This short story is an entry in the 2011 Soc.Sexuality.Spanking Summer Short Story Contest and is copyright by the author and commercial use is prohibited without permission. Personal/private copies are permitted only if complete including the copyright notice. The author would appreciate your comments
Category: Picture
The Chair in the New House
The chair was the only item of furniture in the room. It had missed being loaded on the van with the rest of the furniture and so Dad and I brought it with us in the car. We were to go have dinner and check into the motel since the movers would not come until the morning but first there was some unpleasant business that had to be taken care of.
"I'm disappointed in you, son." said dad. "You are old enough not to run off in the rest stop when I told we did not have time. Fortunately, the realtor was in his office late to give us the keys." I nodded. I knew where Dad was heading and I did not like it.
"I'm sorry, Father, but I was so restless after that long drive I had to run." Dad gave me one of those looks. He wasn't buying any of my crap. That meant exactly one thing. "Dad, this is the first time in our new house. Do you really have spank me this day of all days?"
Dad nodded. "We agreed on spanking, son." He was right – a few months ago we had agreed that spanking rather than grounding, early curfew, or docking of my allowance was to be the punishment method of choice.
It was an early adult decision I had made. I had also agreed not to fight it but "to take it like a man". There really was not anything more to discuss. I kicked off my sneakers and removed my T-shirt and jeans. Shucking my boxers and socks was easy.
I had to remind myself that I must be brave and keep my word or Dad would lose respect for me as I looked at him already standing by the chair. Then it hit me. An epiphany! I was too old to lay across my dad's lap to be spanked like a little boy. I was now a young man. I turned pulling my belt from my jeans and handed it to Dad. I relocated the chair and bent over it.
Dad smiled silently but did not keep me waiting. He quickly raised my heavy leather garrison belt and brought it down on my up turned tail. It stung like the blazes and I bit my lip to keep from howling. I gripped the chair tighter waiting for the second cut. I could feel the red stripe forming on my rear end.
Dad gave me six stingers. I did not go to the corner nor rub my butt when he told me to get up but I got dressed. "I'm really sorry, Father." I said.
Dad nodded and gave me a hug. "You're growing up, Pat." he said with a smile.
Even though my ass hurt as we went out to eat, I felt good. I could even laugh at Dad's lame joke about how we christened the new house.
The End
© Copyright 2011 A.I.L.
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