Mr. One Fifty-Eight Ch. 01

"Turn around."

Chris obeyed, and felt the guard's hands at his waist. His tight white briefs joined his jeans down by the floor.

"Over my lap, son."

Chris bent over, trying to catch the floor on the other side of Mr. Fitzsimmons' left leg with his hands, but the bigger man's lap was large enough that neither the boy's hands nor his feet touched the floor.

"One more time, son. What are you being punished for?"

"Exposing myself in my car, Sir."

"Public indecency, young man."

"Yes, Sir."

"Say it."

"I'm being punished for public indecency, Sir."

CRACK!

The spanking began. Chris rued his choice immediately; the security guard was not pulling punches. Every slap was full force, and hurt like a motherfucker. His dick shrank to the size of a peanut after the third swat. And the slaps came nonstop. No breaks, no pauses. This was a real fucking spanking from a real man.

CRACK! SMACK! SMACK!

Chris began to yelp. Then he began to struggle, but Sean's left arm reached easily across the boy's body and grabbed his right wrist, pinning it behind his back. He was going nowhere.

SMACK! CRACK!

The swats were coming way too fast. Even at the frat, even with Mason, there had been some space, some respite. Not this time. This was relentless.

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!

Chris gasped for breath, and started to wail.

"I'm soooorrrrrryyy!!"

"Not nearly as sorry as you're going to be, young man."

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

The thick, heavy hand did not let up. The boy's ass was now bright red, and his thighs, too – the security guard knew very well where learning happened on a young man's body. Chris kept wailing, and Sean told him over and over that he was a very, very bad boy. Chris kicked desperately, to no avail. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, it stopped. Chris was panting and heaving, praying it was truly over. This was almost worse than the time he'd been caned by his RA.

"Stand up. Put your hands on top of your head."

Chris complied. He was facing the wall, and heard Mr. Fitzsimmons get up and open a desk drawer. He came back to the chair, and pulled Chris back over his lap. The boy stumbled over his lowered pants, but Sean's strong arms caught him and put him in position, pinning his wrists again.

"Son, you have no idea what a world of hurt you're about to enter into," the guard said. "It is my responsibility to make sure you've learned your lesson, and that you will NEVER do something so foolish and inappropriate again."

"I won't, I won't!" Chris yelled desperately.

"You won't when I'm through with you."

SMACK!!

The sting was incredible – Chris jerked his head around. In Mr. Fitzsimmons' meaty hand was a nasty-looking wooden hairbrush. Chris barely had time to register the pain before it landed again – SMACK!! Chris hung his head back down in despair.

CRACK!! CRACK!! SMACK!!

The pace was just as breakneck as the hand spanking had been, and the impact was ten times stronger. Chris was practically screaming now. But the worst was yet to come.

SMACK!! SMACK!! SMACK!!

Sean planted stroke after stroke on the same patch of Chris' fiery red ass. Whatever numbness might have slightly deadened the effect was burned right through by this method. Twenty-five swats rained down in quick succession, all in the same place. The poor boy's face was caught in a terrible grimace – he was barely able to make a sound now.

SMACK!! SMACK!!

Now the other cheek. Another twenty-five, all in the same spot, this time on Chris' left buttock. The boy's eyes were watering, and he begged his disciplinarian to stop.

"Pleeaaasssse . . ." Chris was sobbing.

"I don't EVER . . ."

SMACK!!

"Want to HEAR . . ."

SMACK!!

"Or SEE . . ."

SMACK!!

"This beHAvior . . ."

SMACK!!

"EVER . . ."

SMACK!!

"AGAIN!"

SMACK!!

"UnderSTAND?"

SMACKKKKK!!

"OWWWWWWWWWWWWW!! Yes Sir, yes Sir!!"

Chris heaved up and down howling. The beating stopped. Chris' whole bottom was an angry, dark red, and rock solid to the touch. His thighs were pink, too, from the hand spanking. Sean had made sure to drive his point home.

"I'm sooooo sorrryyyyy Siirrrrr" Chris wailed, not sure if it was really over. He felt his wrists being released, and then hands under his armpits. He could barely see from all the tears in his eyes. The guard lifted him up and stood him in a corner of the office.

"Hands on your head, young man. And think about what you did to earn that."

"Yes, Sir!" Chris sniveled. He heard the office door open and shut, and then the trailer door open. He heard a click, and in another moment, smelled the acrid scent of a cigarette. He waited, motionless, not daring to try and see the damage. His ass felt like it was three times as big as usual, but his breathing was returning to normal, and he had stopped crying. Deep breaths. He would be ok. The heat and humidity in the room were making him uncomfortable. He hoped he wouldn't have to stand there too long. In a few minutes, Sean came back into the office, and Chris once again heard his masculine voice.

"I sincerely hope you have learned your lesson, Christopher."

"Yes, Sir! I'm sorry, Sir!"

"If I ever catch you doing something like that again, you will be even sorrier, young man."

"Yes, Sir! You won't, Sir! I'll be good, Sir!"

"Let's hope so. I'm a man of my word, son. This matter is now closed."

"Yes, Sir! Thank you, Sir!"

"You will be feeling that for quite a while, young man. Now turn around."

Chris turned around slowly, eyes down, hands still on his head.

Sean let out an exasperated laugh. Chris was half hard.

"Young man, are you in a constant state of arousal?"

"Please, Sir, I'm sorry, Sir!"

"Clearly you can't help it, son," Sean said wryly. "But after all my effort to teach you something . . . I trust you'll wait until you're home to take care of that?"

Chris looked pained. "Of course, Sir."

The first glimmer of a smile faintly crossed Sean's face.

"Ok, young man."

Chris bent down to pull his pants up.

"Wait. I don't want to chance it."

Chris looked up at Sean's blue eyes, confused.

"Turn around again, young man. Leave your pants down."

"Please, Sir, please don't spank me anymore!" Chris begged, panicked.

"No, Christopher, I said this matter was closed, and it is. Your punishment is over. But I want to make sure you don't get into any more trouble on your way home. You may . . . relieve your tension here."

Chris was startled.

"Um . . . right here, Sir?"

"Yes. Shouldn't take you long, and then you'll feel better."

Chris heard Mr. Fitzsimmons sit back down at his desk.

"Go ahead, young man, pretend I'm not here."

Chris was embarrassed . . . but as usual, that meant he was also turned on. Something about Sean's manner and tone made Chris feel safe. What the hell, he thought, let's get this over with and get out of here. He tugged his little member, which was fully erect in seconds. He tried to decide what to fantasize about, but all he could concentrate on was the throbbing pain in his rear end, and his recent trip over the burly security guard's knee. He erupted in less than a minute, shooting hot, white cream all over the office wall. His voice was too worn out from yelling to give his usual loud, orgasmic battle cry, but the grunts and the mess made it clear he had done his business. Panting, he stood there with his eyes closed, and felt Sean shove some Kleenex into his free hand. He cleaned off his dick first, and his hand, then quickly mopped up all the goo from the wall and the floor. Some of it had landed on his briefs, too. Oh well – he'd have to wear it home. He pulled up his pants and turned around, putting the soaking tissues awkwardly in his pocket.

"Alright, son. All better?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Good." Mr. Fitzsimmons reached out and squeezed Chris' shoulder. "I'm proud of you for taking your punishment like a man. But DO NOT let me catch you doing that again, son."

"No, Sir!" Chris looked up; he still couldn't tell if the man was faintly smiling. He didn't look mad, though.

"After you, Christopher." Chris walked gingerly out of the trailer, and to his car. Sean stretched out his hand . . . hesitating briefly, Chris shook it. He was a lefty with his dick, so his right was still clean.

"Stay out of trouble."

"Yes, Sir."

Chris winced as he sat in the jeep, started it, and drove home very carefully. He heard the TV from the den as he walked in the back door; quietly, he crept up to his room without saying anything to his father. Safely back in his own bathroom, he peeled down his pants.

Wow.

The early evening sun illuminated his ass – it was dark red, turning purple. The hairbrush would probably leave some bruises. He sighed. And just this morning, he had lamented how the last ones had all but faded. But there was no denying he had deserved it. That was a stupid thing to do, jack off in his car.

And honestly, Chris thought, you really deserved a spanking anyway, for flirting with Mark, and for not working hard this afternoon. You had it coming on all kinds of fronts.

Chris fished his phone out of his jeans pocket, and checked his email. No reply from Justin. Shit. Man, I have to pee bad. He left his pants down, and without thinking about it, sat on the toilet.

What a day.