On display, the only one naked in front of the clothed—Being vulnerable and bare, it's a harrowing, humiliating adrenaline rush.
Guys being dominated, or naked dudes in titillating and embarrassing situations. Public/forced nudity, ENM (embarrassed naked male), spanking/domination, daddy/twink, CFNM/CMNM. Comments/suggestions/captions welcome.
To be viewed by adults only. All individuals shown are presumed to be legal adults 18+!
No ownership claimed of any content.
Friday, September 16, 2022
The aftermath
Sent back to his room after his spanking… all the way across the busy house , as-is
2 comments:
Anonymous
said...
It’s not like Dylan never walked around naked. He was the kind of guy who stripped down at his locker, threw his towel over his shoulder, and practically strutted to the showers after soccer practice. He was in good shape. He was reasonably endowed. His pubes were thick and curly. Nothing to be embarrassed about, right? In fact, he was full of masculine confidence. He’d stop to talk with some of his teammates as he went. Maybe even punch another guy in the arm or give a couple friendly ass-slaps. Why not? He’d never admit it, but showering with the team was actually one of his favorite times of day. Talking about the game, or some hot chick’s tits. Laughing at another guy’s hard-on from picturing said hot chick. (Or at least that’s what they always said was making them hard!). The camaraderie was awesome. Hangin’ out naked with the guys. Totally free. . .
But that’s not at all what this naked walk felt like. Dylan knew the rest of the family were all through the house. He wasn’t sure if his brothers or sisters had friends over. He hoped he could sneak past before anyone noticed.
Of course, it was hard to feel that masculine confidence when Dad had just beat it out of you, one crack of the leather strap at a time. And it was hard to feel any camaraderie when your bare ass was the only one getting whipped — and you were the only one taking the Walk of Shame back to your room.
Dylan wished Dad could spank him like he used to. It was pretty standard really: the order to go to his room, the long wait, Dad’s arrival with spanking implement in hand, the baring, the lecture, the tip over Dad’s knee, the spanking, the crying, the extra hard finale, the sobbing, the “dancing” and rubbing, the reminder lecture, the promise to be good, the hug. Truth be told, Dylan really liked those hugs, even though Dad would usually pat his red hot bare bottom with one hand while he hugged and calmed the boy down.
But all that had changed four years ago when Dylan started high school. Dylan had a growth spurt, his voice changed, he started growing hair in his armpits and . . . down there. He felt he was too old to be sparked, and he said so. To his surprise Dad agreed, saying that when he got to Dylan’s age Grandpa had stopped putting Dad over his knee, too. But then Dad dropped the bombshell. Instead, Grandpa would take Dad out to the woodshed for a whipping! An actual whipping! With a leather strap and everything! And from then on, Dylan would get the same — in the garage.
Today’s whipping had been one of the worst — and he knew he deserved it. Let’s not go into the details of what Dylan had done. Suffice to say that it involved too much fun on a Saturday night — alcohol, car damage, coming home late, disrespecting his mother, etc. More than a couple soccer buddies were involved. Dylan wondered if any of them were being similarly punished.
So Dylan had been resigned to his fate to report to the garage in nothing but his boxers at “high noon” as Dad put it.
The boxers had come off almost immediately. Dylan had to stand there for what seemed like forever while Dad read hit the riot act. Dylan had almost died as Dad even made references to his body throughout the lecture. “You’d think someone with that much hair on his dick wouldn’t act like an irresponsible little boy!” “Just because you’ve developed some muscle and your balls have dropped doesn’t mean you can speak to your mother that way!” And finally: “Its a good thing your butt’s gotten some muscle on it because you’re gonna need the padding!”
Dylan spent the next ten minutes bent over the saw horse as Dad applied the strap again, and again, and again, until every inch of butt flesh (and some other nearby flesh, too) had been thoroughly whipped. Very thoroughly.
Afterward, Dad parked a tearful Dylan in the corner, set a timer for 30 minutes, and told him to go to his room for the rest of the day after the timer went off. Then Dad left — and took Dylan’s boxer shorts with him!
And that was how a very meek Dylan had ended up in this position: totally naked, hands cupping his junk, quietly creeping across the house from the garage to his bedroom.
2 comments:
It’s not like Dylan never walked around naked. He was the kind of guy who stripped down at his locker, threw his towel over his shoulder, and practically strutted to the showers after soccer practice. He was in good shape. He was reasonably endowed. His pubes were thick and curly. Nothing to be embarrassed about, right? In fact, he was full of masculine confidence. He’d stop to talk with some of his teammates as he went. Maybe even punch another guy in the arm or give a couple friendly ass-slaps. Why not? He’d never admit it, but showering with the team was actually one of his favorite times of day. Talking about the game, or some hot chick’s tits. Laughing at another guy’s hard-on from picturing said hot chick. (Or at least that’s what they always said was making them hard!). The camaraderie was awesome. Hangin’ out naked with the guys. Totally free. . .
But that’s not at all what this naked walk felt like. Dylan knew the rest of the family were all through the house. He wasn’t sure if his brothers or sisters had friends over. He hoped he could sneak past before anyone noticed.
Of course, it was hard to feel that masculine confidence when Dad had just beat it out of you, one crack of the leather strap at a time. And it was hard to feel any camaraderie when your bare ass was the only one getting whipped — and you were the only one taking the Walk of Shame back to your room.
Dylan wished Dad could spank him like he used to. It was pretty standard really: the order to go to his room, the long wait, Dad’s arrival with spanking implement in hand, the baring, the lecture, the tip over Dad’s knee, the spanking, the crying, the extra hard finale, the sobbing, the “dancing” and rubbing, the reminder lecture, the promise to be good, the hug. Truth be told, Dylan really liked those hugs, even though Dad would usually pat his red hot bare bottom with one hand while he hugged and calmed the boy down.
But all that had changed four years ago when Dylan started high school. Dylan had a growth spurt, his voice changed, he started growing hair in his armpits and . . . down there. He felt he was too old to be sparked, and he said so. To his surprise Dad agreed, saying that when he got to Dylan’s age Grandpa had stopped putting Dad over his knee, too. But then Dad dropped the bombshell. Instead, Grandpa would take Dad out to the woodshed for a whipping! An actual whipping! With a leather strap and everything! And from then on, Dylan would get the same — in the garage.
Today’s whipping had been one of the worst — and he knew he deserved it. Let’s not go into the details of what Dylan had done. Suffice to say that it involved too much fun on a Saturday night — alcohol, car damage, coming home late, disrespecting his mother, etc. More than a couple soccer buddies were involved. Dylan wondered if any of them were being similarly punished.
So Dylan had been resigned to his fate to report to the garage in nothing but his boxers at “high noon” as Dad put it.
The boxers had come off almost immediately. Dylan had to stand there for what seemed like forever while Dad read hit the riot act. Dylan had almost died as Dad even made references to his body throughout the lecture. “You’d think someone with that much hair on his dick wouldn’t act like an irresponsible little boy!” “Just because you’ve developed some muscle and your balls have dropped doesn’t mean you can speak to your mother that way!” And finally: “Its a good thing your butt’s gotten some muscle on it because you’re gonna need the padding!”
Dylan spent the next ten minutes bent over the saw horse as Dad applied the strap again, and again, and again, until every inch of butt flesh (and some other nearby flesh, too) had been thoroughly whipped. Very thoroughly.
Afterward, Dad parked a tearful Dylan in the corner, set a timer for 30 minutes, and told him to go to his room for the rest of the day after the timer went off. Then Dad left — and took Dylan’s boxer shorts with him!
And that was how a very meek Dylan had ended up in this position: totally naked, hands cupping his junk, quietly creeping across the house from the garage to his bedroom.
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