“The One Where Lukas Screws Up”
(FM/m nc, hard)
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Lukas Bennett sat on the very back of the school bus and sighed. He placed the book bag beneath the seat, then brought his knees up to his chest and rested his head on them. The 5-foot tall, blond-haired 14-year-old hated this moment most of all. Riding the bus that’d take him home after a school day where he’d gotten in trouble was awful. He felt like a French revolutionary being loaded on a car and taken to the town’s central square to be guillotined. His parents’ methods, while certainly less… radical, were still old-fashioned. Sure enough, Lukas was certain that before the day was through he would very much regret some of his recent choices. Seeing “Not in public, damnit,” he hissed. “Gee,
sorry,” said “And you know I do,” Lukas retorted. “Please.” Lukas didn’t reply. “Ah, I see,”
said There was
something intimidating in the way “Fl’d e’g’sh…” Lukas whispered into his knees. “Say what?” Again that tone. Lukas shuddered. “Flunked English,” he said, just a bit louder. “Your test?”
“Yeah.” “For fuck’s sake, man, we studied together.” “I know, alright?” Lukas was growing frustrated. “I just…” “Didn’t review?” “Y-yeah, I guess…” “I know. It’s your fault too, though, ya know?” “Whatever,
but Dan’s going to stripe you, and stripe you good,” Lukas still blushed like crazy and looked around. You don’t want to let everyone know that in the year of our lord 2005 you’re still spanked at the age of fourteen. “Well, thanks for the encouragement.” “Mary too, now that I think about it.” Lukas turned
to “Shut up. You’re in trouble, and you’re going to get it. Suits you fine. Call me tonight, k?” For a moment
Lukas felt like yelling, but both the kiss and the reassurance that “Alright.” * Lukas got down the wooden car (school bus) and walked down the narrow street leading to the town square (the front yard of his family’s two-story house), surrounded by French townspeople screaming (his neighbors saying hi), and headed for the center of the square (the front door). He gulped and willed himself to walk on. The execution official (his mother Mary) was standing by the steps that led up to the marquee (the staircase). She glared (smiled) at him, and asked if he was ready to die (how the school day had been.) The teen muttered a hesitant “pretty good,” and instantly his mother knew it was a lie. “You sure?” Lukas could have put it off, say that yes, sure, it was alright. He could have gone to his room, lock himself inside with hard rock music, and that’d be their signal to leave him alone… but then dinner would come, and he knew himself, he wouldn’t be able to hold it in any longer, and he’d be blamed for not saying right away. “Uh… n-no, Mom.” His palms were sweaty. He got rid of his jacket and walked to where she was. “Can we talk a minute?” “Sure,” said Mary, losing the smile. “What’s wrong, hon?” It always made him feel like a child to be called pet names, especially by her mother. Not that certain other ‘practices’ in the Bennett house were any more appropriate for a 14-year-old, that is. “I… I kinda, sort of… f--…” He couldn’t bring himself to say the word ‘failed’, though. “Didn’t do too well on the English t-test… that is…” Mary crossed
her arms and regarded his son with an inquisitive look. “I thought “He did… I just…” Lukas sighed, and looked at his feet. He knew that when he ‘fessed up some wrongdoing, he did look like a naughty child. “I just didn’t do my part, is all… Sorry, Mom…” “I see,” Mary said coldly. “How ‘not too well’ did you do on this test?” Lukas sighed, knowing this was when his death sentence – and his bottom – would be read. “Failed… like, completely.” Mary cocked her head to a side. “Failed?” It wasn’t quite the angry explosion he was fearing, but he knew it was coming soon. “Y-yeah.” “How can you fail a test, Lukas Alexander Bennett?” Full name. He was dead. “I d-don’t know, I just…” “Failing a test means not having a clue about what you’re doing,” said Mary, raising her voice just a little. “You’ve been studying, I saw you, so it cannot be that.” Lukas sighed. “I did… but today it was like blank. I kinda panicked… those few things I knew, I didn’t even… I… I’m sorry, Mom.” “I am sorry too,” Mary cut him off curtly, “and I’m sure Dad is going to be as well.” She pointed to the staircase. “Go to your room and wait for me.” If possible, Lukas hung his head even more. He felt an icy grip grasp his heart, and his temples pounded painfully. “Yes Ma’am,” he whispered, and up the stairs he went, carrying his book bag and jacket. * When Mary walked in, she found Lukas lying on the bed on his side. The young teen had kicked off his shoes and sweatshirt, and was playing idly with his white-socked feet. He sighed upon seeing his mother enter… then his blood ran cold as he saw the guillotine (the hairbrush.) Mary Bennett’s hairbrush was the hairbrush. Twelve inches long, four wide, and at least half an inch thick without the bristles. It was the kind of wooden horror that had made more than one kid shiver, including Mary herself as a young girl. Lukas had felt its effect on his bare backside a dozen times at the very least, and he was not looking forward to another. “Up you get, Lukas,” said his mother. The young teen scanned his mother’s face for signs of compassion, but found none. Repressing a shiver, he willed himself to get up from the bed and stand beside it. Mary sat on the edge, placed the hairbrush on the comforter to her right, and motioned for her son to come forward. “Anything you want to say?” she asked, even as her fingers started unzipping and unbuttoning Lukas’ jeans. “Just that I’m sorry…” he whispered, eyes closed and downcast. “That’s good to hear.” Behind the stern façade, Mary could see that Lukas was sincere in his repentance already, and she praised that. But for the lesson to really sink in, she knew what his son needed was a very stinging bottom – something that she was an expert in delivering. Down came Lukas’ pants to his ankles, and he let himself be pulled onward and draped across his mother’s lap. As the boy had turned twelve, it had been agreed that when it was his mother doing the spanking his underpants would only come down after he had been positioned over the knee. Mary hooked her fingers in the waistband of Lukas’ white briefs and pulled down, exposing his round, smooth bum cheeks, his sitting spots, and the tops of his creamy-white thighs. Mary got down to business. Her right hand shot up in the air and came down with a loud smack! to her son’s behind. Many swats followed, as she soon settled into a hard, quick rhythm. Lukas gritted his teeth, hissing when one smack would catch a more tender spot, but trying to tough his way through this warm-up… knowing it could and would get so much worse. “We are lenient as far as school goes, Lukas Alexander,” his mother said as she spanked on. “All we ask is no failing grades, isn’t that right?” “Ow… y-yes, Mom…” Lukas was technically allowed D’s, but he knew better than to get one. Spankings were not Mary and Dan’s one resource; they would ground too, and a streak of low grades would definitely grant the young Bennett at least a couple of weeks of confinement. “I am astonished… <whack!> …and disappointed… <whack!> …and upset that you would get another F, young man!” Her spanks got increasingly nastier as she scolded, and she now attacked the backs of Lukas’ thighs. The boy clenched his teeth and fists even tighter and took deep, ragged breaths. “I’m… ouch!… sorry…” he whimpered. “Won’t happen again… really…” “I hope for the sake of your backside that it does not,” said Mary, and she stopped. Lukas’ bottom cheeks were sporting a dull pink coloration by now, whereas his upper cheeks were flushed deep red in fear and embarrassment… but the young teen knew from lifelong experience that soon his behind would shine an even deeper red. “I have spoken to your father on the phone,” said Mary as she picked up the hairbrush. Lukas squeezed his eyes tight, afraid of hearing the rest of the sentence. “He is extremely disappointed as well, and will make sure to have a talk with you as soon as he gets home.” Great, thought Lukas as the heavy, cold wooden hairbrush was placed on his bottom. Now I’m going to get seconds… But the first searing SMACK! from the brush swept away all concerns from the spanking he would get at bedtime, and made him focus on the one he was getting now. “Owww!” As good as Mary was with her hand, her efficiency in wielding the hairbrush was unparalleled. Again and again she lifted her arm shoulder-high, then brought it down in a swift arc, snapping her wrist at the last minute so that the head of the hairbrush dug deeper into the flesh of her son’s bottom. The result was bright red oval splotches on the skin, a very vocal response from the teen, and a definite increase in the level of his squirming. “Ouch!… ow, nooo… Mom! I’m sorry… not so harrrrd!” Lukas started buck and wriggle across his mother’s lap. His feet kicked involuntarily, making his pants slide off his ankles and fall to the floor in a heap. The boy was beyond caring, and he gripped the bed sheets tightly to prevent from reaching back. “Next time, I will make sure to be there when you prepare for a test,” said Mary, not missing a beat. “Oww! N-nooo, please! I can do ittttt!” “Then you should have done it, Lukas Alexander!” The hairbrush pounded the young boy’s flesh hard, one smack per second. He felt his bottom literally catch fire, burning so deep under the skin. He sobbed and sobbed, burying his face into the bed sheets, trying desperately to think of something else. “I know… I willl! I promise! Mom, I promise!” “I want to believe you,” said she. “Because if it happens again, you will really get it.” Lukas panicked. As far as he was concerned, he was really getting it already! The fire in his bottom kept growing hotter and hotter; the smacks of the hairbrush were so sound and loud they scared him; and the feeling of helplessness grew as he struggled and squirmed but saw he couldn’t go anywhere, pinned down as he was by Mary’s strong left arm. Yet his mother continued, making sure to spank every square inch of Lukas’ backside and thighs. Every now and then the hairbrush would catch a most delicate spot, like Lukas’ right side, or the inside of his left thigh. That’s when the boy cried out, oww-ing loudly and whimpering. Mary knew that only rarely Lukas could be reduced to full-fledged, teary crying during a spanking, so she wasn’t fishing for that, but she did want him to feel the hairbrush long and hard, and feel it he did. “Mommm! No more… please… enoughhh!” He squirmed, kicking more frantically now, pounding the bed with his fists. “It’s enough, please! Oh God… nooo… I learneddd!” “We’ll see about that,” Mary said, raising her voice to be heard over his wailed protests. “I will keep a very close eye on you from now on, Lukas. Am I making myself understood?” she asked, making her point with a volley of particularly hard hairbrush spanks to the backs of his thighs. Lukas squealed with those. He nodded his head hard. “Yes Ma’ammm!” “Good. Get right back on track, Lukas, or there will be consequences.” With that, she stopped spanking. Lukas’ dance across her lap continued for a few moments before the boy let himself collapse and just rest his head on the comforter, breathing heavily, whimpering and sobbing. Mary regarded his son’s thoroughly chastised backside, seeing that it was on its way to some bruising and a whole lot of sting in the coming hours. Lukas had no idea how he would get through a spanking from his father. It hurt so much even now! Somehow he knew from experience that he could, and would, get two spankings in a day… but right now it seemed impossible to even think about it. It took him a few more minutes to catch his breath and regain his composure. Mary kept him across his lap in silence, having set the hairbrush aside and now rubbing his back. When she saw he wanted to get up, she pulled up his underpants and helped him up. Lukas’ hands grabbed his aching buttocks the moment he was back on his feet. He rubbed and squeezed and kneaded, hissing and ouch-ing all along. Finally he looked down at his mother, who was still sitting on the bed, her contempt almost faded now, her pretty face looking less severe. “I’m sorry, Mom…” he said. “That’s good,” she nodded. “Did Mr. Kennedy give you a study guide?” Lukas nodded. When students got bad grades, some of his teachers would supply them with an extended study guide to help them make up and get back on track. “Good. Then I want you to stay in your room and go through the guide. Call me if you need help. You are to stay here until your father gets home, and when you two are done, you can come downstairs and we can discuss this over dinner. Understood?” “Yes, Ma’am…” Lukas wasn’t sure what he liked less, if the prospect of another spanking from his dad, or having to have the issue ‘discussed over dinner’ with the whole family. True, he was an only child, but having both parents talk to him at the same time always felt like facing a firing squad. “Good boy. You sure there is nothing else you want to tell me? You look kind of off…” Lukas shrugged. He did feel ‘off’, that’s for sure, but who wouldn’t right after getting one heck of a spanking with the hairbrush? There was more than he would say, though, but he just didn’t feel ready to talk about it. He was surprised his mother even caught on his hesitation, but after all, when didn’t she? “Nah… I’m alright. Just sore…” Mary nodded as she stood. She opened her arms, and Lukas let himself wrapped in a tight hug. She ruffled and kissed his hair, and rubbed his back a few more moments before detaching. “It’s going to be okay, you’ll see. And I’m downstairs if you need to talk.” He nodded wordlessly. Mary picked up the hairbrush and left, closing the door behind her. Lukas walked rather stiffly to where he had left his bag on the floor, pulled out the study guide and the English text book, and lay down on his stomach on the bed. As he browsed rather bitterly through the study guide, he couldn’t help reaching back with his hand and rub the scalded flesh of his bottom through the underpants. All he had to do was wait for his father… and wonder how bad of a spanking his would be. * Daniel Bennett took his time in the living room before walking upstairs. He wanted to hear from his wife all that had happened, and Mary gave him a detailed recount. She had phoned Mr. Kennedy, Lukas’ English teacher, during the afternoon, to discuss his son’s grades. Lukas had always favored science classes over English and Literature and all that, but the teacher had reassured her he would pay special attention and make sure he got his grades up. Dan was relieved, but that didn’t cancel what Lukas had done, nor the fact that a failed test would affect his overall average. So, while not upset, Dan was still rather… discontented as he climbed upstairs. Lukas had finished going through the study guide as his father knocked and walked in his bedroom. This time, instead of waiting lying on the bed, the young teen was standing by the window. He had kicked his pants all the way off, and was rubbing absent-mindedly at his brief-covered backside through the white cotton tissue. When Dan entered the room, Lukas turned around and sighed. “Hi, Dad…” “Good evening,” said Dan. He closed the door behind him, making Lukas gulp, and stood by the bed cross-armed. “Your mother told me what happened. Want to talk about it?” The boy shrugged. “I guess. I… I really am sorry, Dad. I screwed up, I have no excuses.” Dan nodded. He realized that part of Lukas was probably just trying to say what he knew the angry parent wanted to hear said, but he also knew his son was no liar. “I agree, you do not,” said Dan, “and you will not have excuses next time this happens, either, so it better not happen again. Are we very clear on that, Lukas Alexander?” “Crystal clear, sir.” The boy shuddered. Contrarily to his mother, his dad never raised his voice. Ever. That calm, self-controlled tone, along with his deep bass voice, made the young teen shiver to his very bone… especially when his full name was used. Now all that remained to be seen was if his father would pay heed to the words of his wife (who had basically promised Lukas a second spanking), or if he would deem Mary’s punishment to be sufficient. Sadly, Lukas knew there was often only one way for his father to make his decision… “Very well. Lower your underwear and let me see.” Albeit with a sigh, the boy made a slow turn until his backside was facing his father. With uncertain hands he lowered his briefs in the back, then tugged them down past his hips, knowing the man would want to have a clear view of at least his sit-spots, if not his thighs as well. Dan stayed where he was, but paid close attention to the marks. The bright red hue had given way to a duller, darker coloration. A few minor bruises, in the form of line-shaped sores, had appeared there where buttock meets thigh, on both sides. What Dan couldn’t know, but that his son’s rueful kneading of the bare flesh certainly showed, was that it still stung like the dickens, especially after the numbing from the hairbrushing had gone away and the healing had begun. “I see your mother has gotten to the bottom of the problem already,” said Dan. Lukas blushed. Either his father didn’t realize how outdated some of his puns could be, or he didn’t realize they were puns to begin with! “Yes… yes, Dad, she has.” “Good. However,” said Dan, and Lukas’ blood ran cold again, “I am going to make sure the lesson really sticks with you.” The world started spinning around Lukas all over again, and next thing he knew, his father was unbuckling his belt. The boy turned around again to see it was a brown belt, not the largest or thickest, but definitely not something to laugh at either. He had certainly had his share of bare-bottom beltings from his dad to know nothing was a laughing matter when he was doing the spanking. “Dad… please… Mom has already spanked me sooo hard! I mean, you’ve seen it yourself, I…” “Lukas, you know better than to even try and argue,” said Dan, hardening his tone some. “Now get your naughty backside over that bed, if you know what’s good for you.” Still Lukas whimpered and hung his head, but he did take a few tentative steps toward the bed, his hands covering his front for some modesty. “I plan on giving you a dozen as a reminder,” Dan announced as he folded the belt in two. “Behave and accept your punishment, or I shall add another dozen. Understood?” “Y-yes, sir… I’m sorry, Dad.” Dan didn’t reply, just watched Lukas mince his way all the way to the bed and bend over, his palms flat on the comforter. The boy knew the exact position, though, so he soon had his own chest and stomach lie flat on top of the comforter, his head turned by one side and facing the wall. “Keep your hands in check,” was Dan’s last command before getting down to business… and Lukas was reminded yet again how darned much a spanking hurts on a freshly-bruised bottom! Whack!… Whack!… Whack!… Dan took his time in-between lashes, paying no heed to his son’s almost immediate squirming and protesting. “Owwww… ouch ouch ouch… Dad… not so hard…” His voice trembled already as he spoke. But Dan whipped him hard indeed. He raised the belt well behind his head, then brought it down sharply, making sure the tip of the leather strip wrapped around Lukas’ right side as it fell. The boy reacted to that with particularly heartfelt yelps. Soon he started to struggle, and by the time Dan had reached the halfway point, Lukas was on the verge of tears. “Daddd… no more… please!” “You are going to prepare for your next test much, much better than you did for this one…” Dan said, and he lay down a hard lash across Lukas’ left sit-spot, making the tip of the belt dig cruelly into his inner thighs. The boy yelled out and his legs jerked and kicked. He nodded frantically, his voice almost broken as he replied, “I will! I promise I willlll!” “I sure hope so, young man…” CRACK!! “… because if not, I assure you, you and I are going to take a little trip out to the garage…” CRACK!! “Clear?” Lukas shrieked, partly with the hard licks, and partly at the threat of visiting the garage. There the boy had taken the most memorable whippings of his life, bending over a workbench, his bare behind sticking up for his father’s razor strop – in comparison to which the belt he was using now felt like a tiny itty bitty piece of paper. “Y-yesss sirrrr! Very clear!! Owww no more!” Maybe Dan took pity on his writhing, sobbing son, or perhaps he thought the lesson had sunk in, or maybe he wanted to end the spanking in a crescendo… but whatever the reason, he delivered the following four lashes hard and fast, letting the belt fly across the boy’s lowest areas, almost halfway down his thighs. Lukas just let go and hid his face into the comforter, shaking his head about and pounding the bed with his fists. He was crying this time, and without holding back. It had been so long, almost four months, since he was last given the belt, that he had honestly and truly forgotten how much it hurt. But it was over. Dan stood over the bed, impassible as always, as he put the belt back on. Lukas dared not stand or touch his bottom until told to; unlike his mother, his dad did have a series of rituals that he expected him to follow, or suffer the consequences ‘for his impudence.’ “You may stand,” said Dan a few moments later, and his voice had lost all of its hardness at last. Lukas leapt to his feet and reached back with his hands, grabbing his bum cheeks and jumping up and down on the spot, oww-ing aplenty. It took him a while to get his reactions under control, and when he had, he turned around to face his father. “I’m sorry, Dad… believe me, I am…” Dan smiled and stepped forward. He wrapped his son in a brief but meaningful hug, that Lukas cherished. The boy winced and grimaced as he pulled his underwear up again. “Your mother also thinks there is something you are not quite telling us,” Dan added, and he sat down on the bed to indicate that he was available to talk. Lukas sighed. He was not really too eager on telling. He knew it wouldn’t exactly get him in further trouble, and yet it was sort of private. As cool and understanding as his parents could sometimes be, he didn’t quite feel like saying it… and then again, he did. Most of the resistance and the reluctance had been belted and hairbrushed out of him by now. “It’s just…” he hesitated. “Go ahead. I promise you will not be punished further, unless it’s something else you need to confess…” Dan raised an eyebrow and gave his son a ‘and-it-better-not-be’ kind of look. Lukas shook his head. “No, it’s nothing you don’t know already… or imagine, I guess…” He blushed deep red as he said that. “It just… It’s true that Jordan and I didn’t really study much for the test, but… it was… we were… oh you know!” he snapped, exasperated. Dan sighed but nodded. “Yes, I know. And it’s okay. I just wish you would be more careful with that, son.” “Dad, it’s not like we’re having sex or something…” “I know. What I mean is that there are times to have fun, and times to do your duty.” Dan looked at Lukas rather firmly, but also sympathetically. “You still want to get in at the MIT, right?” The boy nodded. To be accepted at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology was the aspiration of his lifetime. “Good,” Dan
said with another smile. “Then keep working hard, because you’ve only got
three years left to prove your worth. Lukas nodded. “Yeah… I do. It’s just… hard. Very hard.” Dan stood. He walked to his son and ruffled his hair. “I may be old, but believe me, I remember. You should have seen your mother at your age, son. She was the kindest, smartest, beautiful creature in the world. I failed many a test over your mother. But, Lukas, from a man to a man… and your mom would kill me if she heard this… sometimes you just gotta keep it in your pants. Period.” The boy blushed and looked away, but nodded too, and gave a small smile. Leave it to his strict, but wonderfully accepting and non-judgmental parents to always know the right thing to say when talking about he and Jordan. “Thanks, Dad. I’ll keep it in… keep it in mind, that is!” he quickly corrected himself, but by then, Dan was already laughing. “You brat. Come, there’s a dinner to prepare.” Lukas nodded
in-between his own embarrassed laughter. He fished in his closet for a pair
of very loose gym pants, then walked rather stiffly down the stairs to join
his family. He didn’t look forward to sitting on those hard wooden chairs,
but he did look forward to calling
– The End – |
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This story does not necessarily represent the author’s point of view about anything. It is simply a work of fiction. The characters herein portrayed are invented and do not resemble reality to the best of the author’s knowledge. This account is entirely fictitious. Any similarities to other persons, living or deceased, is purely coincidental. This story is written for the sane amusement of adult readers. It does not intend harm and does not promote violence of any kind, including spanking. No offence is meant to any group, ethnicity or individuals. The author does in no way endorse the non-consensual disciplinary spanking of actual children and/or teenagers. Copyright © 2006Haley Brimley. Contact for information and/or feedback. |