Date: Sun, 23 Dec 2012 22:55:50 -0800
From: marianasdeep4@hushmail.com
Subject: I Got My First

I got my first bare butt spanking and first butt fuck at camp, all at
the hands of my 19 year old counselor.  The spanking broke my pride.
I sucked his cock and took one of his loads down my throat.  And he
sucked MY cock.  My first orgasm went down HIS throat.  So before his
sperm went up my butt, I already had his sperm inside me, and he
already had taken my essence.  The butt fuck was only the completion
of my mostly unwilling deflowering, the coup de grace of the taking of
my manhood, or I guess boyhood, at the innocent age of 11.

Part I  My first bare butt spanking

I came from an upper middle class family with enlightened parents,
which meant there was no corporal punishment at home, and in return,
there really was no need for it.  Mom and Dad were guides to self
discipline in an atmosphere of mutual respect.  Sure Mom would give us
swats across our fully clothed behinds to get our attention, but none
of the humiliation and submission that goes with "pull your pants
down," and none of that, "wait until Dad gets home," where one
spends the day in dread, and unfairly, Dad becomes the ogre.  Nope,
Mom got our attention on the spot, and that's all it took.

But being enlightened parents, Mom and Dad did what enlightened
parents do:  went to Europe to take in some culture, which meant I got
to go to summer camp for two weeks.  I say "got to" because it
wasn't my first time to camp, and I liked it.  I always had fun with
new friends, sailing, swimming, archery, capture the flag, campfires,
camp skits, riding horses, and horsing around with the other kids in
the cabin, especially at night.  It was horsing around at night where
I got "caught," apparently trouble enough to warrant spankings of
me and three other cohorts.

What were we caught at?  Stripping.  In other words, taking turns nude
dancing in front of the rest of the cabin.  It was exciting to strip,
especially in front of so many boys.  At home, I used to play with
some of my friends individually.  We would show off to each other
stripping, which usually lead to fondling each other.  We stripped
because it was naughty, and we fondled because it felt good, though we
didn't know why.  With one or two, I even got to the point of
sucking cocklet, once or twice with a cousin, and quite a few times
with a friend of mine, even mutually in a 69.  Even at that
prepubescent age, their cocklets would leave a lingering pasty taste
in my mouth.  I would later learn that was from hormones.  We never
had orgasms though, not even dry ones.  Even so, it sure felt great!
Looking back, I see now that I could have had my first orgasm with a
friend...and should have.  The arousal got deeper and deeper, the
sensations better and better the more we continued.  We never knew it
was heading somewhere, but I was such a slut, I never stopped a
session!  The other boy always ended it for some reason, but I never
understood why he would ever want to stop.  But because we did stop,
instead of discovering that ultimate goal of sex with a peer, my
counselor got my cocklet's first squirt.

Touching anyone at camp was definitely out of the question.  But I had
never stripped in front of a whole cabin before, so though we didn't
dare touch each other, this new act was a new exhilaration, and
equally as exciting.  To actually drop your shorts in front of a whole
cabin of boys--crossing that threshold of inhibition--was such a
thrill, to be exposed in flashlight beams to the others' laughter
and excitement.  We were taking turns.  The embarrassment, especially
from growing a boner, would eventually override the enticement.  The
exposed would quickly dress, and the newly enticed would take over
stripping.  Each of us were repeating the act, but lasting shorter and
shorter because the embarrassing boners were coming faster and faster.

I had just finished my show and was pulling up my shorts--my shirt
still off, my whitey tighty underwear pulled up too high to tent over
recently hardened cock, Danny now dancing totally in the nude, still
soft enough to be able to shake it for the boys--when the counselor
walked in.  Tom and Joe were out of bed with their shirts off,
scrambling to put them on, evidence enough to make them complicit.  I
followed their lead and managed to get my shorts buttoned and my white
t-shirt on.

"Danny, Tom, Joe, and Ricky line up in that order outside my door.
The rest of you, lights out."

I had a sinking feeling.  I was always a good boy, never in trouble.
Then again, as much as I knew, so were Danny, Tom, and Joe.  But we
knew what the line up meant.  Spankings.  And this was going to be MY
first ever at camp, first ever at the hands of someone other than Mom
or Dad for that matter.  This summer was strangely different than the
others, having a disciplinarian for a counselor.  There were always
some troublemakers in your cabin, but this summer they fell in line
quickly, and we knew why.  We would see them go into the counselor's
room at the end of the cabin, returning with tears on their face,
rubbing their butts through their shorts, and having difficulty
sitting or getting back into bed.  Then the next morning we would see
their reddened butts in the shower.  The heat of the morning shower
would re-redden the butt, the spanking then clearly noticeable.  But
for the worst offenders, the redness showed through even before the
shower, sometimes even with stripes of red welts.  The victim usually
wasn't a behavior problem the rest of camp.  Camp was always
stressful whenever someone was getting into trouble.  Even though I
was reasonably confident I would never be in trouble, I would thank my
lucky stars it WASN'T me.  But now standing in line, I was scared,
wanted to run, but figured that was a sure way to get the welts.

Waiting outside the door, I heard the swats and Danny's muffled
cries.  Multiple swats, but in four sets.  I would be learning later
the allotment was 10 for each butt cheek, 5 on one followed by 5 on
the other, then back for a repeat.  The first 5 swats on a butt cheek
was preparation.  The pause while the other butt cheek was getting it
was set-time for it to warm.  The return for the second 5 swats was
for the reddening.  Danny came out and crawled into bed sniffling,
trying to be stoic in front of the other campers.  Tom was next, and
as I heard his muffled cries, the fear on my face met Joe's.  It was
then I began to wonder why I was last in line.  Danny first, sure, he
was actually nude when the counselor walked in.  But I only had my
underwear up, my cock very evidently hard, and was pulling on my
shorts, clear evidence I had been involved.  So why wasn't I second?
 Tom and Joe were just shirtless and out of bed, arguably innocent,
though everyone knew they weren't?  Tom came out and went to bed
amazingly quiet, then Joe entered, and I was there by the closed door,
standing alone.  Time stood still.  As I heard the swats and Joe's
muffled cries, I closed my eyes in disbelief, "no, this couldn't
be about to happen to ME!"  Then the door opened, Joe left, and
before I could see his face to register if he was ok or how he had
handled it, I was on the other side of that door.

But before the door closed, the counselor stuck his head into the
room, "Ricky is younger than the others, so he's getting some
counseling first.  The rest of you go to bed.  I don't want to hear
a sound."

Younger than the others?  Not true, smaller or thinner maybe.  Then
some hope crossed my heart.  Am I just going to get some counseling?
Or does "first" mean in the end I get spanked anyway.  The door
closed before I could think about it further.

"Ricky, do you know why you're here?" the counselor asked.

"Not really." I replied.

"That's what I thought.  Do you realize that what you were doing
is bad?" he asked.

"I guess I knew it was naughty." I said, my mind was questioning
though.  Bad?  Naughty is a better word for it.  Bad is harmful to
others.  Naughty is just having fun in a way that you're not
supposed to.

"Well that's enough of an admission that you should have known
better."  My heart sank.  Translation:  I was to be spanked, and it
hadn't been a given until then.  I said the wrong thing.  Typical
good boy, completely honest to the point of talking too much.

The counseling continued, "It's sex, Ricky.  Kids aren't suppose
to have sex, at least not with other kids."

To this day, my mind still goes "WTF?"  If "at least not with
other kids," then with whom?  Adults?  If we aren't suppose to
have sex with friends, why is it allowed with adults?  And when?

"Have you ever been spanked?" he asked.  I guess the counseling
was over.  Time for the punishment.

"Yeah," I replied timidly, thinking of the fully clothed,
correctional swats I would sometimes get from Mom at home.  But
looking back, that too was the wrong thing to say.  Unbeknownst to me,
this spanking was going to be a completely different experience, but
having admitted I got spanked at home, he was going to treat me like a
seasoned pro.

"Turn around."  The command introduced a formality to the
procedure I was definitely not used.  I was having to submit to
authority.  It jarred me, but I complied.  Then came a surprising and
unsettling question.

"Have you ever been BARE BUTT spanked?"

"No." I replied in my surprise, quickly and truthfully, hoping the
truth would save me, but with a rising unsettling fear.  For some
reason it didn't dawn on me until then that that was why the
others' butts were so red the next morning.  Bare butt?!

"At camp, spankings are bare butt spankings."

Bare butt spankings?  From caretakers?  Silence filled the air from my
dropped jaw, the silence of my dread.  Some of my friends at home got
bare butt spankings, so I'd heard about it.  I could only imagine it
hurt more.  I didn't know it was going to hurt A LOT more.

He broke my silence, "Stand over here by the bed."  I hesitantly
complied.  "Bend over so your palms are on the bed."  I again
complied, but with a questioning look on my face, "really?"

As if to answer my shocked-look question, he commanded, "Pull your
t-shirt up and your shorts down."

My brain was firing complaints in disbelief, "No, this can't be
happening."  Then, "Oh my God this IS happening."  Then anger,
"Not me, I'm a good boy, damn it."  I fumbled my t-shirt halfway
up my back.  Then with more fumbling I undid the button of my cutoff
jeans shorts, then the zipper fly, and eventually managed to pull the
shorts off my hips.  I let them go.  Much to my chagrin, the shorts
fell all the way to my ankles, and I was left in whitey tighties with
a matching white t-shirt halfway up my back.  The undies were still
pulled up too much, wedging into my crack.

"You need to tell your Mom to get you some new undies.  Your undies
are too small.  And they're threadbare.  I can see your ass right
through them."

Hoping that meant my butt was exposed enough, I put my palms back on
the bed and braced.

"Bare butt means BARE butt.  Pull your underwear down and BARE your
butt."

How humiliating.  I couldn't believe it.  I never had to do this
when getting punished at home?  What fucking authority did this guy
have to be doing this when even my own Mom and Dad don't?  I was
entering the universe of the lower class, where mutual respect went
out the window, and brute force came in to decide right and wrong.  I
was proud, had respect.  This was beneath me!!

"I ssaaiidd ... `BARE your butt.'"

I couldn't take it anymore, "No, you can't do this.  I've
never been nude in front of anyone before, not even my Mom and Dad."
 To this day, I'm taken aback that I was protesting the nudity, not
the spanking, not the authority.  I might have made better headway
challenging the authority.

"Oh bullshit, you were just nude in front of a cabin of 15 boys."

"Those were boys.  I mean adults.  I've never been exposed in
front of ..." I protested. Looking back, I think I was trying to
steer toward the authority aspect, but failed miserably.

"Pull `em down now or you're going to get it HARD." He angrily
interrupted.

Quietly, I slowly put my thumbs inside the elastic of my FOTL whities
and looked over my shoulder.  His glance back confirmed he was
serious, and I pulled the underwear off my hips leaving the top of my
butt exposed.  My plan to leave the bottom of my butt covered was soon
thwarted.  To my surprise, he reached in near my balls, grabbed the
bunched up underwear covering them, and pulled the bundle to meet my
shorts at my ankles.

He was going to make my humiliation more complete.  Continuing the
task of baring my butt that he had now assumed, he pulled my t-shirt
over my head and off.  Kicking at my ankles, I got the hint what he
wanted and I stepped out of my shorts and underwear leaving them on
the floor.

I was now a completely nude little boy, vulnerable, standing in front
of this man behind me, as I looked over my shoulder at him fully
clothed.  To further my humiliation, to break my pride, he made me
raise my arms above my head to lean on my hands against the cabin
wall, and made me spread my legs, for his complete inspection.  I was
embarrassed that he was looking at my upturned butt, my butt that I so
proudly kept concealed, kept private, kept unspanked, now exposed to
him in all its innocent whiteness, whiteness that was soon going to be
reddened.  And he let me know it was his for the taking.  He patted my
butt as if to size it for the spanking, reached between my legs, found
my cock, rubbed it, then pulled down on my balls a little, returning
his hand to my butt.

"Nice ass, kid.  We're going to have some fun with that later."

Now I was really confused.  What was this grown man doing
complimenting my ass?  Fun?  Later?  I assumed he was talking about
the upcoming spanking.

He had all the authority now, I had none.  He was bathing in the power
differential.  I was embarrassed, humiliated as he inspected me, so
much so I forgot to be scared, forgot where this was going.  His next
comment surprised me out of it.

"Bend over the bed."  The forgetfulness ended and the fear
returned.  He sensed it.  As I complied returning my palms to the bed,
he continued to talk, "Now you've probably heard that at this
point, I tell you that this is going to hurt me more than it's going
to hurt you."

I hadn't heard that before, didn't know what to make of it.  There
was silence as he reached to pull off his tennis shoe, "I use this
as a paddle.  Stings more and doesn't bruise.  And don't worry, it
only hurts you and not me."

He got behind me and I knew to brace myself, "Ready kid?  5 each
buttcheek.  Then again.  Gonna take it like a man?" he asked.

But with that he landed the first swat, surprising me that he wasn't
expecting an answer.  The sting coursed through my body causing it to
shake.  The rubber soled shoe slapped more than a hand ever did, and
it was the first slap I ever received on my bare butt.  I felt my butt
already on fire and immediately cried out.

"Nope, I guess not.  O Jeez, the rich brats are always such pussies.
 You know Tom didn't start crying until the last swat on each
cheek."

I've thought about that comment for years.  I knew just from casual
conversation with Tom that he was practiced at this, endured similar
at home all his life.  You could tell by his attitude towards adults,
with authority in general.  And I'm sure the counselor upped the
ante the more he resisted crying, to a level Christ himself would have
complained.

He landed a second slap on top of the first.  I had never felt such
torture.  Such humiliation.  My pride destroyed, I started bawling.  I
decided to just let myself cry my way through it, as first one cheek
was warmed with 5 slapping swats, followed by a pause for new
targeting, then 5 warming slaps on the other.  Next came the
reddening.  He first rubbed  my butt a little as if to inspect his
handiwork, then landed 5 slapping swats on the first, already warmed,
already stinging butt cheek.  While I was registering the new
sensations on the first half of my butt, realizing that the reddened
cheek was going to have a lingering stinging sensitivity, the other
butt cheek started getting reddened, letting me know that my whole
butt was going to sting for a long while.  I'm sure my howling
through it spared me the full blows.

When he was done, I reached for my underwear to start getting dressed.

"Hold it kid," he commanded.  I stopped, my mind protesting,
"now what?"

I made it audible, frustrated, even daring a hint of disgust in my
voice through sniffles and wet eyes, "What?"

"Tom told me he saw you sucking Danny's cock," he interrogated
me.

"That's not true.  He's lying."  I said angrily, and stood to
face him, still nude.  My defiance started waning as I became aware
that he was looking at my little cocklet.  In the embarrassment and
exposure of the spanking, I had grown a slight erection.  I put my
hands down to cover it.

"Have you ever sucked a cock?" he asked.  The question threw me.
No longer were we talking about Tom's accusation, the question was
already generalized.  And I had sucked the cocklets of some of my
friends at home.  I was confused enough to be silent.

"I thought so," he said not even giving me the chance to deny it.
"You need to be spanked for that too."

Comments and suggestions are welcome:  marianasdeep4@hushmail.com

I usually respond, but when I go for long periods without writing, I
find my hushmail expired.

We're up to version 4 of the e-mail  :)

My other stories are available at:
http://www.nifty.org/nifty/authors.html#marianasdeep