Mel Taes My Manhood

This story is a very over the top work of fantasy, and it contains extreme humiliation, blackmail, non-consent, water-sports, even some gunge.

*****

There is a certain begrudging camaraderie you reach with your adversaries that you're up against in court every day. As a young attorney just a couple years into my practice, I found some more obnoxious than others. Melvin Krumholz was pretty high up there. He liked to talk your ear off, bullshit, bust your balls but it was mostly harmless. Touchy-feely too, always invading your space, grabbing your arm to make a point, back-patting.

In his 60s, he was pretty much a slimeball. Mel was infamous for always trying to get one over on his opponents, and was not above resorting to technicalities, dirty tricks and dubiously legal strategies- folks in the field were shocked that he still had his license after all these years. Because he was so cartoonishly villainous and sleazy, in I found him more amusing than threatening.

On Friday afternoon, I had zoned out during one of his rants. The old schmuck could talk. I looked him over, not registering his words. In his shabby brown suit with his big paunch he looked more like a slimy used car salesman than a lawyer. He was balding, salt and pepper hair slicked into a combover, with a broad, craggy face, big nose, and huge sharklike smile that was unnervingly stretched across his face at all times, even when he was openly insulting you. Which was about the only way he spoke to "snowflakes," like me, as he called us.

He loved to rant at me about politics as we waited for our cases to be heard. I usually would just nod along, seeing no benefit in engaging with this scummy old man and just wanting our dealings in court to be over as soon as possible. On one fateful day, he had been going off on the endless failings of my generation.

"Honestly, kids like you need a proper spanking." I looked at him and found that same smile on his face. It was unnerving- like he knew an embarrassing secret about you, maybe one that you didn't know yourself.

"A spanking?" I asked- he had caught my attention. Sensing my interest, his eyes perked up mischievously. He leaned in and continued.

"Yeah, an old-fashioned, pants down, bare bottom spanking. Your Daddy give you those growing up, counsellor?" He was smirking at me. Had he really just asked me that? I looked around the packed room- the other attorneys, mostly gruff men Melvin's age, were rushing around us, arguing, busy dealing with their cases. No one heard his outrageous inquiry.

"Pardon me?" He stepped closer, his face just inches from mine so that I felt his warm coffee breathe on my face.

"I asked you if your Daddy every yanked down your pants and undies, hauled you over his lap, and spanked your little naked tukus until you cried your eyes out?" I felt my face go beat red from embarrassment, which seemed to delight Mel.

"No, not really." I confessed, flustered. Melvin took my forearm in his hand.

"Yeah, I can tell." He chuckled, then leaned his pitted face in close to my ear and continued.

"Well, I'd strip that suit right off you, get you bare ass naked, and then spank some sense into that little heiney of yours." He was holding my arm close to him now. It made me feel like I was stuck in place, paralyzed.

"Oh yeah, you think that would help?" For some reason I played along with his shocking suggestion.

"Oh I know it would, boy. It would teach you respect, humility. Make you humble." He seemed to savor these words in his deep, rumbling voice. I realized I had gotten hard in my suit pants.

"Humble?" I asked, my voice a breathless whisper. He leaned in closer.

"Oh yeah, I'd humble you, kid. Take you down quite a few begs until you were good and humbled. You'd be crying like a baby. Sniveling like a snot-nosed brat. And you'd be bare bottom naked, of course!" He laughed at the thought of it, laughed at me. I couldn't believe that he was speaking this way to me. Despite our age difference, I was his peer, his colleague. The disrespect he was showing me made me feel deeply confused and enthralled. He leaned in, craning his neck, leering at me mischievously as he continued.

"I bet... by the end of it, you'd even be calling me... 'Daddy.'" He again relished each word, delivering it slowly, looking in my eyes as he spoke so brazenly. He was still holding on to my arm, and he had rested his other hand on my stomach. Just lightly placed his hand over my navel. My heart was pounding.

"... fat chance, counsellor." I tried to push back but I could barely sputter out my retort. I shook free of his grasp.

"Oh yeah? I see you got a little tent going on in your trousers, there, counselor." One of his long, thick, hair-speckled fingers was pointed at my crotch, just an inch or two where my boner was betraying me, bulging out my pants. He snickered, and I just lowered my head as he continued.

"Very little, by the looks of it" I felt a strange thrill from just standing there letting him belittle the size of my manhood. His hand seized my shoulder and squeezed. His face was so close to mine, his voice low and gravelly, and I felt his hot breathe as he continued to torment me.

"You know, I've seen that little thing you got between your legs at the urinals before. It looked no more than an inch. It really looked just like a little boy's penis, not a man's. You're hung like a little boy, aren't you, Petey?" I was flush with shame at what he was saying. Mel was attacking one of my biggest insecurities, poking at it like he had found a chink in my armor. Cruelly jamming his fat fingers in the wound. My head was swimming. He rubbed my upper back.

I looked at him, smiling at me. Deep down, I had always gotten turned on from being belittled. Talked down to. Somehow Mel had intuited this. He kept caressing my shoulders with one hand as he spoke.

"You got just a tiny little schmeckle between your legs, don't you boy?" He made the universal 'small penis' sign with his fingers, inches from my face. He let out a long, throaty mean-spirited laugh. I looked around the room - no one was paying attention. Did the other men know that Mel was making a fool of me this way? Taunting me for having a little? Did my embarrassed red-face betray my shame?

"Schmeckle?" I finally asked, my throat bone dry. He smiled at my inquiry. He knew that for whatever reason, I was enjoying the verbal abuse, playing along. He looked around the room before leaning in and continuing in an almost sing-song voice.

"Why, yes Petey! Your little penis! Your little schmeckle! Your teeny tiny pecker. You don't have a man's cock in your trousers, you just have an itty bitty boy penis, don't you, Petey?" I stuttered helplessly as he cackled. It almost felt like he had me naked right there, in front of all those other men. Like he had pulled my pants down right here at my place of work. My dick pulsed at the crazy image. The chorus of howling laughter at my pants and underpants at my ankles, bare ass and dick on display in a room full of older suited men. I felt dizzyingly exposed.

"Don't you boy?" He growled into my ear. He was forcing me to admit it to him? Confess that I had a small penis?

"I guess so." I sounded dreamy, distant. I was spellbound by this humiliation. He chuckled to himself, mean-spirited laughter at my disgracing myself before him like this. His eyes were wide with disbelief. Laughed at my going along with this humiliation like a stooge. I felt like I had been punched in the stomach.

"Maybe after I give you a proper spanking, I'll show you what a grown man's cock looks like, huh boy?" His voice was gravelly with a menacing lust and he squeezed the generous crotch of his suit pants. He smirked when he saw my eyes widen at his ample endowment.

He leaned back, straightened up and adopted a serious tone of voice, as if we were negotiating a settlement.

"But who knows? If you're man enough to drop your drawers and put yourself over my lap, then that my change my mind about your whole half-assed generation. Whaddaya say?" He was glowering at me, that same big grin still on his face. His proposal was so strange, it humiliated and thrilled me just imagining it. I felt like I had no choice.

"Ok." I croaked. He beamed at me and said he'd give me a call after the court closed that day.

And so somehow at 5:30pm I found myself following this strange old man upstairs to what he had called his pied d'terre, a small one bedroom apartment near the courthouse. All the while he was chuckling at me for being such a fool, and while I did feel foolish, ridiculous to submit to this and put myself in this position, it almost felt like I was sleepwalking. Like it wasn't me following Mel's wide-waisted suited form up the stairs to the small, dingy apartment. I felt like I was stepping towards my own doom. Placing myself in his custody.

Melvin opened the apartment and led me in, grabbing my elbow. He locked the door and pulled an arm chair to the center of the room and sat, then gestured for me to stand before him. He looked up at me, beaming, absolute triumph on his face that his young rival was surrendering to him so entirely.

His big hands grabbed my waist, and he shocked me by darting into my pocket and claiming my wallet. I stood there as he extracted my license and read aloud.

"Peter Joseph Meechum, I am going to spank your bare ass. This is something your father should have done to you al long time ago, and now I'm going to do it. Do you understand, boy?" His deep voice was loud and clear as he pronounced my fate, his dark eyes boring into mine.

"Yes, Sir.' I responded automatically, and he grinned at my submission. Looking me right in the eye, he put my wallet into his pocket. He inhaled, savoring the moment.

"Let's get started." His gnarled old hands attacked my belt and waist band, swiftly opening my suit trousers. He hooked his thumbs into their sides and pulled them down. I stood there in my boxer briefs with my pants bunched at my ankle.

"Not pleased to see you in these. I am going to have to putt you in some some good old-fashioned white fruit of the looms briefs." He then leaned forward yanked my shorts to my ankles in a single rapid movement. Melvin's eyes widened and his grin and he erupted in cruel laughter.

"Chirst! What a tiny little pecker!" He laughed. I stood looking forward, blushing furiously. I clasped my hands behind my waist obediently, letting him examine me. I then gasped as he flicked my penis with his fingers. Mel giggled as he watched it bounce. I wasn't the best hung guy in the world, but I wasn't the smallest either. I was just under six inches, which I had read was average. As in the courthouse, Melvin was just trying to get in my head. It was working.

"Goddamnit, it's even smaller than I thought, kid! Why, I'm pretty sure I had a bigger peter when I was 8 years old." He boasted, and for some reason, I nodded along agreeably. He laughed at my craven kowtowing, ridiculing me. He raised his phone.

"For posterity. A pic of little Peter." I saw his leering smile behind his phone and realized that the photo definitely included my face and entire naked body.

"No wonder you're such a goddamn wimp, huh, with that little dick." He remarked, shaking his head incredulously.

"All right boy, come here." His large, cold hands grabbed my bare waist and he pulled me over his lap. With surprising strength, the old man placed my body in position so that I was helplessly prone over his lap, my backside up.

Melvin's large, rough hand rested over my butt cheeks. He squeezed and kneaded the right one possessively as I lay there, letting him feel me up. The sensation of his suit trousers felt strange against my naked skin. It was surreal, to be disrobed, completely nude before a man in his suit. For what felt like a minute or two he just held me over his lap. His pendulous gut pushed into my waist with each breath he took, and I listened to the noise of the city outside his window. I relaxed into him, let him hold me.

The first slap on my right butt cheek made me grunt. The sounds seemed to echoed all over the room.

By the tenth it began to really hurt, and I was soon wincing with each thunderous spank on my behind. At the twentieth I began to yelp in pain after each.

I grunted, trying to tough it out. Tried to focus on my breathing. I soon lost count of how many spanks I had received.

After a dread-inducing pause, Mel brought down a stinging thunderclap on my rear. I shouted, and Mel held me down over him. He proceeded with a steady barrage of slaps to my bottom. He must have reached fifty or so spanks. Soon I began to plead.

"Please, please-" I begged and struggled to escape from his lap. His left arm pinned me down. I couldn't believe how strong this decrepit old slob was, but he had me trapped over his knee.

"No way, Jose. We're just getting started, my boy." He crowed, raining down another series of quick, burning blows to my buns. I struggled uselessly in his arms as he held me down. Another dozen blows and I was moaning in agony.

"I'm liking warming up these sweet buns, boy." He cooed lecherously, then smacked one then the other butt cheek in rapid succession, back and forth. He then stopped and cupped both my cheeks with his hands.

"Yeah, not much of a cock on you boy, but you got a nice little can there." He roughly fondled my butt cheeks, clasping each globe and shaking them.

"A real man can have all sorts of fun with a rump like this." He threatened as he squeezed and kneaded my buttocks in his large, gnarled hands before resuming his steady beat of blows.

I wailed and went limp as he continued punishing me for what felt like an eternity. Stopping and starting, pausing to examine his work or simply play with my upturned backside.

It felt like my butt was on fire, and each slap stung agonizingly. My face was flush and I was sweating profusely.

Melvin grabbed my hair and forced me to look up at him, at the cruel old man giving me a bare bottom spanking.

"Who's your Daddy, boy?" Melvin demanded, his face lowered to mine.

"You are, Sir!" I called out obediently, hoping that cravenly accepting of his authority over me would expedite the end of this painful lesson.

"Say it!" He barked.

"You're my Daddy!"

"Again!" He slapped my rear.

"Arrrgh! You're my Daddy! You're my Daddy!" I wailed. For the next fifteen minutes or so Mel battered my backside with slaps. The room echoed with the crack of his stinging hand on my pale flesh, and my agonized groans and yelps. Soon I lost all restraint, begging him for mercy, wordlessly babbling for an end to this torment. My vision was blinded with tears.

He then grabbed my sweat-soaked hair and wrenched my head up, bringing his large, craggy face right up to mine.

"Who is your father?!" He demanded in a clear, booming voice.

"You are! You're my father!" He brought his hand down on my butt cheeks five times, still holding my head up, cranking my neck back painfully.

"Who is your Daddy!" He yelled again, glowering at me.

"You are, Sir! You're my Daddy!" I answered between pathetic sniffles. 10 more spankings had me begging him again, calling him Daddy. I implored him to relent ,again and again. Tell him he was my Daddy, my father. But my father was cruel and unsparing, a vengeful Old Testament patriarch.

"Who is your Daddy?" He bellowed, and punctuated his question with a ringing slap. I answered eagerly, howling.

"You're my Daddy!" We began a painful call and response. Who is your Daddy? Who is your father? Over and over again I declared him my father. Renounced my own father and accepted him as my Daddy, my true father. He must have made me say if forty or fifty times. But still he brought his granite palm down on my cheeks. I was bawling like an infant.

"Please Daddy please!" My voice was not my own, but a high-pitched, desperate wail, like a little boy.

"Have you learned your lesson, little boy?" He asked in a mocking sing-song voice while continuing to paddle my cheeks with his large, hard hand.

"Yes Daddy! Yes Sir!" I gasped, panting between sobs. Finally he relented, staying his hand.

"Don't you see? I've turned you back into that sniveling little boy that you've always been. You're just my pathetic little boy now. I'll always know what you really are." He held my ear, twisting it painfully. I nodded obediently, then lowered my head down.

"Who is your father?" He asked in a quiet voice, calmly now. He stroked my sweat-soaked hair.

"You are, you're my father." I whispered. He grunted in satisfaction, wiping tears from my face. He gently stood me up and got up himself from his chair. He examined me standing before him, my naked body, face and chest red and flush with sweat. Still trembling from fear and emotional exhaustion. He placed his heavy hands on my shoulders as he inspected me. Melvin rubbed my shoulders and looked me up and down.

"Thats' a good boy. No more fight left in you, is there? No more man left in you now, just a little boy, right son?" He tenderly took my chin in his hand, forcing me to look him in the eye as I nodded bashfully in agreement. I certainly didn't feel like a man at the moment. Standing stark naked before him, face wet with tears, my bared backside still burning, my penis shriveled, cowering in fear. Completely defeated. He smiled at me in triumph, wiping some of the tears from my cheeks. He cleared his throat.

"Petey, are you a man, or are you just a little boy?" He asked me in a firm tone of voice. I knew what I had to say.

"Daddy, I'm not a man, I'm just a little boy." He sighed contentedly, gratified and radiating pride. All the while he stared at me intently.

"Good boys kiss their Daddy's on the lips, don't they, boy?" His face was inches from mine, like a pre-fight stare down. I looked at his large, moist red lips and the uneven teeth grinning at me wolfishly.

"Yes, Daddy." I grimaced. Did this evil old ghoul really want me to kiss him? His warm breath ran over my face each time he exhaled. He stroked my cheek gently, then ran his fingers through my hair.

"Go ahead, kiss your Daddy now." His voice was sweet, like he was talking to a young child, but his stare was cold and hungry.

I leaned forward to the big man and gingerly brought my lips to his. I kissed him daintily, and he took the opportunity to dab his tongue all over my lips, wetting them with his spittle.

"That's my sweet boy." He moaned and bestowed another long, wet kiss on my lips. The warmth of his mouth against mine, his nostrils blowing hot air on my face overwhelmed me. His large, rough hands seized my bare hips and held me close to him. His full trousered crotch ground into my naked body. His big boner grinding insistently against my naked hard-on, asserted itself on mine. The chasteness but intimacy of the kiss made my head swim. When he finally released me, I felt that my lips were wet with his saliva.

I looked at a wall clock over his shoulder, the same I had checked before he put me over his lap. In a mere thirty minutes, the man had broken me.

He then walked to a corner of the room as I stood frozen in place. Looking down at the floor at my 5 1/2 inch erection.

"You ever have an enema, boy?" I looked over and he was extracting a large red rubber bag from a duffel bag. The bag had a long clear nozzle. I knew what it was, what it was for, my stomach plunging. I knew what he was going to do to me

"No... no Sir." I gulped.

"Well, Daddy says you're gonna get a big old enema right up your tukus. How's that sound, kiddo?" He watched me intently, smug grin on his face, daring me to challenge him. Daring me to refuse this further indignity. He stepped closer into my space, bringing his face up to mine.