This work is copyright by the author and commercial use is prohibited without permission. Personal/private copies are permitted only if complete including the copyright notice.

The author would appreciate your comments – pro and con, including constructive criticism, and suggestions.

Psychopathia Sexualis
PJ Franklin <>


I hurried home faster than usual and straight from my last class of the day, P.E. Coach Hamill had been at his best that day, paddling not just one, but three misbehaved classmates for locker-room horseplay. Right in front of all of us and fresh from hot showers, Coach made each bare naked boy bend over and grab his ankles.

Coach's paddle flew, three times each on the three bare bottoms and not softly either. The room was dead silent as my ears filled with the glorious sound of wood hitting teen flesh, each one provoking unwanted grunts and yes yelps. My eyes were glued to each bare ass, watching the rounded red splotches instantly rise.

Well, that was not all that was going to rise and mine did, but I was dressed as I left the gym and hiked it home. It was going to be great, really great. I rushed indoors. Mom and Dad were still at work and would be for hours yet. I had the house to myself and just unlocked the door and walked in not bothering to lock it in back of me.

I rushed to the bathroom and peed. It was not easy peeing through my erect penis. I smiled at him, "Down boy, you'll be having fun soon enough!" my mind already playing over each swat on each hot boy ass at the gym that afternoon. I stripped off naked right there in the bathroom and boldly walked to the kitchen my woodie waving like a bandmaster's wand.

I got a glass of milk and cookies imagining getting caught eating milk and cookies nude and with an erection and the spanking I would most certainly get, deserve and yes want. In my mind the spankee was me of course, the spanker was nobody in particular, well one boy, Steven Haus. He was a jock, one year older and my secret idol and a pretty good friend actually. We didn't hang out together much, but he was always kind to me when he really didn't have to have a geek like me for a friend.

I returned to my bedroom. It was time. I went to my closet to get my secret stash of two purloined library books, my jewels, my playthings:  "Psychopathia Sexualis" by Richard Krafft-Ebing and the other, "Abnormal Psychology" by Butcher, Mineka and Hooley. They were both very old but in great shape and yes, I had snuck them out of the library stacks from the large main library downtown.

At least once per week, when I was alone, I would pour over my favorite chapters of Krafft-Ebing, especially the references to homosexual deviance and stroke on my erect penis. I might let one of the many "cases" get to me and I would jack myself off carefully setting the book aside; but most often, I would turn the pages of "Abnormal Psychology" to the case of two boys who were caught by a mistress or nanny playing with each other in naughty ways. She spanked them over the end of a settee "letting her hand stray" here and there. One of the boys grew to like the spankings and missed them when they stopped. I always imagined myself that boy and my masturbations were always the best after re-reading that case one or more times.

I went to my closet, ready to play and looked for my books and looked and looked and panicked. They were nowhere to be found! I was stunned! I was shocked and terrified! Had my parents found them? When did I see them last? Oh FUCK! I tore around the house looking but knew they would not be anywhere else. I even went into the kitchen because I was going insane and had to pace and think and I froze …

There stood Steven Haus in my kitchen, "Looking for these?" and held out my precious books!

"Ste … Steven! What … how did you … " I stood naked gawking in disbelief.

"You should be more careful. I came over last Sunday looking for you. Your Mom let me in, said you would be back in awhile. You never returned. She let me in your room. I found these right out in the open. How stupid was that, huh?"

And suddenly I remembered Sunday and yes, I had gone out with Dad. We took more time than we had thought, but Mom had never mentioned that Steven had come over and yes, I may have carelessly left the books out and OH FUCK! I just stood there, helpless.

"Follow me," he said and started to walk to my room. Oh yes, I followed all right and closed the door after I got inside. He laid the books aside and that's when I noticed, his tented jeans. He saw me look,

"Yea, I'm totally turned on. You've been eye-balling me for weeks. Now I know why. You've been far too careless Nathan. What if your parents found these huh? How did you get them, huh? Looks to me like you stole them from the library downtown. SO … not only are you a pervert, but a thief. You need to be punished. Get me your belt."

I remained speechless, transfixed and got my belt and handed it to him.

"May as well be comfortable," and right in front of me, he stripped, naked, his huge erection popping out. He sat on the edge of my bed,

"Come here Nathan, time for you whipping," he said calmly. I walked over. I still said nothing, what could I say? I was shocked, turned-on, terrified, fascinated and mesmerized. He grabbed my arm and pulled me across his knees. His big arm wrapped around my slender waist and grabbed my junk on my underside including the base of my hard dick.

"Naughty boys get spankings," is all he said and then he started to give me short painful cuts of my own leather belt.

"Naughty boys masturbate, you masturbate Nathan, I know you do. You must be punished," and kept up the cuts only not so hard and he stung the back of my thighs as well.

"Are you learning your lesson Nathan?" he stopped. I could feel him grind his cock into my side. I turned, my face red and I was trembling all over,

"Yes sir," I said.

"Good, you must be spanked as often as possible, you need discipline. You need punishment," and with each pronouncement, he jerked hard on my dick and finally, I could not stop it and didn't want to. I shuddered and ejaculated into Steven's fist and on his leg and on the floor.

He gently pushed me onto my knees in front of him, "Suck me off," was all he said and all the permission I would ever need.

I had never touched another male's penis before much less a hard one, much less Steven Haus'. It was a messy but effective effort and after he had raptured, he made me stand and masturbate in front of him,

"Naughty, naughty boy. You will be spanked later for that, for masturbating, for self-abuse," and I came, shot a load onto my bedroom floor.

"Sit," he said after I finsihed and I did on my bed. He got dressed and picked up the books, "These are mine now. I will let you read them when I choose and not before," and that was that. He left the house, left me standing there in a state of confusion, amazement and bewilderment.

* * * * * * * * * *

I never saw the books again. Steven never gave them back to me and would not tell me what he had done with them. It didn't matter. I no longer needed "Psychopathia Sexualis" by Richard Krafft-Ebing, nor "Abnormal Psychology" by Butcher, Mineka and Hooley. I was his, Steven's that is to use in ways that those authors may have know about and studied but never dared publish. I was Steven's case study, his pervert and would remain so for a very, very long time.

The End

© Copyright PJ Franklin March 20, 2012

Your comments are appreciated.

See more of my stories at:  Nifty's Prolific Net Authors
    and on my web site: