Introductions
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My Introduction free porn video
I was fifteen when I first watched Ryan getting a thrashing from his dad. Hewas seventeen at the time, close to eighteen, and I couldn't believe what Iwas seeing.
It was about cricket ? it always was, with George and Ryan. Ryan had playeda school match that day, and evidently got himself in trouble. Surprise, surprise.George, a former national player himself, had been notified, and was givingRyan hell about it.
Arrested by the angry voices coming from the study, I stopped on the stairs,irresistibly drawn to see what was going on. The door was slightly open, andI peeked through it to see Ryan standing in front of George's desk, hands behindhis back. George was letting him have it.
? ? so what does he tell me? You swore at him. You idiot, you swore at theumpire! Not only argued, but swore! What did you think you were doing? Tellme, mate, what the hell were you thinking??
?Chalmers was out, damn it,? Ryan burst out, sounding aggrieved. ?I had himplumb!?
George's eyes narrowed. ?More swearing, Ryan??
?Shit!? Ryan threw his head back in frustration. ?I mean ? ?
?You're begging for it, mate.?
?But I had him! We'd have won if ? ?
To my astonishment, George's hand lashed across Ryan's face. Ryan's complaintstopped immediately. He stared at his father for a moment, then dropped hishead. ?I'm sorry, sir.?
?That's better. Now tell me what you're sorry for.?
?For swearing.? I'd never heard Ryan sound so subdued. ?I lost my temper onthe field and swore at the umpire, then I swore at you. Twice.?
?Was that wrong??
?Yes, sir.?
?So what does that mean??
?That means I deserve to be punished. Sir.?
Something clenched in my stomach. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. Big,bad Ryan Avery was about to be punished by his father? What kind of punishment?I'd already seen George slap him across the face.
?Assume the position, Ryan.?
To my disbelief, Ryan unclasped his hands and bent over the mahogany desk,reaching out in front of him to hold onto the other side. I had a perfect viewof his tight, hard ass in the straining cricket whites, and bit hard on mylip to keep from moaning.
?Legs apart,? George ordered.
Obediently, Ryan parted his legs until there was almost a metre between hisfeet.
George went behind the desk and opened a drawer. I nearly gasped when he pulledout a wooden paddle. ?For swearing three times, you are going to get threeimplements,? he said almost conversationally. ?First the paddle, then my belt,and finally the cane. Do you agree??
?Yes, sir.? The words were a groan.
?We'll work in descending order. Thirty with the paddle, twenty with the belt,and ten with the cane. Okay??
?Yes, sir.?
My bottom clenched as I listened to Ryan's obedient agreement. It was burningin anticipation of how badly the punishment was going to hurt Ryan, but therewas another burn, deep inside me. It started as a tingling of excitement asGeorge lifted his arm and smacked the paddle down on Ryan's displayed ass.He didn't take it slow. George Avery had never been known to take anythingslow. Instead, he smacked that paddle down all over Ryan's butt, up and downeach cheek, across the middle, down the backs of his thighs.
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!
I'd counted twenty, and already I was gasping. Ryan hadn't made a sound. Hesimply lay over that desk and took the paddling like a man who knew he deservedit.
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!
Thirty, at last! My own bottom was aching, but Ryan didn't betray any feelingwhatsoever. George was determined to involve him in this punishment, however.
?What's next, Ryan?? he demanded.
?The belt, sir.? The words were clipped, almost gasped.
?How many??
?Twenty.?
?Twenty, what??
?Twenty, sir,? Ryan ground out.
?Very good.? George was smiling as he undid his belt and dragged it from theloops of his pants. When it was free, he doubled it up and slapped his ownhand with it. The sound made me cringe, yet my excitement intensified.
?Ready, Ryan?? he asked pleasantly.
?Yes, sir.?
The leather belt whacked down across the crest of Ryan's ass. Ryan's bodyjerked at the impact, but he made no sound. Another whack, in the exact sameplace. I winced in sympathy as Ryan went rigid. Still no sound. A third whack,in the same place. Ryan's head shot up, and I was sure his knuckles were turningwhite as he gripped the desk. But he still didn't cry out.
To my relief, George abandoned that spot and the next seven blows made theirway down from Ryan's lower back to the tops of his thighs. WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!
Halfway there, he gave it a pause. Ryan's back rose and fell jerkily as hegasped for breath, and his ass and legs were trembling from the pain. Stillno sound.
George seemed disappointed that he wasn't raising more of a reaction fromRyan, and it seemed to me that he put extra effort into the next few blowsthat he rained down across the middle of his son's backside.
WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!
Ryan reared up, then slammed his chest down against the desk again. By nowI could hear his gasps as he struggled to keep control.
WHACK!
A violent jerk.
WHACK!
?Shit!? The cry was hoarse, ripped from him against his will, a despairingrupture of his desperate control.
George stopped instantly. ?What was that??
Ryan dragged a deep breath into his lungs and released it slowly, evidentlyfighting for restraint. ?I swore again, sir.? Still that hoarse, rasping voice.
?Hmm.? George was more intrigued than annoyed by this turn of events, andscratched his head. ?Looks like you have a choice, Ryan. Either we double yourremaining punishment, or you take what's left on the bare.?
I almost screamed. The bare? Without his pants on? Oh my God! RyanAvery, my best friend's bad big brother ? whipped on the bare? For six yearsI'd been trying to avoid him, wary of his sardonic mouth, his glittering eyesthat always seemed to know more than they should. Ryan was bad, no doubt aboutit, and I was terrified of him. As terrified as I was horribly, guiltily attracted.Suddenly, I prayed Ryan would choose the latter.
He seemed to be undecided.
?Your choice, son. Which will it be? Five with the belt and ten with the caneon the bare, or ten more with the belt and twenty with the cane??
I didn't think I could stand to watch Ryan caned twenty times, and to my intenserelief, he answered quietly, ?On the bare.?
George smiled. I think he was relieved too. ?You may get up to remove yourpants.?
Ryan turned slightly as he straightened, giving me a view of his face. Hewas pale, and his mouth was drawn into a tight line. His dark eyes burned.I was so caught up by the expression in them that I almost missed him drophis pants. They were cricket-regulation white, held up at the top by a string,which Ryan untied. He pulled out the waist to loosen it, then with one swiftmotion, pulled the pants and his white briefs down to his knees.
To my disappointment, I didn't get much of a view of the front of him, becausealmost immediately he draped himself back over the desk. But I got a brilliantview of the back. His skin was naturally dark, because of his Italian descent.This time he parted his legs without being told although not as widely, andI glimpsed black hair between his legs. There was certainly enough of it growingdown his legs, but his butt was almost smooth. It took all my self controlto remain where I was, and I clasped my hands together to refrain from reachingout to touch him. God, he was gorgeous. And that taut male butt of his wascrimson. From his lower back to his knees, his skin glowed dull red from thepaddling. I could just about make out the individual welts from the belt, muchdarker ? almost purple, but not quite. It looked sore as hell, and I couldn'tbelieve he'd stood still to receive it, and only cried out once.
And what that cry had cost him!
?Ready?? George asked him.
?Yes, sir,? Ryan muttered in reply.
This time I saw his ass muscles contract in anticipation of the whack! I clenchedmy teeth together, agonising over what I watched, unable to make myself leave.George landed these whacks from top to bottom again, with the final whack landinghalfway down Ryan's tense thighs.
So tense myself, I sagged against the doorframe with relief when he set thebelt aside. But when he made his way over to the cupboard, I remembered whatwas to come next. The cane.
I had never been spanked by anybody in my life. In fact, I'd never beforeseen anyone being spanked. I knew nothing about it, but even the word, cane ,terrified me. Actually seeing the implement almost made me faint. If anybodyeven thought about using such a thing on me, I knew I would die. I wouldn'tbe able to take it. Ryan must have felt it before. How could he even thinkabout misbehaving, knowing the threat waiting for him?
CRACK!
Ryan's helpless gasp drowned out mine, and I saw every one of his musclescontract. A dark purple stripe formed across the crest of his punished bottom.His cheeks clenched together, then forcibly relaxed. He'd definitely been herebefore, I realised. He knew the drill. I don't know how I knew George demandedhe relax between strokes, but I didn't think Ryan would be relaxing his assby choice.
CRACK!
An inch lower than the first. Ryan jerked up, but his hands anchored him tothe desk. Straining backwards, he gasped for breath, head thrown back, thenlay down again. Relaxed his muscles again.
CRACK!
Three neat stripes, all in a row. I was almost screaming as I watched thewelt form on his dark skin, and he pressed his thighs together as much as hecould. Every muscle tensed frantically in resistance to the fiery pain I knewhad to be blazing through him, and then relaxed once more. But they trembled,obediently awaiting the next blow.
CRACK!
This time I made myself watch as the cane struck Ryan's ass. His flesh jerkedin and upwards with the force, then bounced back into place as a fourth purpleridge formed on the fleshy crown of his bottom. I saw George draw the caneacross the welt, dragging it lengthways along the wound before lifting it again,and fire lashed through me. I was burning up with empathetic pain, yet I wasaching with desire at the same time. I wanted to go inside the study and touchRyan, feel his welts for myself, run my fingers over his throbbing bottom ? bothto soothe and excite. But somehow I managed to restrain myself.
CRACK!
CRACK!
CRACK!
Perfectly placed between the four stripes that marked Ryan's flesh. Peoplehad always said about George that it was his brilliant timing and placementthat made him such a great batsman. I don't know about timing, but his placementwas perfect. Shock knocked the breath from me, and it seemed to have done thesame to Ryan, because he didn't react. Then suddenly he clenched his batteredcheeks together and emitted a low moan. His voice broke several times, thenhe gasped deeply.
George decided it was time he involved himself again. ?How many more, Ryan??
I gasped at the unfairness of the question. I had been watching and even I didn'tknow. How many had he given Ryan? I had no idea.
But Ryan croaked, ?Three ? sir.?
Still three to go? I almost groaned, all thoughts that I was voluntarily puttingmyself through this forgotten. I couldn't leave Ryan now. It was as thoughif I left, I'd be abandoning him to face it on his own. At least this way,I could share some of his pain.
Even though he didn't know I was there.
Mercifully, George made it quick. One crack created a diagonal slash fromthe top left to the lower right of Ryan's bottom. The next crack turned itinto a neat cross. The third and final crack slammed right across the crownof his ass, and once again George dragged the cane through the wound. Thenhe moved to return it to the cupboard.
Ryan didn't move. He lay there, bent over the desk, every muscle rigid, protestingthe fire that must surely be licking through him. It was overwhelming me, andmy flesh hadn't been touched! I clenched my fists and bit hard down on my lowerlip to keep from moving or crying out, from giving vent to the feelings Ryanwas refusing to acknowledge.
When George closed the cupboard, Ryan still hadn't moved. At least now hewas breathing, in short, sharp gasps that shook his shoulders. His entire bodyshuddered repeatedly, then George ordered, ?Stand up, mate.?
I wanted to yell at him, to use the cane on him and see if he feltlike standing up after that. Couldn't he see that it was all Ryan could doto breathe?
But, still obedient, Ryan forced himself upright.
?You can pull up your pants.?
Wincing, I watched Ryan scrape the material against his beaten ass and retiethe drawstring at his waist. Only then did he turn around so that I could seehis face. He was ashen, except for two streaks of colour high across his cheekbones.His dark eyes glittered, but not with tears. Proudly, back stiff, he facedhis father.
?Thank you, sir,? he said precisely. His voice had returned, although it stillsounded strained, and I couldn't believe his words. He was thanking his fatherfor that abuse? He was thanking him?
George smiled, and briefly touched Ryan's rigid shoulder. ?Next time an umpiregives you a decision you don't like, I want you to thank him too. Understand??
?Yes, sir.?
?Good boy.?
Ryan turned to leave, and I darted away from my hiding place, barely comingto my senses in time. I flung myself onto his sister's bed, and when I heardhim coming up the stairs, I slammed the door and scrabbled for a book. Breathinghard, I stared at the black print, listening to Ryan's footsteps as he madethe landing and passed Isabella's room for his own. But they didn't pass. Theystopped, and with my heart in my mouth, I watched the brass door handle turn.Ryan poked his head around the door, slightly more colour in his face now,and black eyes scorched into mine. Then his mouth twisted in amusement.
?Enjoy the show, Shayla??
Aeryn
- 24.08.2021
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