Billy's Comeuppance

by Bill <mesurra@hotmail.com>

Today was a day that I had been dreading for nearly a week. I wasn't exactly sure why I was so filled with dread, but my dad and I had been at loggerheads for the whole week and I had an ominous foreboding that things were going to be resolved one way or another some time today.

It had started last Sunday when we were all getting into the car to go to church. I had turned fourteen a couple of months ago and, after a lot of study, I had passed the test and gotten my learner's permit to drive. Since I could only drive with a licensed adult in the passenger seat, my dad had said he would let me drive on short trips around town whenever possible. To me, the trip to church was just such an event and I asked him to let me drive. When he said no because time was short, I threw a fit right then and there, accusing him of breaking his promises. My tantrum threw a pall over the entire day.

The rest of the week didn't go much better. Every day, it seemed, my dad and I would get into shouting matches with me doing most of the shouting. Looking back over the week, I tried to reassure myself that I had been doing nothing more than asserting my newly discovered rights as a teenager. After all, I was a member of this family, wasn't I? I deserved just as much respect as anyone else, didn't I? Just the same, I suspected that I hadn't approached the whole subject as maturely as I might have. I had heard my dad talking to my mom in muttered tones that I couldn't quite understand, but occasional phrases like "taken down a peg or two" and "comeuppance" drifted my way and were unsettling to say the least.

Somehow, though, I knew that today was going to be "the day." I suppose I had already figured it out subconsciously from the way dad had been acting. Just exactly what was going to happen, I wasn't sure. Obviously I was going to get a stern talking-to if nothing else. Other forms of punishment were rare in our house because generally we were able to talk things out. Spanking barely crosssed my mind. First of all because I had never been spanked in my life. Oh, sure, an occasional swat or two on the behind when I was a little kid, but that was more to catch my attention than anything else. Of course, I had heard from my friends about their experiences with spankings and I was just as glad that it had never happened to me. Still... I wondered. Mom had told me that dad had been spanked occasionally when he was young, but she never elaborated and I didn't think it wise to bring up a subject that might suggest something to him. But something serious was about to happen. I just knew it. And when the subject of spanking crossed my mind just for an instant, there was a queasy feeling in my gut and a tingling on my buttocks that made me hope that I really was too old to be spanked. My friends had all been very specific about one thing: it hurt! And yet, as I thought about it, I had this strange feeling as though a spanking was part of my destiny.

As I was going round and round in my thoughts about what might happen to me, my dad walked into the room. It was still early in the day for him and I knew he must have taken off from work early. That was even more ominous because he NEVER left work early.

"Billy," he said, "I came home early today because you and I have got to have a serious talk and I can't let things go on any longer than they already have. You have been nasty, and surly and unruly all week long and it has got to stop. I want you to go out to the garage right now and wait for me. I'm going to change out of these clothes and I'll be right with you."

"Aw, dad," I replied, "why do we have to go out to the garage? Why can't we talk right here? Besides, the only reason I've been upset this week is because you always break your promises to me. Like when you..."

"Son, you just don't get it, do you?" he said in a loud, stern voice. "This is not up for discussion. You will go out to the garage right now and you will wait for me until I get there. And we will have our talk there and then and anything else I decide. Now, get going!"

I got. My dad didn't raise any stupid children, and I knew that when he used that tone of voice, he meant what he said.

I didn't have long to wait. I stood in a corner of the garage with my eyes glued to the door. When he came in, he didn't waste any time with the preliminaries. He walked right over to me, put his hand on my shoulder, and said:

"Son, this is going to be painful for you, but I really think it is time for you to learn a very hard lesson in your young life about respect. I'm going to do something that I have thought about many times and always avoided up to now. I'm going to give you a good, sound spanking that you will not soon forget."

I couldn't help it. I started to blubber.

"Oh, no, dad, please, please don't spank me. I'll do anything you say. I'm sorry I've been such a brat. I won't do it anymore. I promise."

"I know, son, I know. But it's too late for 'sorry' and 'I won't do it anymore.' The real reason you won't do it anymore is because you're going to have a hard time sitting down for awhile to remind as to exactly why you won't do it anymore. That's what a spanking is for, son. It's a painful reminder that some kinds of behavior are simply not going to be tolerated around here. And you can be sure that any repetition of this week's behavior will result in exactly the same kind of punishment from now on. I laid off on the spanking because I never liked it when I was your age, but I see now that the long term results are well worth the effort. Now take down your pants and get over my knee!"

"No, no, I won't! You can't make me! I'm too old to be spanked like a little kid! I won't, I won't, I won't!"

"First of all, son, you're only too old to be spanked when you act like it. And that little demonstration of your immaturity is proof that not only are you the right age for spanking, you deserve a spanking. Second, not only CAN I make you take down your pants, I WILL make you take them down. Or would you prefer that I do it for you?"

My legs were trembling with fear of what was to come, my guts were queasy and threatening to heave at any moment, my buttocks were tingling with anticipation, and I could feel a small trickle of piss down my right leg. Oh, God, I was so embarrassed I didn't know what to do. But when my dad started to advance on me, I quickly unbuttoned my jeans, undid the zipper, and slid my pants down around my thighs.

"Underpants, too!"

"No, dad, please! Don't spank me on my bare bottom. Please!"

"Are you listening to me, son? I've already told you once that this is not a matter for discussion. Now pull down those underpants or you will be a lot sorrier than you are right now!"

I did as I was told, but I was so embarrassed I could feel the shame like a living, breathing entity taking over my whole body. The fact that I had wet my pants out of sheer terror only added to my shame.

But I didn't have much time to think about all that because in the blink of an eye my dad had pulled me across his lap and had started in with the spanking.

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

"Ouch. Dad, no more, please! Oh, please, please, please. Stop! Ow! Ow!"

My blubbering gave way to outright bawling as the spanking went on and on, interminably.

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

And on and on. I was crying, and bawling and sniveling and blubbering and only one thought was on my mind: Please, please STOP!

And, of course, it did stop eventually. After my ass was on fire and the pain was as loud in my mind as my wailing must have sounded to my dad.

"Now then, son, you can get up. But I want you to remember this spanking. This is going to be our point of reference from now on. Whenever I think you're getting out of line, I'll remind you our little encounter today. And if that isn't enough to bring you around, we'll have a repeat of today's punishment. Is that understood?"

"Ye.. Yes, sir," I managed to stammer out between sobs.

And that is how I came to have my first real spanking. There are some firsts that you never forget no matter how old you are. That certainly wasn't the only spanking my dad ever gave me, but it sure was the most memorable.