bbd1

A RETURN TO "BARE-BOTTOM DISCIPLINE"

A Story Set in the D.A.D. World

"Dad, you can’t be serious! I’m not going to let you do this to me."

"Son, you don’t have any choice. I’ve made up my mind that you need a bare-bottom correction, so just come over here to me and let’s get on with this."

"Dad, please. I’m sorry about that party. I swear it won’t happen again, you can’t put me over your knee, I’m not a little kid."

"You’re going over my knee, Dennis, and your pants are coming down too. You’re getting it on the bare. Being little has nothing to do with it. Now step over here."

I raked my hands through my hair in a frenzy. I couldn’t let this happen. It was crazy....it was too humiliating to happen. There had to be a way that I could talk him out of it.

"Dad, it really wasn’t my fault. I didn’t bring that pot to the party, someone else did."

"Who?"

"Dad, please. I can’t tell you that; I’m not even sure...."

"But you smoked it; now I’m going to make your backside smoke."

"Dad, come on. I’m eighteen years old! You can’t put me across your knee like I was eight! I won’t ever touch that stuff again; it wasn’t even that good."

"Son, I’m not going to wait much longer. If you don’t bring your hienie over to me, I’m going to get up from this chair and get it. And if I have to ‘get it’, I’m going to be much harder on you, I can promise you that. The D.A.D. training program is clear on situations like this. You purposely disobeyed me and now you’ve earned yourself a red bottom. I’m definitely going to give it to you, so come here, and take it like a man."

My dad’s face was serious; I knew that look. He had always been pretty firm with me; but he had never spanked me, even when I was little.

"Dad, no boy my age gets spanked by his dad. No One!"

"That’s not true, Dennis, and that lie is going to earn you something extra. You’ve got several friends whose fathers went D.A.D., and I know that they all get a bare-bottom adjustment on a regular basis.

‘At D.A.D., I learned all about the importance of a father administering a bare-bottom correction to his son. It doesn’t matter how old you are. Sometimes, in certain circumstances, a man could even benefit from having his backside well-spanked.

‘Anyway, I made a mistake raising you by not taking you across my knee and letting you know that I care enough to give you what you need, and we’re rectifying that mistake starting this morning. From now on if you do the crime, you do the time - bare bottom on my lap. I’m going to count to....."

"No, wait, dad. Daddy. Give me one more chance. Just one more chance! I can’t bear it."

"You’ll bear it all right, son. And I’ll bare it!"

Dad smiled gently, the little bit of humor was meant to mediate what he planned to do. What I couldn’t let him do.

"But I won’t ever be able to look at you again if you do this to me. I’ll hate you, I swear it. This is going to seriously affect my head."

"I’ll promise you one thing, Dennis. It won’t be your head that’s affected."

Dad stood up and came towards me. Whenever he stood up; it was still shocking. The D.A.D. training program (physical, psychological and medical) had resulted in my father turning into a WWF prototype.

He was huge. His grayish blond hair, which had always been sort of wavy, was now in a severe buzz cut. He had grown a small moustache that made him look really different; tougher, I’d say. The D.A.D. t-shirt he was wearing, with the logo of a boy being spanked bare-bottom over his father’s knee, was tight and showed off dad’s massively muscled arms and impressive chest.

"Dennis. I’m bound and determined to do this. Your are going to get this spanking. I am going to take down your pants, you are going over my knee, and I am going to spank your bare bottom."

"No, dad! No!"

I had hoped to talk my way out of it, but with my D.A.D. moving towards me, all 6’6" 250 lbs. of him, I decided that I had waited to long and turned to run out of his study.

Too late!

A fist grabbed a handful of my hair, and I was jerked back.

"Aagh!"

"Take it easy, son. This is going to do you a lot of good," dad said. He had pulled me around by the hair and now his massive arm was curling around my waist.

In a second, dad had me tucked under his arm and was carrying me, back to the chair.

"This is going to be the official spanking chair in our house, Dennis. When you need your backside attended to, I’m going to sit in this chair and put you across my knee."

Dad sat down in the spanking chair as he said it and gently (actually very gently) laid me in his lap.

I guess that I only really realized how ‘big’ my father was, when I found myself lying across his knees. With my arms and legs sticking straight out from both sides of his massive thighs, I felt like a little kid.

Dad tucked me real close to his body and laid his heavy left arm across my back. He hadn’t laid a finger on me yet, but my eyes started to tear up.

"Oh, dad. Don’t! Don’t, dad! Please don’t. I really can’t bear it."

Dad grabbed the back of my sweat pants and started to pull them down.

"You’re going to have to bear it, Dennis. Because you’re getting this spanking. Now, you might just as well accept that fact, son."

I thought I would die when I felt dad’s hands moving down my behind dragging my sweat over my butt and down, down, down.

"What are you doing with them?!" I cried out.

"I’m just getting them out of the way, son," dad said calmly, and he brought my pants all the way down to my ankles.

Now his fingers slipped into the waistband of my brief. I actually gasped and burst into tears when I felt him do that.

"Dad!" I screamed. "Please, don’t do this to me. Leave ‘em up, dad, please." It was horrible enough to be laying on your father’s lap with your backside angled up over his knee for a......a spanking, but to have your dad bare you was intolerable

"I’ll do anything you want, dad, but don’t pull my underpants down!!"

"I’m taking down your underpants, Dennis. No real spanking is ever done on anything but a boy’s bare bottom. Now, stop this nonsense, son." Dad clearly intended for me to remember every gruesome detail of this ordeal, because he took his sweet time taking those brief down.

I could feel them moving, an eighth of an inch at a time, over the rise of my butt cheeks, across the tops (Oh god, my old man is looking at my bare eighteen year old butt) and down the slopes to my thighs. He didn’t stop there either. Dad wanted me to feel bare and ‘bare without any hope of becoming unbare’, so he pulled my briefs down past my knees and looped them around my ankles along with my sweats.

Now dad placed his giant palm over my bare butt. I shivered. Jesus Christ, his hand covered my whole backside. It was a crazy sensation to feel your father’s hand laid across your bare bottom. It filled me with a wild combination of emotions; incredible embarrassment, violation, fear and security! Yeah, I’m not kidding. Security! I could feel how strong and big my dad was right through that palm resting on my bare bottom. I suddenly thought of dad’s hands soaping my body when he he used to give me baths. I imagined those hands changing my diapers and rubbing baby oil on my bottom. Those hands had held me up when I started walking and threw me up in the air and caught me.

Those hands were my father’s hands!

"No matter how old you are, Dennis, I’ll always be your daddy. That’s not just an obvious fact; it’s more fundamental. You are mine! You’re my boy; you’ll always be my boy, and I’ll always love you with every part of my being. But with that love comes a lot of responsibility. As long as I live, I’ll be responsible for you, because you are mine. Just as you will feel responsible for the son that you may make some day."

I wriggled a little on dad’s knee and he patted my bottom and drew me even closer with his left hand.

"When you feel my hand on your bare backside, Dennis, it’s the most direct communication a father and son can have. I can hug you and kiss you, but it’s not the same. My hand on your backside, whether I’m giving you a pat to show I’m proud of you or walloping the daylights out of you because you wandered off the path, that contact says ‘You are mine! I take responsibility.’

‘Last night, you proved that you are out of control and don’t take responsibility for yourself. At D.A.D. we learned that that’s a classic indication that you need to be reminded of our roles, of my hand, of my hand on your bare bottom.

‘So I’m going to give you a spanking, son. A good, hard spanking , and I’ll tell you right now, that you won’t be able to sit down for at least a day, and not comfortably for three days. And after I take care of your backside, we’ll handle the matter of your lying to me.

‘Do you have anything to say, before we start this?"

A tear ran down my cheek, but I couldn’t think of anything to say. I shook my head and gave a little sob.

Dad took his left hand off my back and placed it gently on my brown hair. He brushed my hair back from my forehead and said, "I love you, son." And then it started.

Dad’s right hand rubbed my backside hard, as though he were preparing the skin back there for his attentions. Then his hand rose up and, a second later, came smacking down.

I gasped, and tears filled my eyes. It hurt!

"Dad! Dad, stop! It hurts!"

"A spanking is supposed to hurt, son," dad said, not unkindly.

He spanked me again.

"Yow! OW! Dad, please!"

He spanked me again. I could feel the imprint of his palm on the top of my bottom and each finger rising up along the side of my right butt cheek. I couldn’t believe the burning.

Dad spanked me again, this time across the top of my backside.

"Aaah! Oh, dad. Dad, please! Ooh!"

CRACK!

I gave a little scream. My hands grabbed on to my dad’s trousers and held tight.

CRACK!

My feet kicked out. I couldn’t help it. It hurt! It hurt so much!

CRACK!

"DAD!" I screamed out. "That’s enough! I can’t take anymore!"

CRACK!

"Daddy! Stop!"

CRACK!

I wailed and tears shot out of my eyes. My whole bottom felt like it had been torched and still my father punished it.

CRACK!

He didn’t say anything while he was spanking me. At least not at first. That was scary. I was crying and calling out to him and there was just his big hand, spanking me again and again. No other communication. If I couldn’t gauge how long this was going to go on, how could I stand it?

"Daddy!" I cried out in panic. "How much more?"

CRACK!

Dad answered me, but all the time he was talking, his hand was not still. The spanking was a process in itself; not to be interrupted because I called out questions or he chose to answer them.

CRACK!

"You’ll be spanked until I decide that you’ve had a proper correction."

CRACK!

"Your backside will need a lot of attention for this first spanking. It will help you to remember to mind me."

CRACK!

"I remember, daddy! I remember!" I cried out frantically. I thought I did remember; I’d never forget this awful pain and being held here, all my freedom, all my personal choices taken away from me as my father held me in his lap and punished me.

CRACK!

"Naughty boys are given bare bottom spankings by their fathers," my dad said simply. His hand walloping my bottom at every third our fourth word.

CRACK!

"It’s very simple. When you do something you shouldn’t do, I will take you to the spanking chair and give you a bare bottom correction. Is that clear, Dennis?"

CRACK!

"Yes! Yes, daddy. It’s clear." I wailed and snot dribbled out of my nose.

CRACK!

"And if you lie to me or use bad language, I will thoroughly wash your mouth out with soap!"

CRACK!

"AaaH! SOAP! Dad meant to wash my mouth with soap.

CRACK!

"Are you sorry that you smoked that pot last night, Dennis?"

CRACK!

"Aah! Ooh! (sob) Yes, daddy! Yes!"

"YES SIR!" daddy thundered.

CRACK!CRACK!CRACK!

"Yes sir," I bawled.

CRACK!

"And what will I do if you repeat that action?"

CRACK!

"Oh, please (sob), you’ll (sob) spank me."

CRACK!

"Yes, that’ right. I’ll spank you."

CRACK!

"That’s what fathers do to their sons when they disobey."

CRACK!

"They spank them," dad said.

CRACK!

I tossed my head from side to side. My backside was partly numb and partly on fire. The skin burned and the muscles throbbed. It also felt like my behind had swollen to twice its size and each impact was only intensified by this phenomenon.

"Are you sorry to be spanked by daddy?" my father asked.

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!

"Yes sir, daddy," I said, bawling and not caring about how I looked or sounded anymore. "Oh, yes sir, daddy!"

CRACK!CRACK!CRACK!

"And what does that mean, son?"

CRACK!CRACK!CRACK!

"OWWWW! It means that I’ll ‘mind’ you. I will, daddy, I promise."

CRACK!CRACK!CRACK!

"I know you will son, because you know what will happen whenever you don’t."

CRACK!CRACK!CRACK!

"What will happen son?"

CRACK!

"You’ll (sob sob) spank me! boo hoo!"

CRACK!CRACK!CRACK!

Something in me gave way, and I stopped howling and tossing and kicking. It was no use. Daddy would spank my bare bottom forever; it would never stop.

I lay limply in his lap and sobbed quietly while he completed my spanking.

When it was done, daddy lifted me up and stood me in front of him, between his knees.

"Take off your sweats and underpant, Dennis, and let’s go into the bathroom."

Daddy held my arm so I wouldn’t fall, as I took obeyed him. Then he took my hand in his and lead me to the bathroom. Once, when I reached back to gingerly touch my spanked bottom, dad roughly took my hand away, tucked me under his arm and walloped my punished bottom three times hard, with his palm.

"I’ll tend to your backside, young man," dad said as he paddled me. "You may not touch it!"

When he was finished, daddy took my hand again and lead me, sobbing and wet, into the bathroom.

He closed the door and pressed me up to the sink, his big body right behind me keeping me in place.

I sobbed as daddy turned on the tap and adjusted the temperature. He reached up to the soap dish and took down a big bar of soap.

"Now we’ll take care of the lying," daddy said. "Open your mouth for daddy, Dennis."

"Ooh, daddy," I said nervously, but I opened my eighteen year old mouth.

Daddy didn’t put the bar of soap in my mouth, he put his fingers in my mouth. He had lathered his hands thickly, and now his big strong fingers were scrubbing out my mouth with authority. I gagged, and tears filled my eyes, but daddy held me up to the sink and scrubbed every corner of my mouth.

Then he took his fingers out and said, "Stick out your tongue, Dennis. And you may not spit yet."

I put out my tongue and daddy took the bar of soap and coated my tongue over and over again. When it was completely lathered, daddy said, "Now pull your tongue in and close your mouth."

I did as daddy said and my mouth was filled with acrid soap suds.

Daddy sat down on the toilet seat and looked at his watch.

"Keep your mouth closed, son, and I’ll tell you when you may spit and rinse."

Tears ran down my face, but daddy was firm and made me stand there for five minutes.

"All right, son, you can spit and rinse, and if I ever catch you lying to me again, it will be much worse and much longer."

I spat and rinsed and did so over and over again.

Then daddy took my hand and lead me back to the spanking chair.

He sat down and held me between his knees.

"Well, son, you’ve had your first bare bottom spanking, but it won’t be your last. Boys your age need, and perhaps ask for, their father’s attention pretty regularly. D.A.D. believes that it’s the natural way that boys, emerging into manhood, maintains a strong bond with the source of their manhood.

‘Turn around and let me see your bottom."

Dad turned me around and held up my shirt tail while he inspected my backside. Several times dad tested the skin and then turned me around again to face him.

"You’ve had a good tanning," he said mildly, "not what you could have had, but for the first time, I think it was sufficient."

I could feel my face getting red. My natural, adolescent modesty was rekindling itself and I wanted to put pants on.

"You may need a session with my D.A.D. hairbrush, Dennis. I suspect you will, we’ll see."

Dad looked into my face. He took out a handkerchief and wiped my cheeks and nose.

"You’re a bit of a mess, son," he said. "But I love you messy or clean."

I started to put my hands behind myself to rub my backside, but thought better of it. Dad saw the gesture and smiled.

"You’re learning, son, you’re learning."

Dad got up from the spanking chair and drew me to his chest. He held me close and kissed the top of my head, then he took my arms and held me in front of him.

"You know, Dennis, I’ll spank you whenever you need it. It doesn’t matter where we are or who’s present."

I flushed hotly. "Dad, you wouldn’t really do it in front of someone else....?"

"Yes, I would, son. I’ll bare your bottom and put you on my lap whenever you need correcting. When you require a spanking, your modesty or privacy won’t be taken into consideration. As long as you behave, you have control over those things, but if you step off the straight and narrow, those considerations will be taken out of your hands....by me! You understand me, son?"

I sighed and nodded.

"Say ‘Yes sir, daddy,’" my father said warningly.

"Yes sir, daddy," I said immediately.

He drew me close again. "That’s my boy. You are learning, but you’ve got a long, long way to go, son."

Dad patted my fanny.

"Now get dressed. We have some shopping to do, and I want to buy you some new clothes. I hate the stuff that you wear."

I started to protest, but stopped. I sensed that a trial lay before me and that my father was going to be a very severe judge.

My life with D.A.D. and bare-bottom discipline had begun.

(Let me know if you would like to learn more about Dennis and his D.A.D. - Sandy)