This story is purely fictional (so far).
All was quiet as I turned the key in the lock, and I silently cheered in the back of my mind. I was on my way upstairs to my room when suddenly the front hall lit up behind me and a hand grabbed the back of my shirt.
"Young man," a voice said. "What the HELL are you doing? Do you realize what time it is?"
I turned, blinking to adjust to the sudden light, and caught the gaze of Tom, my foster dad. His eyes were blazing, and I knew that I was in the deepest trouble I'd ever seen with him.
"Go wait up in your room. We need to talk, and I think we'd better take care of this tonight." He gave me a serious look and sent me upstairs.
I agonized over what was about to happen. Sneaking out while already grounded and coming home at 3:00 a. m. obviously wasn't one of my better ideas, but it was done now, and all I could do was wait.
I'd been living with Tom and his wife for about sixth months then. So far, things had been going pretty smoothly, although Tom expected me to be able to tell him anything, and for me, that just wasn't my style. I was a loner by nature, and the heart-to-hearts with him mostly resulted in my confessing to a recent "crime", or else sitting there silently, not really knowing what to say.
My grounding had been the result of sheer and utter stupidity. I'd accidentally let it slip that been cutting a few classes. He said he'd go lightly on me, and I ended up being grounded for two weeks - no TV, no leaving the house save for school and church, and no phone privileges. There was no doubt in my mind that tonight's escapade was going to result in that sentence being extended. Suddenly a light knock came on my door, interrupting my thoughts.
He seemed calmer when he came into my room and sat next to me on my bed. It was quiet for a couple of moments.
"Where did you go?" he asked finally, breaking the silence.
"Uh....to Marshall's....he was having that party tonight."
"I thought I'd already said no."
"I know, but...."
"Raine, when I say no, there's a reason. You were grounded because you've been cutting classes and you're behind in your schoolwork. I was hoping you'd use the extra time to get caught up."
"It was just one night."
"That isn't the point, young man. When I tell you something, you're expected to do as your told. Is that understood?" There was no point in arguing, so I didn't answer.
"Raine Michael," he said. "I asked you a question. Do you understand me?" I nodded, but didn't look at him.
"Come stand in front of me, son," he said. I dragged myself up from my place on the bed and stood in front of him, as he asked. He placed a finger under my chin and brought it upwards until my eyes met his.
"Raine, I want to be able to trust you, and in order to do that, I need to make sure tonight's episode is never, ever repeated." I didn't realize what he was getting that, and then realization hit me in the face with his next four words.
"Take your pants down," he said coolly.
"No _f_u_c_k_ing way!" I protested flatly. "You aren't gonna spank me!"
"Two choices, Raine. The easy way, or the hard way. You decide." I started backing towards the door, and Tom made my decision for me. He caught my arm and held it tightly, dragging me back towards the bed. He sat down, not letting up on his merciless grip for a second. He kept one hand securely clamped around my arm while he undid my jeans with the other. I felt a chill as my pants slid down my legs, revealing my striped boxer shorts. I prayed that he would stop there, but he didn't. In just a second my shorts joined my jeans at my ankles. I felt my face turn red. I hadn't been spanked bare in a long, long time.
"Please, Tom," I said. "Please....I'm sorry....I won't disobey you again, I swear. Please don't spank me."
"Too late, son," he replied, and he lowered me across his lap. "Now I'll try and get this over with quickly, but I expect you to cooperate. The more you fight, the longer it takes. Understood?"
I nodded, trying to swallow the lump forming in my throat. The time it took for him to ready himself seemed to be an eternity. While he positioned me and prepared himself, I studied my bedroom carpet for what was to be the first of many times over the years.
The first stinging slap came virtually out of nowhere, and it immediately caused me to kick and squirm involuntarily. Tom remained in control. He merely repositioned my bottom over his lap and continued. By the time the fifth or sixth smack had found it's way to my bare bottom, Tom had been forced to sit with one leg clamped over mine while holding my hands above my head. This left me with no choice but to endure the repetitive blows. It only took approximately ten slaps on my backside for the tears to form in the corners of my eyes. I felt utterly humiliated. Tom had been talking to me throughout the ordeal, but I missed most of what he'd been saying, being able to concentrate only on the pain in my throbbing backside.
Finally, the tears came. Tom was in the middle of saying how disappointed he was in me, how he wasn't sure he'd be able to trust me anymore. All the while I'd been trying to convince myself that I didn't care, but deep down I knew I did. I began to sob uncontrollably.
"I'm sorry," I began to whimper. "I'm so sorry." He didn't stop, however. I could feel each consecutive smack raining down, connecting with my fourteen-year-old buttocks. By this time, I was crying like a two-year-old. I begged Tom to stop. Little did I know, Tom had saved the worst for last.
"I need to go get something. Wait right here. You move, and you're going to be a very sorry little boy." He left me writhing in pain and returned a moment later with a wooden hairbrush in his hand. I immediately began to protest.
"No!" I cried. "Please don't hit me with that. I swear I won't ever do this again."
"I know you won't after I'm done with you," he replied. Tom lifted me back across his lap and repositioned my body to finish my spanking.
"I'm sorry kiddo, really I am. But if this is the only way I can get through to you, then I intend to follow through with it." For the next few minutes I tried to block out the agonizing pain of the hairbrush. I counted at least 20 strokes with the brush. I began to beg.
"Daddy....please...." I sobbed. I hiccuped and tried to gain some control over my spastic breathing. Tears continued to flow down my cheeks. Finally, Iron Tom's heavy hand ceased. He lifted me to my feet, my jeans and shorts still dangling at my ankles.
"I'm sorry Raine," he said. "But I need to help you learn, son." He pulled me close and gave me a tight hug. He then lifted me up and held me for a while until I stopped crying.
"OK son," he said gently. "Let's get you into bed." I submitted the last of my independence to my Dad and let him take control. He slowly raised my shorts over my burning bottom and stripped my jeans and T-shirt off. He set me carefully into bed and pulled the covers over me, as if I was four instead of fourteen. Despite the pain in my backside, I couldn't help but feel that for the first time in my life, I'd gotten what I really needed, and I felt loved.
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Raine