Joe Fischer has another run-in with his dad and gets his mouth washed out with soap and a hard ass spanking that makes him cum.
Brothers - Part 5
by Graham
Series: Brothers by Graham
After Joe spent 2 of the 17 weeks his big brother, Josh, and their father, were home, living and working, grounded, a pattern of living developed during that time. To begin with, Joe began becoming more accommodating, and more compliant to the rules and conditions their father had set down.
It still irked him that since his father was back home, he was required to live on such a short leash – like having a bedtime, and having to be in bed at 10:30, Sunday through Thursday nights. It really burned him to have to be home by midnight on Friday and Saturday nights, when his friends were still out.
Most of the time, though, Joe did his best to try to conform to the rules. When he didn't, he found himself upside down, over his Dad's knees, getting another, bare-bottomed whipping with the hairbrush. Being on a short leash anyway, it didn't take much – one wrong look, not even words, just rolling his eyes, or making face, or showing a disrespectful look was enough! – and he found himself getting spanked again. Their parents – and especially their Dad – were really big on respect!
Josh, on the other hand, invariably met the conditions of their father, and rarely voiced any opposition. The truth was that, over the weeks that he and their Dad were back at home, living and working, the extra disciplinary attention administered by their father to his brother, because of Joe's deviations from the rules, gave Josh a bit of a reprieve from the parental discipline their father ordinarily focused on him. While he was always upset every time Joe was punished by their Dad, Josh did experience a breath of slackening from close supervision and quick punishment by their Dad.
He even overheard their Dad telling their Mom after one of Joe's spankings, how Josh was such a comparatively easy kid compared to Joe's impulsiveness hard-headedness. While it upset Josh to hear their Dad's denigrating comparison of Joe to himself, Josh knew better than to speak up again, at the risk of getting another stern spanking himself. Their Mom quickly reminded Ron Fischer that Joe was a good kid, basically trustworthy, kept out of trouble, and had stepped in to be a help to her while their father and Josh were gone so much. Yes, he was impulsive – and hard-headed – but he was young, and he also appeared to take a lot after his father.
On the other hand, from receiving almost weekly, corrective spankings, Joe was becoming acquainted with the regimen that his big brother lived under when away from home working with their Dad. This tightly controlled, disciplinary environment unnerved the younger son, producing a looming apprehension and anxiety over when, and for what, the next session across his Dad's knees might take place; and it was a rare week that it did not happen. At the same time, their father's system also produced observably changed behaviour and speech from Joe.
One thing that occurred early on was when Joe, who had been used to just getting in his Bronco after dinner, and going out for a while, was stopped by their Dad the first time he acted in that fashion. "Whoaaa, there, Joe! Where do you think you're going?" Ron Fischer asked.
Joe turned around, an astonished look on his face, staring at their Dad.
"I asked you a question, Joseph," Mr. Fischer prompted his seemingly dazed son.
"Ah, just out . . ."
"Oh, no. Responsible people don't just go out. They tell each other where they're going. Try again, young man."
Joe felt the heat of anger rising in his neck and face. "Just out, Daaad. Sometimes I go over to friends' houses, sometimes we go out to hit baseballs or play putt-putt golf. It just depends."
"Well, this is the rule, Joe, as your big brother fully knows. Mom or I have to know where you're going, with whom, to do what, and when you plan to be home – and it better be by your curfews – understand?"
"But Daaaad. Sometimes we don't know. We just get together and do something . . ."
"Well, you'll just have to plan better, son. Where? With whom? Doing what? and For how long? Those are the questions, the criteria, your plans have to meet. Your brother understands, and he already explained before he left this evening he was taking a girl out to a movie and then a snack afterward."
"Oh, damn it, Dad! . . . ah, . . . ah, I mean, gee whiz, Dad, I can't always do that."
"Then you can stay at home until you can,. And for that disrespectful cursing, you're gonna get your mouth scrubbed, your butt blistered, and sent to bed tonight." Mr. Fischer remonstrated his unruly son, precipitating an enraged flare-up from Joe."
"Damn it, Dad! I'm sick of this crap! You have to know everything, approve everything! Nobody else my age has to do this! I didn't have to live this way before you came back home! I wish you'd stayed away!" Joe bellowed at his Dad, glaring with narrowed, angry, burning eyes.
"That's it, young man. Upstairs to your bedroom! Get yourself ready, and we're going to start out in the bathroom. It's clear to me I was gone far too long, and one young man has gotten way too big for his britches, which need some obvious taming."
Realizing what was unfolding, Joe was instantly horrified and terrified.
"Ooooo, Daaaad, why can't you understand? We're young – Josh and me – and we just want to have some fun with friends. We don't get in trouble. We're good kids. Why do you keep treating us like this?"
"I'm your Dad, Joseph, and I can – and will – treat you in the way I see to be needed, and right. Now, get yourself upstairs pronto, before we add some more spankings and grounding for your mouthy outbursts."
"Oooooo, damn, Daaaad! Why do we always have to get spanked? There must be something else. Can't you think of something else? Plus we're adults, too, and you can't keep spanking us and treating us like we're little kids."
"That's enough, Joseph! By now, you should know all-too-well what I can, and will, do – only now you're getting another one tomorrow night, too, that you've brought on yourself, besides being grounded til the weekend."
"Nooooo, Daaaad! That's so unfaaaair! You're soooo unfaaaaaair!" Joe's face was deep red, as he shouted his uninhibited objection. He was seething with anger and resentment, even though at the same time his eyes were welling up with tears and his chin began quivering. Turning around quickly, he stomped up the stairs to his bedroom.
Sitting on Josh's bunk, Joe hung his head in his hands, suddenly letting loose with shaking, silent, spasms of sobs. He sat that way for several minutes until he could regain some composure, then stood up, and began the methodical ritual of undressing before getting spanked by his Dad.
He had his shoes and socks off, and his polo shirt, when Ron Fischer walked into the bedroom. "What? Still not undressed? Your brother can't insert himself to take the blame for you this time. You look like you're trying to push the limits, young man – to defy and see how much you can test." As he spoke at his son, he grabbed the thin young man's t-shirt, pulling it roughly and quickly up over his head and arms. Now the youth was bare except for his jeans.
Grabbing the waist of Joe's jeans, his father pulled him up close, unbuttoned and unzipped them, grabbing the sides and pulling them down over Joes' hips and buttocks, down his lanky legs, to fall at his bare feet. Without hesitating, Mr. Fischer next grabbed the waistband of the orange and green boxers, yanking them down to join Joe's jeans at his feet. Instantly, Joe's penis jumped to attention, extending stiff and straight out. He tried to think of things that would make it go down.
"Step out of those, Joseph," Mr. Fischer commanded, and his son did as he was told. Grasping the young man's left arm, he bent the boy downward, while turning his left side towards him. His hard hand popped the youngster's bare bottom, and Joe jumped forward like he had felt an electrical shock.
Again he peppered the boy's behind, while maneuvering him out of the bedroom, across the hall, into the bathroom, and before the sink. As he was escorted in his father's custody, Joe's dick seemed to gather mutinous force and determination, as it surged upward, thick and stiff, bobbing and hungering. All at once, Joe found a bar of soap pushed against his clenched mouth, while his father smacked his bare behind some more.
"Owwwaughaaaghaaaaa!" The bar of soap was inserted deep into the young man's shouting, then gagging, mouth. He felt it being slid all around, coating his teeth, tongue, throat, and the roof of his mouth. He began gagging and wretching as the disgusting soap suds leaked down his throat. "Haaaugh-guh-augh-ghaaaa-aughaaa!" Joe was choking, and weeping in heaving sobs.
He was jumping and bouncing up and down and around as his stinging fanny was swatted repeatedly, and he gagged and sqalled through muffled cries. This installment of his punishment definitely sent his throbbing penis into flaccid withdrawal.
Finally, this part of his punishment was finished. Once again secured by his father's grip on his arm, he was allowed to spit out the considerably smaller bar of soap. Rapidly and frantically he began trying to rinse out his mouth and throat, and the nasty, rancid taste of the soap. Before he could complete the rinsing, however, with red, draining eyes and wet face, he was marched out of the bathroom, down the hall, and back into his bedroom.
"You remember this the next time you're about let loose with a mouthy, foul outburst, young man," Ron Fischer scolded, as he pulled out the same desk chair, and tugged his young son down across his lap. Falling virtually helplessly face downward, stretched across his father's knees, Joe was already vanquished by the soaping of his mouth, and the pronouncement of the rest of his punishment – another spanking tomorrow, and grounded for the rest of the week. Yet, his rod had revived to stiff, pulsating engorgement.
When the hair brush began pommeling Joe's bare buttocks and thighs, he squealed his protest at the familiar pain and shame of getting another of these spankings. Besides that, he was once again aware firsthand of a worse punishment – mouth soaped, and then spanked, and trying to scream and cry through a mouth that was disgusting and rancid tasting. Involuntarily, he reached back with his right arm and hand, try to cover and protect the rearend that was aflame on his father's knees.
Ron Fischer released the waist of his son encircled with his left arm, seizing and securing the young man's right arm and hand helplessly up into his bare back. Joe was restrained and controlled, effectively confined, across his father's lap, as the hair brush incinerated his fanny. The wall of flooding tears and sobs collapsed instantly, and he was bawling in gagging, incoherent pleas, bargaining, promises, shouts and cries that it was enough, that he'd learned his lesson, and frantic screams for stoppage as his inflamed penis grew ever closer to release.
His father, on the other hand, stoically and relentlessly administered a searing, scorching spanking all over his younger son's bottom and upper legs, including the extra-sensitive inner thighs, inner buttocks, and sit-spots. Joe's shrieks and wailing sounded like a young, boy soprano, until hoarse from his cries and calls, he surrendered and collapsed hanging resigned and submissive to the spanking. No longer was he even thinking about the possibility of any of the rest of the family in the house hearing him: all of his attention was now riveted and focused on his burning bottom cheeks and thighs, and the fiery brush that rose and fell in a constant, unrelenting application of burning punishment.
In the throes of passive, sliding acquiescence to the blistering whipping he was getting, Joe lost all control and erupted, ejaculating all over his Dad's lap and the bedroom floor. Then the stinging smacks of the brush seemed to intensify like burning firebrands against his rump, and his sobbing became more forlorn and inconsolable.
When he was finally released from his father's hold and lifted off the lap over which he had been dangling, Joe was wet and sticky from the semen he had blasted during his spanking. Mr. Fischer picked up Joe's orange and green boxers, and wiped off his son's penis, abdomen, scrotum, and legs, as well as his own pant leg. "Joseph, what is going on with you, son? Clean up the rest of this mess, and then get yourself washed off in a quick shower. After that, you're in bed until morning. Tomorrow night will be a repeat."
"Huh-uh-uh-Daaaaa-uh-aad-uh-uh-puh-leeeez-uh-uh-nooooo-uh-moooor-uh-uhm-uh-sarrrrreeeeeee-uh-uh-doooo-uh-uhn't-uh-spaaank-uh-uh-meeeee-uh-uh-gaaaaain!"
"Get moving, Joseph, or do you want to repeat this every night this week?"
"Aaaaa-huh-nooooo-uh-Daaaad-uh-nuh-uh-ooooo-uh-uh-mooooore!"
Hooooo-uh-aaaughaaa-uh-ow-ow-ow!" another series of spanks to his bottom sent Joe jumping into action, racing naked to the bathroom, turning on the shower, hopping in and washing down, hopping out, and drying with a towel as he fled back to his room. In 7 minutes, he was lying face down on the top bunk, his damp hear moistening his pillow, weeping muffled, soft sobs. The room was dark, and he did not know when the cover of sleep fell over him.
When Josh came home, it was 10:10 p.m., and he found his brother sound asleep on the top bunk. He undressed quietly, showered quickly, and slid himself into bed in just his boxers, to fall swiftly asleep himself.
The next evening, after supper, Josh told his parents he was going to visit some friends at a different girl's house, and left. Almost immediately after that, Ron Fischer ordered his young son to go up to his bedroom and wait for him. When he came upstairs and into the room a few minutes later, Joe was standing nude, staring at the floor with a sad, depressed mood reflected on his face.
The spanking that followed, though painful and humbling to Joe, and heard throughout the house, was almost anti-climactic after the previous night's. Joe once again found himself upended and suspended over his father's lap, who began the battery of smacks against Joe's emaciated rearend. Whipped by the vicious hairbrush, he kicked and bucked at once, instantly screaming and crying, almost immediately breaking down into gulping sobs and whining shrieks of pain and humiliation. At this moment, he had no more illusions of grown-up, mature bravado, or resolute stoicism left to muster or hold onto. He had re-learned – now once again – that he wasn't too old to be spanked, and that it hurt more than he could take.
Mr. Fischer hastened through the discipline, but with no less force and intensity. Though erect and aroused during the session, Joe was not punished long enough for his sexual stimulation to reach its apogee. Afterward, the spanking was immediately followed by Joe being sent to bed, hopping up into his bunk, and being left to cry himself to sleep – after he had wanked himself some calming relief.
Graham