Fake News #12

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Dads’ Crusade: Bring Back the Slipper

EXCLUSIVE The Daily Globe

 

Dads across the nation are calling on the government to relax the ban on corporal punishment in the home with the rallying cry: “Bring back the slipper.”

It is their response to official figures showing the rise in juvenile-related crime. The say their sons need a “damn good hiding” to keep them out of trouble and on the straight-and-narrow. And, they think they are the right people to give it.

“We see eighteen, nineteen, twenty year olds totally out of control. They have never been taught how to behave. It is still not too late,” said Mr. Nosher Sykes, of the pro-spanking organisation Beat Their Backsides.

“I would gladly take any one of them across my knee for a good dose of the slipper. Of course they would have to take down their trousers – and probably their pants too – otherwise it wouldn’t hurt much.”

The campaign is gathering pace and local groups of Beat Their Backsides have been started across the country.

Mr. Ernie Flynn, 52, started one in Brocklehurst, Brockshire. He says it already has more than 100 supporters. He told the Daily Globe in an interview, “We are firm believers in corporal punishment for unruly young men. They are totally out of control now we can’t dish out a damn good hiding.”

He added, “The young don’t understand that actions have consequences. What they need is a jolly good over-the-knee spanking with a slipper. Preferably with their trousers down and maybe even their pants.”

A counter group calling itself “Hands to Yourself” seeking to keep the no-spanking law has been formed by older teenagers and young men.

A spokesperson for the Slipper Manufacturers Association anticipated an increase in sales should the law be relaxed. He said, “We can manufacture slippers in a variety of sizes and weights that would satisfy the needs of any disgruntled father.”

The Ministry of Justice which supported the ban on corporal punishment said there was no plan to change the law.

 

Picture credit: straightladsspankeddotcom

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More stories from Charles Hamilton II are on the MMSA website

 

Charles Hamilton the Second

charleshamiltonthesecond@gmail.com

Fake News #8

joe phillips party

The Party’s Over for Rowdy University Students

EXCLUSIVE Brocklehurst Bugle

The party is over for rowdy students whose unruly behaviour disturbs neighbours. A new “Punishment Patrol” taskforce has been launched by Brocklehurst University.

For years residents have complained about students making noise late at night by partying, or simply playing loud music. But University authorities were powerless to act.

Until now.

A taskforce nicknamed the “Punishment Patrol” will be on hand 24/7 to respond to complaints.

Dr. Christine Thussu of the University’s Civic Service Unit, told the Brocklehurst Bugle in an interview, “The idea is to inflict instant punishment on troublemakers. New government legislation makes it possible for us to spank the backsides of students who step out of line.”

She said officers, specially-trained in the art of inflicting corporal punishment, are available to respond to complaints.

“They visit students and assess the severity of the offence. Then, they act immediately,” she said. “They are equipped with a variety of spanking implements including slippers, straps, brushes and canes.”

Dr. Thussu said in the recent past, students who range in ages from 18 to 23, had been “dealt with” by the Punishment Patrol. She added, “This could be a simple over-the-knee spanking on the seat of their trousers to a more severe whacking with a whippy rattan cane. They can also make the boy take down his trousers – and even his underpants – if they think fit.”

Mrs. Amelia Worthington, of The Avenue, Brocklehurst, who called in the Punishment Patrol to deal with a rowdy party last month, told the Brocklehurst Bugle, “There were about a dozen youngsters singing and dancing in the garden. It was well past nine o’clock, they should have been in bed.” She said she called the university and a vanload of men dressed like security guards pulled up outside the student house.

“They were carrying all sorts of things, but mostly canes.”

Mrs. Worthington added, “The guards soon got to work. My husband and I could hear the whackings from our bedroom. A lot of the students were hollering by the time they were done.”

Mr. Gerry Wiseman, President of the Brocklehurst University Students’ Union, said many students had complained about their treatment, citing violations of human rights.

However, he said, “Many students said they welcomed the new rules. It has made them spend less time partying and more studying in the library. They might even graduate with better degrees as a result.”

If you have a complaint against a student contact the Punishment Patrol at _____________

Picture credit: Joe Phillips

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More stories from Charles Hamilton II are on the MMSA website

 

Charles Hamilton the Second

charleshamiltonthesecond@gmail.com

Home for the Holiday

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I stared into the room and dad was seated in an armchair apparently reading a book. There could be no doubt about my fate. He had already removed one of his slippers from his foot. I know what you’re thinking; this is the twenty-first century; nobody gets spanked any more. But, I think dad’s head is in the nineteen-thirties somewhere. You only have to look at the way he dresses.

It started three months previously. I was on my way to university. He gave me the lecture. The whole nine yards. Study hard. Keep out of the pubs. This is costing us a fortune. Blah, blah, blah.

There was blah, blah, from mum too. Eat properly. Fruit. Vegetables. But most of it was from dad. Pass those exams. He didn’t actually say, or else, but I knew him well enough to add that part myself.

Did I do as I as told? I’m eighteen. What do you think? It was my first time away from home. There was beer to be drunk and parties to go to. Then there were the girls, but none of the lads got as much as they claimed. At least, I hope not. Please don’t let me be the only virgin at uni.

I was on nodding terms with the lecture halls and at a stretch I might be able to name one or two of my lecturers. But mostly I was missing in action.

When the exam results came out this morning, I had four Fs and a D-minus. Four fails and a scraped pass. Dad might have old-fashioned attitudes, but he knows his way around a modern computer. He knew my grades before I did.

It was my elder brother Harley who gave me the news. I was under the duvet having a four-finger shuffle when he burst in my room. “Dad wants to see you,” he couldn’t keep the joy out of his voice. “Now.”

He must have seen the puzzled look on my face. What had I done? He can’t have heard already that last night I was caught stealing a bottle of tequila from the supermarket where I work.

“Uni results,” Harley’s face brightened. He swished his arm through the air imitating dad and his slipper. “Ouch,” he laughed, clasping his hands on his buttocks. “You’d better get a shift on. He’s pretty mad.”

I rolled out of bed. I was wearing my underpants and a tee-shirt. I stepped into my jeans. They were heavy denim. I pulled them up and buckled the belt. The thick material stretched across my buttocks. I ran my hands across them. Yep, they would be some protection against dad’s slipper.

Who was I kidding? The jeans would be at my ankles and my pants at the knees.

I shuffled down the stairs. It was only a few days before Christmas and there was a frost on the back lawn. The house was chilly but I couldn’t feel it. I was burning up. I couldn’t get my heart to stop racing.

Dad was waiting. He had already taken one of his slippers off his foot. I stood at the open doorway, not wanting to enter. My eyes transfixed on that slipper. It wasn’t as big as bedroom slippers usually are. It was a slip-on affair. You’d have thought it couldn’t do much damage; even on the bare. You’d be wrong. The sole was supple leather. That slipper packed a punch harder than a leather paddle and in dad’s experienced hand it would scorch my bum.

There was more blah, blah, blah from dad. What had I told you? Why didn’t you study? Do you think we’re made of money? What could I say? I stood, every inch a naughty boy. Everything dad said was true. I had royally screwed up.

I mumbled an apology. I’ll try harder next semester. He growled back. There won’t be a next semester for you. He had read it on the university website. I had failed so many courses I wouldn’t be allowed back for at least a semester, then I’d have to start all over again. Shit. I genuinely did not know that. If I did, I would’ve put in a bit of effort.

So, I was excluded from university. For many, that would be punishment enough. Not for dad. He wanted his pound of flesh. Or more accurately he wanted to pound my flesh. My bared backside. He was a man of few words. He knew what he was going to do and he knew that I knew too. He didn’t have to spell it out.

He nodded towards the dining room table. “Jeans. Pants. Down. Bend over.” He picked up the slipper from the floor and waved it at me as if there was any doubt about what he intended to do next.

So, there I was, just about to turn nineteen preparing myself to be spanked by my dad. I was pretty sure I wasn’t the only kid who failed at university, but it was a fair bet I’d be the only one showing his father his bared buttocks for a taste of the slipper.

I know from painful experience I had to submit myself willingly to my dad. He would not hear any argument. There was to be no pleading. I must make no attempt to evade punishment. My job was to take the jeans and pants down, lift my shirt half way up my back and bend forward across the table. Dad’s preferred method was for me to lie flat on the table. It puts my bum at a perfect angle for him to catch the fleshiest part of the buttocks, the underside of the curves. That’s the most painful spot to aim for.

I closed my eyes and fumbled for the buckle of my belt. I popped the button on the waistband and pulled the zipper. The heavy jeans slithered down my thighs and bunched at my knees. I opened my legs slightly and they continued their journey to my ankles. Then, I gripped the elastic in my pants and tugged them over my bum and let them stay at my thighs. A cold draught caught my cock and balls.

I opened my eyes long enough to waddle across the floor to the table. I paused for a moment. I could hear my dad breathing heavily behind me and the slap, slap, slap he made as he smacked the slipper into the palm of his hand. I pulled my shirt up, took a deep breath and fell forward across the table.

I parted my legs offering my dad a larger target. I did this even though I knew he would be able to see into my crack. I was pretty sure it was clean. I hadn’t taken a crap since I showered yesterday morning.

I couldn’t see what happened next, but dad walked to the far end of the room, removed his jacket, then took a short run towards me and landed the first swat. A loud splat filled the room. I gasped. It hurt like crazy. I could feel the heat in my left buttock rising. Dad walked back to his starting position. My bum throbbed like mad. He ran again and whacked my right bum cheek. Air escaped with a long hiss through my clenched lips. That hurt more than the first.

But he wasn’t finished yet. My bum felt like it was on fire and each new hard spank seemed to fan the flames. I was astonished by the fantastic heat. My bum was sizzling. Sweat poured down my face. I wasn’t crying – I never do – but my face was drenched. I couldn’t catch my breath. Each time I sucked in air, dad would land his leather slipper and I would gasp it all out again.

It doesn’t matter how many times you get slippered, it hurts like holy fuck. I knew by the time dad was ready to let me go both buttocks and the back of my thighs would be glowing red hot. When I inspected the damage in my bedroom mirror bruises would have formed. They would turn all colours of the rainbow for many days before finally fading away.

Dad stopped his run-ups. He was standing over me now, crashing the slipper hard and fast into my buttocks from a distance of only inches. The pain was intense. Burning. Scolding. It felt like I’d sat in a bath of boiling water.

Suddenly, the door opened. Mum stood embarrassed. “Sorry,” she whispered. “I thought you had finished.”

“Nearly finished,” dad said as he pounded another dozen into my stretched flesh. Then he finished. “Was there something?” he asked as if it was perfectly natural to have a half-naked eighteen-year-old boy draped across the dining room table.

“Yes,” my mother replied softly. “Mr. Blenkinsop from Harry’s supermarket is on the phone. He’s asking to speak to you.”

I screwed my eyes tight. When dad heard about my thieving my bottom would glow all over again. Like a tequila sunset.

Picture Credit: Unknown

 

More stories from Charles Hamilton II are on the MMSA website

 Charles Hamilton the Second

charleshamiltonthesecond@gmail.com

If you dress like a little boy …

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Uncle Vernon had gone doo-lally. Crazy. Off his trolley. Bonkers. He said to me if I insisted on dressing like a little kid, he would treat me like one. If I didn’t buck up my ideas he would take me over his knee and spank my backside. Very hard indeed.

It was the short trousers that set him off. We all wear them. Grey shorts. They’re not like the ones people wear in summer, these are proper tailored short trousers. Trousers that are short. Like the ones eight year olds wear to school. Except I’m nineteen and at college.

The band The Dudes wear them and that set the fashion. We don’t dress up in the full school uniform, with blazers and caps; that would be too kinky. We usually wear a coloured shirt or a patterned jumper. The short trousers look really smart. The girls love them, especially if the boy has great legs and a terrific arse (which in all modesty, I do).

I’d not been getting on too well with Uncle Vernon. I’ve been lodging with him and Aunt June for nearly a year since my family moved to London with Dad’s job. I’m doing my City & Guilds in plumbing at Brocklehurst Tech. and it was best for me to stay behind and lodge with my uncle and aunt.

Things hadn’t been going too well. Uncle Vernon reckoned I needed taking down a peg or two. “You treat this house like a hotel, you stay out late, you’re never on time for meals and you’ve been skiving off college. And,” he said with some menace in his tone, “you disrespect Aunt June.”

I hadn’t thought about it until he had his little rant, but I was guilty as charged. On all counts. I had been spending a lot of time out the house with people from college. I live in a small town but it’s easy to get weed – and I am a student after all – so I spend a lot of time high. It makes it easier to get my end away as well. The girls’ inhibitions (and mine) evaporate after a smoke.

When Uncle Vernon promised to spank my backside I think I just coloured up with embarrassment. I didn’t really believe him, but what was I expected to say? Later, I honestly did think about what he said about my misdeeds. I had caused a lot of tension in the house. There wasn’t much Uncle Vernon and Aunt June could do about me. I’m an adult. I suppose the only sanction they had was to throw me out. And, that would be a pretty drastic move. So, instead they just sulked at my behaviour and I sulked back. We were getting nowhere.

Was spanking be so bad? I mean I’d never been spanked before (who has in this day and age) but the glory of a smacked bottom was that it brought everything to a head. “You have been a naughty boy, come here, bend over my knee.” Smack. Smack. Smack. Then it’s all over and done with. Air cleared. We all move on with our life.

Not that I was saying Uncle Vernon should spank me. I was thinking more in the abstract. I mean, how humiliating it would to be to submit myself to Uncle.

Things came to a head last Wednesday. I had disappeared under a fog of smoke for most of the weekend and Uncle had heard that day from a friend of his that me and his son had been in trouble at college for bunking off.

I came home about seven. I’d missed my tea. To be honest I had lost track of time. We’d been smoking weed that afternoon. I wasn’t completely off my head, but I didn’t exactly have my feet on the ground.

“That’s it. Enough.” Uncle Vernon told me after he had listed all my recent sins and lectured me about throwing away my future by missing college. If I qualified as a plumber, he said, I would be made for life. Especially since all the Poles would be going home after Brexit.

“I told you I would spank your backside and that’s what I’m going to do,” he declared. I probably looked at him dumbstruck. I know I struggled not to giggle. He strode across the living room and gripped me by the wrist. It was a large room in a mammoth house. Uncle is not short of a few bob and his place is decked out like a palace. He dragged me across the shiny wooden floor, my feet slipping as we went, until he reached a heavy burgundy-coloured armless leather chair. He steadied himself and without releasing his grip he sat down. If I hadn’t been so high I probably would have resisted. Instead, next thing I knew was he had let go of me for a moment, but only long enough to push me over so that I fell face down across his knees.

I put my hands out in front of me to break my fall, my knees were bent behind me and I was very aware that my backside was pointing upwards at an angle over his right leg. My nose was centimetres from a brown-patterned rug.

Uncle Vernon didn’t say a word, he pounded the palm of his hand across my backside. His spanks were heavy and rapid. In no time he had slapped me across every part of my bum. From the top, across the fleshier mounds and into the under curves. Smack-smack-smack.

Of course, with my short trousers and underpants on I hardly felt a thing. Pretty soon he realised that the palm of his hand must have been hurting much more than my bum. That’s when he stopped.

“Doh! This is no good,” he sighed. “Get up.”

I scrambled off his lap, but if I thought Uncle Vernon had given up I had to think again. The short trousers fitted snugly and I had no need for a belt. Deftly he unbuttoned them at the waist and tugged at my zipper. The heavy cotton grey school short trousers hurtled to the floor. I couldn’t take a breath before he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of my microbriefs and tugged them down to my knees. He could see my dick flapping up and down.

It was then that he must have realised he was wearing bedroom slippers. He slipped one off his left foot and gripped it tightly in his fist. It was a typical slipper with some cloth type upper and a very springy sole. Are they made out of rubber? I’m not sure. He pulled me across his knee and once more I had a close-up view of the carpet.

I felt him take the end of my shirt and push it way up my back. I was now naked from my knees to my shoulders. I wriggled in embarrassment. He had my naked arse across his lap with a perfect view of my crack and hole. I  felt the hole winking and my buttocks clench in anticipation of the bare-arsed spanking I was about to get.

Uncle Vernon hammered the slipper home every bit as hard and rapidly as he had with his palm. This time it hurt. A lot. The springy-soled slipper warmed my backside in seconds. I felt the heat rising, especially around the very sensitive “sit-spot” at the lower end of my cheeks. I flapped my arms about and flailed my legs. It was as if I was trying to swim away off his lap. But Uncle Vernon was having none of it. He had me across his knee at such an acute angle I could not escape, no matter how much I wriggled and writhed. I waggled my bum left and right and up and down so it looked like I was humping him, but that just encouraged Uncle Vernon to wrap his left arm around my waist to pin me into position. I was going nowhere; not until Uncle Vernon said so. And, he was nowhere near ready.

I didn’t try to count the number of spanks he gave me. It seemed to go on forever. Whack-whack-whack, the slipper blistered my backside. It sounded like a machinegun going off.

At last he let off. Uncle Vernon kept me facedown over his knees. “Please God, let it be over,” I thought. I couldn’t be sure if he was finished or only taking a breather. My back was covered in sweat and my temples throbbed almost as much as my backside. I gulped in lung-fulls of air. The agony as the slipper rose and fell, rose and fell, had been intense, but already it was turning into a throbbing pain. Before long it would subside to a warm glow.

Uncle Vernon was breathing hard himself. Suddenly and without a word he released his grip on my middle. I took this as my cue to clamber off his knees on onto my feet. I hopped from foot to foot simultaneously rubbing my scorched buttocks until I noticed my cock and balls were bouncing in front of Uncle Vernon’s face. Hurriedly, I tugged up my briefs and returned the short trousers to their rightful place. I couldn’t look Uncle Vernon in the eye and to be honest I don’t think he wanted look at me, so sullenly – and still rubbing my bum ruefully – I legged it through the door and up to my bedroom.

When I ripped down my short trousers and briefs and poked my bum at the dressing table mirror  I saw my bum glowing dark pink. Not a single square centimetre was untouched. There was an imprint of the slipper embossed over and over again across both cheeks and on the backs of my thighs.

My phone vibrated. It was Cindy from college sending a photo of herself with her tits out. I eased myself gently onto the bed, reached out for a fistful of Kleenex and got to work on my todger.

Picture credit: Sting Pictures

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More stories from Charles Hamilton II are on the MMSA website

 

Charles Hamilton the Second

charleshamiltonthesecond@gmail.com

Book. Troublesome Teens

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Troublesome Teens

They might think they are adults, but older teens are not. They are still children and they need to act like it. They should respect their parents and obey adults. Without question. And if they don’t? These stories will remind them of the consequences of bad behaviour. A very sore backside indeed.

 

The pain was intense, but there was no escaping it. He struggled to the left and right but the grip on his neck was too powerful. He was at the mercy of his father: but the irate man was not showing any. In one last desperate attempt to free himself, Aaron kicked out his left leg and caught his father a blow on the shin. Rather than dissuading the older man from his mission to toast his son’s buttocks it spurred him on.

– Extract from Put Back in Short Trousers

 

The book runs for more than 16,000 words and can be downloaded by clicking the link below. The PDF file can be read on computers, laptops and a variety of e-book readers.

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Picture credit: Unknown

For more free-to-download books click here

Book. The Dean of Dormitory Discipline

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The Dean of Dormitory Discipline and other university tales

The Dean of Dorm Discipline regularly beats misbehaving students and there was never a weekend when his paddle did not fly through the air. This gave them ample opportunity to swap stories about their spankings and their bruises became badges of honour when displayed in the communal showers.

Now, Mitch must pay for his missed curfew …

The Dean of Dorm Discipline is one of six corporal punishment tales from universities that appears in the my free-to-download book.

This one runs for more than 15,000 words and like the other books in this series it can be downloaded as a PDF file and read on your computer, laptop or a variety of e-book readers.

Click on the link below:

the-dean-of-dorm-discipline-by-charles-hamilton-ii

For more free-to-download books click here

 

Book. The Boy in the Scarlet Blazer

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The Boy in the Scarlet Blazer

Timothy Hutchins is a young man with a wicked spanking fetish. There is little he can do about it until Billy, the boss of the burger bar where he works, takes him under his wing. Or more truthfully across his knee

In this latest free-to-download book, Timothy enters the world of the boy for hire and soon becomes a spanking-movie star. Everybody wants a piece of his backside.

The book runs for more than 16,000 words and can be downloaded by clicking the link below. The PDF file can be read on computers, laptops and a variety of e-book readers.

the-boy-in-the-scarlet-blazer-by-charles-hamilton-ii

 

For more free-to-download books click here