My name’s Andrew. This story concerns me and my two best friends, Ben and Gary. There’s only a few weeks between our birthdays, so for most of the year we’re the same age and of the time I’m writing about we were all sixteen years old.
We’ve a bit more in common than our ages though and that’s that each of our mums has equal ‘spanking rights’ should we need to be punished for misbehaviour. I guess this was a reasonable enough arrangement and must have seemed sensible when we were all little kids, but as we grew older universal spanking rights didn’t seem such a good idea… to us boys anyway!
We knew our mums used to sit down together and discuss the best ways to discipline boys. How did we know? Our sisters told so, that’s how. Yes, Ben, Gary and me all have sisters, some older and some younger. Me... I’m blessed with both a pesky sister a couple of years younger and another one year older. Between them our sisters take great delight in finding out what our mums have been talking about and teasing us by telling us, or what’s worse NOT telling us what’s in store for us. They knew we boys would be more nervous and worried if we knew something was to befall us, but not what. They were right of course. The anticipation was far, far worse. The three of us would speculate on what the new disciplinary measures might be, but all this achieved was to raise our anxiety levels to stratospheric heights. I need hardly elaborate on the state of the nervous boys when the time came to present ourselves for punishment.
As I say, when we were little kids it seemed perfectly natural to have someone else’s mum spank you for naughtiness. Of course boys being boys, often enough it was all three of us lined up bare-nude, ready for a spanking over the knees of one of our mums…
Oh, yes… didn’t I tell you that for our spankings were always totally nude? That was the reason mum’s universal spanking rights became so much more difficult to handle as we grew older… particularly when each of us reached that age at which we became ever more body conscious. This didn’t bother our mums one little bit, in fact the way they looked at it our obvious embarrassment simply added to the effectiveness of the punishment.
Our mums were always on the lookout for ways of making our punishments more memorable (for that read ‘embarrassing’!). From what we boys heard from our sisters, our mums would swap ideas on ways to make us more embarrassed and then one would volunteer to try it out. In this way they would always be what they called ‘upping the ante’.
I think this is how they each decided on their favourite spanking implement. When we were kids a bare bottom hand-spanking was usually enough to get us all bawling our eyes out. I think it was Ben’s mum who first introduced our tender bottoms to the back of a hairbrush. From then on the hairbrush became a standard means of producing tears and promises to be good from any one of us within a very short space of time after being hoisted over our mum’s knees.
Anyway now that you know Ben, Gary and me are all in receipt of ‘corrective discipline’, as I think it’s called, I really wanted to tell you about something that happened very recently. But first a bit of background is necessary...
A couple of years ago (we were all just fourteen years old) our mums organised a charity event... a fancy-dress charity fête, as it happened. Now, I don’t know what your idea of an embarrassing costume would be for a fourteen year old boy to wear, but I think our mums must certainly have been in tune with one of our worst nightmares since it transpired that Alpine costumes had been ordered for all three of us.
If Alpine costumes don’t sound too bad, could I could ask you to pause and think for a few moments. These outfits were made to our mums’ very precise specifications. They had seen pictures of boys wearing lederhosen and thought them ever so cute. The little leather shorts; the lacy white ankle socks; black, single strap shoes; the fancy frilly white shirts… oh I can just imagine how our mums must have loved the idea of dressing Ben, Gary and myself in lederhosen Alpine outfits… they were probably wondering why they’d not thought of them before!
I think you can probably guess what the three blushing fourteen year olds were faced with when it came time to put on our outfits for the charity fête. Gosh the little leather shorts were, well short, very short… in fact micro-short might be a better way of describing them. They were tiny and made from tough, but thin and pliable leather… probably chamois… and the first thing we boys found out? There was simply no way we’d ever be able to wear our school regulation underpants without them showing below the hem of the shorts. Gary was the first to try on the lederhosen sans underpants and Ben and I could see what everyone else was going to see… the lower curves of Gary’s bottom! The little leather shorts were that short! But if you think that was revealing, imagine what it was like when the braces were adjusted…
Ben’s mum barged in to find out why we were all taking so long getting dressed and told us there and then we were due for a spanking in her front-room for being such slow-coaches. That got us moving alright!!
In double-quick three extremely briefly turned-out boys presented themselves downstairs to have their costumes inspected by our mum’s who’d all gathered at Ben’s house. There wasn’t time to spank us, much to the disappointment of our sisters who’d arrived as well. They were dressed in their costumes… all long flowery dresses that covered practically every inch of their legs, unlike our costumes which bared every inch of ours, from our ankles to the very tops of our smooth thighs… and beyond! It’s safe to say Ben and Gary felt as embarrassed as I was, since we all had bright red faces… and they were due to get even brighter red by the time our mums had finished fiddling with our costumes and tightening the braces so that our little leather shorts were pulled up even more! The lederhosen was pulled right up between our bottom cheeks and each one of us was displaying a goodly amount of bare bottom. We were then each presented with an Alpine hat to complete our costumes before we all set off to walk to the fête. The walk gave us a taster of just how embarrassing the afternoon was going to be, as no sooner had we set out than I heard the first of many wolf-whistles directed towards us and as if we should be in any doubt the whistles were for us, they were followed up by calls of “girly-legs!!” and “shorty-shorts!!” When we complained, our mums simply told us that if we ignored the taunts and catcalls they would soon stop… as if there was any chance of that happening!
The charity fête seemed to drag on forever and it wasn’t much fun knowing we were in for a bare bottom spanking later. Everyone who saw us thought we three boys looked so adorable in our little lederhosen outfits… ‘little’ being the operative word of course… and asked our mums if they could take our photos. I vividly remember one lady telling us to put our arms over each other’s shoulders and to smile!! Not that we felt much like smiling for the lady, but then she had us turn round, bend over with our legs apart and look back at her through our open legs… and again smile for the camera!! Well, you can imagine how our tiny leather shorts were pulled up so much that I’m sure our bottoms must have been pretty well completely bare for all to see. Our sisters, along with a few other children, thought our display hugely funny and some more photos were taken of us by other fête-goers. We were told to move our heads sideways and look back (smiling!) so that now we had our heads more or less the right way up anyone could easily see who we were!
It took Ben, Gary and me ages to live down the episode of the Alpine costumes. It wasn’t helped by the fact that the local paper carried a report on the fête and, you guessed correctly, it included a picture of “Three local boys having fun in their lederhosen”. It was the one of the three of us twisting our heads back to make it easy to see who we were.
That was our first experience of lederhosen… yes first, there were others and these subsequent events would be announced by the appearance of our Alpine hats hanging in the hallway of our homes. This would signal to us boys that we would be required to change into our little leather costumes for some special event our mums had lined up for us.
So, that’s a bit of background to our lederhosen costumes and to be honest neither Gary, Ben or myself had heard them mentioned for quite a while. After all we were sixteen years old and considered our Alpine outfits to be a thing of the past.
Unbeknown to any of us, not even through the usual channel of our sisters, my mum had been instrumental in organising a fundraising fancy-dress charity dance. We only found out we would be ‘allowed’ to attend the dance a few days before the event and only because we’d started to hear rumours about it from other sources at school. We didn’t actually have a choice about going as our mums believed that teenaged boys were not old enough (and certainly not mature enough) to do what they wanted to do and therefore we had to do as we were told. None of us were stupid enough to risk the inevitable consequence of directly defying our mums.
To our immense relief the lederhosen costumes were not mentioned and we boys convinced ourselves our mums couldn’t possibly make us wear them, particularly when we were told we would each be escorting a girl!! It probably sounds really pathetic for a boy of sixteen to sound so thrilled by the prospect of taking a girl to the dance, but you have to remember Ben, Gary and I went to an all-boys school. We were so tightly controlled by our mums that our time was not our own and the opportunities to mix with girls (other than when arranged by our mums) non-existent (and sisters didn’t count).
The girls in question attended a convent school nearby. They were each a year older at seventeen and had undoubtedly been thoroughly vetted by our mums before being chosen to go to the dance with us.
Well the day arrived and we still didn’t have a clue as to what we’d be wearing to the dance, having assumed that for reasons of modesty the lederhosen would not be worn. As I’ve already said, these outfits were extremely tight-fitting when we were fourteen and had been bordering on the indecent when last worn... you can probably imagine what they would look like now we were older still.
All we knew was that we were to meet the girls at Ben’s mum’s house where we would change into our fancy-dress costumes.
On the day in question at about three o’clock we boys made our way to Ben’s house. Ben opened the door and in we stepped all eager to meet the girls. But we stopped in our tracks.
I don’t know how to describe the shock on seeing those Alpine hats, all three of them in a neat row, hanging from pegs in the hallway. Personally it felt like someone had punched me in the stomach. I looked at Gary and Ben. Their faces were ashen. Ben stuttered something incoherent, but Gary and I knew what he meant.
“They can’t be serious…” I managed to stammer, but we knew the Alpine hats wouldn’t have been hung in the hall for any other reason than to indicate which costume we would be wearing to the dance.
Ben’s mum called out from the front-room: “I’ve laid out your costumes in Ben’s bedroom, boys… go upstairs and change, then you can come down and meet the girls…”
We could hear the excited buzz of the girls’ voices and Ben’s mum told us to hurry up because the girls were all looking forward to meeting us and seeing us in our costumes… the costumes in which we would be escorting them to the dance.
It was three very despondent boys who made their way up to Ben’s room. I went in first and, yes, there laid out on Ben’s single bed (complete with Ben’s favourite Spider-Man pyjamas lying next to the pillow, I noticed) were our lederhosen outfits. I gulped.
“Come on… let’s get it over with,” Gary said as he pushed his way forward. I knew, as did Ben and Gary, that if we made a fuss it would only make things worse, just as if any one of us threw a wobbly the rest of us would end up paying the price too.
Together we undressed and together we helped each other with our lederhosen. As you can imagine it was even more of a struggle to get into our tiny leather shorts and it took two of us to help the third pull the shorts up and over his bottom. Just as it had been when we were fourteen, wearing underpants was simply out of the question and as we buttoned up each other’s lederhosen we prayed nothing would happen to embarrass us further. We squeezed our boy-bits into the leather shorts and tried to make ourselves comfortable. It didn’t help that this was the middle of the afternoon and the fancy-dress charity dance wasn’t due to get underway until the evening, but, like I said, we boys had grown up together and did our best to do as we were told. Once fully dressed Gary, Ben and I went along the landing to the bathroom where there was a full length mirror. It wasn’t through vanity that we looked at ourselves and each other, it was to make sure that everything was correct with our costumes.
“Jeez, I feel like a prize pillock…” Ben said as he looked at the floral shirt, the tooled braces with a cross-bar that featured a bas-relief of Alpine flowers, the tight, unbelievably short leather shorts, his long, smooth legs, bare from ankles to the very top of his thighs, the fancy little white ankle socks and the polished black single strap shoes. “...a prize pillock,” he repeated. I didn’t bother to tell him the lower curves of his bottom were also visible. He knew that for himself. I could see his hands feeling over the back of the absurdly brief leather shorts. My own lederhosen were just as revealing, as was Garry’s.
“You’re not the only one,” Gary said sullenly.
I couldn’t but agree with my best friends. The three of us looked as though we were trying to audition for one of the junior rôles in The Sound of Music. We turned away from the bathroom mirror with heavy hearts and went downstairs.
“Do you think we ought to put on our hats?” Ben asked as we passed the hatstand, the hooks from which our Alpine hats were hanging.
“I guess so,” I said, “It’s part of the costume…” So we set our Alpine hats on our heads and Ben knocked on the door to the front-room.
“Come in boys!” Ben’s mum called out from inside the room to three very, very nervous sixteen year old boys.
Ben hesitated, his hand gripped the doorknob and he looked back at Gary and me.
“Go on…” Gary said in a despairing voice that sounded exactly how I felt.
Ben turned the knob and we walked into the room.
Two girls were sat on the sofa on either side of Ben’s mum and the third girl was leaning over the back of the sofa. All four of them looked up at us as we walked anxiously into the room. I didn’t see what Ben’s mum had been showing to the girls as I was too busy trying to look suave and sophisticated in front of them and failing miserably. The girls were already dressed in their costumes. Rather like our sisters had been two years before, the girls wore embroidered blouses and long flowing dresses that disappointingly showed little flesh... unlike our diminutive lederhosen. The girls were dressed very modestly.
“Oh my… aren’t they cute?!” one of the girls said when she saw us.
“Ahh… they’re so sweet… aren’t they sweet, Nina?” said another.
“What lovely little costumes…” said the third.
Their responses to our entering the room did little to help our self-esteem. I felt that all too familiar feeling that made me wish the floor would open up and I could disappear.
Then Ben made a peculiar gurgling sort of noise and both Gary and I looked back at him. Ben’s mouth had fallen open in shock. He was staring at his mum’s lap. Gary and I followed Ben’s gaze and I nearly fainted. Gary was stunned.
“MUM!!” Ben blurted out.
“Whatever’s the matter, dear?” Ben’s mum replied.
“But… but…” Ben pointed at what lay in his mum’s lap, “You’ve got the... you’re looking at the… you’re showing the girls the...”
“Yes… we’ve been looking at the Family Album together, Benjamin,” she explained. I noted the way in which she called her son Benjamin… it should have been a warning, “The girls have been here for quite some time and I thought they might like to look at the album with me while we waited for you… If you boys hadn’t taken so long…”
“But… MUM!!” It was easy to see Ben was on the verge of a major outburst, a tantrum even. Both Gary and I tried our best to calm Ben down. I reached out and touched his arm, but he simply shook my hand away.
“MUM! You CAN’T show them the… the...Family Album…” Ben declared, “... IT’S NOT FAIR!!”
“Whyever not? The girls and I have been having a lovely time looking at all the photos…”
“But mum… it’s the Family Album…” Ben retorted as if this explained everything.
“And…?” mum replied in such a way as to make it clear to Ben that it was of no concern to him as to whom she chose to show the Family Album.
Perhaps a word about the Family Album is in order which I hope will explain the reason for Ben’s outburst. As long as I can remember Ben’s mum kept a record of all our spankings… a photographic record you understand. Obviously Gary’s and my mum must have agreed, because that’s how we got to feature in the Family Album along with Ben. As you can imagine the photos were intensely embarrassing… to us boys, that is.
I guess I was as nervous as any of us about the girls being shown the Family Album. It didn’t seem right that girls, who we’d not even met before and were only a year older than us, should see pictures of our bare bottoms and red, tear-stained faces. I couldn’t just stand there and say nothing. I had to say something if only to show solidarity with my friend.
“Please, Mrs Ewing,” I said nervously addressing Ben’s mum, “I think what Ben means is he... er, I mean we… er, thought the Family Album was… er, private…”
Mrs Ewing’s eyes bored through me and I knew I’d said something stupid. I blushed more then than I’d done in a long time… mainly because the three girls were staring at me as they appraised my ridiculously brief lederhosen costume.
“I’m not sure that I follow you, Andrew,” Mrs Ewing replied.
Gary whispered something in my ear. I didn’t hear what he said, but Ben’s mum saw him lean towards me.
“Was there something you wish to add, Gary?”
“Er… no, Mrs Ewing…” Gary was clearly shaken.
“That’s most strange, because I distinctly saw you lean towards Andrew and whisper something into his ear… perhaps you think I was mistaken?” Ben’s mum said.
I glanced at the girls. They were acting seriously, but at the same time gave every indication they were enjoying every moment of our discomfort. That semi-serious pout, meant to show sympathy, but in reality means quite the opposite.
“Er, no… Mrs Ewing,” Gary replied looking at the floor. His arms were held behind his back, just like a penitent schoolboy.
“Mum… please…” Ben said in an attempt to distract his mother and again plead for our privacy, “Please, mum… it’s not fair letting the girls…”
“Be quiet, Benjamin! I’m trying to find out what it was that Gary was about to say…”
Ben persisted: “But mum…”
“Benjamin, that is enough!”
By now I wanted to throttle Ben and stop him from making matters worse. I’m pretty sure Gary thought the same, although he was having to contend with the third degree from Ben’s mum.
Less than an hour ago we were three happy sixteen year old boys excited to be going to a dance with three girls. It was such a thrill to be allowed to go; a chance at last to show how grown up we were. We’d kidded each other for days how we were going to ‘get lucky’ with the girls and discussed which part of a girl’s anatomy we fancied most. Garry went for breasts, Ben for legs and I settled for bottoms. A couple of days before the big event we’d got ourselves so worked up we went straight round to Gary’s house after school (his mum didn’t get home till later) and had a wank in his bedroom while we looked through his well-thumbed stash of very modest porn. Gary was very proud of his collection of ‘adult’ magazines. It had taken him ages to put together, involving clandestine negotiations and some tough bargaining. The magazines were by all measures and even for the time, very tame. All pubic hair had been carefully airbrushed from the pictures and there was no trace of pudenda, giving the models a rather peculiar, almost statuesque quality. Sad I know, but it was all we had and it served its purpose, as evidenced by the stains on a number of pages popular with the three of us. Nevertheless, we were terrified this hoard would be discovered in its hiding-place under a loose floorboard in Garry’s bedroom.
Yes, less than an hour earlier we’d been happy and excited, but now look at us... three naughty schoolboys dressed in ludicrously brief lederhosen, being interrogated by Ben’s mum and trembling at the prospect of the three girls we were supposed to act so grown up with would get to see more pictures… pictures of us boys bare-nude... in the Family Album.
Gary mumbled his apologies to Ben’s mum, saying that he was only asking me whether we should take off our Alpine hats as we were standing in front of her and the girls. No, I don’t think Mrs Ewing believed Gary either, but fortunately she let it pass, mainly because one of the girls had pointed at a photograph in the Family Album and exclaimed: “Oh look…! Look! he’s crying… is that you, Benjamin?” she asked pointing at Ben, “only your face is so scrunched up…”
“No, mum… please don’t let them see that one…” Ben pleaded as he stepped forward in desperation towards his mum. There were lots of pictures in the album showing us with tear-stained faces, but I knew which particular photo the girl was was looking at. Ben was thirteen at the time and had just received a fearsome spanking from his mum. He was completely naked of course and facing the camera. A couple of aspects of the photo were bound to catch the eyes of the girls. The first that the tears were streaming down Ben’s face and snot could be seen running from his nose. The girl was certainly right about Ben’s face being all scrunched up, but his mouth was wide open in mid-bawl. Ben’s hands were busy behind his back rubbing his bottom, but what one couldn’t fail to miss was Ben’s youthful, hairless penis pointing skywards and fully erect. His tight, pink ball-sac was fully displayed. There could be no mistaking the fact that Ben had just had a thoroughly unpleasant ordeal on the receiving end of his mum’s discipline strap.
My legs were now shaking with nervous anticipation. If Ben thought his photo was embarrassing, wait till mum turned to the next page!
“OMYGOD!!!!” All three girls squealed when Mrs Ewing did finally turn to the next page of the Family Album. There, in front of them all, was a two page spread of me… me, totally nude facing the camera in a series of photos that culminated in three pictures showing what happens when a boy totally ‘loses it’ during a spanking. Strings of boy-cum were hanging from the tip of my erect penis. I had just got up from the back of Mrs Ewing’s sofa and you could clearly see where I’d leaked pre-cum onto the upholstery. When I was told to get up my penis erupted just as Mrs Ewing was getting ready to take some more pictures for the Family Album.
I knew then there was absolutely no prospect of me acting all ‘grown up’ and impressing the girls we would be escorting to the fancy-dress dance. In fact I would go so far as to say that at that point I was no longer interested in taking anyone to the dance! All I wanted to do was to crawl away and hide.
Next up for an embarrassing dip into the Family Album was Gary and it wasn’t long before Mrs Ewing found the page she was looking for. The girls all squealed with delight once more when they saw Gary in the middle of one of his spanking dances. Now a word about Gary’s spanking dances… These were frenetic in the extreme and at times Gary would lift his knees so far up towards his chest you’d think he was in danger of knocking himself out. Of the three of us Gary’s penis was the longest and it was this, coupled with the athletic dances he was capable of performing post-spanking that made him so entertaining to watch (assuming you weren’t in for a punishment spanking as well!). I remember one of Gary’s aunts on seeing her nephew performing a particularly energetic spanking-dance saying that all Gary needed was a feathered headdress and some moccasins and he’d look just like a Red Indian on the war-path. Everyone thought this was really funny and were laughing fit to burst, although I don’t think Gary saw the funny side of his aunt’s remark.
Another couple of pages were turned and it was time for all three of us to be chastened, for there were some groups photos… Ben, Garry and me after a severe disciplinary spanking which took place no more than a year ago, lined up, hands on our head, tears streaming down our faces… facing the camera in the traditional corner-time position in Mrs Ewing’s front-room. What’s extra special about this photo, other than the fact we are each standing on our naughty-stools (special footstools kept for boys’ corner-time), is that we are each wearing a placard. The placards that rested on the top of our chests held there by a cord looped round our necks, had been my mum’s idea, or rather an idea she’d picked up from somewhere and when she told Ben’s mum and Gary’s mum they’d all agreed it would be a great way to ‘up the ante’ and make our spankings even more effective.
The placards had our names and ages on them along with the number of spanks and the spanking instrument used. Our misdeed(s) were also recorded for all to see. Now anyone who walked into Mrs Ewing’s front-room (and believe me it happened… frequently!) would not only see three fully nude and distraught boys facing the room, still sobbing after their spanking, but would also be able to read who they were and what naughtiness they’d been up to which had resulted in their punishment.
The photos in the Family Album were pin-sharp and so it was easy for the girls to read what was written on the placards: “Ooo… look! It says ‘Ben (age 15) Paddle 30 spanks. Laziness’ Ahhh… doesn't he look sad? Did the paddle-waddle hurt his botty-whatty?”
There was lots of this ‘baby-talk’ from the girls which Ben’s mum found most amusing, but we did not. However, it was clear the girls knew exactly what they were doing and teased us boys mercilessly making us squirm with embarrassment. They knew we could do or say nothing to defend ourselves.
Ben was almost in tears and pleaded again with his mum not to show the girls any more pages of the Family Album. He was so embarrassed by his mum and Gary and I felt for him. We’d been in this situation as well and it made the humiliation a hundred times worse to be surrounded by your friends as you desperately abased yourself in front of your mum.
One of the girls asked if there were any recent photographs of our punishment spankings and this, I’m afraid, tipped Ben over the edge. As his mum told the girls that, yes she had some recent photos of us, a group spanking as it happened, they’d come back from the chemist’s, but she hadn’t had time to sort through them.
The chemist who developed and printed Mrs Ewing’s photos of us for the Family Album was an old friend of her’s. She would look forward to processing the latest batch of pictures and I’ve often been present in her shop when she has quite openly discussed our spankings with our mums.
Ben’s mum stood up, went to the sideboard and opened a drawer.
“MUM!!” Ben yelled. I saw a single tear run down his red face.
Mum turned round. In her hands she held a thick packet of photos: “Benjamin… I’ve had just about enough of your nonsense,” she snapped, “I will not accept this sort of infantile behaviour in front of these young ladies… and as for the rest of you…!” The remainder of the sentence was left hanging in the air, but we were in no doubt that it wouldn’t take much before Mrs Ewing blew her top.
Even though we thought it was unfair, Gary and I knew better than to argue with Ben’s mum. We knew it would only make things worse for all of us if we said anything, let alone complained. My heart was thumping as I watched Mrs Ewing as she gave the packet of photos to one of the girls.
“Now, I want you girls to have a good look through these photographs,” she said, “... tell me which ones you’d like me to put in the Family Album… take your time and remember to choose pictures that you think other people would like to see when they look through the album…”
Ben was beside himself and didn’t appear to understand the danger he was putting us all into… thin-ice didn’t begin to describe our peril! I kept asking myself why didn’t Ben see the signs…? Why did he continue to antagonise his mum…? He must have known what would happen and that Gary and I would pay the price for his stupidity too. Suddenly I grew rather attached to my tight-fitting, ultra-brief lederhosen and when I looked at Gary I could see he felt the same way too. We both knew that because of Ben’s behaviour there was now little chance we’d be leaving Mrs Ewing’s front-room with our costumes intact… whether or not there were three girls staring in our direction; three girls, just a year older than us and who we’d never set eyes on before.
The girls had already seen plenty of photos of us in the Family Album and now, due to Ben’s idiocy, they were increasingly likely to be treated to a live demonstration of Mrs Ewing’s discipline techniques. It had been humiliating enough to be made to put on the lederhosen costumes in the first place and have to stand in the middle of Mrs Ewing’s front-room while the girls giggled and pointed at photos of our punishment spankings. But the thought of being stripped bare-nude in front of them due to Ben’s idiotic behaviour made me want to scream.
I can’t put this off any longer... besides you’ll be able to see the what happened next if Mrs Ewing shows you the Family Album, so I may as well tell you that all three of us; Ben, Gary and myself, did indeed receive a punishment spanking from her in the front-room that day. Yes, the three girls who were to be our partners for the fundraising fancy-dress dance that evening saw everything. The girls presence made absolutely no difference to how we were dealt with by Ben’s mum, but used as we all were to receiving our punishments in front of the family, our own and each others, this was of a different order of ignominy entirely.
As no special allowance was made and since we were merely three boys who needed to be taught a lesson, the usual rules applied. Garry and I were told to undress Ben and once we had relieved him of his lederhosen costume Ben was told to assist Gary in undressing me. The girls watched with rapt attention as one by one we took off each other’s costumes. The boy being stripped had to stand perfectly still and I can tell you being stripped by your best friends in front of three girls knowing that you are about to receive a punishment spanking in front of them, is not something I’d like to repeat. As my own lederhosen was peeled down Gary looked up at me with a worried look on his face as in the next moment my penis popped out into view… my erect penis, that is. How can I describe how I felt at that moment as Gary pulled off my little leather shorts and an already nude Ben eased my shirt back over my shoulders? A few moments later I stood, hot and flustered, totally nude in Mrs Ewing’s front-room with an erection.
It was Gary’s turn to be stripped by Ben and me. We got to work. Two nude boys undressing a third. The girls must have loved it, but they said nothing and their silence was in its own way unnerving. It turned out Gary was just as stiff as me, which was some consolation. We lined up as Mrs Ewing announced twenty minutes corner-time facing the room to reflect on our behaviour… a standard procedure. Before she started the corner-time clock Mrs Ewing told Ben to take our lederhosen costumes back upstairs to his bedroom. To my horror this brought more protests from Ben.
“Please, mum… please don’t spank us in front of the girls…” he said.
“Benjamin, just do as you are told…”
“... but, mum… not in front of the girls… please!”
I could have throttled Ben at this point… How could he not realise he was making a bad situation worse… for all of us?
“You’ve only yourselves to blame. I’m sure the girls have been embarrassed enough by your behaviour… don’t make it worse for them, Benjamin. Now take Andrew’s and Gary’s and your costumes up to your bedroom as I just told you… and while you’re upstairs you can fetch three hand-towels from the airing-cupboard and bring them down with you.”
“Yes, mum…” Ben said at last. Both Gary and I sighed, relieved that Ben was doing as he was told. We looked at each other as we stood with our hands on our heads. We knew exactly what each other was feeling.
While we stood in this position Ben’s mum chatted to the girls and discussed which photos should go in the Family Album. Ben returned, put the towels down on a chair, walked over to join us and put his hands on his head. The corner-time clock was started.
The time dragged as we three boys waited, wondered and worried about what the girls would be sure to see. It had already crossed my mind the girls would more than likely gossip among their friends and that news of our spanking sessions would soon be common knowledge at their school.
The hairbrush was no longer considered to be the most effective punishment instrument by our mums… never mind that when wielded with force it could still produce a truly tear-inducing sting! So that is not to say it was no longer employed, but between them our mums had tested a number of different ‘attitude-adjusters’ on our bare bottoms before agreeing the paddle and leather discipline strap were capable of producing a breathtaking sting with the least physical effort on their part. The cane of course had always been available and in addition to the traditional wooden paddle, Ben’s mum had been experimenting with the Lexan paddle. Made from a polycarbonate polymer the Lexan paddle produced its own unique signature sting, guaranteed to have any one of us boys crying our eyes out in double-quick time.
“Excuse me one moment, girls,” Mrs Ewing said after about ten minutes and walked across the room to a small cupboards in which she kept her discipline instruments. She took her time, clearly trying to decide how naughty we’d been and therefore what she would use to spank us with. I prayed she wouldn’t choose the Lexan paddle.
Just then there was a noise from the kitchen followed by the unmistakable sound of my mum calling “Coo-eee!!”
“We’re in the front-room, Nora…” Mrs Ewing called back and a few seconds later my mum entered the room. She glanced over towards where three fully nude boys were standing with their hands on their heads.
“Aren’t you boys dressed yet?” mum said, although she must have known we were doing pre-spanking corner-time. “Typical boys… looks like the girls are all ready, though… honestly all you had to do was put on your lederhosen costumes and you can’t even do that properly…”
Ben’s mum stepped in to set the record straight: “The boys were dressed in their outfits, Nora, although they took their time about it… heaven knows what they were up to all that time in Ben’s bedroom…”
“I think I can guess…” my mum interjected.
“... but when they eventually came downstairs and saw me showing the Family Album to the girls they created such a song and dance…”
“I can imagine…” my mum said in a voice totally devoid of any sympathy for us boys.
“... as if the girls weren’t embarrassed enough by seeing what naughty boys they’d all been over the years… It’s a wonder they still want to go to the fancy-dress dance with them…”
That was just typical. Our mums never did understand that we boys had feelings… we were the ones who were being embarrassed… hugely embarrassed… unbelievably embarrassed! It wasn’t the girls who’d been made to stand totally nude facing the middle of the front-room; it wasn’t the girls who’d had photos of all their punishment spankings put in the Family Album… no, it was Ben and Gary and me!! We were the one’s who were embarrassed… not the girls who were all sat comfortably in Mrs Ewing’s front-room! I doubted if the girls had ever been spanked in their lives, never mind having their photos taken and stuck in an album ready for visitors to gawp at.
“How many spanks were you going to give the boys, Margery?” my mum asked in the same tone of voice she used when discussing recipes with one of her friends.
I half expected Ben’s mum to reply along the lines of ‘20 minutes at Regulo 5’, but actually what she said was: “20 spanks apiece with my new Lexan paddle…”
“How are you finding the paddle, Margery? As good as the strap?”
“It’s taking a bit of getting used to, but you know what they say, ‘practice makes perfect’... and there’s plenty of opportunity for practice in this house,” Ben’s mum added with a chuckle.
If anything more was needed to convince the girls… our ‘dates’ for the evening (ha!)… that what was happening right in front of their eyes was a perfectly normal, everyday event, our mum’s calmly discussing the varying degrees of spanking effectiveness of paddles and straps must have been it.
“I’m certainly interested to see what the Lexan paddle can do to these naughty bottoms,” my mum said, “If it’s as good as you say, I might think about buying one for Andrew…”
“Right boys! Corner-time is up!” Mrs Ewing announced after exchanging a few more thoughts about discipline techniques with my mum. “Girls would you mind… the boys need use the sofa.”
The girls stood up, but looked quizzically at Ben’s mum until she explained how we three boys would be bent over the back of the sofa. It was then that Ben, Garry and I realised the three of us would be bent over, squashed up together along the back of the sofa! Before this happened though, Mrs Ewing carefully placed the hand-towels Ben had fetched from upstairs over the back of the sofa. One for each of us to lean on when we bent over for our discipline spanking.
One of the girls asked what the towels were for and I saw her friend whisper something in her ear. The girl looked disbelieving until, I asume, she was reminded what she’d seen me do in the Family Album. The girl began to snigger and put her hand up to cover her mouth.
Garry was the first to bend over at one end of the sofa, then I was told to bend over next to Gary and finally Ben joined us by bending over next to me. And it was a squash! Next we were ordered up onto our tip-toes and to grip the front of the sofa so that we could stretch ourselves right over and present our bare bottoms in the optimum position for our spankings. Our boy-bits were pressed against the hand-towels in case any of us should ‘lose it’ during the spanking.
It became clear that Mrs Ewing did not intend to give us our spankings in any particular order when she asked the girls to keep a tally of spanks for each of us. Therefore each girl was assigned a boy and stood in front of the sofa looking down at us as we lay waiting to see who would be the first to feel the stinging spank of Mrs Ewing’s Lexan paddle on his bare bottom. My mum stood to one side with her arms folded.
With Garry’s nude body pressed on one side of me and Ben’s equally nude body to the other side; our heads so close they were almost touching, we could each feel the other’s anxiety as we tensed ourselves and prayed we wouldn’t be first to blub in front of the girls…
Mrs Ewing stepped behind us and we waited with increasing apprehension as final instructions were given to the girls.
“Be sure to keep an accurate count of the number of spanks each boy receives… I don’t want to have to give out extra spanks just because you lose count, that wouldn’t be fair to the boys,” Mrs Ewing explained, “When you’re sure the boy in front of you has received twenty spanks with my paddle, I want you to raise your hand… Is that all clear?”
And with that the first paddle-spank landed on Gary’s bare bottom. He jerked forward and grunted. I tensed myself in case I was next, but it wasn’t me, or Ben… it was Gary again! Two whacks with the Lexan paddle and he yelped right into my ear, almost deafening me in the process. I hadn’t any time to say anything as the next spank landed on my unprotected bottom… right on my sit-spots. I gasped as the spank took the wind out of me and at that precise moment I knew I would never be able to take twenty spanks without crying.
Garry received a third paddle-spank before Ben finally got his first. Ben jolted forward and cried out to let everyone know what a stinger he’d taken… it transpired his mum had directed that opening spank to Ben’s lower bottom, but most of the spank landed, as was her intention, on his upper thigh. My second spank was again directed towards my sit-spots and if I hadn’t been busy crying out I might have wondered how red that particular part of my bottom was after only two paddle-spanks.
Ben was given his second spank before Mrs Ewing rained down two more on me and two more on Gary’s bare bottom. I could feel the tears trickling down my face, but Gary, after five paddle-spanks burst into tears and started sobbing, his head pressed into the sofa next to me. I heards the girls talking to each other, but I was too distracted to figure out what they were saying… I just hoped they were keeping an accurate count of the spanks we were receiving.
The spanking continued and by the halfway mark all three of us, Garry, Ben and me, were crying, pleading with Mrs Ewing and begging forgiveness. I don’t think any of us were particularly conscious of the three girls who were watching our paddle-spanking… our concern was as to how much more blistering our bottoms could take before they caught fire. The amount of sting the Lexan paddle produced was indescribable and when Mrs Ewing directed her spanks to our thighs I thought… actually I don’t know what I thought as I was too busy trying to deal with the effect of that wicked paddle.
“You see how effective the Lexan paddle is, Nora,” Mrs Ewing said to my mum. It was a brief respite for us boys as we gasped and sobbed and tried to get our breaths back. The girls totted up the spanks so far awarded; 12 to Garry, 10 to me and 8 to Ben. Mrs Ewing asked my mum if she would like to try the Lexan paddle. “You never know… if you get on with it, it might help you decide to get one for Andrew…” she added.
That’s all I needed, I thought, mum armed with a Lexan paddle…
Mum took the proffered paddle from Ben’s mum and through my tears I could see her inspecting the paddle, bending it to test its flexibility. She took up her position behind our fire-engine red bottoms. Mum tapped my bottom as she prepared to try her hand with the paddle. I clenched my bottom cheeks, wriggled and gasped… even those light taps stung dreadfully on my red-hot bottom and I still had ten more spanks to go!
“Keep still, Andrew… I haven’t started yet.”
“Sorry, mum…” I replied as snot dribbled over my upper lip.
I was spared mum’s first spanks with the Lexan paddle. That honour went to Ben as mum brought his spank-tally up to equal mine. I had a feeling I’d be next and two quick, full-blooded spanks brought more tears and howls of protest from yours truly. I couldn’t say for sure whether mum’s paddle-spanks were worse than Ben’s mum’s as our bottoms were already super-hot and stinging from the earlier blows… but they certainly felt that way!
Mum then proceeded to try out her skills on Gary with two spanks that made him grip the front of the sofa so tightly that I swear his knuckles turned white. He was bawling and, like me, the tears and snot was making his face look a complete mess. I’d hardly taken stock of Gary’s misfortune when mum planted two more stingers my aching red bottom. Two more for Ben followed and I think it must have been at that point he ‘lost it’ because he was rocking over the back of the sofa and making that peculiar, embarrassed gasping noise that boys make when they are trying to disguise what’s happening.
Mum got us up to fifteen spanks apiece and three sobbing sixteen year old boys were left on display draped over Mrs Ewing’s sofa, watched by the three girls they were supposed to be escorting to the fancy-dress dance.
“I could quite get used to this paddle, Margery,” my mum said, “It’s certainly a dream to use… easy on one’s wrist and judging by the boys’ reactions extremely effective…”
“Care to finish off their spankings, Nora?” Ben’s mum asked.
“It’s you who’s awarded the boys their punishment, Margery… and I wouldn’t suggest it if I wasn’t sure the paddle was up to it, but what about letting the girls have a go? The boys have only got five more spanks apiece to finish the punishment…”
You can probably imagine the reaction of us boys. Through our tears and sobs we begged and pleaded shamelessly with my mum and Ben’s mum not to let the girls spank our bottoms. Our reaction was, unsurprisingly, in complete contrast to that of the girls. They were all for giving us each our remaining five spanks with the Lexan paddle. I don’t think it will come as any surprise to learn how the girls were indeed given their opportunity to give us our final spanks. And while my mum instructed them on the best way to hold and swing the paddle, Ben’s mum went and fetched her camera. Clearly she meant to have a permanent record of this momentous day, something for the girls to look back on, although (and I’m sure I speak for Ben and Gary here) for us boys it was day we’d rather forget.
The girls weren’t terribly consistent with their allotted paddle-spanks, which is no surprise but just shows how proficient our mums had become. With all the practice they’d had, how could it be any different? Nevertheless, the girls were each congratulated on their performance with the paddle and told that with practice they would soon improve their technique.
For us boys it was more corner-time. Hands on head, facing the room and no rubbing of red-hot bottoms. As we rose from the back of the sofa I saw that Ben had indeed ‘lost it’ during his punishment spanking. His towel was damp and sticky; the unmistakable signs which confirmed he’d ejaculated as his penis rubbed against the towel. Despite the severity of the spanking Gary and I were both still fully erect, but that didn’t stop us jumping up and down to try and give some relief to our burning bottoms. Our stiff nobs made slapping noises as they bounced about during yet another improvised spanking dance, which the girls found highly amusing.
My mum disappeared into the kitchen to make a pot of tea while we boys served our corner-time. Ben’s mum set about taking some photos for the Family Album and asked the girls if they would like to have copies as a souvenir of the afternoon. I bet you can guess what they said…
