"Come on in for a beer, Mike. Or maybe a six pack after the sweat we laid out on that roof today."
Mike looked at the darkly tanned face of his friend and saw the bead of sweat still running freely. Roofing in the August heat built tough muscle and stripped the fat but it also dehydrated despite pouring in water throughout the day. When the temperature hit ninety-five at two in the afternoon the foreman sent them both home for the day.
"OK. But I really do have to be out of here in an hour. Petey has a little league game tonight and I promised I would be there."
"An hour in the AC and a couple of nice cold Buds will get you back from the near dead, Mike."
Tom pulled his pickup into the wide driveway and parked. Mike followed him into the garage where Tom had a frig well stocked with beer. But as they closed the door behind them Tom stopped short with a strange look, then sniffed the air. Twice. He looked at Mike and got a huge smile in return.
"I'd say you been smoking dope in here, Tom, if I didn't know you better."
"Um-hum. Problem is, I don't smoke anything and neither does anyone else around here. Let alone dope. Sure smells like the faint odor of marijuana to me."
"It IS the sweet smell of marijuana, Tom. Ain't no doubt about it."
"Well, it sure and the hell isn't the dog. And it isn't me. Pete's still in school. And Mark is supposed to be."
"Supposed to be?" Mike asked.
"Yeah, he has been actin' up lately, cutting out of school and hangin' with some losers he caught on with."
"Sounds pretty typical for the big teen rebellion we all pulled."
"Well, this has gone farther than I want, Mike. One of these days I figure I'll get a call from the cops to pick him up down there. I've tried reason. And grounding. And loss of about anything that means something to him. But nothing is working so far."
Tom pulled a couple of cold ones from the frig, popped them open and handed one to Mike.
"I can remember being about Mark's age and pulling some of the same stuff, Tom. I kept pushing and pushing and pushing my ol' man. One day I found out where the limit was and paid for it. No quick cure, but I do remember things changing for the better after that encounter."
"I'm open to suggestions, Mike," Tom said as he opened the door into the house, the cool air spilling out and covering him. "Bring a couple more along, will you?"
Mike grabbed an armful of cold beers from the frig and followed Tom into the kitchen. They sat down at the table and the sweet aroma was still clearly in the air though fainter than in the garage.
"It has to be Mark," Tom said. "Can't imagine any other possibility."
"Mark and his friends, likely," Mike answered. "He get his license yet? Might rein him in that way."
"I tried that, taking the car away for a couple of weeks. But his buddies have their own and covered him." Tom took a long swallow of beer. "What did your ol' man do, anyway?"
"Not real sophisticated but it sure got my attention. He took me out to the garage, we had it out, and the next thing I know he had me across the bench, ass up and bared, my hands tied down. Then he took the strap to me so hard I had trouble sitting a week later. And I don't mean a spanking. He gave me the kind of whipping you'd get in a reform school. When he finished laying that strap to me I had no sass or fight left to give him. And, obviously, I never forgot it."
"And you still resent him for it?"
"Nah. What's a good whippin' compared to gettin' put back on the right path. I had it coming and, even though then I would never have admitted it, I deserved everything I got and was the better for it."
"Well, you know Mark. You think it might work as well for him?"
"I know it would, Tom."
Both men heard a sound out in the garage and the conversation stopped while they listened intently. Tom got up and walked quietly to the door followed by Mike. They saw Mark in the garage plugging in a large box fan and turning it on. Tom yanked the door open and Mark, startled, flushed red in the face and stood there with nothing to say. The evidence in the air said it all.
"Well, howdy, son!" Tom said with sarcasm dripping. "Nice of you to try to air out the garage on such a hot day."
"Ah, yeah. Just thought it might help to keep the place cooler."
"Mark, you really think I am as stupid as all that? You figured to blow the marijuana out of here before I figured out what was going on here this afternoon."
"OK, have it your way," Mark answered sullenly. "Sure a couple of my friends came by and put out a joint in the garage. I knew you would blow, so I was just cleaning up is all."
"Right," Tom replied. "You went to all your classes today?"
"No. Too _f_u_c_k_in' hot."
"Don't you use that tone or that language to me, boy."
"I'm not a boy, dad."
"OK. I guess juvenile would the best term for you. Juvenile as in delinquent. And I have had it with your excuses, your behavior, your palming things off on your buddies, your attitude, and it is going to change starting today."
Tom moved toward Mark while Mike stood watching. Mark had never seen quite this look before and backed away toward the door for escape if need be. Tom cut him off and Mike had the door to the house blocked.
"Right now, Mark. NOW. You are going to remember this day. Believe me you will."
Tom threw the bolt on the door and snapped a bicycle lock it. A look of panic crossed Mark's face when he saw his father pull an old oak table out into the middle of the hot garage, then take a couple of lengths of clothes line from the drawer in his workbench. Mark looked to Mike for any possibility of help and saw none. Mike's had a slight grin on his face and biceps which bulged from under his tar stained tee shirt. With no warning Mark's dad grabbed him viselike, and yanked him face down across the table. Mark did not even try to struggle. He knew he was no match physically for either one let alone both of them.
"Give me a hand, will you, Mike," Tom said as he tossed the pieces of clothes line to his buddy.
While Tom kept his grip on Mark, Mike took one wrist and tied it down to the far leg of the table, then the other. While Mark was still free to kick and flail, he was going no where until they released him.
"Now we can do this the hard way or you can just cooperate and take your medicine like a man. You claim you're a man? Fine. Then take your lickin' like a man."
Mark had had plenty of good spankings growing up but nothing like this, that's for sure. And he had not been whacked since he was thirteen. Nonetheless he knew he was going to take a good licking so he decided to gut it out and see if he hold out in this contest of wills with his dad.
"What do you think, Mike? Take his pants down for this whipping?"
"Yup. Take 'em down, Tom. You got a razor strop or a riding crop handy?"
"No, but I think that nice thick belt of yours will do," Tom answered. Tom reached under Mark's belly to open his jeans, then pulled them down. The briefs came down next to bare his ass for belt.
The jeans around his ankles effectively hobbled Mark and, with his arms stretched out to the corners and wrists tied he was immobile. He head the unmistakable sound of Mike pulling his belt free from the loops. The heat in the garage was stifling and beads of sweat began to run down Mark's face. He had never been strapped in his life and that quiver of fear hung in his stomach while he waited.
"This is it, Mark. Your very own wake up call. You either make some changes in your life or you will be finding yourself in some juvenile detention center where you will quickly find out how much punishment can hurt. You would be what the gang bangers call a 'new fish' in there, Mark. You know what that means?"
"No, sir." Mark had decided civility was the better course given the current circumstances.
"It means you will become a punk for the toughest guy in there unless you are willing to take some serious beatings to stand up to him. In the showers, Mark. A couple will hold you over while he punks you in the ass. You think you'd like that?" Mike asked. He had doubled the wide, thick belt and offered it to Tom.
"No, I think you ought to lay it on him, Mike. You know as much as I do about all this." Tom stood aside, looking down at Mark's ass cheeks, white and clenched in anticipation. "He needs a good, hard whipping and you're just the guy to give it to him."
Mike raised the doubled belt high, then cracked it hard across the middle of Mark's backside. The sound filled the garage and Mark bucked slightly upward and wriggled in pain but said nothing. Waiting for the first stripe to fill out, Mike took his time and laid a second on just lower, then a third, a fourth, a fifth.
"Oh, tough guy, huh?" Mike said when Mark was able to keep quiet. "Well, we'll see just how tough you are."
Tom watched and lectured as Mike leathered Mark's now scarlet ass till the darker stripes began to show where the doubled strap bit into his hip. After he had laid about twenty good hard licks on, Mike switched sides to his backhand and began to crack the strap down again and again. Finally Mark squealed out while he kicked his legs up and tried to slide off the table. He was moving so erratically side to side Mike had trouble hitting the moving target.
"Please, sir!" Mark pleaded. "No more. I have got the message! You are going to see a new direction. I promise!"
"Ah, we seem now to have his attention, Tom. Now that we have his attention I think maybe it is time for his father to give this boy a licking." "Noooooo!"
"First things first," Mike said as he laid the thick belt on the table, then bent down and pulled Mark's shoes off, then his sock, then his jeans, then his briefs. Tom took two more pieces of clothesline out of the bench and they splayed Mark's legs wide, tying each ankle to a table leg. His sack hung well down between his legs, his ass was deep crimson and on fire. Tom took Mike's belt, measured his distance, then took the doubled strap high over his shoulder and whaled it down hard on Mark's butt.
"God! No!" Mark yelled. "NO! Please Dad! I've learned my lesson! Please don't strap me any more." The embarrassment was almost as much as the pain for him. He knew his balls and asshole were lewdly on display as he bucked as hard as he could to each lick with the belt. And he certainly was putting on a show for the men behind him teaching him his lesson.
Sweat pouring down his face, still in his tar covered jeans, and tired from a hard day on the roof, Tom still had plenty of arm strength left to give Mark a whipping he would remember for life. The belt rose and fell another twenty-five or thirty times before he stopped for good. Tom laid the last half dozen across the backs of Mark's thighs, taking care not to hit his balls. When he finished he handed the belt back to Mike who gave him a smile and thumbs up for a job well done. Tom untied Mark and Mike set the fan on to cool the place.
"Now you go to your room just as you are, Mark. You can leave your jeans and shorts here. You can come up with some kind of project you can do around here to complete your punishment and tell me when I come to your room after Mike has left. And if I get any sass from you I'll give you another dose of the strap. You hear me?"
"Yes, sir," Mark sniffed, trying to get some dignity back in front of Mike. He quickly turned and walked to the kitchen door, his ass well strapped, hiding an erection from both Mike and his dad.
"You think this will do it?" Tom asked Mike.
"Don't know. But he won't soon forget it. And if he acts up I would give it to him again. Harder. He may be a slow learner, but he will learn. Even mules learn eventually."
"Thanks for the assist, Mike. I'm not sure I could have done this one alone."
"No problem, Mike. My pleasure."
Tom looked at the lump in Mike's tar stained jeans and gave his buddy a wry smile. And he wondered if Mark was in his room jacking himself off.