Date: Sun, 12 Dec 2010 18:29:45 -0000
From: Kris <kris62uk@live.co.uk>
Subject: Davey

A DAY WITH DAVEY

A story by Kris

comments to kris62uk@live.co.uk

DAVEY AT THE SHOPS

I had gone into a toy shop to look for a present for my nephew who at eight
was in the collecting phase of life.  I was at the counter displaying toy
cars when I first noticed the strange couple.  She was in her early
fifties, grey-haired, neat, and conservative in dress and demeanour.  The
lad with her was anything but.  He looked sixteen, although I subsequently
discovered he was eighteen, a face untroubled by shaving, and as far as I
could see a nice tight bum.  He wore a t-shirt resplendent with a large
Mickey Mouse, baggy grey trackies, and a top of a light pink.  On his feet
were the inevitable trainers, but also pink socks.  A very queer getup.

As I said, I was looking at the toy cars, and so were they.  It was what
was said which excited my interest.  The lady ordered the lad to hurry up
and select a car as she had other shopping to do.

"I am sorry, but I need to do a wee."

"How tiresome" she responded.  "Can't you wait til we get home?"

"No, Miss" the boy grimaced.

She turned and saw me looking.  "Boys can be so troublesome.  I couldn't
prevail upon your kindness to accompany him to the toilet.  He is not
allowed to go on his own."

I was both shocked and delighted by the request and in a brief while had
steered him to the shop's toilets.  We went in.  He looked at the urinals
and then with an apology said he had to use the cubicle.

I waited.  I presumed he wanted a shit but all I heard was the tinkle of
piss on porcelain and a few moments later he re-emerged, blushing.

"Why didn't you use the urinal?"

"I couldn't without taking my pants down."

I reached forward and pulled his trakkies open.  He was wearing
training-pants, just like a kid would.  "So I see" I smirked.  "these look
like training pants to me."

"They are" and now he really did blush!  I gave his bum a playful slap and
led him back into the shop.

"What took you so long?" she demanded of the lad.

"I couldn't use the urinal because of what I am wearing" he said.

"Of course.  I should have thought."  She turned to me.  "Thank you so much
for your help."

"Not at all.  Always happy to oblige a lady."

"How gallant.  Let me repay you by buying you a coffee."  I responded
enthusiastically to the invitation.

In short order, she made the lad select a toy, a red racing car, and he was
sent to the till with a tenner to pay for it.  He returned and gave her the
change.

We sat in the store coffee shop sipping our coffees whilst Davey, as I
discovered was his name, sucked out his milk-shake from a straw.

"Tell the nice man how many cars you now have Davey."

"This will be my seventh."

"And do you still play with your cars?" I asked.  He blushed and nodded his
head.  "Often?" Again he nodded.

The lady intervened.  "If he has been a good boy and not wet himself he is
allowed playtime."

"So he has a wee-problem?"

"Yes.  That is why his parents sent him to me to lodge when he got a place
at the uni.  I am expert with boys like him who have such problems."

"Is he getting better?"

"No, worse.  He has started wetting during the day which is why I have to
take precautions."

"Hence the training pants?" I observed.

"How do you know that?" she asked sharply.

"I asked him and when he wouldn't tell me, I had a quick look."

She turned to the lad and remonstrated with him.  "You should always answer
when a grown-up asks you a question.  You know that!  I shall have to spank
your bottom again when we get home."

"I see you believe in corporal punishment."

"Of course.  Don't you?"

"Yes.  It is the only way into a boy's brain."

"Not the only way, but certainly a useful tool."

Drinks consumed, we parted but not before she gave me her card and invited
me round to her place for tea at 4.30.

 *******

DAVEY AT HOME

The sight which greeted me when I entered her sitting room was arresting to
say the least.  The boy was divested of his outer garments and was seated
on a rug in the corner dressed just in his training pants and t-shirt,
surrounded by his toy cars and a toy garage.  He looked up, his eyes filled
with shame and humiliation.  I smiled back.  He bent once more to his play.

Miss Muir, for that was her name, brought in a tea-tray on which resided
tea pot, scones, bone china cups and saucers, milk jug etc.  Clearly this
lady preferred the old fashioned ways.  We sat either side of the fire,
making polite conversation; it was though the lad was not present.  It was
nearly a quarter of an hour before she turned to her charge.

"Come here, boy."

He rose from his play-rug and came over, eyes lowered, face revealing
uneasiness.  Was that due to my presence?  I smiled at him, and he relaxed
just a little.

"Take the tray and do the washing-up.  And don't take too long as it is
nearly five o'clock and you know what happens then don't you?"

"But you have a visitor, Miss" he pleaded.

"So what?  Now hurry up child or else your little bottom will be even
sorer."

The lad left with the tray and I asked my host what was the significance of
the five.

"It is his punishment hour.  Everything is done to a routine; it is the
only way with naughty boys.  But don't feel you have to stay."

"I wouldn't miss his punishment for the world" I responded.

"I thought not."  And she smiled a thin-lipped smile.

At three minutes to five the lad re-appeared.

"Everything done?" she asked.

"Yes Miss, but I didn't have time to dry up so I left them on the draining
board."

"Very wise" she opined.  She made him stand in front of her between her
open legs.  Her hands gently caressed his buttocks through his
trainer-pants.

"Do you know why you are being spanked?"

"No Miss.  I thought I had been a good boy to-day."

"yes, you have tried hard to be good, but ..."  and she paused.  "But you
did not answer this kind gentleman's question when he asked you why you
needed to use the cubicle to wee.  Did you?"  He nodded his head.  "Now you
know that when a grown-up asks you a question you should answer fully and
truthfully.  I know you are ashamed of having to wear your trainer-pants,
but until you stop wetting yourself there is no alternative, is there?"

"No Miss."

"Your parents made it clear that until you stop wetting you should be
treated as a little boy.  And that my lad is why you will be spanked.
Now."

Her hand grasped the elastic top of his pants and yanked them down.  I
stared fascinated at his little penis.  It could hardly be bigger than
three inches, an insufficient instrument between his silky smooth thighs.

"Prepare yourself."

He stood to her side and at a signal bent over her knees, his firm round
bottom exposed.  With measured strokes she spanked his buttocks a dozen
times, leaving ten or more seconds between each spank to allow the previous
one to sink in.  She was an expert; every spank counted and by the time she
had finished his bottom was glowing red.

"Up!" she commanded.

He rose, and in a tearful voice thanked her for punishing him and promising
to be better next time.  Another command and he shuffled across the room
his pants round his knees and stood facing the corner, his bare bum
exposed.

"Would you keep an eye on him and make sure he doesn't move whilst I
prepare his tea."

Of course I said yes.  The moment she left the room I strolled over to the
standing youth and gently stroked his smooth red bum.  He quivered but said
nothing.  "Hello little boy" I whispered in his ear "whose a silly boy?"  I
pressed closer, letting him feel my hardness as I moved my hand from his
bottom to his genitals.  Testicles, perfectly shaped but small, greeted my
enquiring fingers.  I reached up and touched his penis.  It was stiff;
small, four inches at the most, but ramrod stiff.  "I am enjoying my visit"
I hissed.  "Now you stay there like a good little boy until Miss returns"
and I returned to my place by the fire.

Five minutes later a call came from the kitchen for him to pull up his
pants and come in for his tea.  He scampered past me and through the door.
I waited a while but in the end curiosity led me to follow.

He was sat up at a high-top in a high chair (a sort of converted
bar-stool), round his neck was a plastic bib, and in front of him a plastic
bowl filled with a sort of mush of peas and shepherd's pie.  And he was
being spoon-fed by Miss Muir.  She looked up at my entrance.  "I have to
feed him" she explained.  "He is such a messy eater; if left to himself he
spreads it everywhere, hence the bib."  She forced another spoonful into
his mouth but he hadn't quite finished swallowing the previous mouthful and
some of the gunge trickled down his chin and into his bib.  "You silly boy"
she admonished him "pick that out of your bib an eat it."  Blushing, he
obeyed.

After his main meal she plonked down a red jelly and spoon in front of him.
"This is his favourite pudding" she explained.  She turned to him "You love
your jellies don't you Davey?"

"Yes Miss."

"Show the nice gentleman how you eat."

He took up the spoon in his left hand and began inexpertly to spoon the
jelly into his mouth as quickly as he could.  Inevitably some missed the
target and by the time he had finished his face with smeared with red.

"You see what I mean about him being a messy eater" she said as she wiped
his face clean with a cloth.

"I do.  Very messy."  I paused a moment to enjoy the look of shame on
Davey's face.  "You can't even use a spoon properly, can you."

"I'd do better if I was allowed to use my right hand" he mumbled.

Miss Muir got quite cross at this point.  "You know as well as I do that
all this would stop the moment you stopped wetting your bed.  It is your
own fault for being a pissy boy!  Now go to your bedroom so I can nappy you
for the night."

With a tear running down his cheek, he climbed off his stool and left.

"He is not normally as troublesome as this.  I think he has been distracted
by your presence.  Mind you that is no excuse, so I shall make him
apologise to you when he is nappied, that is if you want to stay."

"I wouldn't miss it for the world."

"I thought not" she smirked.

Ten minutes later they returned to the living room.  He was just in nappies
his smooth hairless torso exposed.  Behind him came Miss Muir carrying his
pyjamas.  The lad came closer, head lowered, and mumbled an apology.

"I am sorry, I didn't quite catch that.  What did you say?"

The lad looked up, anger and shame on his face.

"I am sorry for being such a wimp and not treating you with the respect
proper to a guest of Miss Muir."

"I am sure you couldn't help it, like you can't help weeing yourself.  You
are lucky to have such an understanding landlady."

"I know."  All resistance had fled.  He was broken.


He sat in front of the tele on a rug, eyes glued to the screen, watching a
children's cartoon.  "It keeps him quiet and helps him accept how he is
kept" Miss Muir explained.  "He has even come to like it.  He objected at
first but a few sound bare-bottom spankings soon brought him round."

"Does he like lollipops" I asked.

"Oh yes, he adores sucking on things."  And she gave her breasts a playful
feel.  "He loves sucking on these before bedtime, after his bottle of
course."  She paused.  "Do you have a lollipop for him?"

"Yes.  Between my legs."

"Oh, you naughty man!  Let us see if he would like it."

As I unzipped and pulled out my rampant rod, she called the lad over.  He
came on all fours, mesmerised by the sight of my priapus.

"Suck the nice man's lollipop, Davey."

And he did, inexpertly.  Not that that mattered; I was more than ready to
cum, and in less than two minutes I filled his mouth."