Fiction: The Most Embarrassing Spanking of his Life (F/M, witnesses)

Special thanks to AleX at Embarrassing and Fun for doing a custom image particularly for this story!

Once upon a time in the sun-drenched town of Grant’s Hollow, there was a boy named Tommy, with a reputation for pranking that made him somewhat of a legend among his peers. But this reputation was about to lead him into an afternoon he would never forget.

It was a blistering summer day, perfect for lounging by the public pool, where the sounds of laughter and splashing water filled the air. Tommy, with his goggles strapped tight, was swimming when he spotted Mia, a girl from his class known for her sharp wit and even sharper tongue. Mia was floating on her back, her bright pink bikini top standing out against the blue water. 

A devilish idea struck Tommy. With the stealth of a ninja, he swam under Mia, his fingers working quickly to untie the knot of her top. The moment he succeeded, he swam away, giggling to himself, expecting the usual mayhem and laughter. But this prank was about to backfire spectacularly.

Mia, quick to react, immediately snatched her top back and covered up, but the embarrassment was already there. Her eyes scanned the pool until they locked on Tommy hanging by the side.

Mia, her voice laced with anger, shouted, "Tommy! Did you do this?"

Tommy, trying to play it cool, replied, "Do what? I was just swimming."

Mia, not buying it, retorted, "Don't play dumb! You know exactly what!"

Just then, Tommy's mother, Mrs. Thompson, who had been lounging under a sun umbrella, had seen the whole incident unfold. She was a no-nonsense woman with a strong sense of discipline, and her son's pranks were a well-known source of her exasperation. With the speed of a mother on a mission, she marched over to the poolside.

"Thomas Edward Thompson!" her voice boomed across the pool area, silencing everyone. Tommy knew he was done for. 

In front of an audience of sunbathers, lifeguards, and his peers, Mrs. Thompson decided this was the moment to make an unforgettable example. She grabbed Tommy by the ear, pulling him out of the water, and right there, on the wet concrete, she did the unthinkable—she yanked down his swim trunks to his knees.

Tommy yelped, "Mom! What are you doing?!"

Mrs. Thompson, her voice stern, replied, "I'm giving you a taste of your own medicine, young man!"

With one hand, she gripped his upper arm tightly, holding him in place. Her other hand began the spanking, each slap landing with a loud smack on Tommy's wet bare bottom. The spanks were swift and hard, causing Tommy to shuffle in a small, awkward circle around his mom, wincing with each strike. As he shuffled, Tommy's trunks slipped further down his legs, eventually pooling around his ankles.  His face was a mix of pain, embarrassment, and regret. "I'm sorry! Please, Mom, stop! I won't do it again!" he pleaded, his voice breaking with each smack.

"You better not!" Mrs. Thompson continued, her hand connecting sharply with his skin, "How do you like it, Tommy? Feeling embarrassed now, are you? This is what it feels like to be humiliated in public."

Despite his attempts to shield himself with his free hand, the hard smacks made his free arm fly up, revealing Tommy's genitals bouncing with each smack and shuffling step, adding to his mortification. The sight was enough to make some onlookers look away, while others giggled and whispered among themselves about the spectacle.

Mia, who had now fully composed herself, watched with a sense of delight at seeing Tommy punished and embarrassed in such a fashion. She couldn't help but feel a bit of vindication.

After what felt like an eternity, Mrs. Thompson finally stopped the spanking but kept her grip on Tommy's arm. "Apologize to Mia, now," she ordered, indicating that he was to face Mia in his current state.

Tommy, mortified, tried to cover his groin with his hands as he turned to face Mia. His trunks still down around his ankles, he mumbled an apology, "I'm really sorry, Mia. I shouldn't have…"

But before he could finish, his mother slapped his bottom one more time and then swatted his hands away with a firm, "No, Thomas, no hiding. Let her see how sorry you are."

Reluctantly, Tommy removed his hands, his face burning with shame, standing there exposed for all to see.

“Again!” His mom said, smacking his behind again.

“I'm sorry, Mia! I shouldn't have untied your top!"

Mia, with a smirk that mixed satisfaction with the memory of her own embarrassment, glanced down at his bare crotch and responded, "I hope you've learned your lesson, Tommy Thompson."

After the apology, Mrs. Thompson decided to make the lesson even more memorable. She led Tommy, still with his trunks around his ankles, to a nearby wall. "You're going to stand here and think about what you've done," she declared, positioning him to face the wall.

Tommy, in his state of embarrassment, stumbled slightly as he moved, causing his swim trunks to slip completely off his feet. He stood there, facing the wall, completely bare from the waist down, as his mother made sure he was positioned correctly.

With one final, resounding smack, Mrs. Thompson released Tommy, leaving him standing against the wall, his bare skin still stinging from the punishment. "You will stay here, facing this wall, with your hands at your sides, and you will not dare cover your little bottom, young man, do you understand?" she commanded, her voice stern yet tinged with a lesson she hoped would stick.

Tommy, his cheeks flushed with the deepest shade of red, nodded mutely, unable to form words through his mortification. The sensation of being so exposed, so completely vulnerable to the prying eyes of his peers, was unlike anything he had ever felt. His heart pounded in his chest, a mix of fear, shame, and an overwhelming sense of embarrassment flooding his senses. Every inch of his skin felt as if it were on fire, not just from the physical sting of the spanking but from the burning gaze of those around him.

Just then, the scene was interrupted by the approach of Mia's mom and the lifeguard. Mia's mother, a woman known for her no-nonsense attitude, walked over with a stern look on her face, while the lifeguard, an attractive woman with a whistle around his neck, followed, her expression one of authority.

Mia's mom spoke first, her voice clear and sharp, "Well done, Mrs. Thompson. That was a lesson well taught." She looked down at Tommy, her gaze piercing. "And you, young man, you should be ashamed of yourself for what you did to Mia. You got exactly what you deserved."

Tommy, hearing the scolding from another adult, felt the weight of his actions sink in even more. His eyes stayed downcast, unable to meet the disapproving looks.

The lifeguard then stepped forward, her tone equally serious. "Tommy, if I hear of any more nonsense from you, you're banned from this pool for the rest of the summer. Do you understand?" Her words carried the weight of an official decree, one that Tommy knew he couldn't ignore.

Tommy nodded, his voice barely a whisper, "Yes, ma’am."

Mrs. Thompson, seemingly satisfied with the additional reinforcement of her lesson, looked at both Mia's mother and the lifeguard with a nod of gratitude. "Thank you," she said, her voice softening slightly but still firm. "I hope this will be the last time we have to deal with such behavior from him."

The lifeguard, giving Tommy one last stern look, added, "Keep your hands to yourself from now on, or you'll be watching from the other side of the fence."

Mia's mom, with one final glance at Tommy's red bottom and the clear evidence of the lesson imparted, shook her head in disbelief at his earlier antics but said nothing more, her point already made. The three adults then turned away, leaving Tommy to reflect on his actions under the watchful eyes of his peers, the incident now cementing his reputation in a way he had never intended.

Tommy could hear the whispers, the snickers, and the outright laughter from the groups of kids who had gathered, their amusement at his expense. Each sound felt like another smack to his already wounded pride. Tommy wanted nothing more than to cover himself, to shield his nudity from view, but his mother's words echoed in his mind, paralyzing him with the fear of further repercussions should he disobey. 

The cool breeze that danced across his bare skin was a cruel reminder of his state, making him shudder not just from the chill but from the acute awareness of his exposure. He felt small and utterly shamed, The prank on Mia, which once seemed so amusingly daring, now loomed over him as a monumental mistake.

As Tommy stood there, some of the more curious and mischievous kids decided to up the ante of his embarrassment. Giggling amongst themselves, they moved to the sides of the wall where Tommy was positioned, pressing their own cheeks against it, trying to catch a glimpse of his penis from the side.

Tommy, sensing the movement and hearing the hushed whispers, knew immediately what they were attempting. His mortification reached new heights; the sensation of being ogled from new angles was unbearable. In response, he instinctively pushed himself tighter against the wall, his penis and testicles now uncomfortably pressed against the coarse plaster. The rough texture of the wall grazed his sensitive skin, creating an unsettling mix of discomfort and shame.

His movements were desperate, each millimetre closer to the wall a small act of defiance against the invasion of his privacy. The feeling of his penis and testicles rubbing against the abrasive surface was a harsh reminder of his vulnerability, each tiny grain of plaster scraping against him, igniting a sensation that was both painful and humiliating. His heart raced with panic, his mind screaming for this ordeal to end. The cold, rough plaster against his skin was a minor relief compared to the burning shame he felt. He closed his eyes, willing this moment to pass, wishing he could disappear entirely, his body tense and his breathing shallow in an effort to become as small and unseen as possible. 

The laughter and comments from the kids seemed to grow louder, each word, each snicker, amplifying his sense of exposure and vulnerability. Tommy's only defense was to press himself even more tightly into the wall, trying to shield what little dignity he had left from the eyes that sought to further humiliate him.

As the kids realized that Tommy's desperate positioning against the wall obscured their view of his penis, they shifted their focus, their taunts now directed at the vivid spectacle of his bare bum. The redness of his skin was stark, a testament to the force of his mother's hand.

"Look at that red bum!" a girl exclaimed with a laugh, her voice carrying over the others. "Mommy sure did a number on you, Tommy Thompson!"

"Yeah, it's like a stop sign now!" another chimed in, pointing at the bright scarlet hue that painted Tommy's backside. "She taught you a lesson you won't forget!"

The comments stung, each one like another spank to his already sensitive skin. The teasing was relentless, each child trying to outdo the last with their mockery. Tommy felt the weight of their words pressing down on him, adding to the physical discomfort with emotional weight.

Gradually, as the teasing continued, Tommy's consciousness began to blur under the barrage of embarrassment. His hands, which had been rigidly at his sides following his mother's strict command, began to move of their own accord. Slowly, unconsciously, they inched towards his rear. The instinct to cover himself, to hide this glaring symbol of his humiliation, was too strong. His fingers, trembling with both shame and the desire for relief, finally found their way to his red cheeks, cupping them gently as if to soothe the sting of both his mother's discipline and the children's words.

The action did not go unnoticed. "Hey, he's covering up!" one of the kids pointed out, their tone a mix of surprise and amusement. "Mommy said no hiding, remember, Tommy?"

The moment the words left the child's mouth, Tommy's hands snapped back to his sides as if pulled by invisible strings. But it was too late; the damage was done. From the corner of his eye, he saw the unmistakable figure of his mother, her face set in a storm of disapproval as she stormed towards him.

"Thomas Edward Thompson!" she bellowed, her voice slicing through the air. "What did I tell you about covering up? How dare you defy me?  It looks like you need another lesson!"

Tommy's heart sank to new depths, his body trembling in anticipation. The words stuck in his throat; he could only stand there, his posture stiff with fear, his face a mask of guilt. His mother reached him with quick, determined steps, her face set in a stern scowl.

She grabbed his arm, her grip firm, and yanked him away from the wall. As she spun him around to face the crowd, the dust from the coarse plaster that had been rubbing against him was now visible to all. Fine particles clung to his skin, leaving a light coating of white over his penis and testicles, which now stood in stark contrast to his reddened skin. The dust also speckled his chest, giving him a ghostly look, and a smudge of it was even visible on his nose, where he had pressed his face against the wall in his earlier attempt to vanish.

The kids around them, who had been momentarily quiet, now whispered and pointed at the sight. "Look at the dust on him!" one laughed, while another added, "He's got plaster all over his junk!"

Tommy, aware of the new layer of humiliation, kept his hands rigidly at his sides, not daring to move them even an inch, fearful of angering his mother further.

"Since you haven't learned your lesson, let's make sure you do!" she exclaimed

Without a moment's hesitation, his mother, still fuming with indignation, pulled Tommy towards her. With a swift movement, she sat down on a nearby pool chair, her actions deliberate and unforgiving. She then maneuvered Tommy over her knee, his body bending awkwardly, his complete nudity on full display for the crowd of onlookers.

As she positioned him, she opened her legs slightly, allowing his penis and testicles, speckled with the fine dust from the wall, to dangle between her thighs. The sight was both shocking and surreal; Tommy, now completely bare, his skin dusted with plaster, lay across his mother's lap, his genitals dangling on full display.

His mother's hand came down with a sharp smack, reigniting the pain on his already tender skin. "This is what happens when you disobey me," she declared, her voice echoing around the pool area. Each spank was punctuated by her words, the rhythm of discipline clear and unyielding.

Tommy's hands, which he had kept rigidly at his sides, now clenched into fists, his nails digging into his palms as he tried to brace himself against the pain. His face, smeared with plaster dust, twisted with each strike, tears beginning to well up in his eyes from the combination of physical pain and emotional torment. The kids, who had moments before been whispering about the dust, now watched in a mix of awe and discomfort, the scene before them a harsh lesson in consequences.

The spanking continued, each slap a reminder of his defiance, the sound of it mingling with Tommy's choked sobs and the occasional snicker from the crowd. His penis and testicles, dangling vulnerably between his mother's slightly parted legs, added to the spectacle, a visual marker of his complete subjugation to this moment of harsh discipline. His mother's grip was firm, ensuring he could not escape the lesson she was intent on teaching him.

Tommy, overwhelmed by the pain and the sheer humiliation, began to cry, his legs kicking out in a manner reminiscent of a much smaller child. "Please, Mom, no more!" he sobbed, his voice cracking under the strain.

The children around them laughed harder, some even mimicking the sounds of his cries, turning the punishment into a bizarre form of entertainment.

But his spanking was relentless, each slap coming down with force, echoing around the pool area. Tommy's cries grew louder, his begging more desperate, sounding more like the wail of a toddler than a twelve-year-old boy. His body shook with each strike, his face contorted in agony and shame, tears streaming down his cheeks.

"Will you disobey mommy again?" his mother asked, her voice stern through the sounds of the spanking.

Tommy, through his sobs, managed to choke out, "No, Mom, I won't!"

But his mother wasn't satisfied. "No, Thomas, you will say 'mommy,'" she insisted, her hand not pausing at all before delivering another sharp spank. 

"No, mommy, I won't!" Tommy cried out, his voice breaking, the word 'mommy' sounding infantile and forced, which only fueled the laughter from the surrounding kids. Their amusement was at his expense, the word 'mommy' adding a layer of humiliation to his punishment.

"And what will mommy have to do if you defy her again?" she continued, her tone demanding a response.

Tommy, still crying, his body jerking with each spank, whimpered, "Mommy will have to... to spank me again."

"That's right," his mother said, emphasizing each word with another smack. "Mommy will have to spank you again, harder each time you don't learn your lesson."

The forced recitation of his promise and the potential consequences in such a childlike manner further degraded Tommy, the term 'mommy' echoing around him, amplifying his embarrassment. The kids laughed harder, some mimicking his cries, others whispering about the spectacle of seeing someone their age reduced to such a state.

With the spanking concluded, his mother grabbed Tommy by the arm, pulling him up from her lap with a firm grip. His body still quivered from the ordeal, his face stained with tears and plaster dust. Without a word, she guided him back to the wall where he had previously stood, the crowd parting to let them through, their eyes following every step.

"Back to the wall," she commanded, her voice still edged with authority. "And this time, hands on your head."

Tommy, his legs shaky, complied without protest, his hands lifting to rest on top of his head, exposing his underarms and further accentuating his vulnerability. His mother gave him one last, stern look. "Stay there until I say otherwise, and don't even think about moving those hands," she warned before turning away, leaving him to face the wall once more.

The kids around him resumed their teasing, now with new material. "Look at Tommy, hands on his head like a little kid!" one jeered, while another mocked, "Better keep those hands up, or mommy might spank you again!"

With Tommy standing there, hands on his head, the kids couldn't help but continue their relentless teasing, focusing now on the vivid evidence of his punishment.

"Look at his bum! It's not just red, it's like a tomato!" one boy laughed, pointing directly at Tommy's backside.

"Yeah, it's practically glowing!" another chimed in, the group erupting into laughter at the comparison. "Did mommy use a paintbrush or something?"

"Bet you can't sit down for a week with that color!" a girl added, her voice dripping with mock sympathy, which only served to stoke the flames of Tommy's embarrassment further.

Tommy stood there, his body rigid, his face burning with a mix of pain, humiliation, and the lingering sting of the spanking. With his hands on his head, every muscle in his arms ached, adding to his discomfort. The laughter, the whispers, the occasional giggle, all served as a relentless soundtrack to his punishment, a constant reminder of the lesson he was being forced to learn in the most public and humiliating way.

After Mrs. Thompson decided it was time to leave. She went to the change room, where she was met with nods of approval and congratulatory remarks from other mothers who had witnessed or heard about the day's events.

"Well done, that boy needed a good lesson," one mother said, her tone approving as she watched Mrs. Thompson slip into her street clothes.

"Exactly what he deserved," another agreed, offering a supportive smile. "He won't be messing with other kids' swimsuits after that."

A third chimed in, "You showed him, Mrs. Thompson. That's how you teach respect."

With the compliments still ringing in her ears, Mrs. Thompson finished dressing and went out to the pool deck, her eyes scanning for Tommy's discarded swim trunks. She spotted them near the wall where he had been standing, picked them up with a look of disdain, and then strode over to where Tommy was still positioned, hands on his head.

His face was a mixture of resignation and lingering embarrassment, but it was his bottom that drew the most attention, a vivid, glowing red from the earlier spanking.

Without a word, she grabbed him by the ear, causing him to yelp in surprise. "Keep your hands on your head," she commanded sternly.

Tommy, his hands still positioned as ordered, started to plead, "Mom, please, can I have my trunks?" His voice was a mix of desperation and fear, his red bottom a stark reminder of his earlier punishment.

"You won't need them," she replied coldly, her grip on his ear tightening as she began to drag him towards the exit. "You've still got a meeting with your father's belt back home."

"No, please, Mom! Not the belt!" Tommy cried out, his voice escalating into screams and sobs. "Please, no, not the belt!"

As she pulled him, Tommy dug his heels into the ground, trying to resist, but the pain from his ear was too much, and he stumbled forward, his cries becoming more desperate.

"Mom, please, I'll be good! I promise! Anything but Daddy’s belt! Please! Please no!" He was almost incoherent now, his terror of his father’s belt making his voice waver and break.

As his mom pulled him along by his ear, his nudity was fully exposed; his penis, now shrunken and flaccid from the ordeal, hung limply, while his testicles, tight and drawn up close to his body, were clearly visible to all onlookers, adding to his humiliation.

"Please, Mom, I'm sorry! I'll never do it again! Not the belt, please, not Daddy’s belt!" Tommy's cries were now a continuous, desperate wail, echoing across the pool area and into the parking lot.

His mother marched him past the lifeguard, who gave a nod of approval, and past Mia and her mom, who watched with a complex mix of satisfaction and sympathy. Tommy's cries about the belt continued, his distress palpable, making the walk to the car one of the most humiliating moments of his young life.

"Please, Mom, anything! Please, not the belt! Not the belt!" he wailed, his voice carrying the weight of his fear and regret all the way to the car. When they reached the vehicle, Mrs. Thompson opened the back door, tossed him inside, still nude, and then slammed the door shut before getting into the driver's seat. She tossed his swim trunks onto the passenger seat, started the engine, and drove off, Tommy still crying, wailing, and begging to be spared his fathers belt.