Running in their pants

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“Oh, the young scamps. They deserve to have their bottoms spanked.”

“Colonel, they are nineteen years old. They are too old to be considered ‘scamps.’”

“Oh, you take it too seriously vicar. It was just a bit of boyish fun. Take their trousers down, put them across your knee and redden their bums with your slipper.”

“Too seriously! They ran around the churchyard naked. In broad daylight!”

“Yes, as I say: boyish fun. Besides they were not naked. As I understand it they were wearing underpants.”

“Well, as good as naked.”

“Not really. Was it really very different than wearing swimming trunks?”

“Well it is public indecency.”

“Is it man? Is it really?”

“Pah! So you condone their behaviour?”

“No, I’ve already said they deserve to have their bottoms spanked. What would you have me do? Do you want the police informed?”

“Well, no perhaps not.”

“Your slipper vicar, your slipper.”

“But they’re your son and your nephew …”

“You have my permission vicar. Spank the blighters’ bottoms.”

In a room close by Sid and Colin were in conversation.

“What do you think they’re saying?”

“Well you know the guv’nor, he hates the Church.”

“So, he’s on our side?”

“Shouldn’t think so for a minute.”

The boys sat back in plush leather armchairs and lapsed into companionable silence.

It had been because of girls, of course. That and the weed they had all been smoking. There wasn’t much else for young people to do in the village, except to drink and take drugs. And, have sex. The boys had been desperate to get into the knickers of Alice and Mary. Either one would do. Sid could have Alice and Colin, Mary. Or the other way around, it really didn’t matter. A cop off was a cop off. Any girl would do. The boys were desperate to have sex; preferably, as Colin liked to joke, with another person present.

They reckoned the girls were up for it, especially once the cannabis had kicked in. Colin couldn’t remember the details, but he thought the girls had dared them. Run naked around the churchyard. Totally in the buff. The boys hadn’t been that high. They wimped out. They stripped to their briefs instead. Just their luck: the vicar emerged from the church in time to see two teenaged boys “streaking” down the drive.

The rest was history.

“D’you think he’ll beat us?”

“Certain to. The guv’nor still keeps that cane in the drawer in the library.”

“Esssshh … He’ll take our arses off with that thing. I couldn’t sit down properly for days last time.”

Rev Jones walked towards the front door of the manor. He hoped he hid his disappointment. The Colonel’s views on corporal punishment were well known in the county. If he had his way, the juvenile delinquents who regularly appeared before him at the magistrates’ court would be sentenced to a bare-arsed birching. He fervently believed in the liberal use of the whippy rattan cane in both the school and home. The vicar had expected the Colonel to thrash Sid and Colin. It was no more than they deserved. But no. The Colonel must be getting soft in his old age.

The vicar also liked the idea of corporal punishment. He would have gladly been a witness to the two nineteen year olds bent over a leather armchair, trousers and underpants at their feet, while the Colonel thrashed their naked buttocks with a stout, but whippy, cane. He was getting quite breathless at the thought of it.

He had never himself inflicted corporal punishment on a boy. He was unmarried and naturally childless. There were one or two of his choirboys who, he fervently believed, would benefit from a soundly spanked backside, but it would not be wise for him to make good on his belief. Now, he had a choice. He could allow the two sinners to escape punishment, or, as the Colonel instructed, he could spank their bottoms red. What should he do?

Houghton, the manservant held the door open. The vicar thanked him and started to descend the stone steps. He stopped. His mind was made up. “Houghton, please tell master Sid and master Colin that the colonel has instructed they visit me at the vicarage at one o’clock sharp.” With that, he skipped down the steps.

The vicarage was a large house, far too big for one person, so he rented out three bedrooms to students at the nearby agricultural college. His lodgers should be at classes, so he would not be disturbed. He went to his bedroom to collect his slippers and took them down to the kitchen where he made himself a pot of tea. He drank three cups to settle his nerves.

He would do the deed in his private sitting room, he thought. There was a good solid wooden armless chair in there. He could instruct the miscreants to bend across its back. Or, should he put them across his knee, as the Colonel suggested? What if they refused to be punished? They were nineteen years old, after all. They were young men, not children. Oh, the vicar sighed, it would be too humiliating if they told him where to get off and then walked out of the vicarage.

Sid and Colin guessed their fate the moment Houghton delivered the vicar’s message. With heavy hearts they trudged through the village. They arrived early, so they sat on gravestones and smoked cigarettes.

“Shame we haven’t got any weed.”

“Yep, it would help dull the pain.”

“I wonder how hard the vicar canes?”

“Can’t be as bad as the guv’nor.”

“No, nothing’s as bad as that.”

At one o’clock sharp, Colin rang the ornate doorbell. He was surprised that the door opened immediately. Rev Jones had been waiting anxiously for their arrival. The vicar was a little over six feet tall and rectangular in build. He peered at Sid and Colin through half moon  glasses. His face was flabby and florid. His dome was nearly completely bald. He was perspiring freely, although it wasn’t a particularly warm afternoon.

“Come in boys,” the vicar croaked. He led the way to the sitting room. He had never punished a boy before, nor even reprimanded one for poor behaviour.  He supposed a lecture was in order. He was used to giving sermons, so launched into a homily about nakedness. Sid and Colin stood awkwardly as he prattled on. They didn’t mind the diversion. Neither was in much of a hurry to be thrashed with the vicar’s cane.

At last he got to the point. “So you must be punished.” Both boys held their breath. Just how much was this going to hurt? Rev Jones reached down and gripped a bedroom slipper in his hand. “I am going to spank you with this slipper.”

The boys exchanged glances, each trying not to break into a broad smile. A slippering. They had expected to have their arses ripped to shreds by the Colonel’s cane. Now, all they had to endure was a soft bedroom slipper. A spanking with that would hardly tingle their bums.

The vicar’s already florid complexion deepened. He sat on the large wooden chair and spread his legs. He was finding it hard to catch his breath. The room seemed oppressively hot. “You first Colin,” he waved his slipper at the nineteen-year-old, who obediently stepped forward and stood patiently a yard to the right of the vicar’s lap, staring down at his dowdy grey flannel trousers. But, the instruction he expected did not come.

“Should I take down my jeans, vicar?” he asked brightly. Rev Jones’ face burned scarlet. “Oh, well, yes, of course, indeed,” he babbled. With ease, Colin unbuckled his belt and released the catch at the top of his Levis. With the zipper down, they slipped to his knees. He parted his legs a little to help them complete their journey to his feet. He waited again for an instruction and when again it was not forthcoming, he nevertheless lowered himself across the vicar’s lap.

The vicar’s heart raced at the sight. A fit nineteen-year-old man was laid face down across his lap. He wasn’t as heavy as the vicar imagined he might be. Calmly, Colin stretched his arms ahead of him and placed the palms of his hands flat against the carpet. He wasn’t a tall boy and behind him the toes of his trainers barely touched the ground. His bottom, covered in navy blue trunks, rested on the vicar’s right leg; he could feel the boy’s cock pressing down into him. Colin’s pullover and shirt had risen up a little, exposing an area of bare back.

Colin’s bottom was a bit wobbly when he stood, but in this over-the-knee position it tightened. The vicar noticed the boy’s pants were a little tight. The cotton fitted like a second skin and sank into the crack between his two cheeks.

Colin waited patiently for the spanking to begin. What was keeping the vicar? At last he felt a movement in the Reverend’s body and the slipper hit him in the centre of his left cheek. He hardly felt a thing. Nor did he when the slipper connected with his right buttock. Then, there was a pause. He looked down at the grey carpet, puzzled. What was the vicar doing? Reverend Jones pushed the boy an inch or two further over his knee and closed his own legs. Then, he resumed the spanking.

Twelve times the slipper smacked into Colin’s bum. The vicar found a rhythm and smacked the slipper into his rear with some force. But, it was only a soft bedroom slipper and Colin was a nineteen-year-old boy with a considerably corporal punishment track record. The vicar’s slipper was no match for him.

Eventually, he climbed off Rev Jones’s lap. His bum hurt a little, but it wasn’t much more than a tingle. Even so, he clasped his buttocks with his two hands and rubbed. He thought he owed it to the vicar to at least pretend that he had been punished sufficiently. And, he certainly didn’t want word to get back to the guv’nor that the spanking had been inadequate.

Colin was doing up his belt when the vicar rose hurriedly from his chair and dashed from the room. The two boys watched in confusion as he took the stairs two at a time and rushed into the bathroom.

“That didn’t hurt did it?”

“No, but I bet my bottom’s red.”

Colin lowered his trousers and pants and together they inspected the damage. Both bum cheeks were a darker pink and the outline of the slipper was clearly visible in two places, but the tingling had already vanished and in a few minutes there would be no evidence that he had been spanked.

It was at least fifteen minutes before the vicar returned. He had changed his trousers and now wore chocolate brown corduroys. He seemed very ill at ease. He gave no explanation for his absence, sat down on the chair, and summoned Sid across his knee.

 

Other stories you might like

The Spanking Vicar Part 1  

A preacher teaches humility

The vicar delivers

 

 

More stories from Charles Hamilton II are on the MMSA website

 

Charles Hamilton the Second

charleshamiltonthesecond@gmail.com

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