"The Date" Part 2 (M/f)

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© Guyspencer 2010

(Where Jim “faces the music” at home)

It took just over a week for Jim’s bottom to stop reminding him of his previous spanking and strapping every time he sat down. With his punished bottom no longer constantly on his mind, and nothing much else to do, Jim found his thoughts dwelling more and more on his coming punishment. While he did not really know what a “reminder” punishment was, he knew that his father only used the hairbrush for the most serious offenses. The hairbrush was always applied, (with bruising results) to Jim’s bare bottom with his pants and underpants lowered below his knees. Bad as this punishment was, Jim found that waiting weeks for it was worse. In addition, something else was bothering Jim; he was feeling increasingly guilty about what he had done and he secretly felt that his upcoming punishment was surprisingly mild.

Finally, this grew in Jim’s mind until he went to his father and asked him if it was necessary for him to wait the entire 30 days before he could get his spanking over and done with. Jim’s father replied that the timing of the punishment was totally up to Jim, except that he had to wait until his bottom was totally healed from his previous punishment at the Dover’s. Jim could not have use of the car before the end of the 30 days, but he could have the spanking much sooner if his bottom was healed and if that was Jim’s desire.

Resolving to get his punishment over as soon as possible to end the terrible anticipation, Jim went to his bedroom every evening, his heart in his throat, to check his bottom in the mirror to see if the last belt tip marks had finally disappeared. It took nearly three weeks before the last two or three angry marks finally started to lighten. By this time, Sara’s restriction was over and they were allowed phone privileges. One Thursday evening, Jim whispered to Sara that he thought “tonight was the night”. Sara did not seem want to end the conversation, obviously very concerned about Jim, yet seeming to need to know all of the details of his imminent punishment.
“Will it be on the bare?” “Yes; it always is”.
“Will you be naked?” “I don’t know; maybe.”
“What room of the house?” “It is always in father’s study.”
“Will you get it over his knee?” “Usually; but perhaps not this time.”
“Are you scared?” “Yes” Jim almost sobbed to his girlfriend, “My teeth are chattering and my stomach feels funny.
“Will you cry?” There was an embarrassed silence on the line, then Jim finally asked; “Could you hear when your parents were spanking me?” “Yes” Sara said, (admitting the obvious). “I don’t think this time will be any different” breathed Jim, “It just hurts too much and I can’t help myself”.

“Are you really going to do what you said you were going to do?” she asked. “My knees are shaking, but I feel that it is something I have to do” he finally responded, “I hope I don’t chicken out, I will never feel right about myself if I do.” After a pause to imagine the enormity of what Jim just said, Sara replied, “you don’t have to do this just for me; I know you are really sorry about what happened to me”. “This is something I have to do,” Jim said, “I have to go now to check my bottom; there was just one little mark yesterday and I think it is probably clear enough now so that my father will spank me tonight when I ask him.” “Call me when it’s over?” “I don’t know” Jim said “my father will probably make me go right to bed when he is done with me and I am going to be feeling really bad.” “If you don’t hear from me tonight, it will mean I got it real good.” On that tense note, after exchanging their goodbyes and their mutual expressions of young live, the teens reluctantly hung up. Jim swallowed nervously and went up to his bedroom to check his bottom in the mirror one last time.

Both teens had been using the only phones available to them, Jim in his living room and Sara at the wall phone in her parent’s kitchen (wireless phones had not yet been invented, and kids rarely had extension phones in their bedrooms in the 60’s), so the entire conversation was in whispers. Throughout this conversation, a familiar feeling had been growing in Sara’s loins, but she could do little more than squirm while she was in this public part of her home. As soon as she hung up, she went directly to her room, shut the door carefully, and guiltily allowed her finger free reign as she laid in the dark imagining the scene unfolding at Jim’s house.

Up in his bedroom, with his pants and underpants lowered in front of the full-length mirror, Jim’s heart fluttered madly; his bottom seemed to be clear of all marks from his previous punishment. Now there was nothing except fear to stop him from getting his punishment over and done with. Gritting his teeth with determination, he pulled his pants back up, and left the room. Almost running so he would hot have time to change his mind, Jim fetched the hairbrush from his father’s dresser, descended the stairs, and knocked tentatively on the door of his fathers study. It seemed impossible to Jim that his father could miss hearing his galloping heart through the tightly-closed study door. A spanking was inevitable once his father invited him inside, but Jim wondered if he would have the courage to go through with his entire plan.

A writer of some renown, Jim’s father, Ed, was a subject of considerable respect in this small southern town. To some he seemed remote and professorial, but he was a true friend to his son. Ed’s “place of business” was his book-lined, pipe tobacco scented, home study, where (since home computers were years in the future) his trusty Underwood typewriter clicked for hours at a time. That study was a very special place in Jim’s house, a very male, wood-toned, place where Ed was king. It was a place where Jim was always welcome, yet it served as an almost holy sanctuary for his father. Because of its importance to the family, his father’s study was obviously a place where special rules applied. One of the rules was that everybody knocked and waited for permission before entering.

Jim was sweating and almost sobbing outside, sorely tempted to turn and run, when he finally heard the typewriter stop and his father’s booming voice invite him in. With the hairbrush occupying his right hand, Jim’s left hand was almost too sweaty to turn the big glass doorknob. After a brief struggle, Jim finally managed to open the door. There was his father dressed as usual; tweed jacket with leather elbow patches, white shirt, horn-rimmed glasses and an unlit pipe in his mouth. Ed looked up and saw his son framed in the door. One look at Jim’s tearstained face told Ed the purpose of Jim’s visit; that hairbrush held in his hand gave instant confirmation.

Ed got right down to business, “are you sure your bottom is healed already?” he asked. “Yes sir” said Jim shakily. “Come here, turn around, and show me” Ed commanded. After carefully closing the study door to seal out the rest of the world, Jim advanced to his father’s desk, laid the hairbrush down and turned his back to his father. Unashamed to expose his body in this safe, private, male stronghold, Jim obediently unbuckled his belt, unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, hooked his thumbs at his waist and lowered his pants and underpants together, bending over for his father’s scrutiny. After a close inspection (which Jim was almost hoping to fail), Ed declared Jim’s bottom to be ready for further punishment. “OK” said Ed, “leave your pants down and turn around so we can talk man-to-man.” Jim complied, tears streaming down his face. “You know that you don’t have to do this today right?” “Yes sir” Jim sobbed, “I just want to get my punishment over with.”

“OK Jim, you can have your wish” Ed began, “I have to finish a little work first and then we are going to have a serious talk followed by a serious spanking.” “While you are waiting I want you to be thinking about exactly why you are to be punished and be ready to seriously discuss it with me.” “To focus your thoughts, I want you to stand there facing me with your pants left down and I want you to pick up and hold that hairbrush.”

It seemed like hours; Jim standing there seemingly forgotten while his father’s Underwood tapped on and on and on. Jim tried to concentrate on his coming “talk”, but all he could think of was his coming punishment and his plan that might make it much worse. Finally Ed covered his typewriter and, looking at Jim significantly, removed his jacket, rolled up his right sleeve, and slid his chair out from behind the desk.

He carefully explained to Jim exactly why he was about to get spanked: It was to remind him to never again illegally drink alcohol, and especially to never touch alcohol when he was driving. Jim’s father gently explained that this would be a very hard hairbrush spanking on his bare bottom with no warm up, and no respite of any kind. This would easily be the equal of any spanking he had ever had before. “You know I love you, I think this is the best thing for you, and this spanking is my parental duty towards you” he explained. “What do you think Jim?” “Do you understand exactly why you are getting this spanking and do you agree that it is what you deserve?”

Jim was expecting this question and now he almost chickened out: “Yes Sir” He started to say but then he checked himself before he could change his mind and substituted “No daddy.” Thinking that his son was simply begging for mercy, Ed started to explain that the spanking was non-negotiable, when Jim interjected, “But you don’t understand!” “OK” Ed said patiently, “Make me understand.”

“It is so hard for me to say this!” Jim sobbed. “Yes, but you are here to receive a very hard punishment and this is not supposed to be easy for either of us, I need to understand exactly what is on your mind right now” Ed said.

In entirely too deep to back out, Jim took a deep breath, gathered his thoughts, and started: First he explained that what he had done was far worse than simply drinking alcohol when he had been trusted with the family car; he had also involved and endangered Sara. He then went on to remind his father that the family rule had always been that when he got a spanking from someone outside the home, (such as a spanking in school) he always got another, worse, punishment at home. “I don’t understand why this is different and that bothers me a lot” Jim said. “I got a hard spanking and a strapping from the Dovers and you are only going to give me a spanking with the hairbrush.” Suddenly Ed understood what his son was trying to tell him. To be very sure that he was correct he asked: “So you think that I am not taking this thing seriously enough and you are requesting a harder punishment?” Jim’s heart flopped with simultaneous feelings of panic and triumph. Finally he managed to croak, “Yes father, this is the worse thing I have ever done, I am feeling very guilty about it.”

There was a long silence; new tears started to flow down Jim’s cheeks as he awaited his father’s verdict.

Ed finally trusted himself to speak: “Now I see why this was so hard for you to say. I have to admit that I have not thought this thing through as clearly as I should have, you are absolutely correct and now I have a much more severe punishment in mind.” “I also have a whole new respect for you; that was an amazingly brave thing to do.” Jim was not feeling very brave, his knees felt so weak that he could barely stand. He responded with a distinct tremor in his voice”; “Please don’t expect me to be so brave when you get started on my bottom.” “As always,” his father gently responded, “I only expect you to do your very best to stay in position.” “This will be very difficult for both of us, you won’t be doing much sitting for a few days and I imagine that you will be wearing long pants to hide your marks for the next few weeks.”

Finally, Jim heard his father pronounce judgment: “The Dover’s gave you a hand spanking and then a spanking with a belt, the only thing I can think of worse than that is to give you that hard hairbrush spanking I described before and then you must go across my desk for a good long hard session with a belt.” Jim miserably nodded his understanding, and shuffled towards his father and his fate, his pants and briefs still puddled around his ankles and the hairbrush still in his hand. “Not so fast” Ed said, “We still have a thing or two to work out.” He looked appraisingly at the belt still in the loops at Jim’s feet; it looked plenty heavy enough to do a very memorable job. Pointing, Ed said: “Do you wear that belt often?” “Yes sir, Jim answered, “It is my favorite.” “Then I want you to remove your favorite belt and hand it to me so I can strap you with it, and then I want it to still be your favorite belt and I want you to wear it as much as possible for years to come so you can always be reminded of today’s lesson.” Sniffling, Jim complied, reaching down and untangling the belt and gingerly handing it to his father as if it were about to burst into flames.

Unhurriedly, Ed stood and cleared off the top of his desk, stacking papers into drawers and stowing pens, pencils, and other tools of his trade, clearing the deck for his son’s coming strapping. He finished the job by placing the belt on the desk, where it would soon be needed. Finally, he sat back down in his desk chair and looked at Jim meaningfully. “There is just one more thing: You are bare enough for the first part of your punishment, but just like my father did for me, you must be naked for the strap,” “Do you want to strip now or after you get the hairbrush?” Jim thought for a moment and realized dimly that movement might not be so easy after the severe hairbrush spanking his father had promised him. “N-n-now sir?” he croaked. Ed nodded his permission and watched patiently while Jim laid the hairbrush on the floor and fumbled through the tangle at his ankles to untie his shoelaces. Finally he kicked off his shoes, and then his pants and briefs, and balanced on alternate feet as he stripped off each sock. Straightening, he unbuttoned and removed his shirt and then finished by peeling off his t-shirt. Hesitantly, he bent over, retrieved the dreaded hairbrush, and looked at his father expectantly.

Ed crooked a finger at his trembling son and reached out for the hairbrush. After handing his father the hairbrush, Jim placed himself in that time-honored position across his father’s itchy wool trousers without further instructions, palms on the floor supporting some of his weight, his bare toes nearly off the floor, his butt prominently presented for correction.

“Tell me exactly and completely the whole story of why we are here” Ed commanded. Looking at the floor, his bare bottom clenching and unclenching, his feet moving fitfully, his voice trembling and sobbing, Jim complied as best he could. Giving him no slack, Ed relentlessly pressed for details. He was still blubbering his way through the end of the story when the house suddenly resounded with 10 sharp, fast, spanks. Caught totally by surprise, it was spank number five before Jim started squirming and twisting and spank number seven before he was finally able to catch a breath so his anguished howls could be heard throughout the house. By spank eight, Jim was supporting himself by only one hand, the other was trapped in the small of his back after he had attempted to cover himself with it. At spank ten, Jim’s bare legs were off the floor and curling up. After a very short pause, spanks 11 and 12 were delivered to the backs of each leg without the slightest reduction in force, painfully and wordlessly reminding Jim to get his legs back down into the proper spanking position. After locking Jim’s legs down with one of his own. Ed delivered the next 8 spanks to the bottom of his nether cheeks; easily controlling Jim’s increasingly frantic involuntary movements and working to the accompaniment his son’s heartbreaking howls that were gradually turning into shrieks.

This was the first time that Ed had ever spanked his son in this manner and Jim’s anguished reaction was breaking his heart. Normally, Ed preceded a hairbrush spanking with a hand warm-up spanking, followed by mild strokes with the hairbrush to properly prepare the bottom before delivering a final bruising with a slow series of 10 to 20 very hard strokes with the brush. Before he got to those last strokes, Jim would be genuinely crying, begging, and making improbable promises to forever “be good”, often by the end of 20 strokes, all resistance would have faded, leaving the boy limp and incoherently bawling. Today, Ed felt that he should change technique to make Jim’s punishment more memorable, so he skipped the easy part and started from the beginning with scorching strokes. After those first 20 strokes, Ed waited a full five minutes, inspecting his handiwork and allowing the naked boy to simply lie across his lap and cry. Ed wanted desperately to rub the sting away, and gather his son in his lap for a forgiving hug, but would not allow himself to do so. When he sensed Jim starting to calm down, Ed started again, stoking the fire in his son’s ass by delivering two quick spanks, just as hard as before, every time the sweep hand on the old wall clock came up to “12”. The continued this pattern until he had delivered another 20 scorching spanks. It was obvious that even without the pending strapping, Jim was going to be sitting very carefully for several days to come. Once Jim caught on to the rhythm of this slower part of his spanking, he would start begging near the end of each minute (“Nooo Daddeeeee”), desperate for the terrible hairbrush to stop piling new pain onto his terribly scorched bottom.

Finally, the hairbrush portion of Jim’s punishment was over. With Jim still held firmly in place, Ed examined his handiwork while allowing the sobbing boy to gradually calm down. Frankly, Ed wished he had an excuse to terminate his son’s punishment right then as he had earlier planned. Jim’s bottom was as brightly red as Ed had ever made it before, and was mottled with numerous darker spots that would likely turn into bruises. But, with the promised punishment session only half over, Ed felt that it was his duty to continue. After reminding Jim that only the first part of his session was over and commanding him to keep his hands away from his bottom, Ed helped the still-crying boy up to his feet.

Ed stood, firmly took Jim’s hand and led the red-bottomed, naked, still-blubbering boy towards the desk, the belt, and the rest of his punishment. When he saw where he was going, Jim stiffened and started to protest. Speaking quietly and reassuringly, yet never relinquishing his firm grip, Ed urged the boy to the edge of the desk and gently, yet firmly placed a hand on the center of his back to compel him to bend across its surface. Without a trace of harshness in his voice, Ed coached the boy into the proper position for the belt. He instructed Jim to reach out to the opposite edge of the desk and urged him to hang on tight, then instructed him to hold his legs tightly together to protect his privates from the touch of the inquiring, probing, devastating, belt tip.

Many thoughts spun through Ed’s mind as he picked up Jim’s favorite belt to finish his fatherly duty. Naturally, he wondered what was going through his son’s head as the boy sprawled there nude, already so well-spanked, yet with so much more punishment yet to come. He also recalled the very few strappings he had gotten from his own father; remembered each one like it was yesterday and he especially remembered the lesson that each one was intended to painfully drive onto his psyche. He knew it would be the same for Jim; bad as this strapping would be for both of them, Jim would benefit from this lesson for the rest of his life.

Jim was only barely aware of his father moving into place behind him but his young ears easily detected the distinct whistle the belt made as it slashed down onto his upturned bottom for the first time. That first stroke landed in a lesser-spanked area a few inches over the back of Jim’s knees, causing him to heave and scream. The next several strokes came at irregular intervals and landed on random spots so that Jim could not know either the time or the place that the next blow would fall. Ed’s aim was not nearly good enough to completely avoid the darkest spots on Jim’s already–spanked bottom; Jim would literally have bruises on top of bruises. Ed noticed that during the first spanking Jim noises and movements escalated as the spanking progressed, but now exactly the opposite was happening as the boy approached his limit. After perhaps ten to twelve very hard strokes with the belt, Ed changed the belt to his left hand and moved across to the right side of his son’s red and wriggling bottom. By this time, staying in position was no longer an issue as the spent boy simply absorbed his punishment. Ed delivered the final strokes slowly and judiciously, but every bit as hard as his left hand would allow. Still more welts appeared on his son’s bottom.

Finally it was over. Ed stood motionless behind his son for a full three minutes, listening to his son’s distress, before Jim realized that something was different and finally looked back at his father fearfully. “It is over son, you may get up now” Ed said, trying to hide the choke in his voice and the tear in his eye. Painfully, the nude, still sobbing, well-spanked boy regained his footing and experimentally reached back with both hands to soothe his bottom. After a long hug and reassurances of his love, Ed gathered Jim’s clothing under his arm and led the teary-eyed, scarlet-bottomed boy to his bedroom where he tenderly attended to his son’s bottom and then lovingly tucked him into bed for the night.

Sara would have to wait until tomorrow to hear Jim’s story

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