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Asking for It

It was one of those rare days when Dad and I were talking like two friends instead of father and son and before I realized it I had asked the question that had been simmering on the back burner of my mind for a while...

"How come you don't spankme anymore?"

My dad gave me a puzzled look, but answered plainly "You haven't been that bad lately, and at thirteen I figured I'd treat you more like a man.... Do you WANT to be spanked?"

I flinched as he seemingly read my mind and stammered the truthful answer: "No... I just... feel like... you know, like I'm due for one." I closed my eyes hard and grimmaced as I heard the words spill from my mouth.

"Son," Dad began, "I don't really know what to say... I can't believe you are asking me to bust your ass!"

"No, I'm not..." I stammered, but couldn't find an ending for the sentance.

"Tonight." Dad said sternly.

"huh?" I asked, almost in shock now.

"Before bed tonight, I'm going to spank you."

"I... um..." I sighed.

"Thanks Dad."


The rest of the day Dad treated me like normal and we watched the game and did some yardwork together. I had started to believe that I had imagined the whole conversation... that is until my dinner plate was nearly empty.

"Boy, clear your plate then go get ready for bed. I'll be up in a few minutes. Dad said sternly, motioning for me to take my plate to the kitchen.

I looked at him, then at Mom who gave me a knowing smile, then back at Dad.

"Oh.. I was just kidding Dad. Ha ha." My laughter was an ubvious as my lie.

"No, " he replied "you are just scared because you know what's coming. If I don't tan your hide you'll just go back to wishing I had... and you might not be brave enough to ask again. Go get ready now."

"Do as your father says son, or you'll just get it worse." Mom added, her usual warning when I was arguing a spanking. Only this I one I had asked for! What was I thinking?

"Yes Ma'am." I answered my mother, and pushed my chair away from the table.


My hands trembled as I brushed my teeth and changed into my pajamas. I peed not wanting to wet myself during the spanking as I had sevveral times in the past. Then, knees shaking I nervously tip toed to my room.

Dad was waiting for me. Sitting on the end of my bed he said nothing, but patted the side of his leg. This was an instruction for me to stand on that side of him, and I did. He rached out and took the waistband of my loungepants in his large hands and jerked the pants down past my knees. He grabbed a handful of my shirt by my neck and pulled me toward his lap. It was a gentle tug, meant more to instruct me to put myself over his lap than to actually carry out the deed himself.

"I'm sorry Dad." I moaned as I adjusted myself into the proper position.

"No I'm sorry, I shouldn't have neglected your need for discipline."

Any chance that he would go easy on me was washed away when he brought his firm hand down on my underpants in a hard swat. I gasped, then quickly closed my mouth knowing that accepting a punishment was seen as mature in my Dad's eyes. He moved swiftly and strongly, whacking different parts of my panty-clad bottom with each strike. I tensed with each smack, but took them thankful he didn't....

Just as the thought crossed my mind, Dad - again seeming to read my mind - slipped my underwear down below my cheeks and continued his assault on my now naked backside. The pain doubled with the addition of a terrifying sting of flesh on flesh. I lost count at sixty smacks, more than I had ever gotten before. Inbetween muffled sobs the realization hit me that Dad was making up for lost time, giving me not just the spanking I asked for, but several spankings he know understood I should have had in recent months.

"Okay stand up." Dad said warmly when he finally stopped hitting me. I stood on numb legs and faced him, me crying, he smiling.

"It's for your own good son." He reminded me, and I knew it was true.

"Now assume the position."

"Dad, please.."

"Bend over!" He interrupted me in a tone I knew too well. I watched as he tooh his belt off and folded it in half. Truly frightened now I bent over and placed my hands on the warm spot on my bed where he had just sat.

"Good boy." Dad whispered and patted my head. I shivered as he lowered my underpants and lounge pants all the way to my ankles.

"Foot." Dad said and I lifted my left foot off the ground. Dad rolled my sock down to my ankle then pulled it off. He moved to the side of the bed so I could watch as he folded the sock in half, then again forming the all-too-familiar gag that was to help me take my whipping.

"I said I was going to bust your ass for you son." He said softly as he gently pushed the sock into my open mouth. I bit down on it and nodded. I was ready.


I jumped at the first lick of Dad's belt, but quickly corrected my position for the next stroke. I didn't have to wait long.


"Five." I whispered into my sock gag. Dad didn't require the counting, but I had grown used to sets of five, usually two sets, sometimes as much as four if I was really bad.


"Ten" I moaned convinced it was almost over.


"Fif.....fifteen" I cried, hot tears rolling down my cheeks.


"Twenty.. twenty..." I tried to catch my breath and slow my breathing to show Dad how well I took the whipping. I stood up slowly... but he pushed me back down.



I lost count, my ass burning, pain the only thing I knew.



I felt faint, my legs were completely numb, my throbbing backside the only feeling I had left.



And he laid the belt down on the bed in front of me. I stayed in position, unsure, affraid.

"You can get up son." And I did, and Dad wrapped his arms around me in a big hug.

"That's it boy. Good boy" he said reassuringly. It almost sounded like he sobbed a time or two as he held me and let me cry.


Dad held me until my breathing slowed and my cries turned to light sobs. Good boy he kept telling me and I believed it.

"Lay down, I'll send Mom up." he said when he finally let me go. I got into bed and laid on my stomach, the night air tingling my hot backside.

"It won't be so bad next time." Dad said in a tone that was more of a promise than a statement.

"Next time?"

"Yes. I won't neglect you again son. Once a week should do it... Sunday nights, like tonight."


"Shh, we both know what you need now Son."


Mom slid a bed pad under my privates, then smoothes a cool cream on my sore bottom. It was diaper rash cream, but it worked wonders to cool a burning spanked ass.

"Roll over." Mom said. I did, gingerly, my buttocks aching as it touched the bedpad. I watched as mom cleaned the cream off her hands with a washcloth then went to my closet to get a diaper.

"I don't really..."

"Hush, you know you always bedwet after a whipping."

"Mom, I'm thirteen!"

"Do you want the diaper, or do you want more of the belt?" Mom asked sternly, and the conversation was over. Two minutes later I was laying in bed, thickly diapered, trying not to let my ass touch the bed as mom tucked me in and kissed me goodnight.

"Good boy." She said as she turned out the light. Good boy.

The End

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