SPANKED AT THE BARBER SHOP
The bell above the door of Joe’s Barber Shop jingled softly as the last customer of the day left the shop. Now, well past nine o’clock, the tiny shop on Arthur Avenue in the Bronx’s Little Italy neighborhood was quiet except for the soft scrape of a broom held by Joe Speciale, Junior. Joe swept the discarded hairs across the old tile floor.
Joe was twenty-five, six-foot tall, broad-shouldered and muscular from years of lifting weights in the basement gym he’d set up behind the shop. His thick black hair was neatly trimmed, and his handsome Italian features—strong jaw, dark eyes, and easy smile—had made him a favorite with the neighborhood guys. Tonight he wore a tight white tank top that clung to his hairy, well-developed chest, and tight gray sweatpants that left little to the imagination. The heavy, thick outline of his big cut cock and its plump head was clearly visible in his sweatpants, swinging slightly as he swept. He wasn’t wearing anything underneath.
He glanced at the old leather razor strap still hanging on its hook by the mirror, the same one his late father, Joe Senior, had used without hesitation on his son’s bare butt whenever the boy stepped out of line—often right here in the shop, sometimes even in front of customers. Joe still remembered the sharp sting and the deep burn that followed. He shook his head and kept sweeping, ready to lock up and head home.
“Sorry, the shop is closed, Charlie,” Joe said without looking up at first.
Charlie Sinclair stepped inside anyway, gym bag slung over one shoulder, white t-shirt damp with sweat, and tight red gym shorts hugging his athletic eighteen-year-old body. His legs were thick from leg day, thighs powerfully defined, and his round bubble butt filled out the shorts perfectly. Sweat glistened on his smooth skin.
“Please, Joe? I ran late at the gym doing legs and sprinted straight over. I need a haircut bad. Just a quick trim? Five minutes, tops.”
Joe finally looked up and let his eyes travel over the younger man. Charlie was handsome, built solid for his age, with a confident but slightly sheepish grin. Joe’s gaze lingered on those thick thighs and the firm, round ass. The bulge in Joe’s gray sweatpants twitched and thickened noticeably.
Charlie noticed too. His eyes flicked down to Joe’s crotch, then up to the barber’s muscular arms and hairy chest straining the tank top. A small smile played at the corner of Charlie's mouth.
Joe sighed. “Alright. But make it quick. And nobody else comes in.” He walked over, pulled the shade down over the glass door, and locked the door.
Joe draped the light haircutting cape around Charlie’s shoulders and fastened it snugly at the neck. Charlie settled into the single barber chair, hands resting on the wide armrests. As Joe moved around him—clippers buzzing, combing and trimming—Charlie’s fingertips occasionally brushed the front of Joe’s sweatpants. At first it seemed accidental. Joe didn’t pull away. So the next time it happened, Charlie let his fingers linger, then boldly wrapped his hand around the thick, heavy outline of Joe’s cock through the soft fabric and gave it a gentle squeeze.
Joe froze, clippers still humming in his hand. He looked down with a frown.
“Who told you that you’re allowed to do that?” His voice was low and stern.
Charlie yanked his hand back instantly, cheeks flushing bright red. “Um… I thought it would be okay…”
Joe set the clippers down. “You thought...wrong. You need to learn to ask permission, kid. And right now, you’re gonna get taught a lesson—the same way my father taught me when I was a boy and got out of line.”
Charlie’s eyes widened as Joe reached over and took the well-worn leather razor strap off its hook.
“What… what are you gonna do with that?” Charlie asked, voice cracking slightly.
“The same thing my old man did to me whenever I misbehaved. You’re about to find out what happens to boys who get grabby without asking first.”
Joe set the razor strap down on the counter. He then pulled the cape off Charlie in one swift motion, grabbed him by the upper arm, and yanked him out of the chair. Joe sat down himself, then had Charlie stand in front of him. With practiced efficiency, Joe yanked Charlie’s tight red gym shorts down to his ankles, then hooked his fingers into the waistband of the white briefs underneath and peeled them down too. Charlie’s hard young cock sprang up, already leaking.
Joe’s big hand grabbed firmly around the base of Charlie’s shaft, holding it tight. Charlie gasped at the touch—half pleasure, half shock—then yelped as Joe pulled him forward by his cock, positioning him perfectly over his thick, muscular thighs.
“You earned this, Charlie,” Joe said calmly, his left hand pressing down on the small of Charlie’s back. “Fifty good hard swats. Count them in your head if you want, but you’re taking every one.”
The first hard bare-hand spank landed square on Charlie’s right cheek, the sound echoing sharply in the empty shop. Charlie jumped and let out a surprised “Ah!”
Joe didn’t pause. His big, calloused hand rose and fell steadily, delivering crisp, heavy swats that turned Charlie’s smooth, round bubble butt from pale to bright pink in seconds. Each smack was full force—Joe’s muscular arm putting real power behind it. He covered every inch: the fleshy mounds, the sensitive undercurve where butt met thigh, even a few stinging ones to the tops of Charlie’s thighs.
Charlie squirmed hard, legs kicking, his hard cock rubbing against Joe’s thigh with every wriggle. “It stings! I’m sorry!”
“You should’ve asked first,” Joe lectured evenly, never breaking rhythm.
“Grabbing a man’s cock without permission gets you punished. Twenty… twenty-one… keep still.”
By the time Joe reached thirty, Charlie’s ass was a deep, glowing red, hot to the touch. Tears pricked his eyes and his voice cracked with each new swat.
“Ahh! Please—owww—it burns so bad! I won’t do it again, I swear!”
“Damn right you won’t,” Joe growled, laying down the final ten extra-hard ones right on the sit-spots.
Charlie howled and bucked, his bubble butt clenching and jiggling under the assault. “You take your punishment like a man when you mess up. That’s the rule in this shop.”
At fifty, Joe stopped. Charlie was breathing hard, ass blazing crimson, a few tears streaking his face. A large wet stain of pre-cum pooled on the front of Joe’s gray sweatpants where Charlie’s leaking cock had been grinding.
Joe lifted the younger man off his lap and stood up. Charlie’s cock was still rock-hard, pointing straight up. Joe’s own massive erection strained obscenely against the sweatpants.
“Look what you did,” Joe said, gesturing at the wet spot on his sweatpants. He hooked his thumbs in the waistband and shoved his sweatpants and tank top off, standing completely naked. His thick, veiny cut cock stood proud, heavy balls swinging below. “I’m not finished with you, Charlie.”
Joe pointed at the barber chair. “Take your shirt off. Then bend over the chair, hands on the seat, ass out toward me.”
Charlie obeyed quickly, peeling off his damp white t-shirt and gripping the edge of the chair, his freshly spanked red ass presented perfectly. Joe folded the thick leather razor strap in half with a loud snap.
“You’re gonna count these out loud. Twenty-five good hard ones. If you lose count, we start over. Understand?”
The first stroke of the doubled strap landed across both cheeks with a sharp, biting sting that made Charlie’s entire body jolt.
“One!” he yelped, voice already tight.
The leather bit into the undercurve, leaving a bright red stripe.
“Two—owww! Fuck, that hurts!”
The strapping was methodical and thorough. Joe put his full strength into each swing, the heavy leather cracking loudly against Charlie’s already tender bare butt. Stripes began to overlap, turning the glowing red skin into a deeper, mottled crimson with raised welts. Charlie’s cries grew louder and more desperate with every stroke.
“Seven—ahhh! Please, Joe, it’s too much!”
Two in quick succession across the tops of his thighs made Charlie dance on his toes, tears flowing freely now.
“Ten—eleven—owwww! I’m sorry! I’m so fucking sorry!”
Joe’s voice stayed firm. “You’re learning respect, Charlie. Keep counting.”
By twenty, Charlie was sobbing openly, his round ass a fiery, striped mess. His cock still throbbed untouched between his legs.
"Twenty-three—ahh! Twenty-four—owwww, god!”
The final stroke landed with extra force right across the center of both cheeks.
“Twenty-five!” Charlie wailed, collapsing against the chair, crying hard.
He stayed there for a moment, sniffling, then turned his tear-streaked face toward Joe. “I’ll do anything to make it up to you… anything.”
Joe turned him around gently and pointed to the floor. “Get on your knees.”
Charlie dropped immediately. Joe stepped forward, his giant cut cock bobbing right in front of the younger man’s mouth.
“Open up and swallow it.”
Charlie did. Joe slid his thick cock between Charlie’s lips and began pumping steadily, fucking his mouth with deep, controlled strokes. For five full minutes the only sounds were wet sucking, Joe’s low grunts, and Charlie’s muffled moans. Charlie’s hand flew up and down his own cock the entire time, stroking furiously.
Finally Joe pulled out, stroking his slick shaft rapidly.
Thick ropes of hot cum erupted across Charlie’s face, splashing his cheeks, lips, and chest. At the same moment Charlie cried out around a mouthful of spit and cum, his own cock spurting hard onto the tile floor.
Joe caught his breath, then reached down and pulled Charlie to his feet, wrapping his strong arms around the younger man in a firm, surprisingly tender hug. Their spent cocks pressed tightly together. Charlie moaned with pleasure as Joe held him tight.
“Now then,” Joe said with a small grin, “let’s finish that haircut… if you think you can sit down in the chair.”
Charlie eased himself gingerly into the barber chair, wincing sharply as his thoroughly punished, red-striped ass made contact with the seat. A soft gasp of pain escaped him, but right after it came a big, satisfied smile.
He looked up at Joe, eyes still a little watery but sparkling.
dededos
prguitarman
romaincrisis
gummygunk
discoholicmusic
stormborns
dailybridgerton
