dh1

Discipline House - Part 1

D.H.

Chapter One: Discipline House

None of the residents of Discipline House knew how they had come to be there or what their exact age was. The older boys, or Big Brothers of Discipline House, would tease the younger residents (the Little Brothers) and say, "Next time I’ve got your pants down for a good tanning count your whacks; that’s how old you are and how long you’ve been here."

All residents of Discipline House had arrived as babies. No one except the High Fathers saw these arrivals which took place, presumably, in the Tower Rooms where the High Fathers’ apartments were. The boys lived in different wings of Discipline House according to age. Each wing was presided over by a number of D.A.D.s who kept strict discipline and, under their palms, a number of Big Brothers - who also kept strict discipline.

Discipline House, or D.H. as it was referred to by the boys, was the only world they knew. None of the inhabitants had ever been outside of its walls and none of them knew the extent of its size. They did, however, have a sense that it kept expanding. As boys grew up, they became Big Brothers and were eventually trained to be D.A.D.’s in charge of a wing themselves. As the population of D.H. kept growing, new wings constantly needed to be opened and the endless corridors, stairwells and passages of D.H. seemed lead to a seemingly endless construct of new wings.

When David had been a little boy, sitting on D.A.D. Howard’s lap for a story, he had badgered the man with a million questions about D.H.

"Do all the wings of D.H. have the same things?"

"No. Each wing has different things because boys need different things at different ages."

"But they all have dormitories, don’t they Daddy Howard?"

"Yes, David, they all have dormitories and dining rooms and school rooms."

"Do they all have gyms and swimming pools and places to play."

The man hugged the little boy and tousled his hair. "Certainly they do," he said.

"And libraries and infirmaries and gardens?"

"Yes....all of that."

"Why can’t we visit other wings?"

"You visit other wings on class trips don’t you?" Daddy Howard posed back.

"Ye-es, but why can’t we stay in other wings?"

"Because they would get too crowded, and you need to be with boys your own age and your own Big Brothers and D.A.D.s."

"And do any of the wings have doors to Outside?"

"No, David, you know that," the man replied, "we can’t go outdoors anymore. "

"Why not, Daddy Howard?"

The man smiled patiently and shifted the little boy to a more comfortable position on his lap. "Because people didn’t take care of things, and the air isn’t good. But we’re perfectly safe in D.H. because our technology enables us to put the air through special purifiers so we can breathe safely, and the special lights in D.H. give us much the same benefit as sunlight, so you’re all perfectly safe here."

"And do all the Daddies, in all the wings, love all the boys?"

Daddy Howard grinned and started tickling David, who squirmed on the big man’s lap, "No," Daddy Howard teased, "they can’t stand them, and do you know why?"

David shrieked with laughter and couldn’t answer the question. "Because," the man said, stopping the tickling and hugging the boy again, "because they all ask so many questions.....just like you!"

Daddy Howard kissed the top of David’s head and said, "Now let’s go back to our book."

Chapter 2: Big Brother Walsh

At eighteen, David had become a restless teenager, not unlike many of the other teenagers living in his wing. The D.A.D.’s and Big Brothers assigned to this age group understood their restlessness and provided all manner of outlets. Academic work in D.H. was rigorous and, with the older boys, involved a lot of project work in the large galleries that each wing had. Most of the projects helped the boys explore their strengths and pointed the way to the work they would specialize in as D.A.D.s. In addition, all the older boys participated in athletic programs and community work.

David’s community work involved his spending one hour each afternoon with a ten year old named Trevor who was going through an angry period. One afternoon, when the little boy had gotten frustrated with a building he was making with David, he had thrown a block of wood at David and struck him on the side of the head. It hadn’t caused any damage to David, but it had really hurt, and David had lost his temper and slapped the litle boy’s cheek leaving a red handprint on his face. The boy had burst into tears and David had not been able to comfort him. Finally, one of the Big Brothers of that Wing had taken over and carried the crying boy away.

That evening, David was summoned to the room of one of his Big Brothers; a twenty one year old named Walsh.

David was nervous about being summoned, because it generally meant a long talking to, or more frequently, a corporal punishment.

Big Brother Walsh was a muscular blond who wore his hair long and pulled back in a pony tail. Walsh had also recently added a goatee to his appearance which he hoped made him look more like a D.A.D. than a Big Brother. Walsh, like all of the Big Brothers and D.A.D.s was a beneficary of the special supplements that were supplied by the doctors of D.H. He was over six foot three and incredibly powerful; David thought that Walsh looked like the pictures of Vikings he had seen in books.

David, on the other hand, had not yet started received the supplements (they were dispensed once a boy turned twenty) and was small and young-looking for his age. Only five foot six inches and slender, David had short brown hair, which Big Brother Walsh himself had cut only four days earlier, and glasses. Brother Walsh had told David that once he started receiving supplements he might not need his glasses anymore.

Big Brother Walsh clapped his massive hand on David’s shoulder when the boy had been admitted to his room and walked him over to a small sitting area where two chairs had been set up. The Big Brothers didn’t have suites like the D.A.D.s had, but they had their own rooms instead of living in a dormitory, and each room was divided into a sleeping area, a working area, and a sitting area. In the sitting area, one chair was larger and taller than the other which was the case in all Big Brother rooms. Walsh directed David to the small chair and then sat down himself. The overall effect was that David felt even smaller than he was, and Big Brother Walsh absolutely towered over the eighteen year old.

"I want to talk to you about slapping Trevor today," Walsh said. He leaned forward and put one hand on David’s knee. David felt uncomfortable, but didn’t shift from the contact. "What do you think about that action, David?"

"I know I shouldn’t have hit him like that," David said, his voice coming out disturbingly shaky, "but he shocked me when he threw that block, and I lost control for a moment."

"You lost control," Big Brother Walsh repeated. "And what do you think that meant for Trevor?"

David was confused. "He was upset, of course," David said, "but it didn’t kill him. He deserved the smack for throwing the woo....."

David didn’t finish, because he saw a dark look come over Big Brother Walsh’s face. "I don’t like that answer,David," Walsh said. "Of course it didn’t kill him, but it didn’t help him. It didn’t communicate the message that discipline should communicate." Big Brother Walsh stood up. "Stand up, David," he said. David’s mouth went completely dry, but he obeyed.

"Discipline at D.H. always has two purposes. What are they?"

David swallowed. He didn’t know what to do with his eyes or his hands. He stared at Big Brother Walsh and felt as though he were shrinking under the young man’s gaze. Soon David would be no bigger, no older than Trevor. To make matters worse, David’s voice cracked when he answered, "Discipline should demonstrate disapproval, but must also give a clear message of devotion." His answer had the sound of recitation, which it was. Nearly all the boys in D.H. could give this answer.

"That’s right," Walsh said. He reached out and unbuttoned the collar of David’s gray onepiece. "Discipline should - must - communicate disapproval and devotion. I disapprove strongly or your hitting that little boy in the face, David," Walsh said. He undid the three buttons that ran down David’s chest and stomach. "And I’m going to punish you for it, David," Walsh said. He unbuttoned the two buttons that constituted the ‘fly’ in the onepiece. "Take off your onepiece, David," Walsh instructed.

Trembling, David removed his athletic shoes and peeled the onepiece off his shoulders and lowered it down his body. None of the boys wore anything under the onepiece, and once David had removed that, he stood naked before Big Brother Walsh. All corporal punishment at D.H. was administered bare.

David put his hands over his crotch and felt his face turning red. He hadn’t been punished in over a month.

Walsh walked over to a wardrobe that stood at once side of his room and opened it. Inside the door of the wardrobe were a number of hooks from which hung an array of disciplinary implements. David glanced at the strop, the brush, the flexible rattan cane and then looked away. He didn’t really want to see what Walsh would choose; he half hoped that the young man would decide to only use his hand, but he doubted it.

Walsh closed the wardrobe and resumed his seat. He placed the implement, David couldn’t see what it was, at the side of the chair on the floor. Then Walsh reached out, put his hands on David’s bare bottom and pulled the boy closer to him.

"When I put you across my knees, David," Big Brother Walsh said, "you become my boy. Do you understand what I mean?"

David nodded shamefacedly.

"On my lap you are my boy," Walsh repeated. "I feel your body and I experience everything that you experience. That’s why almost all punishments at D.H. are administered in that position, so that the Big Brother or D.A.D. can feel exactly what his boy is feeling. It not only helps us to gauge the extent of the punishment, but it puts us in a very intimate bonding position.

‘When you suffer through your punishment, I suffer with you. My devotion to you is measured by how painful it is for me to feel your pain and how I must go beyond that to bring you the discipline that all boys need. You understand that David?"

David nodded.

"When you slapped Trevor’s face, you couldn’t experience that bond. Trevor’s body was ‘away’ from you. Trevor experienced your anger and hurting him separately from you. That’s why there was no meaning in the discipline. You made Trevor suffer alone, without any devotion."

David’s eyes filled with tears as he thought of angry little Trevor with the red handprint on his face.

"I’m sorry. I’m really sorry," David said.

Walsh gave a slight smile. "I believe that," he said, "which will make your discipline even harder for both of us. Come here, David. Over my knee!"

Walsh lead the teenager to the accustomed position for a spanking. Soon David was suspended on Walsh’s thighs. He felt his Big Brother’s hand curl around the side of his body holding him close. Walsh’s other hand rested on David’s bare bottom causing David to shudder in anticipation of what was to come.

Chapter 3: Spanked by Big Brother Walsh

Walsh prepared David’s bottom for punishment by rubbing it vigorously. David felt his Big Brother’s rough massage move over every part of his backside.

First Walsh vigorously rubbed the round tops of David’s cheeks and then he worked on the top where the buttocks sloped into the lower spine. Walsh’s hand rubbed the sides of David’s bottom and then traveled to the bottom of his buttocks where they spent the longest period of time. In between rubbing, Walsh took the soft skin between his fingers and massaged it with his finger tips. David squirmed a little, because he knew that all of this was to prepare his backside for the punishment that would soon commence.

Lastly, before beginning the actual spanking, Walsh parted David’s legs and briskly rubbed the skin that lined the division between the two buttocks cheeks. David gasped a little when Walsh’s hand brushed his anus. Then the spanking commenced.

Walsh made his big hand into a slightly rounded cup and lifted the hand over his head. Then he brought it down across the center of David’s backside. There was a loud CRACK! and a red handprint appeared on the white skin. David sucked in a lungful of breath but made no sound and scarsely moved.

Again Walsh’s hand rose and again it fell.

CRACK!

Another handprint appeared, superimposed over the first and slightly more to the left. In another second a third print appeared towards the right.

For a time, Big Brother Walsh alternated from left to right to center, and David’s small round bottom began to dance beneath the spanks. When the center of David’s bottom was uniformly a dark pink, Walsh moved up to the top of the boy’s backside and began punishing that area. The skin there was tougher than the center of David’s bottom and so Walsh smacked it harder.

David was beginning to find it harder to control himself. His bottom was stinging and each new smack sent waves of pain across his backside and even up into his spine.

Walsh was no well into his work and administered strong, determined spanks to the underside of David’s backside. Walsh’s palm reddened the area where David’s bottom would made contact with a seat and even landed on his upper thighs until they were red too.

David began to struggle on Walsh’s lap and to whimper. Walsh pulled David closer with his left hand and continued spanking him. David began to offer little cries whenever Walsh’s palm struck his bottom.

"Oooh! Oooh! Oh!"

Walsh felt David tense and relax. He felt his body absorb each new smack and could feel, right through his legs, how hard it was for David to deal with the pain. As always happened when he was spanking, Walsh’s throat tightened with empathy for the boy he was punishing, but his training had taught him just how far he must go, and David had not even approached his limit.

Walsh continued the hand spanking until David was crying out with each blow.

"Ow! Oh! Ooh! Please! Stop! Oooh! Please!"

When he felt David was ready, Walsh reached down to the floor and picked up the large flat-bottomed wooden hairbrush he had placed there. He took a firm grip of the brush’s handle and rubbed its paddle over David’s enflamed bottom. David cried out, even though the brush was cool and hadn’t struck him yet.

"Now you’re going to get the hairbrush, David," Walsh informed the boy.

"No, please, Big Brother, not the hairbrush!" David pleaded.

"I’m afraid so, David," Walsh admonished. "It will help you to remember how Trevor felt when you struck him in the face."

Walsh began to spank David with the hairbrush. When the first blow landed on David’s already crimson bottom, a white oval appeared, and David almost screamed with the pain.

"OW! Oooh! PLEASE!"

Walsh measured and calculated each spot where the hairbrush landed. He knew exactly how many times to have the paddle land in the same agonized spot and when to move it to a new area.

David had now started struggling as hard as he could. He hated when that happened to him; he felt so out of control, but he couldn’t help it. The pain had reached a point where David was becoming panicky.

Each fresh wallop resulted in a white oval against the dark red that completely suffused the skin of David’s small, tender bottom. The teenager’s cries filled the room and his legs flew up each time the hairbrush landed.

After a particularly intese period during which David struggled mightily against Walsh’s controlling arm, the boy suddenly seemed to burst and exploded into loud wails and tears.

Walsh thought he might start crying as well, but he toughened his resolve and tightened his grip of the hairbrush.

WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!

"Oh, god, please!" David cried out, tears streaming down his face. "I’m so sorry. I’m so so sorry! Oh, oh, oh. No more! I can’t take it! Aaaaah!"

David had to take it, because Walsh continued walloping him with the brush until the boy’s bottom turned from dark crimson to a nearly purple color.

Then, as David actually collapsed over Walsh’s knees, the young man held the hairbrush aloft and then sit it down.

David wept unashamedly on his Big Brother’s lap. Walsh gently rubbed the burning skin for awhile and then helped David up. David’s bottom was so sore that he couldn’t stand for a moment. Walsh gently lead him to his bed and told David to lie across it.

"I’m going to rub some ointment on your buttocks, David," Walsh said. "Just lie there for a minute."

David lay on Walsh’s bed sobbing as though his heart would break. He had done a bad thing; he had made his Big Brother disappointed with him and now his backside bore witness to that disappointment. David felt bereft.

Walsh pulled a chair to the side of the bed and opened a little ointment pot. He scooped out some of the salve and gently spread it over David’s hot bottom.

At the same time, Walsh smoothed David’s hair, which was damp with a combination of tears and perspiration. David turned his head so that Walsh’s hand would also come in contact with his wet face.

"Big brother Walsh," David sobbed. "I’m sorry, please don’t be disappointed in me. I...I’ll do better."

Walsh shifted to the bed and hugged the teenager to his chest. "I’m very proud of you, David. You just made a mistake. You won’t make it again, will you?"

"No, no, I promise," David said.

"And I believe you. I have an idea. After you’re a little calmer, how about we find a nice little gift for you to bring to Trevor. I’ll take you to his wing. How about that?"

"Yeah," David said, "that would be great." He looked up into Big Brother Walsh’s face. He had great respect for the young man who had so recently held him over his knees and punished him so painfully. "Big Brother Walsh, I love you," David said.

Walsh grinned and his cheeks got pink. He mashed David’s face into the quilt cover. "I love you too, David. Come on, let’s get you dressed and find that present for little Trevor."

(to be continued)