Karen loved her son’s bottom. Sometimes she’d find herself starting at Tyler’s round childish 13 year old bottom if he bent over in front of her or when he walked past her in the corridor. She’d find herself wanting to reach out and squeeze it. Of course, she’d never really admit this to herself. She’d think to herself that she loved her son’s bum because it was round, and full, and pert and tight – which indeed it was – but she would never admit that the real reason she wanted his bum is because she wanted to take possession of it. She wanted to tear down his pride and embarrass him; she wanted to own her son’s bottom.
Although Tyler was officially a teenager, there were still some childish residues left on his body and, most importantly, in his mind. He had a delicate layer of puppy fat and an adorable little tummy, topped off by a round, almost feminine, tight little fanny. Tyler hated it when his Mom used childish words like ‘fanny’, instead of the cool, teenager ‘ass’. He especially hated it when she called his underwear ‘panties.’
“Tyler, do you have clean panties for school tomorrow?”
“— Shut up Mom! Geez, I’ve got underwear in my wardrobe.”
To be perfectly honest, it was as if it was Tyler who was in charge of the house. Tyler’s recent impudence had begun a bratty reign of terror where Tyler thought he could boss his Mom about. Karen had long given up trying to impose strict curfews or rules to do with eating and room tidying. Tyler’s room was now a sacred den, a wild messy untidy realm. Sometimes, when Tyler was at school, Karen would venture into his room and collect his dirty clothes – he’d just throw them on the floor, you see – when she’d come across a pair of dirty underwear. She’d stretch out Tyler’s dirty boxer shorts and look for the embarrassing signs of his childishness – and he always had at least a little skidmark. Then she’d hold it to her nose and sniff – no, it’s more like she breathed in the smell of her son, her son’s gorgeous bottom.
Tyler’s teenage reign of tyranny over his long suffering mother all came an abrupt end around the start of his summer vacation. Tyler was lounging around the living room in a pair of sloppy sweatpants and a tee-shirt, not having bothered to get dressed like his Mom told him to, playing on his Playstation 3.
“Tyler, could you please clean your room. I’ve asked you ten times now.”
“— Eugh, Mom, buzz off. I’m playing on the game Cory gave me. I’ll do it later.”
“You’ll do it right now, Tyler!”
Tyler threw down the control and shouted at his Mom
“— Or else what Mom!? Gimmie a break and go and do some cleaning or something.”
Karen felt a mixture of exasperation and powerlessness, with a potent undercurrent of anger. Tyler looked so vulnerable, lying on his tummy, with his cute butt standing proudly to attention. He looked so vulnerable from Karen’s perspective that she fancied that she could overpower him, if it came to it. She was three inches taller than him and at least 50 pounds heavier, being a well built woman. Karen had underestimated herself; she had underestimated her strength, the strength in her big meaty arms, her meaty paws and the psychological strength of a parent. But most importantly, it was Tyler who had underestimated his Mommy. Tyler had no idea what a dangerous game he had been playing the past year, and how precariously close he had been to receiving his comeuppance from his Mom.
It all happened so quickly. Karen swooped down and grabbed Tyler firmly by his upper arm, and dragged him up so he was standing. Both Tyler and Karen were shocked at the strength they had just witnessed, and they were both momentarily unsure exactly what would happen. Karen grabbed her son by both his shoulders, and started scolding him little a little boy, shaking him occasionally to put emphasis on certain words. She shook him about and his useless little limbs and his head rolled back and forth, completely impotent. Tyler squirmed and emitted little yelps of protest but, to his disbelief, he couldn’t break out of his Mom’s grip:
“You do NOT speak to me like that little man. I’m going to teach you a lesson. A lesson you won’t forget too soon.”
And with that, she reached down and tucked her thumbs into his sweatpants, and whipped them down along with his underwear. The only was of describing it is ‘obscene.’ A teenage boy had just had his privates and his pale white naughty little fanny forcibly exposed by his mother, and very quickly found himself over her knee with his legs locked in-between hers. In the space of ten seconds he had been man-handled, bared, and placed over an angry maternal knee with his white bottom high in the air.
“Hey, uh, Mom, w-w-w-what are you doing, come on!” Tyler stammered, a clear element of fear in his squeaky and not at all grown up voice.
Maybe this was all a joke, thought Tyler. It wasn’t like she was going to spank him or anything … surely? Tyler felt his mother’s strong thighs clamp down on his legs as he tried, in vain, to kick free from his Mom’s humiliating hold. He flung his right arm back to try to re-clothe, or at least cover, his recently bared and very vulnerable looking tushy – what if his Mom saw his asshole! – but all in vain. His mother’s soft paw grabbed both wrists in one lock and held his arms against the small of his back. Tyler realized he was completely immobilized. He panicked. It suddenly dawned on him that he was trapped, and that’s when the frantic struggling, the terror, and the tears set in. They weren’t yet tears of remorse or of pain – they would come later. They were tears of anger and tears of humiliation.
“God Dammit it Tyler. You brought this on yourself. I am going to smack your bottom, honey. You’ve needed this for so long and now you are going to get it.”
But for Karen this wasn’t a joke – it was a dream, a dream come true. Her son’s chubby twin mounds of 100% pure baby boy bottom fat had just checked in to Spank Central for a deluxe smacking. Her boys bottom was finally in her control. How did she feel? At first, she felt shocked and a bit surprised, almost as if she were embarrassed to look at the indignant little chore in front of her. Tyler’s butt was round, and it jiggled just like toddler’s as he squirmed and tried desperately to break free. It clenched and parted like an exotic and somewhat hilarious sea creature trying to escape the clutches of a predator – but Tyler wasn’t going anywhere.
This was Karen and Tyler’s first ever spanking experience. Karen spanked wildly, smacking random parts of her son’s bottom, while Tyler, incensed at these rude assaults on his ass, struggled all the more desperately. Karen greedily drank in every inchoate sight, sound and smell a spanking could produce and manically peppered Tyler’s bottom with spanks. Her heart pounded as she spanked Tyler, through the physical exertions on keeping the frantic teen in place, but also at the sight of pink handprints deposited on her son’s bottom from her smacks. Karen was shocked at just how white Tyler’s bottom flesh was. How was it possible that skin could be so white, so obscenely white?
Tyler’s bottom was like a toddler’s, and Tyler was beginning to sound like one, with his whines and his ever more desperate pleas for mercy from his Mom’s hand. Karen’s ravenous eyes watched as a smack on one cheek would spread in a glorious wave of boy bottom fat and roll into the next cheek, returning back to the original cheek in time for another bum-busting swat. Tyler’s bottom was beginning to build up heat as she got the hang of this spanking business. Tyler couldn’t believe how painful a spanking could be. It felt, for Tyler, as if each smack had to be the last. It was so painful he couldn’t take anymore, and all he could do was clench his butt to extinguish some of the pain, the hot cruel pain his Mom’s hand was injecting into his ass. For Karen, however, it was as if each smack couldn’t be the last. Each smack bred a hunger in her for more smacks, and she wouldn’t stop until she knew Tyler was broken and sobbing like a baby boy.
As Karen began to learn every curve and crevice of her boy’s bottom, she began to develop a spanking technique. She would deliver sharp stinging smacks to one of her son’s saucy cheeks, wait for the satisfying clench and grunt, and then smack the next cheek, which was about a spank every four seconds. Tyler had worn himself out with struggling, and lay there panting over his Mom’s knee, his legs and hands locked, accepting each smack. Maybe if he was good and lay still then his Mom would stop? But it didn’t last. Tyler started crying, really crying. What a comparison between the two: Karen, slowly and methodically smacking her son’s buttocks while Tyler, the teenager, cried hot wet salty streams of distress.
“Oh, you naughty little boy. Did you really think you could get anyway with your back talking forever?”
“Ahhhhh, Mom come on, please, stop, please!”
Tyler could still speak through his sobs. He wasn’t broken yet, but he was certainly getting there. It was as if he was at the brink of a precipice, and Karen’s cruel smacks were driving him towards the edge. Karen happily spanked Tyler’s naughty bottom and developed the pink splotches on her son’s impudent tush till angry red marks sprung up round his sit spot. Tyler’s bottom glowed, Tyler’s bottom and Tyler sung as the sharp stinging methodical spanks rained down on his dancing tush. It was if Tyler was an all singing and dancing chorus, and Karen was the conductor. Karen’s hand ached, and she decided she needed a break.
She caught sight of something rude and precious tucked away in-between his alternately clenching and spreading cheeks: his anus. Should she, dare she? How embarrassing would this be for Tyler if she did take a peek? She reached down and with thumb and her index finger parted the milky crevice to reveal his pink, glistening asshole. She tutted mockingly and stared at her son’s naughty brown hole, drinking in the sight as it winked at her. This was the final gesture of power that pushed Tyler over the edge. He abandoned all pretences of adulthood and wailed, furiously and impotently kicking his legs. Words had abandoned him and it was just as well, because they were no use here. The only language Karen would accept now were tears, wails and colours – particularly a deep beet red colour which she was cultivating in her son’s bottom.
Goodness, thought Karen. All along Tyler had had pride, dignity and respect, as if he acquired them naturally. What Karen had learned is that these were only granted to Tyler from her. She gave it, and she could take it away. She could take it away by baring him, smacking him and humiliating him in general. She had fantasies of going shopping and waiting in a queue, where the rude and impudent Tyler was making a fuss. She would simply turn around and bare Tyler’s bottom for all to see. Simple as that. A naughty boy put in his place. Problem solved. Tyler was in no position to make decisions, he was just a kid, and the hard, well paced smacks proved the point indubitably.
Karen understood now that spanking was very much an all-or-nothing affair. You either gave one quick smack for cheekiness, which she certainly planned to do in the future, or you broke them. You can’t half bare someone’s bum and you can’t half break them. You either took everything away or you left it in place, and Tyler was most certainly getting the latter treatment, as inchoate moans and please escaped his sore throat. Sore through crying and begging his Mommy to stop spanking his tushy. Tyler promised again and again to be a good boy and to never sass her ever.
Karen had completely underestimated how sensual spanking Tyler would be. First of all, there was the weight of her 13 year old son over her lap. She had locked his body into hers, she had restrained him and was holding him down for as long as she liked. Tyler’s weight reminded her of her power and her bratty son’s helplessness. She paused for a few seconds and gently rubbed her bawling baby boy’s bottom just to feel his breathing, to squeeze his legs between hers, to tighten her grip on his wrists:
“Oh, Tyler … poor, poor, poor baby boy.”
She resumed her slow methodical smacks – cruel hard stinging slaps which were slowly, inexorably adding layer upon layer of redness to the naughty child’s bottom, when she became aware of Tyler’s smell. There was the sweet, sweaty smell of her child, but, most embarrassing for Tyler, was the maddeningly erotic smell of Tyler’s bottom. Karen felt a flush along her throat, a rush of hormones shot through her body as she began to realize how much power this one little passive fact generated: Tyler’s bottom smelled like a boy’s bottom, and Karen would make sure that he knew.
“Hmmmm, that smelly bottie of yours – I’ve noticed little stainy-wanies on your knickers, Tyler. You will start wiping your bottom properly young man and think considerately about your poor Mommy who has to wash your clothes.”
Tyler moaned. It was a moan beyond words, an unrefined sound of humiliation and shame. Karen had just exposed and torn apart one of the most private and embarrassing things a boy can have. It was as if Tyler had been carrying around a smelly little secret between his chubby buttocks, and his Mummy had prized it out of him and delivered it into the air.
Karen played Tyler like a musical instrument. The slow paced medium-intensity bottom blistering smacks producing predictable grunts between Tyler’s sobbing. What other sounds can my little boy make, Karen wondered. She brought back her hand as high as it would go, well beyond her head, and with as much force as she could muster smacked Tyler’s poor bum as hard as she could. Her arm began to ache after about ten of these high powered smacks. She used the weight of her whole body and turned into the smacks, causing Tyler’s breathing to change pace, and the grunts to turn into squeals, and his sobs to turn into screams. Her son, her ‘cool’, ‘wicked’, ‘bad-ass’ teenage son was crying like toddler who had wet himself. He was crying just like the time she took him to get his first shot. He had been shamefully and skilfully spanked back down the years to bawling babyhood.
“Is this starting to get through to you little man?” Karen mocked.
She was answered by a wild, primal scream from Tyler. His entire Universe had been reduced down to one thing: stopping his Mom’s cruel hard hand from assaulting his punished tushy. Karen had spanked every inch of Tyler’s bottom. If you lowered your hand about 4 inches above Tyler’s bottom, you’d still feel the heat Karen had put into his bottom, as if she’d been stoking a fire fuelled by her son’s rage, shame and embarrassment. Karen had just savoured every single smell, sight and sound of Tyler’s body like a delicacy, and she had loved every second of it.
Karen had decided that Tyler had had enough. She’d taken him on a journey, a journey where lessons were learnt by both parties, power relations were settled and barriers had been tossed aside by Tyler’s Mommy’s omnipotent hand. Karen had performed an operation upon Tyler’s psyche and had extracted his pride and dignity – replacing it with submission and shame.
“Oh Tyler”, smoothed Karen, half mockingly and half lovingly, “I do hope I don’t have to do this again”.
Karen gave Tyler one last smack right on his sit spot and began slowly rubbing Tyler’s assaulted bot, soothing him, bringing him back to earth and winding him down. As the sobs receded she unlocked Tyler from her vice-like leg lock and helped him to his feet. It was so cute how he staggered to his feet, as if he were a little dizzy. He steadied himself on his Mommy’s should with one had, while the other simultaneously tried to rub his bottom and wipe aware the tears from his eyes. What a state, thought Karen. Tyler’s face was covered in snot, and tears, and sweat. His face was beet red and his hair was wild.
“Ok, Tyler, I am going to put you into the corner for corner time. You know, just like your cousin Danny gets”. (Danny was three). Tyler nodded. Tyler was rubbing his bottom – it was all he wanted to do right now.
Karen had another great idea. She folded her arms around her quietly sobbing boy and gave him a big hug, but then, to his surprise and fear, she gently but firmly picked him up and carried him over her shoulder to the corner. Wow, though Karen. How humiliating – to be picked up by Mommy. What better demonstration of strength is there than to physically move someone without their consent?
“Fire-man’s carry for my little boy”, crooned Karen.
Tyler’s hot, saucy teenage bottom was just over her shoulder, hoisted over there to be transported where ever she liked. She leisurely deposited Tyler into the corner. One more little lecture and a bit of a scolding and I’ll let him get settled, thought Karen. After all, he was going to be in the corner on his knees with his hands on his head for as long as she wanted, so there was no rush.
“Right, Tyler, you got spanked for sassing me. Sassing your Mommy. And Mommy will turn you over her lap and spank your naughty bottom whenever she sees fit. Your bare bottom, Tyler. Your – bare – bottom. If you don’t want another round of bottie smacks, I suggest you stay in this corner in this position until I say.”
“— yeah, Mommy, ok.” Mommy. He had called her Mommy. Karen felt like she had her little boy back.
Karen went through to the kitchen to make a cup of tea and cool herself down. Her heart had been racing and her legs and arms still ached from restraining Tyler. She could still feel some of the warmth of her son, remember his futile helpless little wrists, his boiling hot bottom. Karen knew she’d told a lie when she said she ‘hope she’d never have to do this again.’ She did hope to do it again. She wanted to do it again, but not right now, not too soon. She would wait till Tyler regained a little bit of pride, just enough to sass Mommy once or twice. Then she’d be ready.
洞察 发表于 2013-2-4 09 … 凯伦爱她儿子的底部。有时她会找到自己从泰勒的圆幼稚的13岁的底部如果 …
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