The Spanking Stock Cried Out For Attention
The town whispered about the events of that day when Jimmy Thompson had been punished, the story of Mr. Mercer's harsh but ultimately merciful justice becoming a cautionary tale. One afternoon, Mr. Mercer found himself surrounded by a group of the town's more seasoned residents. They were curious, eager to lay their eyes on the infamous spanking stock that had brought about such a dramatic change in young Jimmy Thompson. Mr Mercer led them to the shed with a sense of pride, his hand resting on the polished oak frame of the contraption.
The old men and women peered at the stock, nodding in approval at the craftsmanship and the clear intent behind its design. They had grown up in a time when corporal punishment was commonplace, but the sheer severity of Mr Mercer's creation was a remarkable sight. They spoke in hushed tones, sharing stories of the wooden spoons and switches that had disciplined them in their youths, but none had seen anything quite like this.
One of the men, Mr. Jenkins, spoke up, "I can see why this would be effective. It's not just the pain, it's the knowing you're going to get it that keeps you in line." He had a twinkle in his eye as if reminiscing about his days of mischief and the consequences that had followed.
The group murmured in agreement, their faces a mix of admiration and nostalgia. It was clear that Mr. Mercer's methods had resonated with the town's old-school values. Word had spread about the transformation in Jimmy Thompson, and it seemed that everyone was eager to see the tool that had brought about such a dramatic change in the young man.
Over the following months, juvenile crime in the community dropped to a near-non-existent level. The townsfolk held their breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop, but it never came. The spanking stock remained unused, a silent sentinel to the newfound respect for the law and order that Mr Mercer had helped to instil.
But there were always those who tested the boundaries of what was acceptable. One such young man was Billy, a teen with a mischievous streak that had often landed him in trouble. He'd heard the whispers about the stocks from his friends, and his curiosity had grown into something darker. He couldn't shake the thrill of imagining the power it would give him to wield such a tool over someone else.
One evening, after the town had gone quiet and the lights had dimmed, Billy snuck into Mr Mercer's shed with his boyfriend, Mark, who was a few years older and equally intrigued by the prospect. They approached the spanking stock with a mix of awe and excitement, the leather and wood gleaming in the moonlight that filtered through the cracks in the walls. Billy glinted in his eye, a twisted plan forming in his mind.
"Look at it, Mark," he whispered, his voice thick with lust. "Imagine the power we could have if we had someone in this." His hand trailed over the smooth, curved surface, and Mark could see the wheels turning in his head. "Maybe we could even... you know."
Mark's eyes widened. "What are you saying, Billy?"
Billy looked at him, his cheeks flushing. "I'm saying... I've had this fantasy, you know? Of being in charge, of making someone submit to me. And this," he gestured to the stocks, "this could be our chance."
Mark's eyes darted to the door, his heart racing. "Billy, that's... that's not right." But the lure of the taboo was too strong. He felt himself getting hard just thinking about it.
"Don't be such a chicken," Billy whispered, his voice low and seductive. "It's just us. No one will ever know." He leaned in, kissing Mark's neck, his hand moving to the older boy's crotch.
"Go on Mark, bend over onto the stock...I want to fuck you here...now." Billy ordered his friend.
Billy's kiss on his neck had left him aroused and the idea of being secure in the stock whilst Billy fucked him appealed to him. With a deep breath, Mark allowed Billy to push him onto the stock, dropping the wooden restrain over his neck and wrists.
Billy's hands felt hot and eager as they roamed over Mark's body, tracing the contours of his back and the firm curve of his bottom, still encased in his jeans. Mark's breath hitched as Billy's touch grew more insistent, his fingertips closer and closer to the sensitive skin above the belt line of his trousers.
The stock held Mark firmly in place, his body exposed and vulnerable. The cold leather of the padding sent a shiver down his spine, a stark contrast to the warmth of Billy's touch. He could feel his cock swell against the denim fabric of his trouser, trapped in a prison of desire that he hadn't anticipated when they snuck into the shed.
Billy took a step back to appreciate the view. He reached for Mark's jeans, fumbling with the belt and then the button and zipper before finally sliding them down, taking time to enjoy the sight of Mark's Hanes tighty whities as his hands continued to roam over his cotton-clad bottom. Billy couldn't wait any longer as he pulled Mark's tighty whities down to reveal Mark's bare ass, fully exposed to the cool air, his cheeks a pale moon against the stark wood.
"I'm going to fuck you now," Billy murmured, his voice thick with lust. He unbuckled his belt, removing it completely, the sound of it hitting the floor sending a thrill through Mark's body. Billy slipped his jeans down, stepping out of them. Next, Billy lowered his FOTL tighty whities allowing his cock to press against Mark's ass, the precum slicking the way.
With a deep breath, Billy pushed into Mark, the tightness of his hole causing him to pause for a moment before continuing. Mark's breath hitched, his body adjusting to the intrusion. The pain was intense, but it was layered with a strange sense of satisfaction and want.
The two young men moved together in a rhythm dictated by Billy's desire, their moans and gasps filling the shed. Each thrust sent a fresh wave of excitement through Mark's body, feeling the delight of Billy's cock inside him. At this moment, he was lost in the sensation and the power dynamics of their encounter.
Billy kept thrusting into Mark, reaching a depth he had never managed before. The spanking stock allowing a straight and easy penetration. Mark could feel the pressure on his prostate growing with each deep penetration as Billy grew closer to his growing climax, his orgasm growing from the young man's efforts.
As Billy reached his climax, he buried his face in Mark's neck, his teeth sinking into the soft flesh. Mark's orgasm followed, his body spasming around Billy's cock as he shot his load onto the leather pad.
The two of them remained there, still connected, panting and trembling as Billy remained bent over Mark after he had collapsed from his efforts when the door to the shed creaked open, and Mr. Mercer's furious face filled the frame. "What the hell are you two doing?" he bellowed, his eyes narrowing at the sight of Mark's bare ass and Billy's sweaty, flushed face.
The boys froze in shock at being caught. Billy trembled as he pulled out of his boyfriend, and Mark felt his heart drop to his stomach. They had been caught, their darkest desires laid bare for the man they had feared and admired. The consequences would be severe, but the fear and humiliation were already burning through them like wildfire.
Mr. Mercer stepped forward, his eyes ablaze with anger. "You think this is a toy, a game?" he thundered. "This is a tool for justice, not for your sick amusement!" the two boys trembled, their faces a picture of terror as the reality of their actions crashed down around them.
Billy stuttered out an apology, but it was clear that words would not suffice. Mr Mercer's grip on the tawse he had picked up tightened, and he took a step closer to Billy, his eyes filled with a cold fury that was unlike anything the boy had ever seen.
"You will learn the true meaning of this punishment," Mr Mercer said, his voice low and deadly. "And maybe, just maybe, you'll think twice before disrespecting it again."
The air was thick with tension as Mark remained restrained over the spanking stock whilst Billy stood in a state of shock, naked from the waist down, his cock flaccid from the surprise of Mr Mercer's arrival.
"I shall deal with you later boy, " Mr Mercer looking at Billy, "but in the interim, I have you boy, already prepared," as Mr Mercer looked at Mark's arse, dribbling cum out of his back passage.
"You stand there and watch boy," Mr Mercer ordered Billy as he turned to face Mark's waiting bottom, positioned himself, and raised the tawse.
The first stroke fell, and Mark's scream echoed through the night, a sound that would haunt Billy for the rest of his life. The paddle rose and fell, each hit harder and more deliberate than the last. Billy could only watch in horror as the scene unfolded, the power dynamics of their relationship flipped on their heads.
The punishment went on, each smack of leather on the skin a stark reminder of the price of curiosity and the weight of Mr Mercer's wrath until Mark had received twenty-five strokes across his bottom.
When Mr. Mercer finally released him, Mark stumbled out of the stock, his eyes red and swollen from crying. The damp patch on the leather cushion was a stark testament to his fear and the intensity of his punishment. His legs shook as he struggled to stand, the pain from his throbbing ass almost too much to bear.
Billy stood, semi-naked and trembling, his eyes locked on Mark's tear-stained face. The reality of what they had done, the disrespect they had shown to the town and its values, was etched into every line of their bodies. The spanking stock, once a symbol of hope and redemption, now loomed over them like a grim reaper, demanding retribution for their transgressions.
Mr. Mercer took a deep breath, his anger a palpable presence in the shed. "Boy," he said, looking at Billy, his voice like a whip crack in the stillness, "now it's your turn."
Billy's eyes grew wide with terror as he was forced to take Mark's place over the stock. The leather cushion was still warm from Mark's body, and he could smell the faint scent of his friend's fear. He felt his stomach turn as he realized the gravity of what he had done. The thrill of power and control had led him here, to this moment of ultimate submission.
Mr. Mercer secured Billy's neck and wrists in the stock with a finality that sent a shiver down the boy's spine. He took a step back, his eyes never leaving Billy's trembling form. "You will learn respect, boy," he said, his voice low and menacing.
With a flick of his wrist, Mr Mercer brought the tawse down on Billy's bare bottom, the leather striking skin with a sound that echoed through the shed like a gunshot. Billy's body jerked, his scream piercing the night air. The sting of the leather was nothing compared to the burning humiliation that flooded him as he imagined the eyes of his community watching him, judging him.
Stroke after stroke, Mr. Mercer delivered his punishment with a precision that left no doubt of his seriousness. Billy's bottom grew redder and redder, the skin rising in angry welts. His cries grew more desperate, each one a plea for the pain to stop. But the older man's arm remained steady, his eyes never wavering from their target.
Towards the end of the twentieth stroke, Billy felt his bladder give way, just as Mark had. A warm stream of urine trickled down his legs, pooling around his feet, a stark reminder of his loss of control. The smell of it filled the shed, mingling with the scent of fear and sweat. The tawse didn't relent, and Mr. Mercer's eyes remained cold and unyielding.
As the last few strokes fell, Billy's body convulsed, and his cries turned into sobs that racked his whole being. He could feel the sting of his urine against his bruised skin, a humiliation that went beyond the physical pain. The leather strap was unforgiving, each smacks a punishment not just for his actions but for his very soul.
Finally, Mr. Mercer stepped back, the tawse hanging at his side. "It's over," he said, his voice gruff with the effort of delivering the punishment as he released the boy. Billy's legs gave out, and he collapsed to the floor of the shed, his body trembling uncontrollably. His bottom was a mass of agony, the pain so intense that it was almost otherworldly.
Mark rushed to his side; his pain forgotten in the face of Billy's anguish. He helped him to his feet, his eyes downcast in shame. "I'm sorry," he whispered, over and over, as he helped Billy try to put his tighty whities back on, but the fabric scraped against his tender skin, sending fresh waves of pain through him to the point it was better for him to remain naked below the waist.
The two boys, young men Mr Mercer eventually recognised, stood in front of him wiping tears from their eyes, humiliated and punished.
"Clean this place up," Mr. Mercer barked, his anger still alive and vocal. "And I better not find any trace of what you two did here, or so help me, I'll deal with you again, and it won't be nearly as pleasant as this."
After Mr Mercer has left the shed, with trembling hands, Mark and Billy set to work, wiping down the stock, cleaning the floor of their combined bodily fluids, and trying to erase the evidence of their illicit encounter. Each movement was a reminder of the pain they had just endured, and the fear of Mr. Mercer's wrath made their tasks even more daunting.
As they worked, Mark couldn't help but glance over at Billy, who was moving slower than usual, his face a mask of pain and embarrassment. Through the haze of his agony, Mark felt a brief flicker of amusement at the sight of Billy's bare bottom, the red tawse prints standing out starkly against his pale skin. The irony of their situation wasn't lost on him - the one who had proposed the idea of using the stock for their twisted pleasure was now suffering because of it.
He moved closer, wrapping his arms around Billy's waist from behind. Billy flinched at the sudden touch; his body taut with tension. "You look funny," Mark whispered into his ear, trying to lighten the mood, "but so inviting." It was a feeble attempt at humour, but it was all he could offer in the face of their shared humiliation as his hands started to play with Billy's cock.
Billy's initial shock at Mark's advances quickly turned into a need for more. He leaned back into Mark, his head falling against the taller boy's shoulder. "Please," he begged, his voice strained. "I need it." Mark's hand was gentle, stroking him slowly, building the anticipation until Billy was hard again despite his bruised bottom.
With trembling hands Billy turned allowing Mark to kneel to take Billy’s cock to his lips, kissing the tip gently before taking it in his mouth. Billy's eyes rolled back in his head as Mark's warm, wet mouth began to move over him, the gentle suction sending waves of pleasure through his body that competed with the pain from his spanking.
The taste of Billy's urine was faint but present, a bitter tang that only added to Mark's excitement. Each lick and suck brought a new sensation to life, mixing the pain of his punishment with a strange, twisted desire. He couldn't help but think of the power dynamics they had played with earlier, now reversed as he sought to give Billy the relief, he so desperately craved.
Billy's breath grew ragged as Mark's mouth worked him over, his hips bucking slightly in response to the pleasure. He could feel the pressure building in his balls, the tension rising with each stroke of Mark's tongue. The pain in his bottom was a constant throb, a pulse that seemed to sync with the rhythm of Mark's sucks.
As Billy reached his peak, Mark felt his arousal swell. He had never felt so alive, so connected to another person. The sound of Billy's breath hitching, the feel of his cock throbbing in his mouth, was intoxicating. He knew what was coming, the moment of release that would seal their shared fate in this act of penance.
With a final, guttural groan, Billy shot his load into Mark's mouth, the warmth of it a stark contrast to the cool air of the shed. Mark swallowed it down, feeling a strange sense of accomplishment, a feeling that he had somehow redeemed himself in Billy's eyes.
The two of them stood there for a moment, panting, and spent. Billy's eyes searched Mark's, looking for some sign of what was to come. Mark's hand remained wrapped around Billy's softening cock, the connection between them unbroken.
As they tried to dress in the dim light, Billy leaned in close to Mark, his voice a whisper. "Thank you," he said, his eyes wet with unshed tears. "Thank you for being here but I can't wear anything against my bottom. What shall we do, we have to go home."
Mark nodded; his voice lost in the emotion of the moment. They had faced Mr. Mercer's wrath together, and in doing so, they had found a new kind of strength within themselves.
“I guess Billy we will have to carry our clothes and walk home like this. It’s dark and no one will see us anyway.” Mark reassured his friend.
They finished cleaning the shed in their semi-naked state and Mr Mercer saw them close the shed door and walk towards the driveway, still naked from the waist down, carrying their trousers and underwear. As they walked back to Mark's house, their bare bottoms stinging with each step, they couldn't help but wonder if this was the start of a new chapter in their lives.
Once back at Mark's house, they found themselves in the backyard, the soft grass feeling like heaven against their sore skin. They sat down, their bare butts resting on the cool earth as they held onto their jeans, unable to put them back on yet. The quiet of the night surrounded them, the stars twinkling above like silent witnesses to their punishment and redemption.
Mark looked at Billy, the desire in his eyes unmistakable. Billy's cheeks flushed, the pain in his bottom forgotten as he felt the heat of Mark's gaze on him. "I... I still want you," Mark whispered, his voice barely carrying across the darkness. "I know we just..." he trailed off, but Billy knew what he meant.
Billy felt the same, the intensity of their experience in the shed having only served to deepen their bond. He nodded, his eyes never leaving Mark's. "Me too," he breathed, his voice thick with need.
They leaned into each other, their bare skin brushing together, setting off sparks of pleasure that seemed to dull the pain. Mark reached for Billy's cock; his touch tentative at first before growing more confident as he felt the young man's erection swell in his hand. Billy moaned, his head falling back, the pain in his bottom forgotten as he lost himself in the sensation.
Their kisses grew more urgent, their bodies moving together in a silent dance of lust. Mark's hand worked Billy's cock with a fierce desperation, each stroke a declaration of his need for him. Billy's hand found Mark's cock too, stroking it in time with the beating of his own heart.
As they reached their climax, the only sounds were their muffled gasps and the soft rustle of grass beneath them. It was a moment of pure, raw passion that seemed to cleanse away the stain of their earlier disrespect. They came together, their bodies entwined, the warmth of their seed mixing with the coolness of the night.
At that moment, as they lay panting on the grass, they realized that their relationship had changed, and they got up and walked to the back door.
They stumbled into the house, avoiding the gaze of Mark's parents who had fallen asleep on the couch. They managed to make it to Mark's room, where they collapsed onto the bed, still naked from the waist down. The sheets were cool against their skin, a stark contrast to the heat that still lingered between their thighs.
As they lay there, their bodies entangled, Billy whispered into the darkness, "I'm sorry for what happened, Mark. I never wanted to disrespect Mr. Mercer or his shed."
Mark turned to face him; his eyes soft with understanding. "It's okay, Billy," he murmured. "We learned our lesson. And... I think we found something more important in the process."
The two of them drifted off to sleep, their bodies still tender from their punishment, but their hearts filled with a newfound love and respect for each other.
