CasperTheFriendlyBrat

“Come here, Boy.” Huffing, I head over to Daddy dragging my feet as much as I’d dare. Daddy doesn’t call me on it. “Hands on your head.”

I obey feeling my face burn while Daddy pulls my pants down to my ankles revealing my diaper to the whole park.

I know the park’s mostly empty - the only people even remotely close to us being on the other side of the clearing necking on a blanket completely lost in their own world, but Daddy’s never spanked me out in public before and of course he chose the one day I was stuck in these stupid diapers. “Do you know why you’ve earned this spanking?” 

I bite my lip to stop from scowling. Why isn’t he taking off this stupid diaper? “Because I didn’t listen?” 

“Did I or did I not ask you pack the diaper bag before we left the house?” 

“You did.” 

“And did you?” 

“No, Daddy.” 

“No you didn’t.” Daddy says starting to roll up the sleeves of his shirt. My stomach knots at the sight. Maybe keeping the diaper on wouldn’t be such a bad idea. It’ll be a whole lot more padding for my poor butt than my undies would've.

“And when we got here did you or did you not run off even though specifically told you to stay by my side.” 

“I did Daddy.”

“Yes you did.” Daddy’s hands move to his belt and I gulp. “And what,” Daddy asks while unbuckling his belt. “Were you doing when I found you?” 

“Climbing a tree,” I mumble at my feet. 

“What boy? Speak up.” I hear the sound of Daddy pulling his belt through the loops of his jeans and try not to flinch. 

“I was climbing a tree, Daddy.” 

“Yes you were.” Daddy folds the belt and tests it in the palm of his hand. I definitely flinched that time. “Now tell me. Is that something you’re allowed to do, little boy?” 

“No Daddy.” 

“Why not?” 

“Because the last time I climbed a tree while I was little I fell and hurt myself.” 

“Exactly. So tell me. What made you think it was a good idea to disobey me not once, not twice, but three times?”

“I don’t know,” I say squirming. Hesitantly I look up at Daddy through my lashes. “I’m really sorry Daddy.” 

Daddy’s face remains impassive. “No. But you will be.” He gives the belt a trial swing through the air. “Bend over and touch your toes.” 

Wait. Does this mean he’s going to spank me over the diaper? 

“Now!” There’s a another swing of the belt and I bend over quickly not wanting to anger Daddy anymore if I can help it. Even if I hate everything about this position. I know little boys are supposed to hate going over their Daddy’s knees, but I much prefer being over my Daddy’s lap than being bent over like some common punk. Even when punishing me, Daddy’s embrace is always comforting. This whole sticking my butt out for Daddy to beat me - not even with his hand - just feels like I’ve been so naughty that I don’t even deserve Daddy’s touch.  

Daddy steps behind me. The leather belt taps the back of my thighs. No no no no - please no!

“Daddy?” 

“What boy?”

I gulp. Daddy does not sound happy at being interrupted, but I have to try. I take a deep breath which admittedly doesn’t do much in this position. 

“I-I th-think you forgot to t-take my dia-diaper off, Daddy.”

Silence. Then, “Did I?” 

“Ar - aren’t sp-spankings sup - p - pose to be on the b-bare?”

Leather taps at my thighs again. “What do you think this is?” 

“But - bottom! Bare bottom,” I squeal. “Spankings are suppose to be on the bare bottom! Not my thighs!” 

The belt comes down on my bare thighs. Hard. I squeal like stuck pig. 

"This isn’t a spanking,” Daddy says. Laying on three more stripes of pure agony. “This is a belting.” 

Another stroke. Right in the middle. “And I’ll belt you,” Another lick in the same spot. “Wherever.” Slap. “I.” Swap. “Feel.” Thwack. “Like.” Whap. “It.” Whack. 

Daddy’s really getting in the groove of belting me, and it’s hard - real hard - to keep my legs straight for Daddy to beat. It’s not long before my hands start walking on the floor and my body starts trying to crawl away from the god awful belting Daddy’s determined to give me. 

“Oh no you don’t!” Daddy hauls me up to standing by the back of my shirt. “Put your hands out. Palms up.” My eyes widen in horror. 

“Daddy please -!” Daddy slaps me. Not hard. It stings, but it’s a warning more than anything.

“Now, boy.” Nodding I hold my palms up for Daddy to belt. For a moment Daddy just stands there. Just looking at my outstretched hands while they shake, before his eyes roam over the rest of me. I shiver knowing what this must look like to anyone who happened upon us. To the couple across the way who undoubtedly heard and probably saw me being spanked like a little boy. 

Trembling in the park with my shorts down around my ankles, and a diaper taped to my bum. I bet my thighs are bright red even if the color is kind of hard to see on my dark skin. I wonder if my face is red from where Daddy slapped me. God what if it matches the red on my thighs.

Daddy taps my palms with the belt before bringing it down in three quick lashes. Tears spring at me eyes, and Daddy grips my chin. 

“Stay in position.” 

“Yes, Daddy.” Daddy nods and pushes my head back down. It hurts to flatten my palms against the ground just as I’m sure Daddy intended. Instead I curl them into fists and brace them on the ground just in time for Daddy to start beating the back of my thighs. I squirm and squeal and cry, but I don’t move back out of position. It’s not long before sobs are wracking my bent over frame and god - when is Daddy gonna stop?

“Daddy - Daddy please -”

“Ya know,” Daddy says conversationally like he isn’t giving me the worst licking in the history of all time. Daddy doesn’t even pause in bringing his belt down on my poor abused flesh and - god - he doesn’t even sound out of breath. “If you had actually packed your diaper bag like I told you to in the first place. I would’ve been able to take your diaper off and spank your bare bottom like I usually do. Knowing I could always put another one on you after we were done.” A few particularly hard strokes land in the same spot and I wail brokenly. 

“Daddy!” 

“But no you thought you’d be slick and disobey me. So Daddy had to get creative in punishing you.”

Daddy belts me harder. How can he belt me harder?! How can he possibly have any more strength to beat me with?!

“Daddy please!” 

“What do you think, Baby Boy? You think Daddy was creative enough in his punishment?”

“Yes Daddy!” I scream, “Yes! Please Daddy I’m sorry - I’m so sorry! Daddy please!” 

Daddy stops. His shoes come into view, while I’m grasping for breath. He’s so close I’m worried the trail of snot flowing my nose will run down his leg and, while funny in theory, sounds like another reason for Daddy to keep belting me. I wipe the snot on my sleeve quickly. 

“I’m really sorry Daddy. I won’t disobey you again. I’ll listen - I promise.” Daddy runs his hand soothingly up and down my spine. I shiver. 

“Hmm. I suppose you do seem sorry now,” Daddy chuckles to himself. “Which means it’s really time to drive the point home.” 

A pitiful sob wrenches out of me at Daddy’s words. Daddy crouches down next to my head. “I know Baby Boy, I know. You have ever right to feel scared because I’m gonna beat you real good. But I promise eventually it will be over and you can go back to being my good little boy. How does that sound? You want to be Daddy’s good little boy again?” 

“Y-yes D-daddy,” I heave between sobs. 

“Then take your punishment.” Daddy stands back up. He shifts for a moment before, “Do you need help staying in position?” 

Something warm settles in my chest at that. I know my belting isn’t over. I know it’s going to hurt and I’ll be bruised for days if not weeks. I know the very fact that Daddy thinks I might need help staying in position means he’s going to belt a whole lot harder than he was earlier even if I can’t really understand how that’s possible. I know all of this, but I can’t help but be warmed at my Daddy’s kindness. 

“Y-yes Daddy,” I sniffle. 

“Ok little boy. On your back. Legs up.” Quickly I get down into position. Not missing the fact that the necking couple are a whole lot closer now, clearly enjoying my predicament, if the smiles on their faces are any indication. 

My face burns even though I really should be used to being humiliated at this point. So I choose to ignore them, instead looking up at my Daddy as he grips my ankles in his free hand. Again he taps the back of my thighs with the belt. His face full of determination to teach me my place. Our eyes lock. 

“I’m ready Daddy.” 

Daddy smiles.