BBFC: Taavi At The Soda

Taavi has a gorgeous ass...

Oow, auch, aaah, his always-abjectly-agonizing-attitude-adjustment-available adolescent-ass-arse aches awefully, again, and he has none to blame! Uncannily unable to control his big mouth, as if each foppish fool’s foot in turn automatically jumps into it, he got his globes glowing, gruesomely grilled, over and over, over either Sir’s knee and over all furniture, all long All Saints & All Souls weekend long, leaving the lewdly-loud lout’s lower-limbs lots-of-lickings-limped.
Feeling ‘guilty’ to have barely been hand-spanked OTK a few times (not counting relishing roommate’s relentless rump-ravaging lectures) although miserably-most-meekly-mounted-mounds-martyred mate Taavi’s junior, Jan offered to volunteer for Taavi's chores on their last day before school resumes, so sweetly selfless six sparkling sodas seemed a suitable sweetener, Taavi and mates chipping in from their rations.
Alas, Taavi forgot about having volunteered himself for the knaves joint treats shopping chore today, as it goes effortlessly with groceries shopping house chore, assuming Jan would do that too, while he believed the sixpack was all his bonus, so after he finished all chores and sodas, strict Sir Dimitri had none, never noticed Jan doing chores flawlessly (he barely remembers baring and beating bad-behaving brat boys’ butts anymore after the suitably-sorrily-sore-seated squirt-scoundrels’ sobbing softly dies down), checked the roster and summoned usual suspect Taavi, dead-set to giving the incorrigible imp the whole holiday’s best bare-balls, brats-bunch-beheld bare-bubble-butt-beyond-black-and-blue-battering beating, the hand-spanking at the crime scene being a mere warm-up, before having to assemble all and have them fetch in turn each fucking implement for frighfull full-force-floggings, a formidably-firm furious flailing as fearsome as the farm-folk flogged foppish, flawed fledglings forcibly at home.