SPANKING THE BIRTHDAY BOY
A tousled bunch of dark hair stirred on the pillow, then tossed underneath the bunched duvet. A dark eye glimmered into being underneath, blinking slowly.
“Ford! Don’t make me come up there!”
The body under the covers rolled over with a groan to let the blinking eye peer at the bedside clock. It was 9am.
Heavy thumps indicated someone on the stairs.
Ford gasped and sat up. He had just jumped from the bed and was bending over to find yesterday’s underwear when —
“Ford, do you know what day it—Naked! Sleeping naked! What have I told you?”
“Sorry, daddy, I forgot, I—”
“Naked! Like a heathen whore! The shame of it!”
Ford tore his arm from his burly father’s grasp and struggled to get the tight white briefs up his legs, half-expecting to feel that calloused hand swat his buttocks.
“If I wasn’t already late for a meeting I’d tan your hide, boy. We’ll talk about this when I get home!”
“I said I’m sorry, it was an accident—”
“Do you even know what day it is?”
Ford stared at him.
“Saturday, you idiot! Cleaning day! Now get to work! I expect this place to be spic and span by lunchtime! Got it?”
“Now, I’ve got to get to the Youth League planning session. I won’t be back till 12:30.”
Ford almost yelled back at the closed door, but wisely refrained in time. His athletic, lanky frame sagged a bit as he shook his head unbelievingly.
Did he know what day it was...
If it wasn’t sad it would be hilarious.
He heard the door slam downstairs, then went to his window and looked out. His father crossed the street and made purposefully for the church, just a few blocks away. It was sunny out. His computer chimed.
He looked at the monitor, and a message popped up:
Happy Birthday, Ford
Outside, Sam the photographer watched through his binoculars as Reverend Spencer left the house. The Reverend was a slob, wearing a greasy brown parka that looked decades old. Did Baptist preachers take a vow of poverty, like Catholics? Anyway, Sam had already discovered that Ford’s mother had died years ago, and that Ford was an only child.
Meaning, presumably, that Ford was now alone inside.
The two-story bungalow was on the edge of Old Watertower Park, which made it easy to keep an eye on both the front and back doors from a safe distance away.
It was getting cold in the Taurus despite the sunshine and Sam started the engine. On the seat next to him was his camera bag, a contact sheet with thumbnails of the photos of Ford being fucked by the referee and the Chained Rock High School coach...
...and a bright pink porn modeling consent form for Bound & Slagged magazine.
Somehow he had to get the kid to sign the form. And get a copy of his driver’s license.
Ford read the birthday message from the Mystery Man. His birthday present was supposed to be delivered before noon. Ford eagerly typed back, asking if maybe they could repeat the Ultimate Orgasm session using the ass toys and the nipple suckers, but his unseen admirer did not respond.
His cock was still semi-hard from its usual morning state. Glancing out the window to assure himself that his father was well and truly gone, he twitched the curtain closed. Shucking off his underwear, he opened the secret panel of his desk and took out his well-stained jock strap.
Two hours later, sweat glistened in the darkened room, reflecting the flickering light of the computer screen. Ford’s shiny brown eyes were absorbed, his lips parted moistly as he stared intently at the porn video.
His powerful naked thighs moved rhythmically as he slowly ground his butt up and down on the chair. The gleaming muscles flexed, framing the white pouch of his jock strap. The fabric was stained with pre-cum and stretched tight over his rigid shaft.
Ford whimpered, eyes glued to the action, both hands rolling and pinching his rubbery brown nipples. The built-in camera was as always transmitting his jerk-off session live to his private slave web site. The small pop-up window indicated that he currently had 137 watchers.
The computer from his mysterious benefactor somehow knew all the passwords necessary for Ford to cruise porn sites at will — and for free. Today he had found one that blew him away: a Pay-Per-View video store specializing in wrestling sex. He had spent the last hour watching hot jocks wrestle for sexual domination.
On the screen, a tight-bodied youth had lost his match, and his stronger opponent held him helpless, peeling back his singlet to reveal his hard cock. The hot horny jock was being milked and teased, forced to beg to cum...
Ford bounced up and down on the fat, 10-inch dildo he had strapped to the seat of his desk chair. On screen, the bigger man was forcing the loser’s thighs apart, and the camera zoomed in for a close-up of the blunt-helmeted cock as it nudged toward the vulnerable ass hole...
RING!!! RING!!! RING!!!
Damn! His father was always adamant that he answers the phone since it might be a pastoral emergency. Maybe he could just ignore it...
With his luck, this would be the one time the call really was important. And his father was already in a mood...
Sighing petulantly, Ford eased himself off the ass toy and hopped into his jeans. He slipped on his shoes and ran downstairs as he shrugged on his tattered Chained Rock High athletic shirt.
“Hi! I mean, Spencer residence!”
“Ford! Get your butt down to church! Now!”
“D-dad? What is it?”
“Get over here. NOW!!!”
Panicked, Ford hung up the receiver and grabbed his jacket on the way out the door.
Sam watched Ford sprint down the street, catching glimpses of the jock’s skin as the letter jacket rode up his muscular back. Jeez, he thought, squeezing his dick through his pants, that kid sure has a great build. Built for sex...
Waiting till the coast was clear, Sam let himself out of the car and moseyed into the park. It was a typical mid-west village affair, with an old gazebo/bandstand and one of those WWI era concrete-and-wrought-iron fountains, now filled with decaying leaves and thawing slush. Taking out his camera, he acted like a casual visitor while making his way nonchalantly toward the back door of the Spencer residence.
Ford hopped up the old sandstone steps to the door of the parish house and stood aside as a gaggle of fellow teenagers — the Youth Council — poured out the door, snickering as they saw Ford standing there. He let himself into the darkened entrance parlor where Jorden Blaine, a Youth Council member who lived out in the country, was waiting for his ride. The husky redhead looked away as Reverend Spencer’s outline fell across the tattered maroon carpet. Ford looked up to see his father standing in the door to his private study.
“Get your ass in here! Now!”
Ford scampered inside, eager to avoid further embarrassment in front of Jorden.
“Daddy, I’ll get the house cleaned, I promise, I—”
They were not alone in the study.
Ryan, the tall ash-blond basketball player and all-round twerp, was sitting in one of the chairs with a maddening look of superiority, neatly dressed as always in a pair of faun-colored wide-wale corduroys, white button-down dress shirt, and black leather tie. He stood as Ford entered, staring down his nose and curling his lip as if he smelled something bad. Which was his usual expression, actually. Ford’s mind instantly shot back to that moment a week ago, seeing those cold grey eyes glare at his shame on the wrestling mat... and, worse, the time in the locker room... sprawled on top of the pile of dirty jock straps...
Reverend Spencer shut the door.
And took off his belt.
“I’m going to punish you with heaven’s own fury, boy. Get ready.”
Ford swallowed hard. This invariably included taking off his pants and underwear, touching the floor, and begging his father’s forgiveness as the hard leather pounded his naked ass.
“Please, daddy, not — not in front — what is HE here for?”
“Since Ryan graduated early I have named him the official Youth Minister. You see, unlike you, Ryan is decent... honest... trustworthy... not a goddam lying fornicator!”
Reverend Spencer moved ponderously to stand behind his desk, letting the belt lay on display, his meaty fist wrapped around the buckle end.
“Ryan here has been telling me some interesting things, Ford. How, just a week ago, you performed like a filthy animal in front of a gym full of decent people, soiling yourself with your seed during a wrestling match. Decent people! Children!”
Ford’s jaw dropped.
“What will people say, Ford? What will people say about ME, you selfish fool?”
“They won’t find out, daddy, please, it was four hours away, it was an accident —”
“And how, after THAT, the senior PE class came in to find you abusing yourself in the middle of the locker room, like some common whore!”
Ford decided he was going to kill Ryan at his first opportunity. There was no point in calling Ryan on his exaggeration that the entire class caught him jerking off, because the truth was no better. He was screwed.
“Dad, I — please — I don’t know what to say, I —”
“Is it true?”
“Dad, can’t we talk about this at home, I —”
“Is... it... TRUE!!?”
Ford hung his head. There had been too many other witnesses at the meet for Ford to claim that Ryan was mistaken. And challenging Ryan’s lie that the entire class had seen him last Wednesday would do no good, either. The last thing Ford wanted was for his father to start interrogating his class mates about his behavior.
The belt came crashing down on the desk, making Ford jump.
Ford felt tears coming. “Daddy. Daddy, please—”
“I’m only telling you once. Ryan will witness your punishment as you deserve.”
Choking back a sob, Ford fumbled with his shirt and pants, kicking off his shoes, even taking off his socks. When Ford’s dad said strip, he meant STRIP.
He turned away, hoping no one would notice the wet stain on his pouch, and reluctantly peeled off the athletic supporter. Ford stood naked, shivering.
“Your sin is fornication and wallowing in the pleasure of the flesh, boy. Confess your sin and ask for your punishment. No, don't bend over this time, boy, look Ryan in the eye while you take what’s coming to you!”
Blushing crimson, Ford was forced to stand with his hands behind his head, feet apart, facing Ryan. He would have given anything to make this stop, but he knew that any further resistance would only increase his father’s righteous fury. It was best to get the humiliation over with as quickly as possible.
“Confess, you despicable abomination!”
“I - I - confess that I pleasured myself with the sin of fornication... and wallowed in... the pleasures of the flesh. Sir.”
“Up on your toes, boy! And?”
“And - and I ask that you whip me like... I deserve. Sir.”
Ford faced the smirking Ryan on tip toe as his father slowly meted out his punishment. As each blow fell, Ford shouted out:
“One. Thank you, sir, I will never pleasure myself again.”
“Two. Thank you, sir, I will never pleasure myself again...”
Ford wasn’t sure which burned more, his buttocks or his face. He would have given anything to make Ryan look away, but the thin senior with the refined features stared at him avidly, enjoying every second of Ford’s punishment. Each blow made his genitals wag in humiliating fashion as he struggled to stay on his toes. He tried to remain still but as always the increasing pain made him writhe in humiliating fashion.
Finally, after 21 strokes, it was over. Ford was biting back tears, eyes on the floor.
“I’m sorry daddy.”
“Not yet, Ford. Now it’s Ryan’s turn to punish you.”
Ford looked up and gasped.
Ryan seated himself on the leather sofa, spread his knees apart and patted his lap invitingly. Smiling. And taking off his thin black leather tie...
Bound & Slagged had insisted on a signed consent form and a photocopy of Ford’s driver’s license showing that he was at least 18. Sam might have managed to make them accept a forged form, but a fake ID was beyond him. He had spent 2 days following Ford around, but there was never a time that he could get at the kid’s book bag, or into the house alone. Today was the perfect opportunity, the kid and his dad were out, and Ford hadn’t taken his bag with him. Since he had left hurriedly on foot, it was a good bet that his wallet might be in the house...
Once inside, the seedy photographer rapidly searched the downstairs before heading up. Opening the first door on the left, Sam spotted the book bag, then saw something else that almost made him forget his mission.
A 10” dildo. Still slimy from recent use. The fancy flat-screen monitor had a video clip of two wrestlers having rough sex. The room reeked of ball sweat.
“You little devil,” he smiled.
In the church study, Ford reluctantly lay his naked body across Ryan’s thighs, all too conscious of his limp cock dangling in the open space between them. Ryan ran his hand between Ford’s legs briefly, pushing them apart, and Ford shuddered. He could feel the cold air invading his asscrack, and knew his father was watching every detail. It was so humiliating...
Ryan turned Ford’s head toward him so he could look at his face during the punishment. One look at the tiny smile playing at the edges of Ryan’s mouth made him realize that begging would be worse than useless.
Ryan cleared his throat. “Spread your buttocks. Use both hands.”
Ryan’s voice was a soft baritone, matter-of-fact, like an unctuous late-night radio announcer announcing time & temperature.
Ford whispered through gritted teeth. “Please. Don’t —”
“Do as Ryan says, perverted boy!”
Ford swallowed and grabbed one burning cheek in each hand and spread them a bit, wincing as his fingers touched the tenderized flesh. For good measure Ryan grabbed Ford’s closest knee and brought it up on the sofa, making Ford spill forward like a splayed frog. He squirmed awkwardly as he felt his cock brush Ryan’s thigh.
“There. Like that.”
Ford felt a tear trickle down his cheek. He was hideously aware of his father’s stern glare burning against his obscenely exposed asshole and scrotum.
“I regret the need to punish you, Ford. Please understand that this is only my Christian duty, delivered for your own good.”
Ryan pressed the narrow leather tie to Ford’s lips and made him kiss it.
Sam crept out of the house into the park, debating whether he should hang around to coerce a signature out of the soon-to-be Bound & Slagged porn star, or just forge it from the sample on the driver’s license now safely tucked in a pocket of the camera bag... along with three pairs of soiled briefs.
As he came around to the front of the house, he saw a delivery van pull up to the curb. The attractive driver hauled several good sized crates to the porch before ringing the doorbell. He seemed disappointed when no one came to the door.
Which gave Sam an idea...
“Hey there - the Spencer’s aren’t at home.”
The driver looked around and gave Sam a dismissive once-over. His plastic name-tag read BOBBY.
“Yeah... now you won’t be able to get a signature for those interesting-looking boxes. What’s in ‘em, anyway?”
The driver turned and walked toward the truck.
Sam scuttled along behind him.
“But you didn’t get a signature!”
“Don’t need it.”
“I think you do... Bobby. How’d you like to make a quick 200 bucks?”
The driver stopped and turned around, a mercenary glint in his eye.
Sam handed him a bright pink form, and told him what he needed.
Ryan raised the thin, supple leather tie and brought it down with a neat flick of the wrist. The tie curved and slashed through the air like a striking snake...
And its end snapped directly on Ford’s spread anus.
The jock let out an inarticulate cry and his body convulsed in shock.
“Now say, ‘Thank you for punishing me, Ryan’.”
Ford gasped for air. “Th - thank you for p - punishing me... Ryan.”
Ryan let the tie dangle tantalizingly against his hole, dragging it up and down the crack for a few moments before whipping it up and snapping the end against Ford’s anus like lightning once again.
Ford felt like a hot poker was being touched to his ass hole.
Ryan played the ticklish tie up and down over his pucker even longer this time. The contrast between the sharp, hot pain, and the cool tickle of the dangling leather was intense. Ford’s eyes widened as he felt his cock give a tiny twitch.
Thank you for punishing me Ryan...
It was only after the next blow fell that Ford realized Ryan had let his left hand creep slowly along his lap until it was under Ford’s lower belly. The cunning twit snuck his hand into position, snagging the knob of Ford’s cock as it lengthened, twiddling it with his long nimble fingers, making sure that the piss slit was constantly being grazed by the heavy ribs of Ryan’s corduroy pants.
Ryan gave Ford a small cat-like smile and Ford shuddered. There was absolutely nothing he could do to get Ryan to stop the game he was playing.
The blows fell at longer and longer intervals, with Ford forced to thank Ryan over and over as the sadistic boy tickled his ass hole with the sexy leather tie, and secretly diddled Ford’s cock out of sight.
Ford was sweating, concentrating on keeping the cum bottled up inside his balls. If only he had made himself cum before leaving the house! Instead, he had 2 hours-worth of pending orgasm churning away in his nut sack, eager for release...
Unexpectedly, Ryan released his cock and squeezed his thighs together, trapping Ford’s dick pointing down between them. At the same time, he let loose a barrage of quickly timed, perfectly placed hits on Ford’s spread pucker.
The constant stinging pain on his ass hole was too much and Ford started bouncing helplessly, up and down, up and down, bouncing all over Ryan’s lap, thrusting his tormented cock between the basketball player’s steely thighs, gripped in the rough corduroy...
SNAPSNAP! SNAP! ... SNAP!!!
A particularly violent bounce let his cock escape, but as he came down again his sensitive glans got stuck under Ryan’s fly flap and his piss lips came up hard against the sharp metal zipper tab...
Ford let out an agonized cry and ground his groin helplessly against the other boy’s, grunting as the cum poured out of his cock in wave after wave...
Still mindlessly holding his buttocks, Ford continued to expose his anus, as it gaped and clenched with each shameful spurt...
When it was over, Ryan stood up, spilling Ford’s nude body to the floor and exposing the huge gobs of dripping semen covering his crotch.
Ford tried to get to his feet but felt his father’s foot kick him to the floor.
“You — disgusting — perVERTed — FILTH!!!”
Ford knew he should beg for forgiveness, but his voice wouldn’t work. He scrambled frantically under the desk, found the jock strap, then crawled across the room for his jeans. His father caught him up by the wrist.
“Oh, no you don’t! Ryan can’t go home in the state you left him in! He’s going to take your jeans, and you can walk home like that.”
“N-no — No — Please —”
“And meanwhile, I will think of a suitable punishment for you!”
“Perhaps, Reverend, if I may suggest, a regular weekly whipping? Something less rushed... I can do it for you since you’re always so busy... I think Ford needs regular correction to make him see how far he has fallen from the pure way.”
“Good idea, Ryan! You hear that, Ford? I want you to report to Ryan for a good, long, bare-ass whuppin every week! And if Ryan gives me a bad report, I’ll have him do it every day! In front of the whole town! You understand, boy?”
Unable to look at either of them, face burning with shame and eyes blurred with tears, Ford fled from the office, only to run smack into Jorden, who was standing just outside the door. Ford stumbled and Jorden reached out at Ford’s hips to keep them both from tumbling to the floor.
Suddenly Jorden realized that his hands were clutched around Ford’s naked buttocks. He whipped them away as if he had touched a hot stove.
“Sorry,” Jorden muttered.
Hopping from one foot to the other, Ford struggled into the strap so that his still-dribbling cock was at least covered, and dashed out into the street.
This had to be the worst birthday anyone ever had, he thought, running like the wind and trying to ignore the amazed stares of passersby.
“Yo! Pure Boy!! Whee-hoo! Way to go!”
Rolling along next to him at walking speed were two of his fellow wrestlers in an old Mustang. The redhead Russell twins were both pointing cell phones at him. Clicking away.
From worst to worstest. Somehow it gave Ford perspective. He stopped and put his hands on his hips, giving them a good look at his jock-clad body.
“Like what you see, guys? Gonna hang my picture in your fucking bedroom?”
The pair laughed uproariously and tore off down Cherry Street.
Keeping his eyes down to avoid any further contact, Ford ran until he had a hand on his porch rail, clutching a stitch in his side with the other. He glanced at the street to see if the Russell boys were still tracking him.
At the curb was a delivery van.
On the porch was a stack of three cartons, with hot orange “Global Priority - International Express” stickers plastered all over them.
Sitting on the crates was the delivery man.
THE delivery man. THAT one.
He held out a clipboard with a bright pink form on it. Ford scribbled his signature while the man made a point of ogling his butt.
“Let me help you in with these. Kinda heavy crates.”
“No! I mean, no. Thank you.”
Ford started to open the door when he felt the man’s hand close around his wrist. He moved in close from behind, blocking Ford’s body from the street. His other hand moved gently to trace Ford’s sweaty asscrack. Ford froze in place as the man gave him a good groping, then bit his lip as he felt his cock swell in the tight pouch.
“I insist. Customer satisfaction is my number one priority.”
It was coming into the bedroom that was the last straw.
The man shoved him through the bedroom door, then stopped cold as he saw the open cabinet of used ass toys... and the large dildo, still greasy from his ass, jutting obscenely from the seat of desk chair.
Oh, and the gay wrestler porn still playing on the computer.
Ford had wanted to protest that it wasn’t what it looked like.
Although, of course, it was.
Ford burst into tears as the man stripped him and pushed him face down on the bed.
“Ssh, shh, baby - its okay, its gonna be good... I won’t hurt you—”
Ford felt like a little kid as a sob racked his chest, and he blurted out, “No, it’s not THAT it’s MY BIRTHDAY and everything SUCKS and my life STINKS and my ass HURTS and I never got... never got... even got to finish fucking myself with the DILDO - o - o-o-ooohmmfh...”
This last was muffled as he buried his face in the duvet.
Ford felt the man’s naked body move over him, felt it settle on top of him. Felt the man’s excited sex seek out his butt crack...
“Shh... there...” the man kissed him lightly on the neck and let his dick nudge the jock’s cheeks apart. Ford’s sobs grew weaker as the man kissed his neck and started to enter him from behind.
“It’s okay... it’s good baby...” Ford moaned as the man’s hands reached underneath to gently roll his nipples and massage his lengthening cock.
“Yeah, that’s it... feels sooooo good, doesn’t it jock boy...” The man started to fuck in and out, grinding his hips in a sexy way that set Ford’s prostate cooking.
“Happy birthday, baby.... enjoy it... you are one fucking hot kid, you know that? Incredi-fucking-HOT! And this ass... like a velvet glove dipped in melted butter... makes me wanna SING... Happy BIRTH - Day, dearrr - Jock - Boyyy... Happy Birth - Day - To - You...”
They both dissolved into giggles and Ford reached back to pull the guy deeper into him.
As the fucking grew more intense, neither of them paid any attention to the pop-up screen on the monitor. The one that said 400 watchers were logged in... 500... 800...
Twenty minutes later, Ford lay face-down on the mattress, feeling the man’s semen ooze from his well-fucked hole. The front door slammed and he heard the delivery truck pull away from the curb.
He rolled over and groaned, feeling his cock pull away from the cooling slime of his own copious load shot onto the crumpled duvet cover. Damn! He would have to throw that in the washing machine quick before his dad got home.
Sam sauntered over to the porch and snagged the signed form, watching as the truck drove off. He hadn’t expected the guy to make out with Ford, just get the form signed. Sexy guy, the driver. Worth watching. One of those cocky scoundrels bound to get into trouble... maybe Sam would pick up a second release form, just in case...