Joe is spanked by his father for making a costly mistake at his new job.

Brothers - Part 13
by Graham
Series: Brothers by Graham

Brothers Spanked by their FatherThe following week began with Joe riding with their Dad back to work at the hotel job. On Tuesday evening they drove up to the house and parked in the driveway behind Joe’s Bronco and Josh’s Blazer. Suddenly, the front passenger door opened and Joe rushed out and into the house. Slowly and methodically, Ron Fischer exited the truck, put some things away, and walked into the house.

His wife was home and preparing dinner. "Joe rushed through the kitchen and upstairs," she informed him. "What’s wrong?"

"The boy was not listening at work today, and spilled a large container of semigloss paint. When I pointed it out, he became defensive and tried to dismiss it. Everyone knew what had happened, and of course were watching to see if he was going to be held to the same standards and requirements as everybody else – including Josh. I told him we would address it tonight, and to go straight to his room when we got home."

"I see," Mrs. Fischer responded. "Don’t forget, though, he’s new at this, and undoubtedly feeling the pressure of trying to fill Josh’s shoes."

"I’ve been telling myself that everyday since he began," Ron Fischer replied. "But he’s got to learn if he’s going to have a future in this business like Josh does. And it doesn’t excuse acting up and misbehaving, and in public, when he’s called on the carpet. I’ll be down for supper in a while," he concluded, and began climbing the stairs to the boys’ bedroom.

Entering the room, he found Joe sitting on the side of Josh’s bed, still dressed, head in his hands. "Why aren’t you stripped and ready, Joseph?" he demanded.

Joe looked up with pitiful sorrow and pain in his eyes and on his face, before speaking. "Daddy, I feel terrible about this. I’m trying hard – real hard – but I’m not Josh. I don’t know if I can do this to meet your standards and satisfaction. I’m sorry about the mess, and about talking back to you. It was wrong, I know."

"Well, Joseph, you’re correct about that, and I’m glad to hear you recognize it. Of course, that doesn’t mean it goes unpunished. Still, I do see some progress from you, son."

"Really?!" Joe looked up and asked almost too eagerly.

"Really. But, now, you still can’t behave yourself like you did and expect to get away with it; so, stand up." Instantly, Joe was on his feet. His Dad replaced him sitting on the side of Josh’s bed, and then reached out and grabbed the belt and waist of his second son’s jeans, firmly tugging the young man forward towards him, between his open legs. He pulled off Joe’s t-shirt, and directed the young man to bend over and remove his shoes and socks.

After that, Joe’s jeans were unfastened and unzipped and pulled to fall at his skinny, bare feet on the floor. "Now the shorts, too," his father spoke while slipping hands under the waistband, and sliding them off the slim, trim young man’s hips and buttocks, to fall at his exposed feet. Just the removal of the jeans, followed by the boxers, sparked Joe’s penis to spring up and out, bobbing as it stiffened and extended outward and upward.

"Step out of your jeans and underwear, Joseph," his Dad commanded, and the young man complied immediately.

Now, completely naked, still standing between his father’s open legs, Joe heard the preliminary questions being put to him. "You behave like a spoiled, naughty little brat, Joseph. You know that, don’t you?"

Joe’s brain was reeling with a variety of emotions and thoughts clamouring for his mind. He knew he’d made a costly mistake, and then recognized at the time he fell into it that he was acting like an impudent child; and that conduct, he knew full well by now, always earned a severe spanking – which he dreaded and hated from deep within his being. Yet, at this same moment of truthful sorrow and regret, his treasonous rod had jumped to ready hungering. He was momentarily paralyzed with fear, dread, and embarrassment.

He felt himself quickly turned about 90 degrees to the right, and a volley of 8 or 9 hard swats of his father’s hand to his bare behind. "I asked you a question, Joseph."

"Ye-es, Daaad, but . . ."

"You know what you have done, son," his father cut him short. "What’s more, you knew at the time that you should not be doing it. You have to answer for that, and you know that too."

This second son, man-child with the boyish face looked away. "I’m sorry, Dad. I couldn’t help it. I know I was wrong, but I’m not like Josh. I can’t be -- I’m not that good."

"This has nothing to do with your big brother, young man. He’s not pure from fault or getting himself into trouble; but that doesn’t let you of the hook. Isn’t that right?"

Joe did not want to concur with his own sentence, and so did not answer.

More swats to his bare bottom reinforced his father’s demand: "Answer me, Joseph."

"Ye-esss, Daaaad," Joe’s voice whined in a sharp, jumping tone.

"What happens to boys who act up and defy what they’re told, after they’ve had an accident or made a mistake, instead of owning up to it?" Silence.

More smacks to the young man’s rump that already had pink hand prints on it. "Well, we’ll just wait, Joseph: what happens to such naughty, little boys?" His father was grinding his face in the facts, and the humiliating circumstances, and he detested it, while dreading the outcome. "You’re making me wait for your answer is only going to increase the punishment you’re getting." The edict was followed by more, hard, stinging hand spanks to Joe’s rearend.

"Okaaay, okaaay, Daaaad! Ah, . . . they, ah, . . . they get spanked?" he whined his reply.

"They sure do, Joseph. And that’s exactly what you’re going to get, son."

He began to squirm, instantly slipping back into a boyish tone and manner. "Oh, pleeeease, Daaaad! Nooooo! Pleeease, don’t spank me again! Daa-aaad! My bottom still hurrrrts from the laaast time!"

"It is about to hurt more."

"Noooo! Daaad, pleeeez, aaah, nooooooo! Daddy, nooooooo!"

"Hush. You have this coming. You’ve earned another spanking, and you know it," his father replied in a tone deadly serious, turning the nude young man partly around, and pulling him down roughly and hard onto his father’s left knee and thigh, while trapping the youngster’s feet and legs under his right leg.

Joe squirmed and wriggled around desperately, awaiting the fiery smacks of the hair brush he knew were coming. As he squirmed, he was grinding his penis down against his Dad’s leg and knee. He did not understand it: he hated being stripped and undressed by his father, then hauled upended over his legs, and his rump and upper legs branded with the spanks from the hair brush. Yet, once overturned and being spanked, he was like the proverbial moth drawn to the flame.

The excruciating, humiliating, fiery, torturous pain inflicted on his buttocks and thighs triggered uncontrollable shrieking and sobbing. At the same time, it seemed as if he weirdly enjoyed the feeling of his Dad’s powerful strength overriding him, holding him, disabled, in place, incapacitated on his father’s leg and knee, restraining the young man’s legs and feet from kicking and flailing, while blistering his bottom.

The bizarre pleasure swiftly and invariably manifested itself by his aroused, sensitive, craving penis, in mounting sexual hunger copulating his Dad’s hard knee and muscled thigh, to culminate in a volatile, explosive release. It was almost as if he secretly liked – even longed for – having his backside worked over while hanging over his "daddy’s" knees.

Always afterward, the heightened, post-ejaculation sensitivity exacerbated the pain; his shame and disgrace eclipsed his immediate-past, ephemeral pleasure; and his heaving, shaking, bawling tears became even more emotionally upset and unstrung. On top of that – and even after having ejaculated over his father’s knee while being spanked – Joe found himself driven to a calming, therapeutic wank at the first opportunity he had to retreat into a moment and place of privacy.

This had become a pattern, almost ingrained, expected with mixed anxiety, over the months of many spankings since his Dad and big brother had returned home to work and live. He called out and cried, in pain, and then in excited fervor and release, followed by incredibly greater pain.

When his father knew he’d made the impression he intended on this wayward son, he pulled him up, engulfed him in a powerful hug of acceptance and reassurance, then ordered the young man to clean up the mess he’d created, shower, and get ready for bed. He would come down and join the family for dinner, but afterward return immediately to his room and to bed for the night.

Sitting at supper was uncomfortable and humiliating, as his little brother and sister were by now well familiar with the sight of Joe following his receiving a spanking. When the dinner was over, he padded around the kitchen barefoot in his boxers, cleaning up the table, dishes, and leftovers, before trudging upstairs to his room. There, he closed the door and crawled once more into Josh’s bed for the night.

Sometime after midnight, he awakened briefly by the opposite sensations of his throbbing buttocks and thighs, and his bobbing, craving pole. Turning back onto his side, he attended to the hungering need. Lying there gasping in the dark, he realized he’d tainted his brother’s bed with his wank, and vowed to remember to do laundry for his and Josh’s beds before Josh returned home from the hospital, which they expected might be by the weekend.

Shortly after 6 a.m., he awoke, slid out of Josh’s bed on his stomach, then pulled up the sheet and blanket to hide that it had been slept it, and went to the bathroom to get ready for another workday with his Dad.


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