Taking two beers from the refrigerator, Bill chuckled under his breath. The contents of his son's fridge marked this a bachelor pad, much like everything else in his son's apartment. It was still hard for him to believe his son had his own apartment--had it for 6 months now, in fact. He walked to the table, and passed one over to his son. Opening the other, he seated himself in one the mismatched chairs, took a swig, and let out a long sigh.
"Thanks for bringing me the beer dad," his son Paul said, "Since I can't get it on my own."
"Don't mention it. Stupid law anyway---some of our men in Afghanistan right now are your age or younger. Figure if your responsible enough to have your own apartment, you can _d_a_m_n_ well have a beer in it. And speaking of responsibility," Bill continued, "you said you'd have my money for me tonight?" Bill had lent his son the money to cover this month's rent, on condition that he paid him back from his next paycheck.
"Ummm....actually, dad, would it be a big deal if you waited until NEXT Friday? I kind of spent most of my check already, and I need what's left for the phone bill and stuff."
"Spent it already? Didn't you just get paid yesterday, how could you have spent it?"
"There were these sweet speakers this guy at work was selling, I wanted them for my car. Look, I know I promised you, I'm sorry. But I'll be good for it next time, I promise!"
"Well, I was planning on taking your mother out of town this weekend with that money, but I guess I can put it on my credit card." Bill shook his head. "New speakers. Well, all right, no harm done I guess." He reached over and ruffled his son's hair. "I ought to take it out of your hide if you don't have my money for me next week, though."
Paul laughed. "Yeah dad, sure. Maybe five years ago."
Bill raised an eyebrow. "Five years? Is your memory failing in your old age? I remember a certain 17-year-old who thought that sneaking out to a party I told him he couldn't go to was a good idea."
Paul looked sheepish. "Well, I guess maybe I blocked that one out. I about died when I crawled back in through the window and saw you sitting on my bed."
"You certainly sounded like you thought you were dying while I took my belt to your ass. You about woke the neighborhood. I don't recall you sneaking out any more after that."
"A party wasn't worth what you put my ass through, that's for sure. The other guys on the basketball team had a good laugh on my behalf for that one, I can tell you!"
Chuckling at his son's good-natured attitude about the matter, Bill stood up. "Well, I'd better head home before your mother gets worried." He pulled on his coat, crossed to the door, and opened it. Turning gack to face his son, he continued, "And you will have my money for me next Friday if I stop by after work?"
"Yes, I promise, I guarantee it. Cross my heart!" Paul said, looking up with a big goofy smile.
"Cross your heart." Bill snorted. "More like cross your ass with my belt!"
"Sure, dad, whatever," Paul laughed. "Cross my ass if I don't have the money."
Bill looked at his son, "All right, then, I'll hold you to that. You have a good weekend now." With that, he left.
Next Friday, Bill pulled up to his son's apartment building, climbed the stairs, and knocked on the door. It opened a crack, and Paul peeked out. "Oh, hey dad, it's you, come on in." He had obviously just gotten home from his job as a construction worker, and was dressed only in work pants and boots, having removed his shirt. "I was about to get a shower, but it can wait. What's up?"
"Oh, just heading home from work. Where are you working this week?"
"You know that new development on the other side of town? Joe's got a couple crews working out there. Really fancy places; I'd sure like to be able to afford someting like that."
"I'll have to stop by some tme and check it out," Bill replied. "Anyway, I need to be getting home soon, I just stopped in to get the money you owe me. You have it for me?"
"Well," Paul said, "I had every intention of paying you back...."
"It sounds like a 'but' is coming. Am I right?" Bill asked, annoyed.
"I'm afraid so. Rather than explain, I'll just show you this." Paul went down the hall to his bedroom and returned with some papers, which he handed to his father.
Bill glanced over it, his eyebrows raising higher and higher. "A speeding ticket. For 90 in a 55 zoe? Paul, that's 35 miles over the limit, not to mention dangerous."
"Dad, save it alright? I know it was stupid, and it's going to cost me a lot of this week's check. I can maybe pay you $100 now, but that's it. I'm sorry."
Bill shook his head. "And to think I thought you were responsible."
"Dad, I AM responsible. I just messed up, and I have to be responsible for that too. Can't you just wait a little longer? It's not going to break you or anything."
"Break me? No. Disappoint me, definitely, but break me, no. Something very well could get broken though."
"What are you talking about, dad?", Paul asked, confused.
"What was that you said last week? 'Cross my ass if I don't have your money' I believe it was."
"What? Come on dad, we were just joking around. I wasn't serious."
"Not serious. That's the problem here. You're not taking things seriously! If you owed that money to a bank or a credit card instead of your dad, you'd be on your way to getting reported for default." Bill shook his head, looking at his son. "If you want to back out, fine, but if you aren't willing to back up what comes out of your mouth, then you should just keep it shut." With that he turned around, opened the door, and made to leave.
"Dad, wait!" Paul called. Bill turned, looking at him. "You're right, I messed up, I'm sorry I took attitude with you. I was just mad at myself, that's all. You'll get your money next pay check, I promise."
Bill looked at his son. "Why should I believe you this time? You already promised me twice. Next week it will just be something else."
Paul started to say something, then stopped. Clearing his throat, he continued, almost in a whisper. "Dad, I want you to respect me. I've acted immature. If you want to take your belt to me, I'll accept that."
"Are you sure about this, Paul? If we go through with this, it will be just like when you lived at home. I decide when you've had enough."
"Sure about it? I don't want this to happen, if that's what you're asking. But I screwed up, and if this is what it takes to make up for that, then I'm willing to do it. In fact, you can whip my ass every single Friday until I've paid you back entirely."
Bill considered his son, standing there with his eyes down. "I know how hard it was for you to say that son, and I respect it. But I will hold you to it, including the deal about coming Fridays. Follow me." He turned and headed to Paul's bedroom; after a moment's hesitation, Paul followed. Upon reaching Paul's room, Bill pointed to the bed. Paul turned and made as if to lie across the end with his waist on the edge. "Hold up there, son. You don't expect me to make an impression through those thick pants, do you?"
Wordlessly, Paul removed his shoes and belt, unfastened his pants, and stepped out of them. He then lay across the bed, his butt sticking up at the edge of the bed. Bill removed his belt, then unbuttoned the wrists of his shirts and folded them back. "I'm about to begin, Paul. Do not get up until I say so." He then pulled back and swung his arm forward. CRAAACCK!!! Paul grunted, but did not move. CRAAACCK!! CRAACCK!! CRAACCKK!! CRAACCK! CRAAAACK!! CRAAACK! CRAAACK! CRAACK! CRAACK! Nine more times Bill brought down the belt, but after the first, Paul did not make noise again. Bill then reached over, put his hand into the elastic waistband of his son's white briefs, and lowered them off his butt.
"On the bare?! Dad, come on" Paul protested.
"I set the rules, Paul," Bill said. "Because you argued, we'll do those again double." With that, Bill pulled his son's briefs back up. CRAACK!! CRAACK!! CRAACCK!! By the twentieth lick, Paul had begun to make small sounds of pain. Again, Bill reached down and lowered his son's underwear. Wisely, this time Paul refrained from any complaint.
CRAAACK!! CRAAACK!! CRAAACK!! CRAAACK!! CRAAACK!! CRAAACK!! CRAACK!! CRAAACK!! "Dad, OW!" CRAACK!! CRAACK CRAACK!! CRAAACK!! "That hurts!"
"Of course it does! It's a belt on your bare ass!!" CRAACK!! CRAAACK!! CRAACK!! CRAAACK!!! CRAAACK!!! CRAAACK!! CRAACK!! Paul soon began gasping, pleading for the belting to stop. CRAACK!! CRAAACK!! CRAAACK!!! CRACK!!! CRAAACK!! CRACK!! CRAAACK!! CRAACK!! When he reached 30 bare-butt licks, Paul began to cry quietly. CRAACK!! CRAACK!!! CRAAACK!! CRAACK!! CRAAACK!! Giving his son five more, Bill then placed the belt on the bed and sat down next to his son. He rubbed his son's back with his hand as Paul shuddered occasionally with the pain and tears.
"I'm finished with the belting for the money, Paul. But I'm also a little concerned about how fast you were driving. I'm going to give you one lick for every two miles over the speed limit. You were 35 miles over the speed limit, which divided by two is 17 and a half. I'll just round that up to 18."
"Dad, please! No more!!"
"20"
"Dad!!"
"22"
"I..I..can't...."
"OK, now let's just make it 25. You keep going, and you'll get more lick than miles you were over the limit!!" Paul's shoulders slumped, and Bill could tell he would get no further argument. CRAACK!! CRAACK!! CRAACK!! CRAACK!! CRAACK!! He delivered the first 5 only moderately hard, but Paul stil gasped at the new flames added to his smarting butt. CRAACK!! CRAACK CRAACK CRAACK CRAACK CRAACK!! He delivered the next 5 rapid fire, causing Paul to shout out. CRAACK CRAACK!! CRACK!! CRACK! CRACK!! CRAACCK!! CRAACK!! CRAACK!! CRAACK! CRAACK!! The next 10 were delivered hard, causing Paul to break down crying again. "These last five will be doozies, Paul. Brace yourself!" CRAAAAAAACK!!! The first of the five left a mark that could be seen even over the bright red mass of stripes that covered Paul's butt. "AAAAAHGGGHH!" CRAACK!! CRAAACK CRAAACK!! The next three caused Paul to yell again. For the last lick, Bill aimed at the area where leg meets butt, an area he had previously avoided. CRAAAAAACCCKK!! Paul lost any attempt at composure, kicking his legs and sobbing.
After a minute, Bill sat down next to his son and lifted him up, cradling him in his arms. Paul resisted for a second, but then gave in to his father's embrace, sobbing himself out onto his shoulder.
After Paul had calmed down, and gotten dressed (in very loose sweat pants), the two looked at each other akwardly, not sure what to say.
"Well....," Bill started.
"Yeah," Paul said. "_d_a_m_n_ dad, I swear you hit harder now than you did when I was a kid. Or maybe I just forgot since it's been awhile. I bawled like a baby."
"Wouldn't be much of a reminder if I gave you a few love taps, would it, now?"
"Guess not. You're serious about holding me to what I said, aren't you?" Paul asked.
"Hell yes! You open your mouth, you back up what comes out of it. Although after tonight, I'd be willing to bet I see my money by Friday."
"Are you kidding? No WAY am I ever going through that again. I just hope I can walk normally by Monday; I don't know how I'll explain this to the guys at work otherwise."
"You renige on me again, maybe I'll drive out there and tell them myself!"
"Dad, you wouldn't", Paul said, turning beat red.
"Just like I wouldn't belt you because your 20, right?" Bill said, laughing.