----- WARNING! -----

This story contains material meant only for cub discipline fetishists and those whom like things very rough. By rough, I mean strict, and particularly cruel and creative. It also contains mixed M/f, M/m, and m/f cub/adult and cub/cub situations; so being bi helps. It also contains heavy footpaw fetishism, and non-consensual sexuality. Read only if you can handle this type of  story. Please do be warned.
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Concept artwork of a Draconosaur, as created by TwistedDragon
-- www.professor-bob.net/draconosaur.jpg





“That is enough Calista!”, her father scolded sharply, inciting a cringe in the young, nine year old draconosaur girl. That was the last thing you wanted to hear in a household where the harshest discipline was the norm. She really didn’t want to rake the yard though, it was still so hot out! But, back-talking to daddy about not wishing to do it was a terrible move. Her paws tugged on the black t-shirt covering her brown furred reptilian body nervously, looking down as an apologetic cub typically did. Having been playing alone in her room on such a warm day, Calista wasn’t wearing any underwear. It added reason to her sheepishly pulling her shirt down, seeing as there was not a shred of pink, girlish cotton to defend her poor hide, or conceal her immature groin.

“When I ask you to do an easy chore, I expect you to not stand there and argue with me young lady! I ought to slap your muzzle into next week!”, he shouted harshly above her, noting his displeasure strongly as she shrank where she stood. With a comment like that, the girl knew the punishment would be severe for not doing as she had been told. Out of all, defiance was the worst offense she could have made. Releasing her shirt, it winkled at her groin from the tugging; paws going behind her back out of habit.

“Sorry sir.”, Calista said hesitantly, gulping. Her mind was becoming fixated on what he would do to her. There would be no wait to find out, as upset as she had made the elder draconosaur. With her head drooping, her eyes shifted to watch him un-do his belt, tugging it out of each loop in his pants. It was dark brown, and despite being hard and firm, could still move and snap. That was his reason for buying it, thinking of the heavier amount of pain it could instill into a disobedient cub.

“I’ll do the whole lawn, not just the leaves. I promise.”, Calista pleaded quietly, looking down at the floor out of both worry, and to encourage sympathy in her tiny feminine voice. Her mother as well as her father were raising her to be a fairly strong girl, making the promise look as it was; a plea to not be spanked once she saw the belt. The man found it shameful.

“I’ll be making you anyway, as part of your punishment. You want to try that again?”, the younger received in a stern parental manner, getting a tap on the end of her snout with the tip of his belt. That small action alone made her tense up, looking back up at her father to await instruction; eyes already wanting to water.

“Lay down on your bed.”, she was given as her first order. Doomed to feel the belt’s scorn, Calista turned around, sulking the few steps to the end of her bed. With her paws and lifting her legs, she climbed up, revealing her adolescent groin-fur along the way. Once up, she rolled over on her belly, lifting up her tail. As soon as she did though, her father snapped his fingers authoritatively.

“No, go back to where you were. On your back.”, he condemned her to. It made Calista’s little heart sink with fright, and those eyes to water up entirely. Lowering her tail back down, she pushed herself back over with her paws and a bounce from her hips, laying with her groin facing towards the ceiling. This was reserved for the harshest of the spankings she got from her dad. Looking down her adolescent body, embarrassed and vulnerable without her panties, the feeling of her dad’s large, male paws on her pelvis and front brought certain discomfort - the kind that made her tailhole clench beneath herself. With a few tugs, her black shirt was pulled high enough up her body to uncover her lower belly and everything below. Legs together, her chubby, immature vagina was hidden with it’s lips sandwiched together. Aside from the tip of her vulva down between the gentle, sweet curve of her groin and thighs, it was all thin, soft, and downy fur. It highlighted her age, and the sheer sensitivity of the area as it lacked even a single strand of more mature fur. The feeling of even her father in such a vicinity to her flower always made her tense, even if it was a rarity for her father to spank it. That was typically reserved for her mother, as punishment for her paws wandering and touching herself, even if just an accident.

“Don’t move an arm, don’t move a leg. Be still.”, she was warned very directly, with this being the kind of slow, hurtful swatting she wasn’t permitted to move for. The entire time her front would have to be accessible. Her poor legs and groin… sure her vagina itself would be spared, but it still hurt her flower, being such a sensitive spot. The belt was draped over her pelvis, resting in the cradle of her crotch and over her legs as daddy took aim.

“Please…”, Calista begged shakily, not wanting a single lash. Her footpaws curled towards each other, being joined by a trembling tail-tip. Those small, desperate blue eyes followed her father, his paw, and the belt draped over her lap. In this position, in her solemn sadness, she would be able to watch such a tender belting.

Her father was a strong man. As he pulled the belt back up, she could see the muscles in his right arm flex. The belt flowed back over the older draconosaur’s arm, as Calista’s footpaws grinded against one another in anticipation. Seeing the first lash was to come, the girl sobbed once, flinching and clenching her legs inward

“Daddy!”, she whined pathetically, just before the smooth brown belt smacked a hot, stinging welt into her. The wide line thwapped her front with a crisp swat, stretching across both her fleshy legs, and nicking her thinly furred pubic region. The pain made Calista whimper tearily, rubbing her thighs together from the ache.

“Still!”, her father was quick to warn, raising the belt for another punishing spank across her front. Thighs twitching, she eased her legs once more, toes curling into each other. The belt made a sudden, scary swish through the air, as the elder furry dragon gave Calista the consequence for not being perfectly still. Her face and eyes clenched before she had even been hit, with her hips loose and planted firmly on the bed this time. Without the hindrance of squirming and tensing, the belt smacked deeper into muscle and fatty tissue, digging deeper in the swat - this time straight across her very upper thigh, and clear across the front of her pelvis. The belt snapped as it left her body, scraping free of her fur. Calista cried out, raising her hips in a sort of pelvic thrust forward off her bed, which she held; legs quivering. Her footpaws tensed so hard in her attempt to stay still that it hurt. Crying increasing to a full-on wail, the sting across her private region burned intensely at her skin. It reddened with ferocity.

Now having some cooperation, daddy was able to go on with the swatting. Slowly, one tough spank at a time, the belt crossed Calista’s thighs and bit at her pubic skin. The fronts of her legs jumped at the swat from the impact, inciting tearful trembling as she tried to hard to remain still. More between her legs, the bit that did slip in swelled like bug bites above the young girl’s vulva, and reddened deeper the more accessible the skin was. Where her pelvis was flat with her hips and thighs, it was swatted as cleanly as everything else. If it fit beneath her underwear, the belt struck it and went right down her legs to half-way down the thigh. Calista’s eyes trickled their tears, with her muzzle unable to stay closed from her mild bawl. It was a hard punishment to be forced to watch, seeing her father’s big arm bring his belt down across a private place. Sometimes it slapped hard and dug in, and other times and swatted her loosely, inciting a disproportionate wince as the belt deflected from her legs. Such randomness made watching even worse.

Stopping for a moment, Calista’s father tapped the tip of the belt between her legs, seemingly aiming. The tip of the belt would drive the deepest sting, if he did not swat across both her legs evenly. The touch to the thin fur of her pelvis tickled her nerves straight down to her slit, and aggravated fur follicles that were damaged and swelling. Her front could not take such a rough swatting - her fur messy, and a redness visible through parts of her fur.

“N-…!”, escaped the trembling cub’s muzzle, about to say ‘no!’, though she resisted. Her teary voice choked up in mid-plea. God that would hurt, please daddy! Her tear filled eyes said that loud and clear, footpaws locked against one another, and her hips lifted from the bed slightly due to the pain and attempt to keep her legs together. It was like holding her groin up for spanking. It hurt.

Adjusting his hold on the belt, Calista’s father moved his paw up about an inch to get a more accurate and swift lash, if he was to spank her pubic area specifically. As soon as he did, his paw shot into the air, jingling the belt’s dangling buckle as it zipped back down to make an airy, thin sounding crack. It was quiet, but Calista’s maw opened wide with just as quiet of a cry. The belt nailed the lower, even more tender portion of her groin; thighs giving enough way to have the tip of her vulva hit with the edge of the belt’s tip. Smack, smack, smack! - came the belt repeatedly, as her dad went for quick lashes, hitting small specific parts of her pubic region and managing to whap out a few of her more delicate fur strands. The once silent howl turned into a desperate cry, with her groin being thrust upwards and trembling.

After the few crisp stings of the belt, her footpaws had crossed at the ankles - tail tip hugging against the pads of her feet. Stinging madly, the belt’s scorn had left many a mark. Swatting appearing to be done , she held her position as directed, leaning her head back to cry it out. It was horrible! Her paws twitched as they held her bed sheet, yearning to rub out the burning welts. Daddy had a different plan though, as the belt’s buckle again jingled, and a cold feeling touched her left thigh. The girl lifted her head enough to see, getting a chill that tensed her had enough to see in the exposed part of her tummy.

“Oh!.. D-.. Don’t!”, she sputtered and sobbed, looking at the shiny brass belt buckle looming upon her tender thigh, and threatening her tough muscle. Being a soccer player, there was meat there. Her meat! Looking down upon her, her dad pulled on the belt just a bit, to drag the buckle through her fur. A tease.

“Yes, but only two. One to each thigh. It’ll teach you.”, the man spoke calmer and lower, though it kept it’s parental tone. It was a very stern act, but her father still had a hint of sympathy to his voice. That seemed to be his way. Despite that, Calista could already feel her left leg pounding in phantom pain. Unable to pay attention clearly due to her sobbing, she missed the moment he swung the belt away. With a heavy, forceful blow from the metal buckle, it beat a single bruise into her left thigh - impacting towards the outer side of her leg, dead center. There was a metallic sound beneath the thump, pain blazing down her leg from the punch. The poor surprised draconosaur kicked her legs, crying with force as she beat her footpaws against the bed as the result of such a blow. Standing above, her father shifted his weight, moving back a step to re-focus his target. Such a pain stricken tantrum was acceptable, knowing his belt buckle was breaking so many little capillaries and tenderizing a strong adolescent muscle.

“It’s alright. One more.”, he spoke encouragingly, to soothe even just a little. In the end, such words were also an order in his house, meaning to take the swat like a good little girl. With effort, Calista dragged her left footpaw across her cool bed sheet, settling it down. This time, her eyes clenched closed and stayed that way, not wanting to see the last blow of the brass metal into her right thigh. In the darkness created by her closed eyes, her senses focused on the sounds of her cries, and the flowing, searing hurt of the swatting she had received. In a blast of agony, the belt whipped it’s buckle into her other thigh, ending up right on top and in the middle. The deflection in her leg was deep, with the metal buckle sinking in to make an even wider bruise. Force of meat to bone, like her father’s knuckles to her thigh, Calista was sent onto her side from the pain, crying loudly and full of desperation. Swatting done, she could not help but clutch her two whacked spots on her thighs, briskly rubbing at them and her belted groin. Her father had a brief shock of his own, quickly reaching down for her paws to pull them from her pelvic area.

“Hey, hey! Come on Calista, your mother would have a canary if she saw you hold yourself like that.”, he scolded almost to the girl’s own benefit, once her paws had gone from her twin bruises, to fingers ending up between her legs to cup more sensual welts. Her paws quivered and squirmed only for a moment, till they stopped; allowing herself to be restrained by her father’s big, yet somehow gentle paws. They didn’t squeeze in the least, feeling so warm. She buried her muzzle into the bed, continuing her slow wail of a bawl, while her father stood above, scowling down lightly. There would need to be prompt correction, else he’d never hear the end of it from his wife. The older woman of the house took such things very seriously, just as Calista’s brother Sam could not have erections - even the ones he could not control as a growing seven year old cub.

“You’re not making this easy on yourself today. Give me your leg, you’re getting five.”, the father scolded yet again, assuming Calista would know exactly as he was talking about as he released her paws. Unfortunately she did, and it was one of the things she hated most. Five lashes of a belt straight to her nethers. Her paws flung to her maw, screaming out a tearful howl into her bed, relieving herself through her crying. Without putting up a fight, her tail shifted out of the way as she faced away from her dad on her side, allowing his manly paws to take hold of her right leg. Lifting it by both the calf and the un-spanked portions of her thigh, the young girl’s prized flower was graced by the air of the room. Lifting her leg up high, her crotch was left open and defenseless as she sobbed out the sorrows of the ache in her thighs. Such motion made her adolescent, cubbish vaginal lips part, showing pink, moist flesh to her father. Paws over her cheeks, they burned with embarrassment and shame. She wasn’t touching herself in that way! Even momma would have swatted her slit, and with no way out, she opted to remain quiet.

Steadying the belt in his paw once more, the older draconosaur got ready without taking preliminary aim. This would be done at an angle, making it too hard to do it exactly. Lifting the belt, he allowed the leather tool to cut the air with a light swoosh. It’s impact made Calista jump in the strength of her wince, as it’s end spanked across her slit from top to bottom, and the crease of her raised right leg. It was a much duller sound, as her lips smacked and parted for a split second. Such sensitive nerves cried out very quickly, making it a tender little spank.

“One.”, her father called. He was imitating her mother’s technique for spanking ‘naughty girls’, right down to counting the swats. Be it belt or ruler, Calista could not bear such discipline. Embarrassment was only one part of the equation, as the swatting to her girl-parts left her ever so tender. The pink skin between her young lips reddened badly, often bringing swelling and discomfort. Not to mention the spanking was intense, shooting sharp pains straight up her spine…

Whap! Her father called the number two aloud, only a brief moment after the first. The spanks to her vagina were quick, burning the place that was Calista’s own. Getting between her lightly parted slit-lips, her pedals received a nasty sting, while her clitoris and outer labia got the actual force behind the belt’s spank. Again, his aim was off just slightly, nicking that tender crease of her leg. Adding welt on top of another welt, the searing ‘feminine’ pain jumped another degree. Her tailhole and groin muscles quivered to the naked eye. Even as her pink hole above what her dad was spanking clenched tightly along with her body, spank number three snapped louder against her vagina, ending more dead center. Her lips did not jump and part away, but the shock-wave of sting erupted evenly, to shoot straight down her immature passage like a hot needle.

“Three.”, came the number. Calista jerked again, directing all her cries into her mattress. Tensing her legs more strongly, her footpaws squirmed on the bed and in the air, till her right leg was held tighter in her father’s grip. The tip of her clit stuck from it’s hood with a red spot where it had been struck, making it swell from her slit without arousal. There was not even a hint of it, even as tiny scents of pre-pubescent girl were smacked clear of her tender flower. It stung so badly. Calista’s eyes burned. Held in daddy’s tighter grip, her body was turned a bit more, parting the lower portion of her slit more versus it’s zenith. With the light of the window, her tiny, un-used passage shined from it’s natural moisture. It was easily noticed by her dad in the midst of keeping an eye on what he was belting. Such a small, tight little hole, surrounded by bits of pleasurable feminine flesh. Girls looked so much different once they matured, he thought as his mind wandered, and the belt took to the air again.

“Four.”, he called out incorrectly, saying it a fraction of a second prior to the swat, instead of after. Hearing it as it happened, Calista’s flinch was stronger than it had been - footpaws having another kick, and her cries regressing into a baby-like bawl into her paws and bed. Her once downy fur had been mushed and matted against her crotch, and her bits of exposed and forcibly separated labia reddened with a pricking, tingling sensation. Bottom line, it burned, and the sting was only getting worse. That swat put a lot of the hurt further behind her slit, getting between it and her anus. Please, just the one more!

And as Calista herself begged inside, the belt snapped against her slit once again. It took so much effort and will to not grasp her stinging, swelling flower. Not only was it the fifth welt stacked one on top of the other on very delicate, nerve laden skin, but the edge of the belt scraped the left side of her puffy lips. The stitching of the tough leather belt made blood-like spots appear beneath the skin of her outer lip, and a piece of her left pedal that was jolted in the way by the force of the blow. Aching, her legs quivered along with the muscles in her groin. Even the ones that controlled that small virgin hole, clamping down on contents that weren’t there. Inside of her small clitoris, behind the flood of fiery pain, it thumped like a heartbeat from it’s heavy swatting. The furry reptilian girl didn’t even pay attention to hear the final number, focusing solely on laying on her paws to keep them from going anywhere, as her leg was eased back down to the bed and released. Falling in front of her other leg, the base of her tail was still open for view; very back of her immature privates turning a light crimson beneath her silky soft brown fur. The feeling of needle pricks did not diminish, covering her vagina from the outside, all the way inside. It stabbed at nerves she didn’t know she had, going down that forbidden hole. Her slit sat closed, sandwiched under herself as it normally was, while she cried out her lament - toes frozen in a state of half curled.

Placing the belt on the bed, her father abandoned it in it’s disuse. He sat down and placed his left paw on Calista’s cheek, stroking it and wiping her tears, as the young one choked and sobbed tiredly. In their house, a punishment never ended with one thing. It was a long, strict process. The disobedient girl still had her work to do among other things. Able to relax himself, her dad kept a small smile in his parental demeanor, giving his daughter at least time to breathe before moving on to other matters. Though,  it wasn’t long at all.

“I know exactly what I want to do next, before I send you out to work.”, Calista cringed upon hearing, after a few minutes passed and her tears were able to calm, even if the ache and hurt did not. There was no way she’d get away with just spanking. Her parents were too creative.

“I’ll work really hard. I’m really sorry.”, she whimpered and sobbed, adding more promises and repentance to try and ease her punishment. The spanking to her slit made her belly ache. Problem was, daddy knew that. With a pat to her shoulder, the calming strokes ended, and the parent was ready to resume his corporal punishment and stringent correction.

“You may be, but that doesn’t mean we’re done. I’m not going to let that mouth get away with telling me no.”, she was scolded a lot more firmly, crushing her hopes of further leniency. Ushered to her footpaws by her dad, standing stretched skin in the crease of her legs and groin that made the girl breathe rapidly to put up with the intense fire. Tears trickled down the fur of her cheeks as she stood, tail drooping. Wearily, her eyes watched her father, curiously wondering what he was planning. If the end goal was to make her work outside, he would make it as tough on her as he could. The session of discipline literally meant that you either do things the easy way, or the hard way.

Lifting her arms by the gesture of her dad’s paws, the older draconosaur pulled her black t-shirt from her body, finally leaving her as bare as she felt. She wouldn’t feel that way for long, standing paws behind her back to watch her father go straight for her dresser. The sight did nothing to ease her quiet tears, knowing well she would be working in the hot sun, in very hot clothing. It was a bit worse than that though, seeing her old pair of wool punishment panties and paw-wraps end up with her sweat-shirt and sweat-pants. Thick wool underwear meant for such punishment that had long since not fit. The paw-wraps were similar, being long strips of wool meant for tightly wrapping her feet, to make shoes too tight, and extremely hot and sweaty.

Dread sunk deeper into her butterfly filled tummy, tail hugging against her legs. It did not seem like she would be able to take all of this like a trooper. Daddy was going to make her howl, and the thought made her close her eyes. All she would have needed to do was rake some leaves. Living in a place where such discipline was the norm, Calista blamed only herself, which made her want to cry harder. There was no being daddy’s big girl, when daddy was counting the tears.

“Chin up. Pay attention.”, she was soon ordered. It shocked her eyes back open, raising her head to attention with a sniffle. Held in front of her was that old pair of wool underwear. In demonstration, his big paws tugged, barely making the garment stretch. That fit maybe when she was seven, or early eight. But nine, or nine and a half? She had grown too much. Her vagina was slightly more than the size of a scratch now. Sniffling, her nostrils caught the scent of the old things; long since imbued with her own personal scent. Her groin sweat gallons she had to believe, while they were still in use. She even remembered wetting herself in them twice; once by accident, and once by order, to send her to bed with soaking wet thick underwear. They were never washed as part of their use as a punishment tool.

“I am going to get these on you, no matter how much I need to tug. They don’t need to be comfortable.”, her father stared down and warned, telling her exactly how this would go. Reluctantly, Calista nodded her head, ready for dressing. She was never allowed to do this herself, and by expectation, lifted her right footpaw. Kneeling down, her dad went right to work, helping his girl to step into the little pair of wool panties. The unclean strands of wool crunched, feeling coarse and crispy as the feminine disciplinary garment was tugged up her legs. It got as high as the tops of her thighs, where her front had been spanked, before it got too tight to proceed normally - Calista already wincing and stepping back and forth from one footpaw to the other in discomfort. The wool scratched and fit too snugly upon her fresh belt welts, inciting a few new sobs as the older furry dragon yanked the underwear upwards again, and again, and again. It was so tight it felt like it was crushing her legs; the girl baring her teeth and grunting to try and deal with the discomfort. It took work, but soon it was very tightly wrapped around her hips. The crotch of the panties mushed her swatted flower into her pelvis, and all the places that her front had smacked - with some red lines going down lower than the leg holes. Already hot, and itchy, the harsh rough part of the underwear scratched at her swollen exposed bits of pedals from her vagina. It was intensely uncomfortable; Calista placing her paws on the wool in memory of being a younger girl in them. She was often treated like a baby in her wool panties, seeing as they had her first pair made once she was out of diapers. It was one of their earliest tools.

“There. Now let’s get you stepped into your pants, and I’ll tuck your shirt in after.”, her dad instructed as the young girl stared down at her discolored and musky piece of punishment underwear. Staying just like that with her head down, she was able to step into her sweat-pants. The piece of clothing cut her legs off from the open air, as well as half her tail, and choked even further at the heat-retaining underwear she wore. Soon enough, her sweat-shirt was being tucked into her pants, with the long sleeves cutting off the last bit of air her body could comfortably feel. It would be worse once her footpaws were treated to more of the same. Directed with daddy’s paw on her shoulder, she was placed sitting on the edge of her bed, paws in her lap over the belt’s lashes. The grey clothing covered most all of her brown furry form, and most all of the stripes down her back, neck, and tail. Her wool underwear being so thick, sitting made her bottom heat up even faster, already milking sweat from her little pink tailhole, and the creases of her legs.

She panted from the slowly growing heat and discomfort, nervously and tensely watching her father. It would not have been uncommon for him to make her balance on one foot for the paw-wraps to be wrapped and tightened onto her feet. The fact she was made to sit down and take the weight off her legs made her weary that more was to come. There always was, and her strict parents never told her till the last moment usually. Her poor footpaws… imagining working in that heat with her paws wrapped like they used to be was already keeping her tears coming, though silently. The two draconic paws dangled limply, toes not moving, as daddy set his eyes on them. Brown and furry, with ebony pads on each of her three toes per paw, and one centralized pad on each. Delicate and female, they were soft, and unmarred. Their tenderness often lead to varying punishments.

Thinking of them made her leg tremble once her right footpaw was taken into her dad’s hold. They had gone as far as spanking her feet in all sorts of ways. There was no spot on her body that wasn’t open for swatting. If only this was just going to be a ruler to her paw-pads. Calista needed to give her father more credit for creativity, when she committed an offense as grave as her’s. Being right pawed, she relied on her right foot. To watch her father continue to eye it, carefully examining her little toes and spreading them as he held her foot so close to his muzzle made her puzzled, and growing uncomfortable in her hot clothing.

“Dad?”, she asked with a note of shaky hesitation, not wanting to interrupt. His girl’s worry wasn’t enough to make him speak before he was ready, making her sit on the end of the bed nice and still. Her ankle wasn’t all too weighty in his own paws, feeling warm and strong. They were well shaped, and honestly, the older man’s favorite part of his daughter. Calista had footpaws and pads that were a perfect color and softness. When she was younger, he would spank them simply because they were so much softer than her bottom, and he enjoyed the reaction more. Spanking as a whole, and discipline in general, had a spirited passion to it. Maybe not entirely sexual, but his love for sweet little paws were. He’d never admit it out loud, but even his son, Sam, had a nice pair, seeing as his pads had cute silver spots, and his toes were a darker brown. Calista being a girl, just had a shape he liked to look at, and hold. But, with his personal desire, came knowledge and understanding that could make his daughter cry to a heavy degree; which he thought of while stroking the girl’s smooth, sharp white claws with his thumb. They were an average size for a furry dragon such as herself, which was fairly large. Big claw-base, and very reptilian. They were translucent just enough for him to barely see the fleshy insides, her quick, further back underneath all that hard draconosaur nail. Calista preened them so well. The older male even noticed a very gentle, cleanly sort of paw scent. While still focusing on his work and the discipline at hand, the secondary thoughts excited him to try this new punishment idea. It would be the most severe he had done to these little paws. In his pants his sheath thickened greatly - tip of his cock rubbing against the inside of his briefs, all the while his own toes flexed and curled.

“I was checking out your claws, to make sure you didn’t have any injuries or little cracks.”, daddy draconosaur said, voice low, sounding a bit deeper as he removed his right paw from her toes and pads to reach into his pocket. Calista did not know what to say, not so much liking that her claw health had something to do with what he was doing. The ends of her mouth curled in a frown of sorts, looking idly down as she waited and watched.

“This isn’t a spanking?”, Calista whined again, nervously. Fueled by his own interests in his new idea, and the fact he felt his daughter deserved severe punishment for severe offense, he again worked without looking or even changing his expression. Out of his pocket he had pulled a long piece of thin, yet durable string. It was white and extremely small, having sat in his pocket for days without him remembering to remove it. Working the string in his fingers, his grip on Calista’s ankle increased as he leaned in to prepare - her toes close to his snout. The silent shuffling and tugs at her toes slowly began to scare the adolescent reptile, whom raised her paws to her chest, idly toying with her fingers. This string wrapped around her inner-most claw’s base twice, before reaching over to the second and repeating, and then the third. The tugging was unnerving, and it wasn’t comfortable to have her toes attached together this way. She moved them, finding the tie loose enough to do it, as daddy wrapped the string around her white claws again, going straight back to the first, and ending with the second, to tie the string and have a long piece ready for his own use. The flexing of her toes made one toe pull on the claw of the other… it felt weird. Heart pounding, the girl’s bottom squirmed against the bed. Both parties staring at her young footpaw, they raised their heads almost together.

“Now listen. This is going to hurt very badly. Be a good girl for daddy, and be quiet. Okay?”, the elder draconosaur spoke in his most strict tone of voice, making his commands clear. It was said sternly enough for Calista to nod her head right way, holding her fingers tighter together.

“Yes dad.”, Calista replied, with her voice trembling with her tail. Daddy would never cause her serious harm, but to say something would hurt very badly, she believed it. The lower lip of her furry muzzle quivered, being forced to watch on as her father took the extra bit of string into his right paw, and tightly held her ankle in place. Suddenly, it became a little more clear as to what her dad was going to do, but it was too late to protest once she felt pressure on her little young toe-claws.

“Umm…”, she whimpered out of trepidation. Over the course of a few seconds, the pressure pulling at her claws jumped, getting tighter till it slipped past anything she could tolerate; her dad’s closed paw yanking and twisting the string, keeping it pulled and only continuing to pull on her claws harder. Calista’s maw opened in a teary yowl, only to clench back shut with the help of her paws, which needed something to grip to. The pain was intense to start, leaving the young reptile forced to try and handle a constant agony. She would not be able to hold it for long.

The string allowed her father to pull on her claws, bracing her ankle so all his force yanked on the white, solid nails. The girl’s toes were tugged outstretched, being pulled even further than they could go, which left all the remaining pressure on her claws, which could not handle much at all. Squealing out around her fingers, trembling down her entire body at the pain caused by having her claws pulled, her father’s pull got even harder. Slowly increasing all the time, turning his paw and using his strong, male draconosaur arm to pull on all three little claws evenly. The tension in her toes made the claws jut forward, hurting nerves and the claw’s connection into her toe.

Daddy wrapped the string around his wrist again, using the leverage from his forearm to yank harder. He was really pulling, and could hear small bits of stretching and popping when Calista wasn’t screaming out her cries. They had become desperate fast, with her body shaking and her footpaw trying to pull away. Her dad had too solid a grip, and to pull away would only yank her sensitive toe-claws even more. It hurt so badly, it felt like they would be ripped out of her paws! The tension grew and grew - her claws bending backwards from the harsh pulling. Squirming more violently the longer she was subjected to such prolonged pain, Calista bawled… entire minutes passing, being forced to endure steady levels of massive pressure pulling on her nails. Even once she was almost on her side on the bed, the girl could not even turn her ankle. Watching and analyzing, daddy draconosaur kept his eyes on the tiny trembling footpaw. Again, string holding, he wrapped another bit of it around his wrist and increased the pull; his own arm shaking from trying to hold the pressure steady and ongoing. Sobbing and howling like a baby at the doctor’s office to get a shot, her other leg and her paws banged at her bed, having an intense tantrum, fueled by the sheer amount of pain. The blood vessels deep down inside her claws were breaking, turning her quicks red, along with the outside outline of her claws.

“They’re gonna` break!”, Calista screamed and cried in her tantrum, all of her draconic teeth bared. The horrid ache and crushing pressure shot up her leg, feeling something well beyond she could handle. Every second was sheer torture. Her claws were in danger of cracking, or at least she thought. In reality, her father knew exactly what he was doing, and was mesmerized by all the redness, and blood pooling inside the quicks of her big reptilian claws. All he had to do was keep the pressure on, and his daughter would cry more, and more forcefully. She was so desperate, and full of panic. Once in a while, all he would have to do was jerk the string, or pull it at a slightly different angle, and all the yanking pressure ended up on different muscles, and ripped at her claws in more tender ways. This would cause such bruising, and damage to connective tissue. None of it permanent, but this would cause the most intensive hurt possible. It would be more than a chore to walk. His daughter would limp for a week.

Satisfied by the amount of time Calista had to endure, being about four minutes, the elder of the two released his grip on the string, wrapping his arm the other way to free the string from around his wrist. Letting go entirely, the panic stricken little dragon pulled her leg up onto the bed to curl up and cradle her paw. It had been a while since she cried that hard, and the pain in her claws did not immediately subside. In fact, she wanted to curl her toes, and the string still tied to her claws made it hurt worse. Her father wasn’t about to try and touch the string again until Calista calmed down. Sweet little paw, now reddened around the nails, and injured quick.

This time, her dad decided to sit and stare at her feet anyway, and let her cry till she was done. It took a good amount of time - at least ten minutes., and even then, still left sniffling and sputtering. Leaning forward, the adult of the pair placed a paw on the bed, reaching his right for Calista’s stringed-up toe-claws.

“I need to cut the string free. It’s going to hurt a bit again.”, he advised, though not giving the girl enough time to go back to her rapid-fire tears. Grasping her footpaw again… one, two, three! All three connective bits of string cut by his paw, but each one snapping changed the pressure on her claws again, inciting more teary sounds and jerks of her toes. Finally, the remnants of the punishment fell free of her well preened nails. Curled up on her bed, Calista held her right footpaw with both her paws, sobbing lightly.

“That… that hurt!”, the little one complained, eyes watery and red as she peered over the end of her bed to where her father sat. She got a nod in reply, and a wag of a finger.

“That will make it hurt to walk, just like a spanking. Now I’m hoping that will teach you a lesson.”, he scolded much more softly, with the physical half of his daughter’s punishment complete. Now she would just need her paw-wraps and shoes, and she could work her “debt” off, sort of speak.

“It did!”, Calista again sobbed, rubbing her head against her bed sheets to wipe her right eye dry of tears. It would have been easier to eat soap and have a wooden spoon swat down her spine. She could not think of much that hurt more, than having her little claws pulled. Her whole footpaw ached and throbbed, stinging and jolting massive shots of pain by the mere tap to her white claws, which were now looking to be polluted red. That punishment’s effectiveness made her father pleased, knowing there was something that severe in his arsenal, and it dealt with footpaws. His imagination wandered to using it on Sam, considering the boy was younger, and had even more defenseless feet; crying like a baby with his paws at his eyes. It was nice, but turning the silver spots on his pads a crimson red with a ruler was also a solid thought. Such mind wandering was common in that area, now that his cock stood erect in his pants.

“I can tell. I’ll let you do your yard work, and-…”, the older man acknowledged to let the teary, panting and exhausted little cub know the physical punishment was up, and she could do her work and be done with it. However, he was interrupted by a fairly loud wooden thump against Calista’s bedroom door frame. He only had to blink a moment, before his expression changed, curling into one of upset anger. Looking over his shoulder, he braced himself with a paw against the carpet.

“Sam! I know that was you! Get in here this instant!”, he was sure to yell, firm and forceful. Calista wasn’t bothered by it, since it wasn’t her getting into trouble. She was too busy sniffling in her curled up position, holding her footpaw and covering her bits by keeping her tail close.

Just as ordered, after a moment Sam stepped around the corner of the door, head hung and his paws behind his back. It was how he looked when he was guilty, and it was met with a scowl from his father. The parent had two cubs to discipline now, and he was about to take Sam’s just as seriously.

“Come here! How long were you peeping? You were not given permission to watch Calista’s punishment. That is very disrespectful to her!”, he snapped again, pointing right to the floor beside him as he worked to his feet. Standing tall, the young, seven year old draconosaur boy stepped forward. His shirt was adorned with playful cartoon characters, along with bright blue shorts.

“I didn’t know papa.”, Sam quickly whined, opening his paws in a gesture of innocence. In other words, he had seen a lot. Calista opened her mouth a little in a small bit of shock, curling her tail tighter. She wanted to ball her paws into her groin, but wasn’t about to take the belt to her slit again. Sam had always gotten to see a lot, but she wasn’t a show! It was a rule to keep clear of punishments that did not pertain to the other sibling. A spanking in Calista’s room stayed in her room, especially one for touching herself.

“Sam…”, his sister, older by two years whimpered, scowling at him just as her father was. As soon as the boy was within range, his father grabbed him by the shoulder, yanking him the last step to make him stumble. Working quickly, he knelt down and slipped his thumbs into the waist of Sam’s shorts, yanking them straight down to his knees.

“You better not be stiff, or else!”, he growled at the idea of Sam having the audacity to use his sister as a masturbatory tool. Thankfully for the younger boy, the bulge of his white cotton briefs was of a normal size. He had soothed away his cock already, by ignoring it. Seeing the lad’s yellow pre-cum stain on his underwear, his father decided to fill in for his wife once more. She would jerk Sam to near orgasm, only to release his short shaft and pull his briefs back up, leaving all of his underwear stained from this ongoing punishment. Taking a step to one side, so Calista could see clearly, the older male had no issue touching his son’s groin as an ‘eye for an eye’. Reaching around to Sam’s back, he pulled the tab of his underwear, making the cotton garment meet his shorts at his knees. Sam’s shirt rested on top of his little sheath, while his cubbish sac bulged from between his legs as he held them tightly together. In worry, the boy showed a few teeth, trying to keep still while under such scrutiny.

“If you want to be in with Calista’s punishment, fine. She can do the leaves like she was supposed to, and you can do the rest of the yard. You bet you’re going to be spanked on top of it!”, the fatherly figure scolded and sentenced the boy to, all while starting to massage the younger male’s sheath. His index finger and thumb were big compared to Sam’s small masculine bits, with most of the pleasure to the little cub coming from the tickling feeling that came from shifting his sheath fur around. Tensing up where he stood, the stimulation was bringing him to an involuntary erection. By… his dad. It made Sam uncomfortable enough to bend his legs defiantly, looking up at his father’s eyes, only to see them fixed on his groin, busy with the non-consensual masturbation of his parts that could only end with the disappointment and ache of never having an orgasm. As his knees bent, he leaned forward, pulling his groin away.

“Please don’t touch papa, you’re a boy!”, Sam again whined in protest, whimpering and getting tears in his eyes. It was always his mother that did this particular punishment. Not about to have that, Sam’s father swung the boy around and planted slap after pounding swat with her older, strong paw beneath Sam’s tail. Catching cries and yowls from the seven year old draconosaur, the spanking thrust his hips forward; tip of his cock pointing straight forward as it emerged from his sheath, immature sac standing out prominently with it’s young fur. The rapid placement of the swats and grasp of the base of Sam’s tail caught even Calista off guard, whom winced, but smiled a bit. Sam deserved what was coming to him! The imp!

The father caught Calista’s grin of sorts, accepting one of his own before looking back down, letting go of Sam’s tail to grasp his groin again. Sam had to make this transgression towards Calista up to her.

“If that wasn’t clear enough, I will happily get a paddle and beat your tail.”, he warned harshly as he turned his head back down to Sam, whom sobbed and stepped back and forth on his footpaws. The bare feet scraped at the carpet below, shifting his weight at the stroking and brisk masturbation of his prepubescent dragon-hood. Forced to stand in place, arousing pleasure filled his groin and doped his mind. After some moments, his sniffling and whimpers became combined with tiny moans and huffs from his nostrils. Daddy didn’t jerk like mommy. A male knew how to pleasure another by nature, imitating their own likes and interests. The elder’s paw covered in thick, masculine draconosaur fur, it tickled and stroked at Sam’s most tender spots; the underside of his cock, and it’s head. So much sharper and more intense, it made his heart race, and his toes curl had enough to sink his white nails and darker brown furred toes into the carpet. Opening his mouth in a cute gasp, he turned it into a toothy growl of displeasure, sounding as young as he was.

“Cal`!…”, Sam sniffled, making another moan sound and slipping his legs slightly further apart; stretching the waist of both his shorts and briefs at his knees. His tail quivered, wagging and swishing from side to side from it’s base. His eyes stared pathetically over to his sister, trying to ask her to not watch so intently. Calista was not afraid to scoff at the idea, taking the role of older sister.

“Nuh` uh`, you watched me!”, the girl responded in accordance with her own age. She was taught to be smart and strong, but when it came to sibling relations, they were still simply nine and seven. Calista pushed herself up, wiping at her tear soaked cheeks with one paw, while her other forearm stayed over her lap, to watch and stay put as she was sure her father wanted. Her paw-wraps had not yet been put on yet, and she didn’t wish to even come close to touching her previously yanked and pulled claws. Calista’s tail streamed along the bed, facing straight out, while Sam’s squirmed, arching up and down. Still wearing his scowl, their father’s muzzle curled, keeping to those sensitive spots of Sam’s penis. The boy would come to near orgasm later, making him endure feelings that were too intense to be comfortable, as his clenching muscles showed. All the tail motion gave the elder a new idea.

Not telling either of them what he was doing, the father took his left paw, and stuck his index finger into his maw. Keeping his eyes on his work, he coated his fur, skin, and claw with saliva; thick and slick. With a smack as he removed it from his reptilian muzzle, the older of the three slipped the paw underneath Sam’s squirming little tail. Not knowing what his father was doing, all he felt was something wet and cool poke his tight ring of muscle, as the smooth claw parted his tailhole. It was an odd sensation, but once he was ready, the shove of his dad’s finger straight up under his tail shoved the young boy’s hips straight forward into his dad’s paw - humping against it’s rougher pads. It scraped the tip of his penis with a new sensation, being as momma’s paw didn’t at all feel like that. Muscular and strong. His footpaws stepped wider, humping a bit, even as his adolescent and unwanted reactions made his draconosaur muzzle blush under his light brown fur.

“What? A-are…?”, Sam tried to ask, stumbling and stuttering from teary, desperate sounds, mixed with very aroused ones. He sharply in-took a gasp, whimpering out yet another little moan. The base of his tail curled, showing off all his tail stripes as his father’s large finger thrust in and out of his silken pucker. It hurt because it didn’t fit in such a virgin male hole, but the stroking to his prostate, an entirely new sensation all-together, milked pre from him like nobody’s business. Sam was ashamed, being brought such different feelings from his daddy. A boy! He just wanted his pee-pee left alone. There was no want to continue, pleasure or not, with his groin being abused to such a degree. Tight sac shifting and jumping, he breathed heavier and shallower, starting to squint his eyes as he thrust tiny unwelcome humps into his dad’s paw. Little cock throbbing, and jumping as it pumped, his massaged prostate flowed with fluids, ready for ejaculation. Not familiar with Sam’s warning signs, his father had to be vigilant, focusing intently on his son’s cock. It wasn’t something he normally would have done, but there was a thrill to it. Yet another something he’d never admit. The feeling of Sam’s tiny boyish anus; so young at the base of his tail, hugging and clenching at his finger’s knuckles; was so warm and tempting. During his boy’s quieter whines, he could hear the saliva making squishing, slick sounds under the lad’s tail; which curved and arched like his back.

Seeing some jolts in his son’s groin muscles, he felt his penis with his soft, sensitive fingertips while stroking it. It grew very hard, and thick, as Sam opened his mouth in a silent expression. ‘Crap!’, his father said in his head, taking his hand from Sam’s cock as if it burnt him. It wasn’t a punishment if Sam ejaculated, and his own secret affinities were too bashful to accept the boy’s cum in the fur of his paw. Instead, his left paw masturbated Sam’s under-tail, pulling his finger in and out more slowly.

Sam whimpered sharply, rolling it into a teary, desperate squeal; eyes clenched as well as his tailhole, which stung from being stretched. His cock jumped, releasing a glob of pre-cum that swayed and stuck to the mid-section of his boy-pouch, but then nothing. The feeling of near orgasm was enhanced and extended by his dad’s finger jerking his anus and massaging his prostate, as it soaked with saliva. The boy’s tail slowly lowered, his body sulking along with his mind, as the furry dragon sobbed, dripping a pair of tears from his closed eyes. It was a shameful thing, faced with the sting of being watched, and having that done by a boy. And liking it! His pee-pee never clenched that tightly before, and his bottom? His dad spanked under his tail, not this. Calista nodded her head at how vulnerable Sam looked and must have felt. It was only fair! Just as she learned.

“Better than mommy.”, Calista and Sam’s father said with a note of pride, slipping his finger free of his boy’s bottom once it loosened, showing every drip of his potential orgasm had subsided. Sam wanted to rub his thighs together, paws trembling and yearning to stroke himself, but he still had never gotten to. His balls, small and immature, simply ached. Lifting his left paw back up, he offered it at the height of Sam’s muzzle. It was slick, and still coated with thick saliva and musk.

“Open.”, he instructed right away. Sam had barely opened his mouth hesitantly, before his dad slipped his finger in. Holding it closed with his right paw, he pulled his left index finger free from the boy’s paw with a vulgar pop. Sam licked his lips, smacking them with a look of distaste. His muzzle curled with a bit of a shiver. All the while, his dad’s paws pulled his briefs up over his aroused, un-spent bits, and pulled his shorts down off his feet. Shirt up and off, he was given only his white briefs to walk around in. It was not a comforting thought, having already been told he was working out back. The back yard was fenced in and private, but that didn’t mean it felt okay to parade around in your underwear. At least he wasn’t in sweat-clothes like Calista, he figured as he eyed her thick grey clothing. It was way too early to count his good fortunes, considering he was not going to be granted any. As his father stood tall, his head turned from his young son to his slightly older daughter, whom lost a bit of her smile upon seeing he was returning to her own discipline.

“Alright Calista. While Sam stands here, nice and quiet, with his back turned…”, the older male said to his girl first, before turning back to Sam and making it an order for him. Sam turned his back to his sister, just as told. He wasn’t going to get to watch any more, after sneaking around and spying.

“…You and I are going to finish.”, her dad said as his head turned back, taking a few steps to kneel down in front of her. Sitting up again, her footpaws were open for wrapping with the wool strips. A strip and shoe for each paw, with one being much more difficult than the other. Starting with what didn’t hurt, the girl offered her left footpaw and her dad accepted, wrapping it up tightly with the strap of wool. It was tight, but not too uncomfortable. Mostly hot and scratchy, and her right footpaw ended up the same way moments later without too much trouble. The strap was her main pad, back, omitting her toes, which was thankful due to her injured claws. But, then there was her shoes. The moment her left footpaw was done, crammed tightly in it’s shoe, her father was working on carefully easing her other shoe on. Careful to not cause excess harm than already done, the sheer touch to her claws made Calista’s eyes water; toes curling and making it difficult to put her shoe on. It was a frustrating thing, with the little girl’s pain stricken sounds and trembling paw.

“Ow!”, she cried, trying hard to ease her toes into the draconic-tailored shoe. Once her toes and claws were in, it was up to her dad to push and get them in. His eyes told her he was going to do it, and in response, she locked up everything. Wriggling the shoe, it slipped on with a pop - her toes squishing together, claws included. It brought on a yelp and a series of sobs, though much less than Calista’s own father expected. Sometimes she was pretty tough for a girl, though the pain was growing more intense the more time passed.

“There! Now, you’re done. Rake the leaves in the back yard and you’re off.”, the parent said with a note of encouragement again, happy to be done. Being so discipline oriented took time out of the day. In this situation, more importantly, he wanted to get back to his son. Calista broke the more dire of rules, but at least she was sorry. Sam would have disrespected his sister, played peeping tom around the corner, and not have cared. The boy had one hell of a lesson to learn, and the look he gave the back of Sam’s head once he turned from his daughter said it loudly.

“Hop to work honey. You, Sam, follow.”, he directed to both his children; erection hidden away in his pants only going away now. It was kept going by the orgasm denial punishment of his son, even if he paid little attention to it. As Calista slipped her feet to the floor, she whined terribly. Her right footpaw couldn’t hold her weight, and even moving while wearing the shoe badly hurt her claws. It made her grit her sharp teeth, walking slowly with a limp, to endure it and the burn of the hot sun against her sweat-clothes. Walking faster than her, their parent had already ushered Sam out of the room, marching down the hall to the living room in his underwear. His tail hang like his head; bulge in his briefs shifting from side to side a little with each step, and his semi-firm erection adding to his yellow stain from pre.

Across the back of their living room was a long, double sliding glass door with it’s curtains pulled wide open. The back yard was sun-baked in the afternoon heat, with only a corner of the yard receiving shade. Grass needing mowing and leaves needing raking, Calista, slid the doors open to begin her work; feeling the heat envelop her the moment she stepped into the hotter, more humid air. Discomfort would soon be pain, as she sweat and burned in this sun - made longer by her limp. Sam and her father watched her leave, as the elder parent was not about to begin with his son until the boy would be fully paying attention. Calista looked to be in such pain walking, trying to favor the back of her right paw’s shoe in every brief step. He hoped it hurt enough to deter her from ever being defiant like that again, as there were many other things he could have done. Yanking her claws was one of the more severe of the bunch, and he left it at that. But, with his girl off to complete her chore and muddle through her body’s aches and heat, their father was able to turn his head and focus squarely on Sam. He had some mowing to do, to relieve his sister’s workload, among other things. There was a debt to her, the adult felt, for her younger brother getting to see things he should not have.

“So Sam. You like seeing Calista punished? Seeing her bits and parts?”, he asked his boy, turning where he stood. If Calista wished to watch this while she worked, it would be done right in front of the sliding glass doors. Sam turned away from the glass doors and watching his sister, looking suddenly more bashful, especially with his cock filling his briefs as his dad talked about Calista’s “stuff”. The nerves in his penis were still hyper-sensitive, being kept from going back into his sheath from even the slightest rub of his underwear against his cock-tip.

“No papa.”, the young furry dragon said with a solemn tone. It got a gruff sound from his dad in response.

“Then why were you watching?”, the older of the males asked much more sternly. In a typical seven year old form, Sam remained quietly steadfast in his ‘playing stupid’, just shrugging his shoulders. That was a wrong answer. In a quick motion, Sam’s father placed his left paw on one side of the boy’s cheek, and swung his right paw, open. Two, twin slaps caught the young boy across his muzzle - lips getting a nasty sting, and his fingers long enough to get his cheeks easily. In the suddenness of it, Sam cried out, pulling away from his dad’s bracing paw that allowed him to slap without knocking him over. Paws reached up to clutch where he had been smacked, blubbering; watery eyes staring up at his dad wearily.

“You have the nerve to disrespect your sister, but you’ll pretend to have no answer?”, the boy was scolded, seeing his dad wag the same finger that had shortly ago been up his tailhole. But then his father turned away, stepping into the kitchen to fetch articles from the cabinet they stored spanking implements and other various tools. It was the last place you wanted to see daddy go. Watching nervously, Sam stepped from footpaw to footpaw, seeing the glass bottle that contained his castor oil, and other things he couldn’t see being shoved into his dad’s pockets. Calista would need time to rake, which gave his punishment a lot of time too.

“Face the window. I’m going to spank as much of you as I can, and the business of it all, Calista can see while she works.”, his father ordered sternly as he approached him, with the little draconosaur shrinking where he stood. Turning to face the glass, meant his front was being spanked too in some way. It made Sam whine, and whimper ungracefully. Kneeling down at Sam’s side, their father pulled Sam’s arms behind his back, holding his forearms and wrists together. The paws were so much bigger than the boy’s own.

“Keep your back straight.”, the older of the two again gave as an order, seeing Sam snap his posture right back into position… and how it pulled his bare belly taut. Skin stretched tightly, the boy’s belly fur appeared smooth and constant. If Sam was going to get his castor oil, it was going to be in an already aching tummy. To begin as a test, being that Sam would have to stand straight and support himself willingly, the father took his right paw and swung his first three spanks. His sturdy, open paw slapped Sam’s young belly, making sharp, yet hollow sounds as it smacked into his whole stomach - leaving paw prints beneath his fur. Sam quickly danced on his footpaws, not making any sharp cries, due to the sort of traveling ache having his tummy spanked caused. It shifted his breathing, knocking air from his lungs and making aching grunts and wheezing huffs from his nostrils.

Given a moment to prepare and gain composure, Sam took a deeper breath, squirming mostly out of anticipation and disdain. His footpaws settled into the carpet, turning inward with his toes crossing. After daddy getting to put some footpaw related discipline down, he did enjoy seeing his son’s squirm. It made him think to himself that it was necessary to swat the boy’s footpaw pads, or at least have the opportunity to examine them while spanking as much of Sam’s seven year old frame as he could. It was meant literally, even if many places wouldn’t get a heavy swatting. The intensity would be in speed, and variety, as well as strength. Sam would be squirming and howling soon, just as he got to see his sister do. Sobbing softly now, standing still, his father resumed that work.

With a small swing of his arm, the adult’s burly paw slapped and spanked at his son’s belly - forcing the boy to stand tall, quivering his arms to stay still and take it. The location of the swats changed little due to the size difference between Sam’s adolescent tummy, and his adult paw. Swatting steadily, the room was filled with those hollow sounding slaps and smacks, some duller than others, which caused much stronger wheezes. Sam’s maw clenched closed, curling his muzzle and looking sick, because of the sinking, ill feeling squirming around his stomach and bowels from the slaps. They stung at his skin badly, like an endless belly-flop. His body swayed, receiving smack after smack around his belly, toes scraping at one another as he tried to deal with the ache and was sorely losing. His young male bits jumped in their semi-arousal with each low swat that caught as low as the waist of his briefs, as his groin muscles flexed and accepted punishing impact. The ripples caused by the spanks even made the bulge of his briefs jiggle to the naked eye. Sam cried through his whines, grunts, and airy wheezes, squirming despite being entirely defenseless to stop the smacks to his belly; tears trickling down his cheeks. The ache jumped with each swat, sinking into his testicles, and up into his chest. Wheezing suddenly with difficulty, a harder spank to his lower middle tummy incited a cough; his cheeks reddening as he stood and received creative correction.

At the cough, being already mid-swat, his father left another angry paw-welt on Sam’s small belly before stopping. That should leave some residual ache in his insides, and to make use of it, the castor oil would come next before anything else. With the swats no longer coming, Sam leaned forward a little, trembling and seeming to mentally nurse a tummy-ache. Closing his teary eyes, he looked as if he had a cramp, before making a small burp from his churning stomach. His father did not release his wrists, instead working with the glass bottle with a single paw, popping the top off to thump against the carpet.

He didn’t bring a spoon. This would be much more direct than his mother’s slow feeding.

“Loosen your lips son. I’m making you drink it straight.”, he told his boy, whom whimpered and rolled his protest into a series of sobs. His right footpaw scuffed against the carpet, seeing the glass bottle of castor oil come into his line of sight. Initially he leaned his muzzle away from the bottle, but with a jerk to his wrists, he was promptly reminded to behave. Readying himself, Sam loosened his lips and got ready for the opening of the bottle.

His dad brought it to him and tilted once it reached his lips, forcing Sam’s neck back slightly, to let the thick oil run down. Once it cleared the inside of the bottle, it flowed into the neck, and straight into Sam’s maw. So warm and oily, tasting foul, it made the lad cringe; bending his knees and crying out around the bottle. The first bit of oil crept over his tongue and teeth, with his lips making a slurping sound as he sipped it from the bottle. Again he tried to pull away, but his dad stayed with him and forced more oil between his lips even as the young boy stomped his footpaws. It was sickeningly foul, and was hard enough to swallow without already having an upset stomach. After a few arduous gulps of the thick green-tinted oil, Sam’s father saw the boy clench everything he had. A gurgle in his throat became another weak burp, aching and hurting on the inside.

Out in the back yard, Calista was dripping with sweat already. It was hot enough howling and crying inside the comfort of her house, but the sun blazed through her sweat-shirt to burn at her back. Breathing with an open muzzle, the young girl worked hard, raking the yard’s leaves into a pile. It was a big yard though, and the one tree did a lot of shedding. Turning her head, a bead of sweat ran down her brow between her eyes, and off the left side of her muzzle, as she looked in the back door to see her brother chugging castor oil.

“Serves you right.”, Calista panted and huffed, closing her legs slightly. To think Sam likely saw her get belted… on her flower! Needing to get out of the sun, the older girl limped back onto her left paw, which was starting to hurt from supporting most of her weight. The pain from her right toe-claws, bleeding on the inside, was aching as far as above her knee, stiffening her leg and inciting the occasional sob as she worked. Stepping down with her toes mushed and curled in her shoe, bent her claws from time to time. It hurt so badly. She never wanted it done again, she thought, looking down at her right shoe as she raked. Her feet burned and felt wet, just like her groin, and back. The wool underwear slipped very uncomfortably into the creases of her legs, and forced itself between the lips of her vagina. It was drying out her once moist pedals, and soaking everything else in a waterfall of sweat that trickled down her legs to be absorbed by her pants. The beads of sweat crossing her anus' soft rim tickled, and it felt as unclean as it certainly was, coated with so much slick moisture.

Back inside, only so many meters away, Sam’s squirming grew more desperate as his father increased the tilt of the glass castor oil bottle. The slurping sips turned into slaps and other wet sounds, as his tongue squirmed inside his maw. Clenching his eyes, his gulps became more labored, feeling ever so sick. This was a slow punishment, but all this oil was coating his mouth and throat all at once. He couldn’t take it, or at least his spanked belly could not. In a gruff cough and a teary whine, Sam coughed up a tiny bit of the oil when he wasn’t able to make a gulp do down. Most of it was what was already in his maw, but out the back of his muzzle, and spat through the front of his lips, the oil leaked out and dribbled down, making his father need to stop. Sam lifted his knees, rubbing them together, wanting to rub his tummy. The oil dripped onto his chest, belly, and across the bulge of his underwear with tiny tap sounds from the density of the fluid.

Bottle reaching the floor again, their father undid the strap of Sam’s underwear, pulling them right down his legs. The waist band of his briefs caught his cock, making it pull free with a ‘thwump!’ - the appendage bouncing from it’s sheath. Getting the boy to step out of his cotton briefs, his father used them to wipe his muzzle and messy bits of fur, using the pre-stained front of it intentionally. Seeing that, Sam closed his lips tightly, having the yellow-tinged, musky cotton rubbing at his muzzle. Sobbing, Sam ‘urk’ed, panting and breathing deeply to settle his stomach so he wouldn’t cough up any more oil. His whole tummy…

Certain affinities boiled up to the surface, in the older of the two males. Letting go of Sam’s wrists, he stayed right where he knelt, wagging the very tip of his draconic tail as he watched the small boy clutch both his belly, and the slap marks on his muzzle. The sad, repentant sobbing he made in his discomfort shook his whole body lightly, highlighting muscle that would one day be that of a man. Calista and Sam’s father, like his wife, were able to focus on their duty and not be distracted by their other feelings, but it was uncommon for the elder male to discipline his son. The boy’s mother took it upon herself to make him her charge, while Calista was often overseen by her dad. It was too big a thing to even admit to himself in full, but aside from thinking of his boy as handsome, he did love to look at his young curves. His hips, and that twitch of his tail he’d make as his tummy turned on him. Fingering his boy was unique enough of an experience that the rest of this punishment, he would make enjoyable for himself. Daddy wanted to see more of his boy’s adolescent muscle and frame shudder under the sting of a ruler, and get a moment to toy with his paws. The finale he decided upon would allow him to get much more personal with the pink, young ring of male muscle he pleasured not long ago.

Getting up while Sam whined about his castor oil, his father pulled a dinning room chair over to where the boy stood. Focused and parental, he still wanted to do this and have fun watching; erection again stiffening in his slacks. The older male snapped his fingers as a way to tell the boy to turn around. Just like his sister, the sudden surprise of the sound made him flinch before turning around to face the back of one of their chairs. He looked at it wearily, wondering why it was there all the sudden. Attention span short at his age, Sam didn’t know his dad fetched it, just for him.

“Hold the top part of the back of the chair here. All of my spanking is going to be done behind you. Keep your tail held high no matter what I’m spanking, so Calista can watch out here if she wants.”, he directed, slipping the family’s small, wooden ruler they used for spanking out of his pocket where it was concealed. Sam placed his paws on the chair right away, afraid of anything additional. His light sobs made his stomach hurt worse, and his tail jerk with the force of the little blubbers. Stepping to his son’s left side, slightly behind him, he looked down the boy’s back, tail, and legs. Strong young frame and smooth curves, despite being a boy. He was still so young, even his stripes blended into his back so simply. There was no doubt his son was good looking in the father’s eyes, especially as they wandered to his bottom, and the exposed base of his tail. Standing, he could see no bits of taint, and only a speck of pink beneath the boy’s tail. Just like on his daughter, it was a tight place - if not even tighter. His bottom was shapely, blending into his thighs and muscular calves. Sam did not play soccer like Calista, but a playful adolescent draconosaur still had meat to their legs. They sloped down, muscle and curve to another, right down to his footpaws, which came forward.

Sam sobbed a few more times, stopping them with a sniffle - making his back jump up and down with each bit of tear. Ceasing his observation of his son’s body, the older furry dragon shook his head; shifting his dark brown mane from side to side slightly.

“I’m ready to start. I’m going to spank several places and work my way down, while you show the whole back yard your naked back.”, he said to advise the younger boy what he was to do, while adding something to shame the boy. For emphasis, the father tapped the ruler on the glass of the sliding door. It wasn’t loud, but loud enough for Calista to catch, standing and looking around confusedly. Looking up and humming between her heat-stricken panting, she suddenly bolted her head back down with a growl and small yelp. Calista rubbed at her right eye, as sweat had gotten into it. How annoying.

While she worked and soaked through her sweat-clothes slowly, the wooden ruler, cool and smooth, first touched Sam’s left shoulder. On his back, and in the area of his shoulder and connective muscle, it was a flat and meaty place to spank on the adolescent reptile. The tap made him flinch, correcting his stance on the floor with his footpaws - sheath sort of dangling due to the added weight of his softening cock hanging as it reluctantly receded back into it’s holster of sorts. It was barely moving, pre still making it’s tip shiny, as his orgasm was still desperate to occur, and the stimulation, though negative, fueled the clenching of the muscles at the base of his boy-hood.

A thought made the father elicit a tiny, low growl. This should start as intense as possible, not wanting to give any leeway. As quickly as he placed the ruler to Sam’s left upper back and shoulder, he removed it, not dropping it back down where he showed he was going to. The dragon’s shoulder  hunched in defense, but his father had taken an extra step forward, swinging it into entirely different spots. Upon the top of the chair’s back, the backs of both his paws received a heavy, loud slap each. Sam yowled tearily, lowering his head and sounding high pitched, as the ruler again ended up on his back and shoulders again. Not working slowly, daddy draconosaur smacked the ruler as roughly and hard as he could into the meat of his son’s shoulders and associated muscle. Side to side, making his son’s body shift, he spanked hard enough to leave ruler shaped blasts of pain rippling through Sam’s skin, sinking through into cubbish flesh. Alongside Sam’s sharp cries the ruler was just as crisp, making the scene catch Calista’s attention again. She was burning up, limping and raking weakly, but still getting the job done as she squinted under the punishing sun.

“Ow! Ah, papa!”, Sam howled out of his seven year old mouth, gripping the chair with his now stinging paws. Spanking at his shoulders and those upper corners of his back made his arms tense to the point of hurting as well - shaking and increasing the boy’s panic. It’s yelps and tears only increased when the ruler pounded on his upper back and left his reddening shoulders alone. The slaps felt like punches the more his muscle clenched and the pain grew. Crying desperately, Sam leaned more forward, baring all his teeth in a growl to try and handle even a little of the ache. His dad was whapping just too hard.

But, to go with speed and intensity, meant his shoulders would not be under the whip of the wooden strip for long. As soon as the ruler left his meaty upper back, his father smacked it into his lower back twice before kneeling down. It was still enough to get Sam’s body to twist from the sting, scuffing another footpaw at the carpet. Little reactions like that always caught his dad’s eye, at least when he felt this excited down inside, even if it wasn’t at all visible on the outside. Once on his knees, spanking Sam’s bottom was a much easier task, which he began after taking a deep breath. This took it out of the older male as much as it did the younger; swatting starting again with a flurry of stinging ruler slaps.

Impact thrusting his hips and boy parts forward, his semi-limp immature cock flopped upwards before falling - another strand of pre dripping free of his genitals to land in the carpet. Not just going back and forth, the man spanked his son randomly, staying on one cheek for a time before swapping to the other. Each smack jolted Sam’s body forward from the strength of it, causing such terrible cries. Sam wasn’t the quietest of children when they were spanked, and it was almost an endearing quality, seeing and hearing so much while whipping on the chubby, cubbish bottom of his boy. The base of his rear and tail were included, crossing what he could of Sam’s tailhole pucker. The slaps stung so roughly across his tail-base, the lad’s pink hole squeezed and wouldn’t relax, feeling as if it had been burned. Grunting, growling, and crying sharply, the young boy scuffed another footpaw against the carpet as he kicked one of his legs from the pain. It was too much, and his fingers could not hold on to the chair much longer. He had been trained to restrain himself, but there was only so much a seven year old could stand through as his butt was beaten by such a small spanking implement. The sting it caused! It was like each swat was making it’s own tiny bruise beneath it’s sweltering, violent welt.

“Ah! Ahh!”, Sam screamed downwards, head thrashing a bit as his body fought to stay still. Tears dripped from his chin as it hung. He felt the ruler moving, traveling lower as it made more little lines of aching pain. That cry was loud enough for Calista to hear at her short distance, looking over again while shoving another clump of leaves into her pile. Sweat rolled off her paws onto the long handle of the rake; her whole body soaked and basting in itself, so desperately trying to cool. Her underwear was making the environment of an oven, she thought. All her spank welts from the belt across her pelvis and thighs stung as if she had been spanked seconds ago, irritated by moisture and prickly heat.

Swat by swat, the backs of Sam’s legs grew to be the target. Upper thigh, lower thigh. It was making the very young cub stamp his feet in anguish, finally raising his head to howl. The fact his father wasn’t spanking the same spot anymore was the only reason he could hold on. Barely, though… the kind of squirming he was doing, and what it felt like to have his lower thighs whipped at with the strength and force of his papa’s scorn.

What finally broke the boy’s stoic hold on the chair, were the ruler’s smacks to the backs of his knees. Those soft, sensitive knee hollows received a prompt beating; his dad not skipping them on his trek down his legs. They heated up with only a few spanks, causing nerve twitches and painful jerks to the degree that Sam bawled in defeat. With one last smack of the ruler dead center into his right knee, the boy’s weight came out from under him. It was too much to take, as his legs burned and stung, and his muscles ached something horrible. It was like a prolonged paddling, or a club to his knees. It hurt the little joint, sending the boy to his knees. In this case his father didn’t mind. He expected it. However, that didn’t mean he was done, or that Sam didn’t need to get back up.

“Stand, boy. I still need to do your feet.”, he snapped with his clear, older voice, over Sam’s high pitched wails. Sam looked as tired and beaten as he was; all the spots that had been spanked looking messy in the fur department. Curled or standing-on-end fur in the shapes of a ruler highlighted each crisp swat. Growling sadly, Sam pulled himself back up to stand on his own two paws. A tap on his left paw’s ankle where his father knelt was taken as an order to lift it, which he did, bracing himself on the chair to stay standing properly. Not being graced with any further pain right away, Sam rested his head against the chair to sob away the hurt and take a breather.

The bit of a break came from his father’s inner lust. He didn’t think that’s what it was, but he was wrong. The father held his son’s footpaw gently in both his paws, getting off his knees to sit down and stretch his legs. Fitting nicely, the elder placed his boy’s footpaw in his lap; the outer side of it touching his erection. Sam would never know that, but it added to the fun the older of the two felt. Self proclaimed as straight, these forbidden-fruit type of emotions overcame him and added it’s own interesting twist. His thumbs brushed across the pads on Sam’s toes, and the big one right behind them, to take in their warmth and texture. That soft feeling was thrilling, along with the sharp tips of his claws. Dark brown toes contrasting the lighter brown of his footpaw, the little nervous movement they made seemed adorable, innocent, and defenseless. Leaning in the older furry dragon took a whiff of the air, to try and catch at scents as Sam spread his toes and squirmed them in anticipation of the ruler’s bite.

He caught a musky, sort of sweet scent. But it wasn’t his paw, it was too masculine, the grown reptile deduced. Turning his head, he looked under his boy’s tail to get a much better glimpse at his lack of height. Tailhole and bit of soft skin behind his sac peering out at him, his tongue licked his lips idly. Taking his ruler, he smacked Sam’s central footpaw-pad as hard as he could twice, dipping his head between Sam’s legs as soon as the little boy cried out; distracted.

There it was. The scent tickled his nostrils, making him think of his own scent. Sam’s under-tail and young bits had it’s own unique sort of allure, with that slightly sweetened musk. Not even noticing, he held Sam’s footpaw tighter to his rock-solid erection, taking small sniffs only an inch away from the boy’s bottom. Cleanly, but still that of a boy. His scents were new, and exhilarating to the senses. Turning his eyes back down to the footpaw he was to spank, the boy’s toes were trying to rub the sting out of his black and silver pad, with the silver spot along it’s interior side turning pink.

Smack! His father swatted at his foot once more, blazing it with sting even as the boy’s toes tried to curl. This time, only Sam’s leg tried to kick and jerk, with his cries and howls quieter, and more subdued. A footpaw spanking was the icing on the cake, burning his poor feet and leaving a throbbing ache that would last a day. Keeping his tail up was getting uncomfortable, and it began to curl from the treatment to his feet - lashes over his poor toes included. Quick and intense, holding to his technique, he was done in moments; pads reddening and swelling from abuse. As if doing Sam a favor, he rubbed at the fiery sting he instilled by massaging the boy’s footpaw against the stiff member in his slacks. The boy knew no better, and the dirty thought his dad held was humored with an aroused huff from his nostrils.

“Turn the chair around to where the back is towards your side. Bend all the way over it, and hold on to the legs now instead.”, he instructed his son, releasing his footpaw. Sam placed it back on the floor, but visibly winced when he tried to use it; rubbing it against the carpet a moment before complying. The teary little boy climbed over the seat of the chair, sinking his ailing, stinging belly into it. Holding on by the chair’s legs, his bottom was very easily accessible, and his bits much less hidden in front of himself. Against the chair, leaving a strand of pre connected to each, his small penis lightly throbbed defiantly, not wanting to return to his sheath. It was all a bit much for his father to see, but he liked it. He knew it liked it too, but ignored it in light of making this easy.

Staying where he sat, he was already in the perfect position to finish Sam’s punishment and send him out to use their old-style push mower. It took a lot of effort to use, there specifically to stress and strain their cub’s muscles and backs. Out of his pocket, the elder of the two grinned slightly as he held the object. It was different alright, and he knew Sam would hate it dearly.

It was a vibrator - firm, with a slightly draconic penis shape. A member to go straight up the boy’s backside, robbing him of that dignity as he robbed his sister of. Able to stare beneath Sam’s quivering tail, his tailhole was so prominent. Even his sac stuck out, with his legs spread. There was nothing better than a punishment he could like giving, licking his lips again in preparation. That little pucker, male or not, was calling his name. It needed to be lubricated for the vibrating dildo, and he was going to do the job just as he did with his finger, but on Sam instead of himself. With a false sense of not having male-loving tenancies, he didn’t wish to stick a phallic shaped object in his large maw. However, it seemed more appropriate to lap the boy under the tail. It would make him more uncomfortable that way any who.

Leaning in, the father placed a paw on Sam’s well-spanked bottom and hip. Collecting a glob of thick saliva on the end of his tongue, he opened his muzzle and turned his head, closing his eyes a little to lick up across Sam’s tail-base. The sensation made the pre-leaking penis of the boy jump and his back arch; paws gripping the chair a little harder, and his legs quivering. Being rimmed by daddy was not something he expected, and as his cock started very quickly stiffening again, it made him blush with massive embarrassment.

“That’s!”, the little draconosaur sobbed, whining aloud at what was happening. The intrusive tongue took a few extra moments, as his father examined his scent and texture in a more personal way - tongue parting his clenching, quivering ring of virgin muscle. Anus tucked away under his tail, his dad’s muzzle fit back there like a glove of sorts. There was such a nice heat, withdrawing his tongue from the grip of his son’s bottom with a drip of spit falling from his lips. The flavor was so… nice. He would have to talk his wife into letting him try that on her. There was such smooth adolescent skin between the gentle winkles of his pucker; hint of salt and boy-ish flavors.

“Sam…”, the older dragon began to scold, before stopping to lick the excess saliva from his lips. It was such a nice thing too. That little tailhole thrilled his groin and mind to no end, trying so hard to keep it at least mindless and casual.

“…You are the other man of the house. I expect more from you than to see you breaking rules and watching Calista’s punishments without the privilege being granted. That’s why she can see straight under your tail now. Understand?”, he finished, drawing the saliva back into his maw, and not wiping it with his paw. He wanted it, honestly, making a gesture towards the spit shining off of the boy’s pucker as it resided so nicely at the base of his tail, surrounded with thin, almost downy fur there like Calista had on her vagina. The girl outside did see well under Sam’s tail, and the precarious position the boy was forced to stay bent over in made her want to giggle. She was too tired to giggle though, busily sweating out all the fluids she had in her body.

“Yes.”, Sam replied to the scold with a small, teary voice. So many spots ached and stung now, and his anus glistened in the sun of the afternoon. His tummy turned again, making a cramp that got him to whimper again - a pair of loose tears falling from his muzzle again. Their punishments always worked them to exhaustion, as his body shown by laying weak and limp, aside from the tail he was again forced to keep raised.

Relying solely on Sam being lubricated, and not the phallic vibrator, his dad moved in and pressed it’s pointed tip into the center of the hole. With a slight push it spread, parting away with resistance as the tiny pucker did not wish to widen. Feeling something enter him again, Sam cried in tantrum, kicking his legs as this false penis shoved it’s way into his young bottom. It took pressure; his father watching curious and contently, even as Sam protested. The head of the vibrator reached passed the boy’s now less-virgin opening slipping in with slick sounds of air around his tailhole being moved about as the shaft was shoved inside. The resistance his father’s hand felt as his son’s young bowels pushed back against the vibrator made his own cock pre copiously, as Sam began to do the same against the side of the chair. It just kept sinking in; thrilling the older of the two, and scaring the younger. It felt so big in his tailhole, it hurt! The pucker stretched wide to accommodate something meant for a grown-up, inside of his seven year old little orifice. Soon hilted down towards the base of the vibrator’s shaft, the insertion was done. Belly filled with more pressure, Sam stood on his tip-toes to take some weight off his tummy. Again, he burped unpleasantly, sounding more like an ‘urp!’ of ailment.

To end his part of Sam’s punishment, all the father had to do was turn the vibrating function of the phallic shaped dildo on. Setting it to a calm low setting, the boy’s legs suddenly clamped together with a sheepish whine; tail shooting down to cover his exposed anal rim. All it did was cradle the vibrator in his bottom, standing up and holding his backside with his paws. It was a good thing his dad was done, else coming so far out of position would warrant further swatting. Back arched with his groin shoved far forward, his penis stood out very obviously; like a pinkish red beacon, swinging another strand of sticky pre-cum into the air, and across the seat of the chair. His arousal was back, but the vibration alone could not send him over the edge. Whimpering and sobbing so forlornly, he stepped from paw to paw. If he could only touch his privates with a single finger! Just one quick rub! Paws trembling, pre dribbled from his member again, falling over the dark brown toes of his left, spanked footpaw.

This was so lovely for the older furry dragon to watch, being that his work was done. He wouldn’t tell Sam when the vibrator was coming out, just to make it even harder in terms of anticipation. Turning his head away from the sobbing child on the edge of an orgasm he would never see, he looked out to watch Calista. Her clothing looked so wet, and she had to be getting fairly musky. He spent a good bit of time “admiring” Sam’s small frame, and still she wasn’t done. The limp she had really slowed things down, but there wasn’t a whole lot left. The father scoffed inside his head, thinking Sam ought to finish it, and his girl was already as sweaty and exhausted as her sweat-clothes, wool underwear and paw-wraps would allow. Standing back up with the help of his paws, he slid the back door open and waved out to Calista to catch her attention. He needed her for what he wanted to finish with anyway, outside of his own discipline.

Calista set the rake down beside her pile of leaves, making her way back towards the house. It looked so difficult, and there were certainly tears in her eyes and on her cheeks, mingling with all the sweat. As Calista walked by, a rush of heat and moisture came by, and the scent of her labor. Standing in air conditioning, the young girl gasped, catching her breath and leaning against the wall beside the doorway.

“You’ve done enough, I’m going to leave the last of it to Sam. Thank you for your hard work.”, her father said appreciatively. It was part of their strict teaching methods to lead by certain example, and part of that was thanking their children for their work, even if they expected it. Exhausted, Calista still managed a smile. She was done! Free! Turning his head to his boy he had left a few paces away by the chair, member sticking out like a tiny sore thumb, he gave a motion with his paw for the boy to turn around and face away.

“Let’s get you undressed right now. Sam won’t watch. He owes you something anyway.”, her father eluded as he lead her into the living room, to take a seat on the sofa. Bending forward, it was easy work to pull Calista’s sweat-shirt from her pants, and tug it right off. As it came off, air finally reached the girl’s back and chest; looking darker as they soaked. Shoes were next, done with care successfully. The shoes did not crush her toes and claws upon exit, with the tight wool wraps being removed one at a time. Throwing her privacy out the door willingly to get these things off, she happily allowed her father’s strong and nimble paws to touch her front and hips, pulling down her sweat-pants and lastly, with effort that scratched and made her whimper once more, her wool punishment panties. It scraped her swollen clit all the way down, and she found herself so sweaty it felt like she was already in the shower. To her own nostrils, she could easily smell her own feminine scent from her vaginal sweat, made musky from baking in the heat for so long. Her fur and skin was so hot to the touch, and even her footpaws dripped.

Call it a fetish, or at least a focus, but Calista’s father in his enjoyment of the subject matter that day thought of just how Sam could make this up to Calista, and show his subservience and repentance to her. Slipping out of Calista’s way, he gestured for the sweaty young draconosaur to sit where he had, pushing the foot rest up to the sofa to aid in his daughter’s comfort. Punishment over, she deserved it. Claws of her right footpaw red and tainted, they still exploded in massive tearing pain at the slightest touch from their substantial injury. Sniffling idly, Calista was happy to rest - given a pillow to place over her lap for privacy.

“Sam, get over here. You need to say you’re sorry to Calista.”, her father spoke over her shoulder, kneeling down on the floor beside her. It felt weird being such a center of attention, but with her pillow in her lap and her legs resting loosely, her groin was pretty much concealed. Not entirely, if the person was a bit below her, but that didn’t quite dawn on her. Sam turned from where he was left, approaching his father and sister. Stopping a pace or two in front of them both, he left his head hung; watery eyes not wishing to meet either of theirs.

“I’m sorry.”, the boy apologized for plainly, even if it sounded like he meant it. After such a swatting, it was easy to mean it. His father though, expected something more. Gesturing down to Calista’s footpaws, he turned his look into a mild scowl.

“Son, get down here. You need to do more than that. You’re going to clean Calista’s footpaws with your mouth, and if you so much as hurt one of the claws I punished, I will get another piece of string and do it to you.”, the boy was yelled at, being warned very intensely. Nervously, the boy scrambled down to his knees, finding it harder with this dildo under his tail. It filled him and made him waddle, intensified by the light, slow vibration that teased his prostate into staying on edge. Placing his paws on the living room foot rest, his draconosaur maw close to the sweaty, heat-soaked appendages. His expression was both sullen, and disgusted - not only from his growling belly. Calista was scented to quite a degree, footpaws included, as he saw a drop of sweat fall from one of her blood-tainted white claws of her right foot. Her fur was matted and her pads shined. Behind it all, the boy could smell something else that made his groin tingle by nature. That musky smell of her slit made the boy peer down her legs. It was dark, and mostly closed, but he could see a line; her closed slit. Sam gulped.

“But.. Calista really needs a bath papa.”, Sam complained, blushing beneath the fur of his cheeks as he commented on  Calista’s various scents. The girl clutched her paws out of shame, giving the younger boy a dirty look. Not about to have that, their father opened his left paw and smacked the welts on Sam’s upper back just once, which got a strong enough teary yowl that he would not need to do it twice. Bolting his paws for the source of the sting, Sam sobbed with an apologetic look, trying to avert his eyes from the tiny bit of slit her cold see.

“Start with her left footpaw. Now.”, Sam’s father demanded of him, as he looked back into those teary pools of his. The little furry dragon turned his eyes back to Calista’s footpaws, holding the uninjured one as his father directed. It felt hot and clammy. Curling his muzzle in distaste, Sam hesitantly began to lick. His tongue did not press hard, lapping over his sister’s pad and toes. Not pressing hard, it made the girl start to giggle; flexing her toes. This was met with a final warning from his father.

“Do it right. Last chance.”, the adult warned in a snap, pulling a long string from his pocket to show what was in store for this defiance if he didn’t do it. Sam squealed, having seen that whole scene. He didn’t want his claws pulled! No papa! Sobbing once, as soon as his jaw stopped quivering, Sam dipped his sister’s footpaw into his maw.

Boy did it make him cringe.

Calista’s middle and outer toes and claws in his mouth, he began sucking on them and massaging them with his tongue. It took all of his will power, and the terror of that string to do it. The sweat was as salty and musty as it smelled, offending his squirming, licking tongue. Opening his maw with a saliva-caused slap, he held her footpaw with both paws, licking between her same-colored toes. It felt and tasted dirty, but in this state his tongue glided through her fur, licking each crevice and curve. For their father, it made him want to masturbate. The sight would stick with him for some time, and make the bedroom an interesting place. Sam’s disgusted expression coupled with his very diligent and dexterous tongue, and what seemed like a pleased, if not pleasured look from his daughter. Calista rested her head on one paw, watching Sam work comfortably. Shaming him by licking her feet - it was priceless! Not to mention it felt… interesting. Daddy’s kind of interesting.

Cleaning his sister by tongue was taking time, and the poor boy wanted to hurry and get the hot paw away from his muzzle. Sweat had already gotten on the tip of his snout, leaving a sweat scent each time he took a breath. Every so often he would get a lot of sweat and grit at once, slipping her entire toes into his maw one at a time to soak it. Getting the bulk of her paw into his mouth was a challenge, but if he came in from the side, he could put a little of it in. Sitting teary-eyed and giving a tongue bath to his sweaty big sister made his father’s cock pump and pump, coating the inside of his underwear with clear, masculine lubricant.

Slurping in the middle of a lick, trying to get the sweat out of the fur atop her paw,  Sam made a slight cough. His expression curled further, with his tongue smacking his lips in discontent. It tasted so terrible! Almost oily! It tasted like… well, footpaw!

“Am I done papa? Please?”, Sam turned his head and quietly sobbed, once he stopped working and wiped at his muzzle. That feeling of dirty grit wouldn’t come off his tongue.

“No, you need to do the other one as well.”, his father still spoke firmly. He made it clear that “footpaws” meant plural. Two. Both of them. Sam opened his maw, leaning in for Calista’s right footpaw and it’s pain stricken claws. The girl held her paws together out of worry, but the boy hesitated, stopping with a whimper. There was no forgetting the threat he received, warning him of the consequence of hurting his older sister. It made all his dark brown toes curl, and his eyes wander across the naked female form in front of him before turning back to his dad.

“I… I don’t know how to do it without hurting her. Please papa, I don’t want my claws pulled.”, he whimpered and pleaded more tearily. Again, it was met with a decline.

“You’ll have to take your time, and make sure your tongue doesn’t touch her claws, or near them. Nice, slow licks.”, the older of the trio prescribed. Calista liked the thought of slow, tender licks. Sam did not, but at least began. Taking hold of her aching paw, the boy started in between her toes instead of a full-frontal assault. Using his fingers to keep her toes apart enough to not nick her claws, his wet reptilian tongue lapped at more sweat and grit, still fresh.

It was as slow going as he had been directed, not able to do it any faster. Any sudden move would have his toe-claws strung up, and in his fear, it ended up being a fairly sensual lapping. Along the center of his tongue, it channeled saliva and sweat back to his throat. It was unpleasant only to him, as Calista smiled with a quiet expression, relaxed, and his father’s heart raced in secret. Watching made him want to give similar attention to his son‘s footpaws, but he would have to think of an excuse for that another day. Kneeling the way he was, with the right shift of Sam’s tail, his dad could still see the blue vibrating device he slipped up into him. It was a sight to see, but all things had an end. As the minutes passed, Calista’s right footpaw was soon licked clean, having taken intricate care of the areas around her claws. It never hurt that badly, Calista felt, looking down at her footpaws after such a nice gesture. The seed of sexual thought had been planted, giving her something to imagine as she got older.

Their father was the first to get up, paw on his lap to ensure his cock did not stick straight out. Tucked away, it would look no different than normal, even if it felt cool from being coated in sticky juices. Snapping his fingers as he had been doing a lot that day, he motioned for both his cubs to get up.

“Calista, you go wash up. Sam, you need to go finish raking and cut the grass. And, no, you are wearing nothing and that thing is staying below your tail.”, their dad preempted, using his paw in gesture while telling each what to do. His daughter nodded her head, standing up straight to keep her slit out of her brother’s sight, while her brother sniffled and sulked, simply turning tail for the back yard. His tail arched from the vibrations, flicking as if he needed to potty.

Daddy on the other hand, excused himself to his room while Calista carefully walked off to shower. Each step tapped her claws against the floor, jointing strong pain up her leg. She had to walk to oddly to keep off her toes. It would have been nicer if the licking stuck around, and not the remnants of her punishment.

Once alone in his room, the two’s father slumped into a chair in the corner across from the door. Out of the window, he watched his son pull the old push mower out, pushing it with difficulty - bare footpaws digging into the occasionally sharp feeling patches of grass root. Turning his eyes downward for a moment, the older of the draconosaurs eased his throbbing erection out from his slacks, once the fly was down and out of the way. Leaning on his hand, with his lap well out of sight, he supervised Sam while imagining many things. Pre coated his fingers in sheer seconds, shimmering in the sun light.

Watching him idly, he focused on the young boy’s bobbing member, and how he would lick his lips and cringe, still reeling from being forced to tongue bathe his big sis’ paws. From his window, daddy would be able to watch him work to the bone; adolescent muscles flexing and straining, giving up on him. Grass between his toes, and sweat dripping  from his tiny boy-pouch. There was no hurt in looking, right? It made his slow stroking of his cock so relaxing. He could stay there all afternoon, watching his son strain with his own member dribbling pre and rock solid from the vibrator pleasuring his tailhole and prostate. Here and there, the tired boy would whine to himself, stopping and spreading his legs. It looked like he would orgasm, with his muscles so tense from working and stimulated from being near orgasm for so long. Sam’s cock would jump, but alas, no white milky fluids. His expression was pained and frustrated, tearfully wanting the pressure to go away. In a sense, daddy did too.

But alas, that wish would come true. Thankfully, his wife would never find out, because Sam wasn’t about to tell. One of the times the boy stopped pushing the mower, absolutely overwhelmed by boy-ish pleasures, he spread his legs and held the mower as he did, but for longer. Seeming to scuff his bare toes at the grass, toe-claws scraping, the vibrator took him over the edge without a single touch to his cock in over an hour.

The small cock leapt straight up, with his footpaws stepping forward for support. Rocking his hips instinctively, they stopped moments later, groin pointed down towards the ground as if he had been humping at something wonderful. Sam’s mind grasped the scents he smelled of his sister, and those little sights of her slit. His orgasm was firm, but comfortable despite it’s strength. The pressure in his cock was so great, the first strand shot from his prepubescent cock like a water-gun, shooting the grass below. Panting and standing still, his father would have sworn it had to have felt like urinating. Sam’s long depressed orgasms caught up with him, with his little penis pumping strand after strand, to make almost a stream of cum. Some was thick, and others watery, dripping from the red boy-hood like a leaky hose. Outside, to Sam’s own ears, each spurt rustled the grass and made tiny ‘thick!’ sounds against the earth. Sweat ran down the side of his head his dad could see; the young one’s maw slightly open in relief, as well as effort, from such a long orgasm. And from such small balls! Daddy grinned with pride at the boy’s capacity, even if each spurt was very tiny and cubbish. He just had so many!

As the seven year old furry dragon’s cock settled, dribbling and dripping instead of shooting, thicker bits were pushed out of the way by a bit of pee that ended up in his tubes. His first orgasm, and so adolescent, his body did not react correctly, funneling a small bit of his bladder behind all the cum. The milky white and clear bits were pushed out in a glob by a slight trickle of yellow. In seconds, it was done; Sam barely able to move his legs to continue pushing the mower.

Turning his head back down to his lap, Sam’s father lifted his paw. It was thickly coated in cum; strands loosely falling in their sticky, adult manner.

It seemed he learned a bit today, quite by accident. He was going to show Calista and Sam’s mother later the joys of rimming.
