Josh’s Nude News Route

Josh’s Nude News Route 1 to 5

Mono D. Duo

[11,603 words]

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This story is intended for adults only. It contains depictions of forced nudity, spanking, and sexual activity of preteen and young teen children for the purpose of punishment. None of the behaviors in this story should be attempted in real life, as that would be harmful and/or illegal. If you are not of legal age in your community to read or view such material, please leave now.

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Josh’s Nude News Route Part 1

This was Josh Pearse’s third strike, and he knew it. He sharply rounded the corner of the cobblestone path, almost slipping on the dew.

“Sorry!” he called to the couple he’d had to slip between to avoid crashing. He just didn’t have the time to waste. He got to the zebra crossing, looked both ways and belted across the road, almost jumping out of his skin when a blue Ford Focus came around the corner. He waved at them in apology before continuing his sprint.

Why was Josh Denny in such a rush? Well, he had a job. A news route, to be exact. A job any ten-year-old boy with more time than sense would consider himself lucky to have. And during the summer holidays, time was in abundance.

Well, in this very moment, Josh could maybe make do with an extra two-and-a-half hour to go back in time and wake himself up with. Alas, he had to make do with the time he had.

Also at this moment, Josh was just over two-and-a-half hours late to this job. He was expected to be there at eight in the morning, and it wasn’t far off from eleven. This wasn’t the first time, either. He’d had a habit of sleeping in, especially during the summer, though he and his dad had hoped having a job would nip that bad habit in the bud.

No, this was Josh’s fourth time being over two hours late to his job in the eight weeks he’s had it. Why then was he only on his third strike? Well, the owner of the newsagents, Mr. Murphy, had been kind enough to forego his earlier tardiness with the warning that a fourth time would be a demerit.

So, on top of Josh once playing hooky during his route to skim stones on the river earning him his first demerit and mooning old Mrs. Mary O’Reilly-O’Rourke while in full newsy uniform earning him his second, this tardiness would be his third.

And no-one ever earned a fourth demerit because three demerits meant you were sacked!

And Josh’s dad, Padraig, would not take that news well. See, it was Padraig who’d gotten Josh the job since he and Mr. Murphy were good friends. Josh had already muddied the family name with his current trend of behaviour, according to his dad.

Mr. Murphy had been nice enough to keep things professional so far and keep Josh’s demerits within the knowing of the business, but if Josh got sacked, there would be no hiding it. He would be sure to find himself over his dad’s knee stripped to his socks, booked in for a lengthy session with Padraig’s palm and then the paddle no doubt.

He sprinted through the shopping centre, went through the open market, then dashed past the local secondary school on his way to the newsagent.

It was with a heaving chest, red face and knocking knees that Josh appeared in the threshold of Murphy’s Newsagent. He tried to stand tall as he pushed his jet-black hair back over his sweaty brow but had to hunch over again, hands on his knees.

“Ah, here he is, finally remembered he had a job, did he?” Mr. Murphy asked, looking up from his clipboard, his own brows furrowed.

“Sir, I am so sorry,” Josh started, stepping into the store.

“Don’t even start, lad, that’s three demerits now, I’ve given you more than a fair go of it. Go on, turn tail, I’ll send your last paycheque in the post.” Mr. Murphy flicked his hand affably at Josh, his eyes going back down to his clipboard as he made his way to the back of the store.

Bile simmered in Josh’s throat.

“Sir, please, one more chance, I’ll do anything,” Josh declared, following the tall man into the back of his store. He clasped his hands together as if in prayer. “I know I did bad, I was late again, so late, I’m sorry!”

Mr. Murphy stopped and sighed. He turned, hands on hips, and looked down at the ragged, out-of-breath boy pleading before him. He pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Look—” Mr. Murphy did just that, he looked Josh up and down— “Where’s your uniform?” he asked, frowning. Usually, the postboy uniform consisted of a white shirt, a smart brown jacket, black shorts with suspenders, tall black socks, and a set of brown work boots. All he could see on Josh were the boots.

“Did you run all the way here and not even wear your uniform?” he asked incredulously, looming over the boy with a scowl.

Josh looked himself up and down, at his tracksuit pants and half-open grey jacket, and realised with a stone in his gut that he’d messed up again.

“I’m sorry, I’ll go and—” Mr. Murphy held his hand up to silence him and he very quickly zipped his lips together.

“I am willing to give you one more chance, Josh, and only because your dad was very good to me when we were in school,” the man said as he crossed his arms over his chest. “But this is it, I mean it. From here on out, you put a single toe out of line, and you’re done here, understand?”

Josh’s face broke into a broad smile. “Yes, sir, I understand!”

“Good, you’ll be out the door in fifteen minutes to do your route. I have a couple of phone calls to make, so be sure to present yourself in uniform right here by then.”

“Uniform? But, sir, I forgot it at home,” Josh said, not wanting to be belligerent but he was genuinely confused. “I don’t have any of my uniform.” He looked down at himself. “Except for my boots.”

“Yes, and?” Mr. Murphy quizzed, not looking at Josh again as he went to his desk. “You will go to the washroom, clean yourself as best you can at the sink, then report for duty before my desk wearing only what uniform you cared to bring with you, understand?”

Josh went red from ear to chest as he comprehended what Mr. Murphy was saying. He could only blush, gulp, and nod. The boy turned away and went to the washroom.

Josh stood in front of the sink and looked at himself in the mirror. He looked a mess, still breathing heavily. He turned on the tap and splashed water into his face. He ran his wet hands back through his black locks, trying to make them any bit tidy.

He unzipped his jacket all the way, lifted his arm and sniffed. His nose wrinkled. He hadn’t showered that morning.

Josh removed his jacket and dropped it on the floor. Then he undid his boots, stepped out of them and placed them neatly to the side. His feet were chaffing something fierce now that he had the time to stop and feel it. He’d ran all that distance without boot socks and now he was suffering the consequences.

He sighed, lamenting this turn of events.

Josh looked over his shoulder at the door before hooking his thumbs into his tracksuit bottoms and pushing them down. He shivered, standing before the sink completely naked, his lithe, lily-white body likely to be on show for a little while. He was very much regretting forgetting his underwear in his rush that morning.

He told himself that it would be fine, that he just had to take the naked walk of shame to Mr. Murphy’s desk where he would give him a spare uniform to do the route in. This was just a humiliation ritual, a punishment to make Josh think about his carelessness. He would take it on the chin and do better. He had to.

After running the water hot and using the hand soap to clean the more important areas, Josh used the hand dryer to dry himself as best he could before putting the boots back on.

He placed his hand on the doorknob, took a breath and braced himself. He opened the door, expecting to only have to walk directly to Mr. Murphy’s desk on the other side of the long room. He did, but the audience that greeted him was much bigger than he expected.

“There he is,” Tyler, one of the older postboys, called out, leaning against a table, a broad smirk gracing his features as he took in the sight of Josh wearing only his boots. Josh flushed an even darker shade of crimson when he realised that Tyler was the least of his concerns.

Another boy seeing him naked, seeing his willy, would’ve been tolerable. He and Tyler had changed in that washroom together more than a few times, so there was nothing really to hide from him in particular.

The same couldn’t be said for the rest of the audience. It seemed that the entirety of the staff had been called back to witness his walk of shame, the postgirl, Alice, was there too. Her hair was in a brown bob and her eyes and smile were sharp as blades. Her uniform was the same as the postboys, only with black tights on under the shorts.

“Josh, come on, boy, you’ve wasted enough of my time today,” Mr. Murphy called from the other side of the long room. He got a couple of whistles as he passed through the crowd of over a dozen people. Was no-one manning the front desk?

“Yes, sir,” Josh croaked as he cupped his boyhood and made his way through the group. They all got a good look at his pale bottom as he approached Mr. Murphy’s desk.

“Put your hands down, boy, you’re not going to be hiding much today,” the boss said without looking up from the papers on his desk. Josh gulped and complied, his hands going to his sides.

“Sorry, sir. I won’t be late again,” Josh promised, wishing more than anything that Mr. Murphy would hand over the spare uniform.

“No, you won’t be. There’s your satchel,” Mr. Murphy gestured to the hook by the door. “There’s your cap,” he gestured to the desk.

Josh took the hat and held it meekly in front of his willy, waiting for the rest of his uniform to be acknowledged.

“Off you go, you’ve kept people waiting long enough.”

A cold stone dropped into Josh’s stomach.

“But, sir, I’m naked!” he stated, his heart pounding like a jackhammer in his chest.

“Yes, obviously. You’ll be doing your route in all the uniform you took care to bring with you today. Consider yourself lucky you were smart enough to put your boots on.”

Josh could’ve wept then and there. He had a long route, one that went into one housing estate, down a busy road, through the main street in the village, and then into another housing estate. On a good day it took him almost three hours to walk it. And Mr. Murphy was saying he had to do the whole thing in the nude!

“If you manage to get back here, route finished, by three this afternoon, we’ll consider the matter settled and you can continue to work here. If you find you’re not up to the task, then feel free to leave your boots, gather your belongings, and go.”

Josh’s lower lip trembled. He didn’t want to quit, his dad would be livid. But walking so far buck-naked… it was a heavy weight to balance.

“O-okay, sir, I’ll do it.” Josh put his cap on top of his head.

“Good. And in case you might be sneaky and dress during your route then come back here as you left, I’ll be calling our subscribers on your route randomly to make sure you kept your word.”

Josh nodded, having guessed that would be the case. “Yes, sir. I’ll be good.”

“And one more thing, take this with you, boy.” Mr. Murphy pulled open one of his drawers and took out something that made Josh’s heart run cold. “Put this in your satchel. You are to hand-deliver each paper today, and each time you do, you will ask if your customer has been inconvenienced. If they have, they can use this on you. You will tell them this.”

Josh had to choke back a sob. He took the small, hard, wooden paddle from Mr. Murphy’s desk and held it tight in his fist.

“Yes, sir,” he said, his voice hoarse, his throat feeling like it was constricting.

“Good luck, Josh,” Tyler called out as the naked preteen made his way to the hook where his satchel hung waiting for him. He put the paddle in, sliding it between papers before slinging the bag over his shoulder.

He made his way to the door that went to the front of house, placed his hand on the doorknob, gulped, and pushed it open.

Josh didn’t even have the small mercy of the newsagent being empty when he began his pilgrimage through it. Thankfully it was just one man he didn’t know, but that man’s eyes widened as he looked up from the magazines when he saw a naked boy enter the room, a boy who looked even smaller than he was in just his boots and cap.

“Morning,” the man greeted, a smile tugging at his lips as Josh walked by.

“Good morning,” Josh replied, barely a whisper as he walked towards the door of the shop. His bottom clenched when he felt eyes on it. He took one last breath before it all happened. He opened the door to the newsagent, felt a breeze go up his balls, shivered, and stepped out.

The effect was immediate. The street was busy enough and Josh drew eyes from both sides as he stepped onto the sidewalk. He gripped the strap of his satchel tight, the people’s gazes locking onto him. Some scoffed, some laughed, others watched silently.

“Working on a tan?” a passer-by asked with a taunting laugh.

“Bit warm, is it?” another jeered.

“Careful, or the birds will fly away with it,” Josh was told when his willy, small and shrunken in the open air, was pointed at.

He ignored them as best he could. He could barely get his trembling under control.

Josh didn’t dare stop walking, if he stopped he might just collapse. He could only take a breath and think the situation through. He had twenty-two papers in his satchel. Most of those people would be at work, it was a Wednesday morning, after all. So maybe this wouldn’t be as bad as he thought.

18 Summer Road – 22 Papers Left

His first stop was 18 Summer Road, one of the houses across the way from the secondary school. Thankfully, it was summer, and the building would be empty. He didn’t want to imagine what it’d be like walking naked where all those older kids could see him.

He put that out of mind for now as he approached the gate of the first house, John O’Toole’s house. It was a terraced house, so there were about half a dozen of the same type of abode either side. More than a couple had people enjoying the sun in their front garden. More than a few eyes were on him as he walked up to the front door and knocked, his heart pounding.

Josh heard a little bit of commotion through the door. He never usually knocked on his doors, usually he put the papers through the letterbox, but that wasn’t an option today. He doubted that Mr. Murphy would call every one of his stops, but Josh couldn’t take the risk.

“Coming!” Josh heard called from the other side of the door. It opened a moment later and a young man was standing in the doorway, a handsome young man with a short cut beard wearing comfortable clothes.

He looked confused, then looked down, then his eyes widened when he took in Josh’s nude appearance. “Uh, am I being pranked?” he asked, sticking his head out of the door and looking down either way.

“Um, no, sir,” Josh said, opening his satchel. “I’m your postboy, Josh Pearse, and I was late today. Actually, I’m past my last chance at work.” He held the paper up to his customer. “So, I’m to do my route late, handing each paper to our subscribers in person and apologise.” That last part hadn’t been said outright but it was likely in line with what Mr. Murphy wanted.

“And… I’m only allowed to wear the uniform I had the care to put on this morning,” he added, his eyes directed downwards as Mr. O’Toole took the paper.

“So, just your boots, then?” John O’Toole had a tight smirk on his face, clearly he’d moved on from confusion to amusement.

“Yes, sir, just my boots. Forgot to wear socks. And underwear,” Josh added, clasping his hands in front of his willy. “I reckon if I’d remembered my britches, Mr. Murphy would’ve let me wear them. My own fault, really.”

“Yes, very careless,” Mr. O’Toole said with a barely suppressed chuckle. “So, is this all?”

“Not quite, sir,” Josh said, reaching back into his satchel with a heavy heart and trembling hand. He pulled out the paddle and held it out to Mr. O’Toole. “You may use this on me if my carelessness and tardiness had inconvenienced you today.” He swallowed, his heart hammering against his ribs. A cool breeze blew past his cheeks, and he became all the more conscious of them and the danger they were in.

“I see.” The glint in Mr. O’Toole’s eyes might’ve made you think that Christmas had arrived early. He was a young man, so probably not a father yet, so he’d likely never had the chance to spank a boy’s bottom before. At least not conventionally.

“Right, well, let’s get it done with, then, eh lad?” Mr. O’Toole said, taking the paddle from Josh’s hand. Josh could’ve wept then and there.

John O’Toole paused for a moment, a contemplative look on his face. Perhaps he was pondering just how far he could push Josh’s predicament. The boy was already naked, and people were going to see his rear all through town, so there was little he could do to add to his embarrassment.

“Come on in. Take off your boots at the door.”

Josh followed the man inside his house. It was sparsely decorated, the walls plain and undressed, not much decoration around at all bar a few sparse photos. A bachelor’s house. In any case, he did as he was told and removed his boots. He took off his satchel and cap too, leaving them by his boots. They weren’t going to do him any good here.

Mr. O’Toole sat himself on his couch, a gaudy chartreuse thing. Josh followed him over and let himself be directed and moved. He was standing between the man’s legs before long, a dour look on his little face.

“I’m sorry,” he hiccupped, already feeling a lump in his throat. This was the first of potentially twenty or so spankings he could expect today.

“Mm-hm, you were very naughty and careless,” Mr. O’Toole replied. “How many stops are on your route today?”

“T-twenty-two, including here.” Josh clenched his cheeks, wondering how on God’s Earth he was going to cope if all of his stops had someone to spank his bottom.

“My age. Sounds like a good number then. Bend over my left leg, lad.”

Josh did as he was told and bent his supple little body over his punisher’s thigh. He was adjusted until he was properly over it, his bare bottom pointed up, his toes off the floor. His legs were under Mr. O’Toole’s other leg, though not fully pinned. He would be able to kick, just not very high.

Josh felt the man’s hand on the small of his back, a hollow comfort. The paddle whistled through the air like a missile before the boy could brace himself and clapped into his pale little cheeks with speed and ferocity!

“OW!” Josh yelped, his fists gripping the fabric of Mr. O’Toole’s comfortable trousers as the first sting of the day impacted his rear.

“One,” Mr. O’Toole counted, an unhidden, boyish mirth in his tone. Josh appreciated that he wasn’t being made to count it out. That meant he just had to wait for it to be over.

Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap!

Josh gasped and jostled with each spank, the man over him alternating cheeks, giving each one a good lick of the paddle before moving to the other. He never clenched in time either. The man was still very young, he still had strength and speed to make up for his inexperience.

“Ten, eleven,” Mr. O’Toole counted, pausing for a moment to let Josh’s cheeks breathe. He’d already painted them a healthy shade of pink, akin to the shade of faded roses.

The man then pushed Josh a bit further over his knee, upturning his pretty little rear more, thus bringing his sit-spots into the line of fire.

“Twelve, thirteen…”

The air was pushed from Josh’s lungs when his taut, sensitive sit-spots became the victim of the paddle. He squirmed and writhed but never tried to block or push away. He knew better.

Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap!

His little bottom shook side to side, trying to avoid the inevitable sting of the paddle as Mr. O’Toole counted into the twenties.

“Twenty-one, and finally, twenty-two,” he announced, clapping the hard, heavy, wooden implement into Josh’s pink behind one last time.

Well, the last time for John O’Toole, anyway.

“Well done, Josh, you took that like a champ,” he said, helping the boy to stand. Josh was wheezing as tears streaked down his cheeks. He focussed on rubbing them away before letting a hand go to his bottom.

“Thank you, sir, sorry again sir,” he hiccupped between the tears. John did feel a pang of sympathy for the boy, guessing what was ahead of him.

“C’mon, lad,” he said, taking Josh’s hand and leading him into the kitchen. He fixed him a glass of orange squash and held it out for him to take. Josh gladly took it, glad for something to do.

He downed it in one gulp, taking his time, then gasped when he finished. He took a deep breath and wiped his tears away. He took another breath, and another, then looked up at the man.

“Thank you,” he sniffed, seeing and feeling no malice from the young man.

“You’re welcome,” Mr. O’Toole said softly. Then he got to a knee and opened his arms to the boy. Josh stepped in, eager for the affection. He wrapped his arms around the man’s shoulders, his head instinctively going to rest on the crook of his neck.

Josh let out a deep breath, dread draping over him. He still had twenty-one papers to deliver, with potentially as many paddlings.

“I should go now,” Josh said, wiping his tear-stained cheek with the back of his hand. Mr. O’Toole ruffled his hair.

“Off you go then. Knock in when you’re next delivering my paper, you can have another glass of juice,” he said with a chuckle. Josh smiled up at him, glad to have maybe gained a companion out of all of this.

Only twenty-one deliveries to go.

Josh’s Nude News Route Part 2

108 Hickory Drive – 21 Papers Left

The naked pilgrimage reached its newest height of humiliation when Josh walked past the open-air market. He’d hoped to keep a low profile, his satchel between himself and the sea of canopies and their patrons. Maybe he could pass for shirtless.

He had no such luck. He was whistled at by someone in the crowd who knew his name, not strange in a village of this size. “Are you naked?” that same someone called out, causing many people, mostly families with other kids, to look his way. The most eyes that’d been on him yet were looking at him. He flushed a darker shade than his bottom, which more and more of them saw as he walked by.

His next stop was another terraced house just across the road from the open-air market, which in and of itself was in the carpark of the shopping centre. He was gawked at and jeered while he waited for the crossing light to turn green, giving him the go-ahead to cross the road and get just that bit further away.

When his bottom was facing the entirety of the onlookers, he got a cheer.

His lower lip trembling, Josh walked up the driveway of 108 Hickory Drive, up to the Denny residence. He knocked. He got no answer. His heart started to lift, maybe he’d be able to get away without a spanking this time!

He knocked again just to be sure, then when he got no answer, he slipped the paper in through the letterbox.

“Hello? What are you doing at my door?” a voice asked from behind. Josh nearly jumped out of his skin, turned on his heel and saw a man walking towards him, a border collie on a leash in his hand.

“H-hello, Mr. Denny, I’m Josh, Josh Pearse, your postboy,” he said, trying to remember the polite way he rehearsed all this in his head. “I was late this morning and—”

“And you never dropped off the paper, I missed that paper,” Mr. Denny said, his tone stern as he walked up the drive. He was a middle-aged man, hair gone gracefully grey and rectangular glasses on his face. “How come you’re in the buff, young man?”

“I, um—”

“Don’t stutter, it’s bad manners.”

Josh bristled. “I forgot my uniform on my rush out this morning, sir, forgot to put on socks and underwear too. Just my bottoms and a jacket, so Mr. Murphy is making me do my route in all the uniform I cared to remember, sir,” Josh blurted, wringing the strap of his satchel tight, feeling smaller and even more naked under Mr. Denny’s glower.

“And,” Josh gulped, not wanting to bring up the paddle as Mr. Denny didn’t seem the lenient sort. “Mr. Murphy told me to bring this too,” he said, taking out the paddle. “I’m to offer it to you to use on me for any inconvenience caused by my carelessness.”

Josh had the sinking feeling that he’d caused much inconvenience.

“Is that so?” Mr. Denny mused as he walked past Josh towards his front door, the dog following obediently. “Wait here.” Then the door closed on Josh, though he was stuck to the spot, not allowed to move. He had to wait any amount of time Mr. Denny wished, right there where the open market could still see his exposed body.

Thankfully, he wasn’t made to wait too long. Mr. Denny came out just a couple of minutes later, with only a stool in hand. He placed in on the ground in front of Josh.

“Put down your bag, take off your cap, bend over and hold the stool with your legs as straight as possible,” the man ordered.

Resigned to his fate, Josh did just as he was told. Though it wasn’t good enough.

“No, boy, walk to the other side of it and bend over. That’s right, your rear facing the road,” Mr. Denny ordered, seemingly determined to maximise Josh’s humiliation. From this angle, people from the open-air market would be able to see his punishment too.

Josh adjusted and straightened his legs as much as possible, the air cool on his pink bottom. “Already had a session with the paddle, I see,” Mr. Denny said as he pressed the cool wood to Josh’s cheeks.

“Yes, sir, I got twenty-two with it.” Josh hoped that Mr. Denny would keep that number, if not decrease it a little.

“Only?”

Josh’s hope shattered into a million pieces.

Mr. Denny placed his hand firmly on the small of Josh’s back, his thumb pressed on the base of his tailbone, just about between his cheeks. Josh, learning from last time, braced himself and clenched his cheeks.

Josh grunted, gripping the stool tight as the paddle whacked sharply into his already sore rear. He was sure he could feel the rippling tear through him, especially when the next whack came almost immediately after the first. Then the next, then the next, one after the other, randomly spanked onto his cheeks or thighs.

“Ow! Ow! Ow-ow-ow!” Josh moaned, tears falling from his eyes again as Mr. Denny paddled him with more gusto and fire than John had. There was no rhyme or reason, no pattern to predict, no counting to ground him, just spank, after spank, after spank. The sounds whistled even across the road, and pretty soon most of the market patrons across the road were watching his spanking.

It must’ve been way more than thirty whacks of the paddle before Mr. Denny stood tall again. Josh’s rear end was a pulsing, pained red, his cheeks and thighs smarting and stinging much worse than before.

“Let those forty-eight slaps be a lesson, then,” Mr. Denny said, barely any tone or intent in his voice as he placed the paddle on the ground, picked up his stool, and went inside. Josh took a moment to feel sorry for himself and rub his bum before collecting his things and making his way along to his next delivery.

Mercifully, it meant walking away from the market.

Josh’s Nude News Route Part 3

3 Honeywell Park – 17 Papers Left

Very mercifully, Josh’s next two deliveries ended with him just slipping the paper through the letterbox. That didn’t mean he was spared the footpath humiliations. He passed by a girl who pointed with glee and told her mother; “Mummy, mummy, that boy’s nakey,” which alerted anyone who didn’t already know.

Josh kept his head down and just walked on. The next house did have someone answer the door, but it was old Ms. McGale, who just laughed heartily when she answered the door and heard of his predicament.

“Turn around, let me see your damage,” she asked when Josh offered her the paddle. “You’ve had enough by my estimation, I don’t even read the paper until after dinner,” she said, chuckling at the obvious relief on Josh’s face. She then wished him luck as he streaked through her front garden.

Maybe Josh had gotten unlucky with his first two deliveries, and he was going to deliver the rest of his route without another spanking!

That train of thought quickly decomposed when the next door he knocked on opened. 3 Honeywell Park wherein lived Mr. and Mrs. Rourke. Mr. Marlon O’Rourke was a teacher at Josh’s school, in fact, he’d been Josh’s teacher two years ago when he was eight. He was a nice enough man who never shouted and always helped his students to understand what was being taught.

However, he was also never one to spare the rod. Whenever it was earned, he would take an offending boy to the front of the class, lecture him, pull his trousers or shorts down, tug his underwear up between his cheeks, and administer a firm spanking over his knee. Always followed by corner time.

He was never cruel, though, and always threatened those who laughed with their own trip over his knee. He always followed through and there would be another pink bottom in the corner.

Josh had been over his knee twice, once for failing to complete homework three times in one week, the second for throwing an egg at another boy during arts and crafts. Both earned, both sore, neither stopped him from sitting that day, but both kept him from misbehaving for a good while afterwards.

The point was this, Josh was definitely going to get a spanking at this next house, but he knew he was going to get a fair one.

With a heavy heart, Josh knocked on the door. Before the door was answered, he felt eyes on him. He looked to his left and saw a pair of beady eyes staring at him. A little blond boy was standing in the bay window, looking right at Josh. Thankfully his satchel was on that side, so the boy couldn’t quite see his nakedness. Yet.

The door opened, and there stood Mr. O’Rourke. A tall, thinly built man with short blond hair and a tidy moustache under his nose.

“Well, well, well, Mr. Pearse, we meet again,” he said, looking Josh up and down with a warm, amused smile. “I’ve been expecting you,” he said, then opened the door and welcomed Josh into his well-kept, tidy home.

“You have?” Josh asked, feeling like he was entering an animal’s den. Not quite a lion’s den, he didn’t feel quite so endangered, but maybe something less threatening. A small badger’s den, perhaps. He wasn’t in mortal peril, but he was definitely going to be worse for wear after he came out.

“Yes, your boss called me, said that if I didn’t see you yet that I ought to, and you ought to be naked except for your boots and cap.” He looked Josh up and down, who blushed and wringed his satchel strap again. “Which you are, so, good boy,” he praised.

“Now, you can put your satchel down there, put your cap on the hook, and put your boots on the rack,” Mr. O’Rourke explained before disappearing into his living room.

“Jamie, go to your room for a bit, sweetie,” Josh heard his former teacher say from the living room as he unlaced his boots. The little boy who’d been watching him from the window exited the living room and watched Josh like a hawk. Josh cupped his willy, feeling more ogled by this boy than by most. But the little boy, Jamie, didn’t linger, and went up the stairs as he was told.

Josh went into the living room where there was already a chair in the centre of the room. He heard a giggle from behind him, a light, velvety giggle. His head snapped to look around, and there was a woman lounged on the couch, a very pretty woman with her legs tucked up onto the sofa and a book in hand.

“I almost didn’t believe it when we got the call,” Mrs. O’Rourke said, her eyes drifting down Josh’s back to his bum, then back to her book. “Ignore me, I’m just a fly on the wall.”

“Right, Josh,” Mr O’Rourke said, commanding the boy’s attention in his soft, authoritative way. “When your boss called and explained things to me, he did mention a paddle. Turn around for me.”

Josh did as he was told, turning on the spot. He faced Mrs. O’Rourke in the process and cupped his hands over his willy, though she seemed more interested in her book, which had a shirtless, muscled man on the cover

“I see that the paddle has indeed been used,” Mr. O’Rourke said, having knelt down behind Josh to inspect his bare bottom. He held the boy’s hip to keep him steady as his eyes carefully and slowly studied the marks Misters O’Toole and Denny had inflicted on him. Though, the latter had been much harsher than the former.

“The paddle isn’t really my style,” he murmured, running his thumb down over Josh’s left cheek, inspecting the change in colour and making Josh hiss. “Said as much to your boss, and he was fine with me just using my hand.” The man then tapped Josh’s dark pink bottom and stood.

Josh didn’t know whether or not to be happy about that fact. It was a change of pace, at least, but he knew that Mr. O’Rourke’s hand would sting almost as much. He’d felt it before, after all, and back then it wasn’t on an already spanked bum.

If there was one thing that Mr. O’Rourke was, it was experienced.

The teacher took his place on the chair in the middle of the living room, legs spread and gestured for Josh to come towards him.

Josh did so, still with his hands cupped over his willy. Mr. O’Rourke gave a pointed look to his hands, raised an eyebrow and wordlessly met Josh’s eye. The boy blushed and lowered his hands to his sides. He got an affirming nod in response.

“I’m going to take you over my knee and give you my hand for three minutes, understand?” the man said softly, his tone bearing no rage or resentment or glee, no jubilation of his duty. Just the understanding that this was discipline, well-deserved discipline and he was doing his part.

“Yes, sir,” Josh said, his voice small, his lower lip already quivering again.

“Good boy.”

Marlon O’Rourke guided Josh over his left knee, tilted him far over it so his bottom was turned and taut. His other leg then firmly clamped behind the backs of Josh’s knees, keeping him inescapably incarcerated. It was a much more refined version of what John O’Toole had done at the top of the day.

“Just waiting for the second hand on the clock to reach the start of the minute,” Mr. O’Rourke said, his warm hand resting on Josh’s cheeks as he looked up above the mantel piece. “Three, two, one.”

“Yow!” Josh yelped when the first wicked spank whipped upside his cheeks. The sting that’d faded during his walk to 1 Honeywell Park reignited with interest. He hadn’t been the least bit braced, lulled into a false sense of security by Mr. O’Rourke’s kindly demeanour. His soft words and kind disposition tricked Josh into thinking that his spanking was going to be equally soft, and that his decision to not use the paddle was a mercy.

He was very abruptly disabused of that notion.

The second smack was as evil as the first, lighting the undersides of Josh’s little cheeks on fire! Mr. O’Rourke definitely held back in school. Josh’s previous trips over the man’s lap were fond remembrances in comparison to what he was doing to him now.

And Josh was going to have to take three minutes of this! No more than ten seconds had gone by, and he was already feeling like it was too much.

Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack!

Mr. O’Rourke was like a machine. His arm rose, his fingers splayed just enough to let the air through as his hand whistled down and collided onto Josh’s cheeks. The small, fleshy mounds bounced and rippled with each spank. And just when the sting reached its crescendo, the next spank was already barrelling forth.

“Ow! Please! Ow!” Josh begged, fresh tears and snot leaking down his face as the seconds ticked on. But there was no relief. Mr. O’Rourke didn’t alternate cheeks either, he aimed for and accurately spanked the centre of his bottom, hitting both cheeks exactly where they’d be sat on.

Three minutes dragged on for an eternity. When it was finally over, Josh was still bucking and rocking over the man’s lap, feeling like his rear had been stabbed by a sewing needle a thousand times.

“There, there, Josh, I’m all done,” Mr. O’Rourke said, gently caressing the lad’s throbbing bottom as he slowly calmed down.

Still hiccupping and ragged-breathed, Josh eventually managed to stand. His hands went right to his cheeks, trying to rub the sting out of them as he bounced on the spot, his willy flopping and putting on quite the show.

“You’re okay, you’re okay.” Mr. O’Rourke gathered the naked boy in his arms and held him close, showing him the affection and concern that was considered slightly too inappropriate for the classroom.

Josh clung to him, his hands gripping his shirt, fresh tears spilling as he was comforted and soothed.

“Look at all this bother you got yourself into, silly boy,” the teacher tutted, looking Josh up and down. “Couldn’t even remember to put socks on.” He looked down at the boy’s feet and noticed how red and raw they were in places.

“Hm. Love, can you see if we still have Davey’s old postboy uniform,” Mr. O’Rourke said. Josh’s hope peaked for all of a moment, thinking his teacher was going to help him spoof Mr. Murphy’s punishment.

“If we still have the socks, let’s give them to Joshie. I know he’s being punished, but there’s no reason to torture his toes,” he said, cradling Josh in his arms and directing the boy’s feet towards his wife. This also had the effect of flashing his bum at her.

The debasing position felt the same as if he were being nappied, his balls peeking out from between his thighs, his cheeks spread just enough to show his hole. Josh’s hands flew to his face, not wanting to look at the world in that moment.

“I think we still do, somewhere. I’ll go see,” Mrs. O’Rourke said, standing and placing her book down.

Mr. O’Rourke lowered Josh back onto his lap, being gentle with his sore bottom.

“How many deliveries do you have left, Josh?” the teacher asked, his hand softly rubbing the boy’s back. Josh leaned into his chest, his bottom and feet both aching.

“Sixteen, sir, you were my sixth,” he answered, grateful for the moment of respite.

“You’ve still got a day’s work, then.” He rubbed Josh’s back. Josh leaned into the touch, his shoulders going slack, letting himself sniffle and feel sorry for himself.

“Yes, sir. I need to be back at Mr. Murphy’s for three o’clock. And I’ll be naked for all of it.”

“That so? You must really be on your last chance, then,” Mr. O’Rourke said with a chuckle. Josh pouted but he couldn’t deny it. He’d expended all of his chances.

“But still, I imagine you’ll feel very grateful for your job to go back to normal after all of this.”

“Yes, I’m looking forward to being allowed to wear clothes again,” Josh said with a light chuckle of his own, needing to find the humour in the situation. His only other option was to weep at his circumstances.

As teacher and student enjoyed a quiet moment together, Mrs. O’Rourke came back into a room, a small smile gracing her face.

“Here you go,” she started, getting to her knees next to Josh and her husband. “These belonged to our eldest when he was a postboy, I imagine they’ll make your job today much more tolerable.”

Josh pointed his toes as the first sock was brought to his foot. Being dressed like this was only mildly debasing compared to the rest of his morning.

“Thank you, miss, honestly,” he said as the sock was drawn up just shy of his knee. Then the other was put on him. Mr. O’Rourke helped him stand, and even though he felt more naked by wearing the socks, he was still grateful to have them.

“I’ll bring them back on my next route this way,” Josh said as he looked down at his clad feet.

“No need, son, they’re not getting any use here. Keep them.” Mr. O’Rourke placed a heavy, comforting hand on Josh’s shoulder. The boy looked up, met the man’s gaze, and was almost brought to tears by the simple kindness.

“Thank you, sir, really.”

Mr. O’Rourke nodded.

“Right then, shall we get going?” the man then said.

“’We’, sir?” Josh asked with furrowed brows.

“Yes, Josh. I imagine your legs are quite tired, and you may be running behind if you need to be done for three.” They both looked at the clock. It was 12:16. Josh had set out at about 11:00, and at his current pace, Josh mightn’t be back until four in the afternoon! A whole hour after his deadline.

“So, I’m going to give you a bit of a boost. I’ll drive you to your next couple of stops and hopefully that’ll let you beat the clock.” Mr. O’Rourke winked down at the naked lad, who marvelled up at him with wide, grateful eyes.

“Oh, thank you, sir, thank you!” Josh wrapped his arms around the man’s midsection, feeling his load, both mental and physical, lighten just a little bit.

Josh’s Nude News Route Part 4

44 Inispear Street – 15 Papers Left

Don’t get Josh wrong, he was incredibly grateful to be driven to his next stop. Mr. O’Rourke didn’t have to do that at all. But by the Lord, the booster seat he was made to sit on made his bottom itch something fierce.

But he didn’t complain, he got on with it until his next stop, where the elderly Daisy Lynch had answered. Her eyes widened when she saw a naked boy on her doorstep. She had a good laugh upon hearing Josh’s tale but sent him away with a biscuit instead of a paddling.

When he got back down the drive, Josh was surprised to see Mr. O’Rourke still there, saying he had nothing better to do for now, and he’d give him a lift until his next spanking, then he’d have to go.

That only added to the weight of the following drives.

The next stop didn’t even see the door answered, so the paper was pushed through the letterbox. Josh could only hope for the same luck at his next stop, 44 Inispear Street.

He hopped out of Mr. O’Rourke’s car, walked up the driveway of the semi-detached house, and knocked. His heart fell when he heard commotion inside. Movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. He looked and saw someone looking at him through a parted blind.

The front door opened and before him stood Ms. Nessa McCoole. She was a young woman with red hair that went all the way down her back.

“Now what could you possibly be doing on my doorstep, young man?” she asked, a hand on her hip, her red lips in a tight smirk.

“I, I’m your postboy, miss, Josh Pearse,” Josh started, taking the paper out of his satchel. “I’m sorry for being late today, I’ve not been very good at my job, and me slacking off is why you see me the way I am.” He blushed, looking away, wringing his satchel strap as she took the paper from him.

“My boss has given me one more chance, and that meant doing my route in all the uniform I cared to wear today and handing as many of the papers I can to our subscribers in person.”

“Is that so? So, you’ve walked all the way here, have you?” Ms. McCoole asked as she unfurled the paper.

“Yes. Well…” Josh contemplated whether or not to tell her about the lifts he’d gotten off of Mr. O’Rourke. He weighed the idea of getting some help with his route against the idea of being dishonest, and which was likely to get him in more trouble.

He decided that the latter was the more major infraction.

“Actually, Mr. O’Rourke, another of our subscribers, gave me a lift for my last couple of stops. It’s because I’m against the clock, you see,” he tried to explain quickly.

“Oh. And I’m supposed to offer you this,” Josh added, taking the paddle out of his satchel. “For any inconvenience caused. You may paddle my bare bottom.” He blushed deeply at that, his cheeks clenching and throbbing at the thought of yet another punishment.

“Is that so?” Ms. McCoole asked, this time with a more curious emphasis. “Well, I did miss my morning paper, didn’t I, girls?” she asked, craning her neck to speak towards the open living room door.

Josh’s blood ran cold as a chorus of womanly voices called back affirmingly.

“The ladies seem to think I ought to take you up on your offer,” she said with a vixenlike smile, her smile and her gaze as sharp as they were beautiful.

“Yes, miss,” Josh gulped. “It’s no less than I deserve.”

Josh was let in, his satchel, cap and boots left by the front door as he was led into the living room. He flushed a deep red, a hand going to cover his willy as he was introduced to his audience.

A circle of six ladies were waiting for him, all of whom were dressed for an occasion, all of them holding either a dainty cup or a small confection.

“Ladies, this is Josh, and he’s been a naughty little boy,” Ms. McCoole said, sticking out her lower lip as she admonished Josh.

“Say hello to the nice ladies, Josh,” she whispered in his ear while winking to her friends.

“H-hello, ladies.”

“Hello, Josh,” they chorused.

“Now, little Josh, looking at your bottom, I can see that you’ve already had plenty of punishment today. Is that right?”

Josh nodded, his cheeks clenching again.

“Yes, miss, I’ve had the paddle twice, and Mr. O’Rourke gave me his hand,” he explained, which caused the gaggle of ladies to ooh at him.

“Really? Do tell, I wouldn’t want to go overboard, now would I?” Ms. McCoole asked in a sickly-sweet tone.

“Well, I got twenty-two of the paddle from Mr. O’Toole, then forty-eight from Mr. Denny, then thirty-six of Mr. O’Rourke’s hand,” Josh explained, straining to remember everything he’d gotten so far.

“Well, I don’t want to be too mean, so,” she left her words hang in the air, forcing a sick sense of suspense to bubble in Josh’s chest. “Let’s do what Mr. O’Toole did, twenty-two of the paddle sounds fit for the crime.”

Josh almost sighed in relief but didn’t want to make it seem like he felt he was getting off easy. Though, it did seem as if Ms. McCoole was more enjoying the spectacle and the show she was putting on more than the thought of punishing him.

“Now, I’ve never spanked anyone before,” Ms. McCoole said, holding the paddle warily with both hands. “So, you’ll have to forgive me if I’m not as tough as the several misters who’ve had a go at your bum today, Josh.”

“I, I’m sure I’ll find it somewhere in myself to forgive you, miss,” he responded with a light chuckle. It made the ladies in the room all laugh, including Nessa herself, so it must’ve been the right thing to say.

“So, Josh, please turn your cute little rear towards the ladies, and I suppose we’ll get on with this.”

Josh nodded, feeling a cool chill go up his back as he turned, wearing only socks, presenting his naked rear to his audience. He could see where this was going. Ms. McCoole didn’t want him over her lap. And why would she? She was wearing a rather nice dress, and he was a naked, sweaty, worked little boy.

So, he bent over, keeping his legs as straight as he could as he grabbed his ankles. He could feel his cheeks parting and his little balls squeezing through his thighs. He was completely and utterly on display.

He groaned in embarrassment when he heard the whistles but grit his teeth and let it slide off his back.

“Isn’t he a good boy, knowing just what to do,” Ms. McCoole praised sardonically. She took her place at Josh’s side, placed one hand on his bent-over tailbone and held the paddle against his red cheeks.

“Count for me, ladies, I don’t want to give any more or any less than what I promised.”

Josh clenched his cheeks and took a deep breath. He closed his eyes and waited.

There was a whistle, a slap, and a cacophonous count shouting; “One!”

He only grunted, the fire in his bottom being lightly stoked as the first spank of the paddle licked up his cheeks.

This probably was going to be the mildest spanking he got today. Ms. McCoole must’ve been telling the truth when she said she’d never spanked before. It showed in her form, in her strength and technique.

Josh knew plenty of boys who were spanked by their mothers, grandmothers, or other such matrons, and they weren’t generally favoured as softer spankers than their male counterparts. Sure, they may not always be able to spank as hard as the men, but they didn’t need to. Subtle flicks of the wrist, the correct choice of weapon and implementation of embarrassment worked just as well to deliver a sound spanking to an errant lad.

Ms. McCoole at least had a grasp on the lattermost concept.

“Nine! Ten!” the ladies chanted as the burning embers in Josh’s bottom started to heat up somewhat.

Josh held his breath, only letting the sting show itself with light grunts and slight wobbles. No-doubt the rippling of his cheeks, the twitching of his knees and the winking of his exposed bumhole were enough of a show for the ladies.

“Twenty! Twenty-one! Twenty-two!” the chorus announced, and Josh finally let out the breath he’d been holding in.

He stood straight, his hands going to his glutes, his lower lip stuck out as tears pricked the corners of his eyes.

“Sorry again, miss,” he said with a sniffle.

“Just be a good boy, and it’ll all be fine,” Ms. McCoole said with a playful grin.

Josh was sent on his way with a teacake and a final pat on his bum. When he got to the end of the driveway, Mr. O’Rourke was still there.

“That didn’t take long,” the teacher said through the window of his car.

“No, she wasn’t very tough with it, sir, I think Ms. McCoole just wanted to put on a show for her friends,” Josh said with a tentative rub of his bottom.

“Well then, will you be okay to walk to your next delivery?”

Josh nodded, thanked Mr. O’Rourke for his help and waved him off, only remembering he was naked on the street when he was gawked at by a little boy walking hand in hand with his mother.

“Mummy, he’s naked! I can see his willy!” he announced, pointing right at Josh’s little pecker.

He blushed and started to walk to his next destination.

Josh’s Nude News Route Part 5

7 Inisclear Road – 13 Papers Left

The walk from Inispear Street to Inisclear Road was thankfully a rather short one. Even though it did mean walking alongside a busy main road for Josh. Any number of people, coming from both ways, got a good look at his front or his very red rear.

At least the footpath wasn’t busy, that would have been even worse.

He was grateful when he got no answer at 23 Inisclear Road, and hoped he’d have the same experience a few houses down the path at number 7.

On his way there, though, there was a woman with curlers in her hair and a cigarette between her fingers leaning against her doorframe, who eyed him as he walked by. She chuckled a raspy laugh as Josh passed her. He felt her gaze on his boyhood then on his red bottom as he went by.

Josh made it to number 7 Inisclear Road and knocked using the metal knocker on the door. His heart sank when he heard commotion on the other side of the door, a dog barking and someone yelling. Then the door swung open with gusto, and Josh was looking up at a scowling figure.

He wasn’t quite a man yet, but certainly no longer a little boy like Josh. A teenager. With black, slightly greasy but soft-looking hair brushing his neck, a tight black t-shirt that defined his abs, skinny jeans that hugged his legs, sharp, ridiculing eyes and a flat-lipped scowl.

But those harsh features quickly softened, the eyes going softer, the eyebrows raising, and his lips parting in astonishment at the sight before him.

“Hello, Mister—” Josh looked at the name on his route planner. “Mister Bolton, I’m Josh Pearse, your postboy,” he explained for the seventh time that day. He held the newspaper out to the teenager, whose fingers brushed against Josh’s as he took it. It was a good thing that Josh was already blushing due to him standing naked in full view of the neighbourhood, as when his fingers were brushed, he felt blood rush and colour him for a different reason.

“Mr. Bolton is my dad,” the teen said, unfolding the paper to look at the front page. “You can call me Andy.” He then tucked the paper under his arm and looked Josh up and down. His eyes stopped and focused when he reached Josh’s pecker. Josh looked down too and whimpered when he saw that it was sticking up.

Josh brought his satchel around to cover the protrusion, finding that he was forgetting his spiel. “Um, uh,” he stuttered, hands trembling.

“I’m guessing you’re the one the message on the answering machine was talking about,” Andy said, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed, his smirk more mirthful and teasing. “Your boss has really dobbed you in it, hasn’t he?”

Josh’s ears felt like there were on fire. He looked down, swallowed and shook his head.

“This, this is my own fault,” he said, his knuckles turning white as he clutched his satchel. “I didn’t take my job seriously, sir, and this is the consequence of using up all my chances,” he said, looking up to meet Andy’s gaze. But he quickly looked down again when he felt outsized and outmatched by his teenage confidence.

Josh replaced the satchel at his hip, stiffy be damned, and took out the paddle.

“For any inconvenience caused by me being late, you have permission to use this on me, sir, and give me what I deserve.” As much as his bare bottom quivered and clenched at the thought of another spanking, Josh couldn’t help but find himself wondering what it’d be like to be placed over Andy’s lap specifically. He found himself wondering if his legs were as toned as the jeans made them out to be, if his abs were as washboard adjacent as they looked.

“That so?” Andy asked, taking the paddle and getting a feel for it. “Has it been used on you already?”

“Yes, it has.” Josh turned around and showed Andy his red bottom, blushing when the teen whistled. “And someone has used his hand, too,” he added, then he hissed sharply when Andy pinched his right bum cheek.

“Damn, you’ve really had a number done on your little ass, haven’t you?”

Josh whimpered, his hands went to cover his willy as it twitched, though he didn’t know why it was having that reaction. It wasn’t as if the condition of his bottom and his penis hadn’t already been commented on several times that day.

“Yes, it does hurt quite a bit already,” Josh said, hoping to garner some sympathy from Andy.

“I bet it does. Unfortunately, I don’t think I’m going to be doing you any favours, Josh. See, my dad really likes his paper, not having it in time ruined his morning. Then he ruined everyone’s morning,” Andy explained, swinging the paddle through the air to test it.

“Come on in. Take off your shoes and follow me upstairs.” Andy then turned around and waited by said stairs, which were right there when you walked in the front door.

Josh sighed, stepped inside, closed the door, and took off his boots. His satchel and cap rested with them, leaving him in just the white socks Mrs. O’Rourke had given him. He walked past Andy, who followed him up the stairs. The teen got a good look at his red, shifting cheeks as he ascended the stairs, no doubt seeing a lot more than he thought he would when he answered the front door.

“This way,” Andy said abruptly, pushing past Josh when they got to the top of the stairs and grabbing his wrist. Josh almost stumbled as he was pulled into Andy’s room. He barely had time to take in the state of it before he was dragged to the bed.

“I’m just thinking,” Andy said, looking at Josh’s bare bottom again as he ran his fingers over the paddle. “Your cheeks and thighs have gotten a lot of attention,” he mused. Josh looked up at him and could see the gears turning behind his eyes.

“So, I don’t think I’ll focus on those.”

Josh’s heart started to pound even faster in his chest. Andy wasn’t going to spank his bottom or his thighs? Then what was he going to spank? His hands? The soles of his feet? His calves? The soles of his feet would be downright sadistic given he still had a lot of walking to do that day.

“Hmm, lie on your back, Josh,” Andy ordered, pointing at his bed with the paddle. Josh gulped and obeyed, crawling onto the bed and turning onto his back. The paddle was then tossed by his head and before he knew it, Andy had lifted Josh’s legs. The boy groaned as his rear was drawn taut and his knees were pressed to his chest.

He blushed, feeling like he was a baby about to be changed. Though, since it was Andy handling him, Josh couldn’t help but imagine that the teen was preparing to do something else to him. He whimpered again and shut his eyes, trying not to picture that.

“Hold your legs there, Josh, nice and far apart.”

Again, Josh did as he was told, feeling more exposed than usual as he pulled his knees towards his shoulders. He dared to peek down at himself. His willy was still stiff, his cheeks were parted, and there was a teenager looming over him.

“These haven’t been punished at all, I see,” Andy said, his hand reaching to caress the inside of Josh’s left thigh. The boy’s eyes widened. The insides of his thighs were indeed untouched, still milky white and smooth, unblemished and pristine.

“No, they haven’t,” Josh confirmed, already feeling like crying at the thought of his inner thighs being spanked. Not only were they extremely sensitive and soft, but he was going to be walking a great distance still after this, during which said thighs would be rubbing against one-another constantly.

“This is for ruining everyone’s morning,” Andy said sharply. He extended his right arm out, then brought it whistling across Josh’s right inner-thigh. The sting was enormous. Josh barely felt it for a moment before his silky skin started to smart and sizzle.

“Ow! Ow! Ow!” he cried out, squirming and arching his back onto the bed as the pain registered. It didn’t seem like Andy had held back, and very suddenly Georgie found himself longing to go over the teen’s lap. At least his bottom was already sore, this was a new hell altogether.

“Yeah, I hope that hurt,” Andy said, this time extending his left arm. Josh closed his eyes. He winced when he heard the initial impact, then let out a cry of agony as the sting set in.

“Please! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” Josh begged, writhing on the spot but not letting go of his legs. There was no worse way to extend a punishment than by leaving the punishment position. He dared to look down and saw that the spots Andy had spanked were already a harsh pink. And Josh didn’t know when the teen planned to stop.

SLAP into Josh’s right thigh and another SLAP into his left. Both burned even more than the first. Josh started to cry from the pain, his toes curling, his stiffy deflated. Andy wasn’t holding back. He was swinging his whole body into the spanks, his own palms were pink from the effort.

Josh laid there, doing everything he could to stay in place, to not thrash about and give Andy any excuse to lengthen his punishment. But it was hell. With each hard spank to the insides of his thighs, Josh had to strain to keep them pulled where they were.

SLAP! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!

Josh was given four more blistering spanks by the time Andy stopped for a breath. The teen’s brow was slick with sweat, his hair sticking to his forehead. He pushed it all back and reared his right arm once again, swinging it through the air for the fifth spank to the inside of Josh’s thigh. The boy cried out in pain, tears and snot running down his face, the burns all blending into one mass of agony as Andy reared his left arm in turn.

“Yow! Ow! Ow! Please, please!” Georgie couldn’t say any other words, his mind was too addled.

Andy stood there, looking at his handiwork, at Josh’s thighs, admiring the bright colour he’d painted into them.

“Turn over,” the teen commanded, then roughhoused Josh onto his front. He then forced the boy’s legs apart and kept them apart by standing between them. He ran his sweaty hands down Josh’s back and over his crimson ass, his thumbs caressing down the insides of his thighs.

Josh just wept into the bedding, feeling the burn intensify as he was groped. Regretfully, upon receiving the more gentle touch, his stiffy made itself known again. He then groaned as his cheeks were spread, then he started to worry.

Was Andy going to…do something to him? Josh’s heart pounded in his chest. He didn’t know a lot about that sort of thing, but what he did know about buggery was that it hurt. It hurt even grown men who’d been victims. It would wreck him, tear him, leave him unable to walk, most likely.

“Keep those legs spread, kid,” Andy said, reaching over Josh to pick up the paddle that’d shifted in all the disturbance.

For the first time, Josh was relieved that his spanker was picking up that instrument of pain.

He felt less grateful when he felt the chilly wood of the paddle pressed against the insides of his thighs. Josh’s heart sank into the pit of his stomach. He gripped the bedding beneath him, closed his eyes, and prayed it would be over quickly.

CRACK!

Josh’s breath got caught in his throat. The searing pain went through his left thigh spread all the way down to his toes and up into his taint. His balls shrivelled against his body, his knuckles went white, his teeth strained with his gritting.

CRACK!

Josh bucked his hips as the paddle struck his right thigh. He moaned in pain, trying to bury himself in the mattress. His legs kicked feebly as the paddle was struck against his left thigh, then his right again. His chest heaved, his tears fell, his cries were pitched and raspy.

After a total of ten more blistering spanks to the insides of his thighs, Josh felt the paddle tossed beside him. He went limp, hoping it was over.

“You stay right there, I’m not done with you yet,” Andy said, breathlessness evident in his voice. Josh heard the sounds of a belt being unbuckled and a zipper being pulled down. He made to push himself up, but Andy was faster and pressed him back down by the nape of his neck.

Josh’s ass cheeks clenched as he feared the worst, a fiery, searing pain down there, but it never came. He did hear odd sounds, though. Andy was heaving his breath, a wet slapping filled the room. Josh whimpered, his stiffy poking the bedding again.

Then, something firm, wet, and slightly sticky was placed right up against his taint, just behind his balls. He sobbed, not sure why he was feeling this. He closed his eyes and imagined being home, being in his room, his best friend, Scotty, with his sandy blond hair, blue eyes, and sun-kissed skin with him. They were playing cards, or board games, or just sitting quietly and reading comics together.

Josh recalled when they bathed together to save hot water, washing each other’s backs, hands maybe slipping to playful places, lying together naked, waiting to get dry on a towel. Falling asleep sharing warmth. Then they were hand-in-hand as they got caught being mischievous together and were offering each other comfort after all was said and done.

Then, two things happened at the same time. First, Josh remembered that Scotty’s house was on his route today. Second, Andy shot something hot and sticky onto Josh, having pulled away at the last second to deposit it up his back.

Josh’s cries were muffled as Andy leaned over him, breathing hard. Josh heard the redoing of his zipper and the retying of his belt.

“Let me get that,” Andy said, then pulled his t-shirt off over his head to wipe the warm, sticky stuff off of Josh’s back.

“Thanks,” Josh hiccupped, then slowly pushed himself up so he was on all fours. He was sore, very, very sore, so he stayed like that for a moment, trying to will himself to get off the bed and stand on his own two feet.

“Let me help,” Andy said gently, standing behind Josh and helping him to slowly stand. The naked boy whimpered and fell back against Andy, who was now shirtless. Josh blushed deeply, but at least now he was standing on his own.

“Silly boy, don’t be late again, you hear,” Andy said, a gentle smirk tugging at his lips. Then he brought his t-shirt to Josh’s face and wiped it for him.

Josh just nodded and hobbled away, his thighs burning, his legs aching, his mind whirling. Each step hurt, each step burned. But he made it to the bottom of the stairs, struggled to put his boots on, then left, not another word shared between him and Andy.

(End of File)