Date: Tue, 24 Jan 2017 19:22:15 +0000 (UTC)
From: - - <mike.99999@yahoo.com>
Subject: Spanking Lessons

Shawn was in trouble, and not just regular trouble. He stood in a courtroom
in front of a judge.

This was the worst trouble he had gotten himself in after years of being
grounded, detention, suspension, probation, fines, community service, and
bouncing around from one distant family member to another and a string of
foster homes.

Shawn's dad stood with him after being out of his life for years and never
being a father for more than a few hours at a time. His dad was only a
little older than Shawn when he found out he had become a father, and they
didn't meet until Shawn was already walking and talking. You might think he
was a big brother.

The judge finished the proceedings with "so I've decided to remand you to
your father's care. We will now adjourn for a recess, and I will see the
defendant and his father in my chambers." Then he hammered his gavel, the
whole room was instructed to rise, he left, and a sigh of relief and doubt
filled the room.

Unsure what to say, Shawn's father told him that he got lucky and that he
knew how this usually went. He had his own history of getting in trouble.
He patted his son's shoulder, not quite a loving hug but not quite a
bullshit handshake.

Shawn felt lucky that his father was back in his life now, as it seemed to
make the difference in this case, but unsure what it was going to mean. He
had never lived with his father before and had basically been left to his
own devices for years. He had one roof or another over his head, but that
was about it.

Now Shawn and his father, each dressed up for court in a new cheap suit and
tie, paraded through the echoing hall and knocked on the door to the
judge's chambers. He welcomed them in, and they sat in front of him at his
desk.

"You dodged a bullet here, Shawn," the judge said in as booming a baritone
voice as he had in the courtroom. "I've seen cases like this before and I
know that there's really only two ways for you to end up as what they call
a productive member of society: either you just magically decide that
you're going to turn your life around or your father puts you in your
place."

The judge asked a few more questions about Shawn's past, about his father's
past, and about the future they see. They tried to answer politely and be
on their best behavior. The judge explained to Shawn that his father was
going to lay out the rules of what is going to happen and what's not going
to happen and that for once there would be consequences. He talked about
this being a fresh start for both of them. Then he turned to Shawn's
father.

"Good, old-fashioned discipline, do you understand me?" The judge looked
Shawn's dad in the eye to see if they understood each other. When a judge
decides to keep things out of the courts like this, he'll make sure it's
being handled in the home.

The judge laid it out in plain language. His ruling was to leave this in
Shawn's father's hands, relying on good, old-fashioned discipline.

"Shawn is well over the usual age for a spanking, but that's often the
case, and I've seen it turn things around time and time again. Have you
ever been spanked, boy?" the judge asked. Shawn shook his head slowly and
said no.

Shawn's father had seen this opinion before, even on a ton of old TV
shows. Lots of people see this as the solution to everything bad, and it
seemed that the judge agreed that it was what was needed.

The judge turned to Shawn's dad again and said, "Let me be real clear
here. I'm not making a suggestion or a recommendation. From here on in
you're going to be a father, you're going to give this boy some stability
and guidance, and if needed then you're going to give him some good,
old-fashioned discipline, just like my father gave me and your father gave
you. Am I right?"

Shawn's father had a look of disbelief and confusion. He was always nervous
around cops and judges and anything like that. He already felt like he was
just kind of pretending to be a dad, pretending like he was talking to the
judge like two grown men. The judge was older and intimidating. Shawn's
father just didn't know what to say or do.

The judge said, "I'm guessing you never received any discipline either. Is
that right?" Shawn's father shook his head and slowly said no ...never.

"Well then," the judge said, "I suppose a lesson and a demonstration is
needed."

They all just sat there for a second, taking it in. Shawn gulped. But then
the judge instructed Shawn's dad to get up. He slowly did, uncertain and
unbelieving.

The judge stood up and took off his robe. He hung it on a tall, brass
coat-rack on the other side of the desk, and started rolling up his sleeves
to reveal some muscular, hairy forearms above his large hands. He told
Shawn's father to take off his jacket, which he did, holding it like a
nervous schoolboy. The judge held out his hand, Shawn's dad handed him the
jacket, and it was hung on a hook next to the long, black robe.

"Shawn, go lock the door, please," instructed the judge. Shawn obediently
did as he was asked. He wasn't used to being asked or being held
accountable for ...anything really. He sat back down, now eager to see what
would happen next, and looked up at his father still standing there.

The judge sat down on his high-backed, brown leather swivel chair, pushed
away from his desk. He reached down and adjusted the seat to be higher. He
was a tall man, so his feet still touched the floor flat. He motioned with
a pointing finger for Shawn's father to come around and stand next to him.

"For real?" he replied, kind of bashful.

The judge explained, "Yes. Now, please. I'm going to show you how it's
done, and Shawn's going to see what'll happen to him if he steps out of
line."

Shawn's dad slowly stepped around the desk to stand and wait next to the
judge.

"Your son doesn't really care about losing privileges or losing things,
being grounded or not being able to watch TV for a week. We all push on our
boundaries, for our whole lives, and sometimes we just need to know that
another person cares. Now drop your pants."

Shawn looked up at his dad who was making a face, almost rolling his eyes,
waiting, but then begrudgingly undoing his belt, unbuttoning and unzipping
his slacks, and letting them fall to his ankles. Shawn looked down at them
and made his way up to the calf-high black dress socks and hairy legs, up
to his dad's light blue boxer shorts and the bottom of the dress shirt
covering the front of them.

Then he saw the judge's thumb and fingers take hold of the boxers and
barely tug a half an inch. "These too," the judge said.

Shawn's dad accepted the strangeness of the situation fully at this point,
realizing it must really be happening. The word 'spanking' broke the ice in
the room, and now here he was doing as the judge ordered. He found himself
surprised at how little he hesitated going this next step now that he was
really in the middle of it.

He took a hold of his boxers and slid them down his legs to lie around his
ankles, and he stood up. This motion let his penis catch the bottom of his
shirt for a second before being covered again.

Shawn had never changed clothes next to his dad or gone skinnydipping
during a fishing trip. He had never taken a fishing trip at all. His dad
had never taught him how to shave or ride a bike or anything. His dad never
gave him the talk.

Something about seeing, just for a second, what he never thought to think
about made him feel like his dad was a lot like him. Obviously they both
have dicks, but he never thought about it before. Then that thought made
Shawn think about the judge and how he said that he had been spanked like
this over his father's lap when he was younger.

Shawn's dad was just standing there, feeling exposed under the shirt and
wondering how far it covered him. As he looked down to see what was
visible, he saw the judge pat his knee and reach out to take hold of an
elbow and start guiding him down over his lap.

His feet were up off the ground, ankles wrapped in fabric. His body was
splayed across the judge's long, wide-spread legs. His arms hung next to
the judge's leg. The judge's hand slid the back tail of the shirt up off
the legs, up off the butt, and up to the middle of the back.

The judge looked down at the man's ass. Shawn looked at his father, flat
and bared. Shawn's father looked down at the floor and listened to what the
judge had to say. He felt a feeling of intimacy with the man below him, and
he also felt like a science project on display.

"This is where people get it wrong. This isn't about pain or
humiliation. No belt or stick or ruler, always just the hand. Not standing
or bent over something, always over the lap. Not on the back, always only
on the rear end. And never in anger." He was instructing Shawn's dad but
kind of speaking like a lecturer to a crowd, like giving a sermon.

The judge's hand rested on the bare leg in front of him, just under the
bare butt. The feeling was strange to Shawn's father, and it reminded him
of the brief period before he got kicked off the wrestling team.

One finger stroked slowly along the side of a butt cheek. The judge
continued, "the skin here is not as sensitive as the skin here," and moved
his fingers to where legs met the curve of ass, near the cleave. Somehow
this felt suddenly very, very intimate and personal.

"Am I right?" the judge asked. He waited for a response. "Uh... yes!
..sir," the man answered.

"It's very nice to addressed so politely. Shawn, when you go home after
this, you and your father are going to talk about the rules, whatever
chores you'll be doing, when you're expected to be home, and if decides
that you're going to address him as sir then that's what you're going to
do. Am I right?"

Shawn nodded his head and slowly said "yes ...yes, sir, your honor."The
judge replied, "Relax son, the trial is over and you're heading to a real
home for once, with a real father, and some
realgoodoldfashioneddiscipline."

Then the judge went back to his explanation. He said that people mistakenly
swat one side and then the other. As he spoke, he laid his hand flat on the
side of the left cheek, the side of the right cheek, back and forth without
really putting any energy into it. This was the wrong way.

Then he laid his palm flat against the bottom of the bottom. Shawn's dad
felt it on the sensitive skin that had been pointed out. The judge patted
there, saying "this is the target, right here. You feel that? You want to
smack the crack."

Then he shifted one leg up and the other down, and Shawn's father was
sloped facing downward a bit more, his chest pushing down into the judge's
knee and his ass up higher and kind of spread. The judge's hand was still
on the man's butt, cheeks opened and flexing with a bit of the the skin
between his legs on view to the judge but not to Shawn.

The judge explained that if you do that then you're really getting it right
where it means business and told Shawn that he'd feel it for sure and learn
what not to do. Shawn's dad wondered for a second if that was it, just a
lesson in technique for the uninitiated, a little embarrassing but not
really a grown man getting spanked like a little boy and in front of his
son.

But then the judge shifted his position like he was ready to really do
it. Shawn's father had never been spanked but he could tell he was really
about to be.

The judge held one hand on the man's back, feeling his frame through the
thin dress shirt and steadying him. He spoke, "now you've got to explain
what's happening. You're getting a spanking because you haven't been there
for your son for years and you have to handle your responsibilities. Do you
understand that?"

Shawn's dad said, "Yes sir" and then he felt the judge's hand raise up off
his butt and slap back down again. The noise cracked the air and stung
against his skin. He tensed under it, and his feet flailed up. His face
winced as the judge held him steady over his lap.

"If you had gotten this years ago, you wouldn't be in this situation now
....both of you," the judge said. Again he lifted his hand up and slapped
it down. It was flat against the underside. His fingers were perpendicular
to the asscrack, and his spank sent a wave through the sensitive skin and
up his spine and between his legs. Two more strong ones came down with a
SLAP! SLAP!

The judge's hand rested flat against the bouncy skin of the butt on display
below him. The contact eased the sting. The judge noticed that his hand had
warmed a little already, but it felt cool to Shawn's dad, almost like an
ice pack. He found himself enjoying the feeling of a man's hand on his
ass. It reminded him of how he'd get a friendly pat on the butt from his
coach, before he quit the baseball team.

He felt an urge to reach back and press against the skin as it heated up,
but it seemed like it'd be difficult to reach back. The judge's gentle hand
eased the discomfort for a second. Shawn watched in amazement. Then he
slowly tried to picture himself in that predicament and realized that if he
got in trouble tomorrow, this weekend, whenever some trouble found him,
he'd end up with his pants around his ankles, getting his hide tanned red.

His attention turned to his own butt, like how if you think about your feet
then they start to get itchy. He wondered what it'd feel like to get a
sting back there like that.

The judge said, "Are you going to get your act together?" SMACK"Yes! Yes
sir, I will, from now on, I swear ...sir"

The judge asked, "You think you can do this? You gonna keep that boy in
line if he breaks the rules? You gonna take him over your knee just like
this?"Shawn's father breathed in a second and said, "Yes sir."

"Well, you better," he said, and laid one last SLAP down, maybe the
hardest, Shawn's dad couldn't tell after the first couple. The judge rubbed
his hand gently against the flesh, wiggling it and pressing his palm down
to ease the sting.

As he propped the man up to stand again, the shirt fell down again and
covered his sore ass but draped on top of his dick, which was stiffened a
little and poking a bit out and up. The judge looked down at it, and then
so did Shawn's father.

The judge quickly said, "Now, if that happens, and it does sometimes, don't
ignore it and don't make it a big deal, just say that happens and it's
okay. Alright? Now, go face the corner."

Shawn's dad looked down at the judge and over to Shawn, as he held his
shirt out to hang down and cover it. Then he stepped, kind of waddled a
foot over to stand in the corner, and he looked through some curtains down
at the parking lot below.

Shawn wondered if that might happen to him. He really didn't know how
common it was.

Only Shawn saw as the judge then adjusted his pants and turned to him and
said, "now that's how it's going to be, you understand? Your father just
got his for his mistakes, and you'll get just the same from now on for your
mistakes. Am I right?"

"Yes sir," Shawn replied. The judge handed him a business card. "And if he
doesn't keep his act together, give me a call and we'll make sure you two
stay on the straight and narrow."



The judge looked over at Shawn's father, one hand rubbing a butt cheek,
half exposed from under the shirt tail. The judge told him he could pull
his pants up now. He did. The judge stood up and handed him his jacket.

As they shook hands and left to go start their new life as father and son,
the judge guessed how long it'd take for Shawn to test the rules and see
what he could get away with, see if his father really cared enough to even
notice or bother.

The judge pictured Shawn over his father's lap.


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