, family and friends. He was “putting on the style”, the way vicars do when they’re giving the brimstone and hellfire stuff on a Sunday.

It was autumn and we climbed the fence at eight o’clock and ran through the shadows to a spot we by now considered our own. Warning: This slice of life, family-themed, teen romance story includes a fictional disciplinary spanking of a child (age 14), and Mm romantic elements between two eighteen-year-olds. Several more blows rained down in rapid succession, echoing around the room like the rattle of machine gun fire. Please include what you were doing when this page came up and the Cloudflare Ray ID found at the bottom of this page.

They did not fit well at the waist and of their own accord his trousers slipped over his hips down his thighs towards his knees. I knew that Larry would not want to give his tormentor the satisfaction of knowing he was hurting him, but after what must have been one hundred or more spanks, his resolve was broken. If I hadn’t been so petrified of him and the situation I was in, I would have seen him to be the sanctimonious pervert that he really was. Larry and I steered clear of the churchyard and a few months later, he joined the army and I never saw him again. Over at Box Turtle Bulletin, just read this deeply moving seven-part series, "What Are Little Boys Made Of?

I needed someone like the vicar to control me; to bring out that side of my nature that craved to be dominated. Larkin and his unaccepting nature of anything possibly considered as a handout, but Dad told me to do what I thought was best and he’d back me up.

I was sure I wasn’t turned on by the pain he was suffering, but there was something about his submissiveness that made my pulse race. But pain is indeed a great motivator and what better way to incent our boys than with a good hard bare bottom spanking.