The missing underpants

My mother sadly died when I was only 10 years old – but within less than a year, my father found a new lady friend and she wound up moving in with us.

She quickly became part of our lives, and that included doing ‘motherly’ things such as cooking and cleaning – and child discipline.

My new stepmom’s favourite form of discipline was spanking, and she always insisted that my birth mother had spoiled me by not warming my bottom enough when I was a younger boy. Subsequently, I frequently found myself bare-bottomed over her lap and my backside treated to either her her hand, hairbrush or a short strap made especially for spanking children.

Needless to say, these spankings hurt but I was growing up fast and also had rather ambivalent feelings about such punishments. My stepmother had strong, wide thighs and an ample lap, along with large, soft breasts which she caught me ogling more than once during a scolding, either before or after a spanked bottom. “Eyes on my face!” would be her only comment on that.

I also got erections sometimes before or after the spanking (any hard-on went away pretty much immediately during the chastening). My stepmom largely ignored these, thought she certainly noticed them.

One particular day, she was doing the laundry and told me to put my dirty clothes on my bed so she could come and collect everything.

She eventually came into my bedroom and went about the work for a second, then stopped what she was doing. “John,” she said, “I last did the laundry a week ago, so there should be seven pairs of undies here – why are there only five, young man?”

I blushed a little, twiddled my thumbs but eventually admitted there had been a couple of days in the week where I had not bothered changing into a clean pair of underpants.

My stepmother turned to me now with a face full of anger. “That is absolutely disgusting, young man! You are going to get your behind warmed for that right now. Come here to me!”

I should mention that my stepmom always prepared me for a spanking by stripping me from the waist down, so as to have good access to my bottom. She sat on my bed, drew me towards her and then methodically removed my shoes, socks, pants and underwear.

I was already crying by now but she had no intention of letting me off my punishment. However, she did draw me to her bosom and held my face against her breasts. She spoke softly: “Try to stop crying – Mommy is going to give you something to cry about now, but it’ll all be OK after you’ve been properly punished. You’ll be my good boy again.”

She released me from the hug and as I stepped away I looked down and blushed as I realised I had a boner. As usual, my stepmom said nothing about this directly. However, unusually, she did draw her skirt up to bare her thighs (I presume in case of emissions of any kind) and when she put me across her knee to be spanked, she popped my penis between her legs.

She told me I would be given 20 spanks for each pair of missing underwear, then proceeded to slap my buttocks until I yelled for mercy. I was crying like a much younger child, and wriggling so badly that my stepmom eventually put one of her legs over both of mine to restrain me. She gave me perhaps the sorest bottom I had had up to that point as a child.

After the punishment had been administered, she stood me up and allowed me to cry into her bosom, rubbing my still-bare behind comfortingly.

“Are you going to be a good boy for me now?” she asked. I managed to nod between my sobs, my face totally wet with snot and tears. “Well, you better be, because next time we have this problem, it’ll be the hairbrush – understand?” Despite my crying, I managed to find my voice enough to assure her that there would be no ‘next time’.

Contributor: John

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