"All Play and No Work"
Summer is finally here, and that's got you really excited. No school, no homework, no reading. But one pesky thing still plagues your life your chores. Dad never gives you a break from them, and if anything, you're expected to do more around the house given that you have more time. On this particular day, you're expected to mow the lawn and get the garage cleaned out, before dad gets home. He told your mother before he left for work that if it wasn't done by the deadline, you'd be facing punishment, and in this case, that almost certainly meant getting a spanking.
Nevertheless, you decide to give it a fair try. You head outside and decide to tackle the garage first. Once out there you realize it's going to be a massive job. Slowly you start to organize things into relevant categories: car stuff, yard stuff, old toys that your brother played with, etc. As the hot summer day begins to take shape, you take off your shirt, leaving you wearing khaki cargo shorts with the waistband of your blue boxers protruding above the waistline. It wasn't long before you had everything in the garage categorized into 4 distinct piles, and while that was a great start, it didn't exactly leave the garage in a particularly useful state.
Two friends from up the street come walking by and you stop briefly to converse. It turns out they're heading out to the public pool and park to check out the ladies.
"You wanna' come?!!"
"Nah, I can't. Old man got me doin' some pretty big chores today."
"Aww, there's always tomorrow dude...."
"Yeah, but my deadline is today by the time my dad gets home. If I don't get `em done, I'll get grounded."
You are too embarrassed to admit to you friends that your dad still spanks you.
"Why don't you just come for a little while, then come home and finish up your chores?"
The peer pressure is starting to get to you, and you figure you might as well go and enjoy your summer the chores will still be there later.
"Alright, hang on a minute. Let me go get my trunks on."
You go inside, get changed, and head back outside and off to the pool with your friends, leaving the garage in total disarray.
You enjoy your time at the pool and the park. Suddenly, though, you realize it's 3PM, and start to panic.
"_s_h_i_t_ dude, I gotta' go. I've still got my chores to do."
"Man, you're just gonna' get grounded. Who cares? What do you have to do for the next week anyway?"
"Nah, I gotta go." You start to leave.
Your friend pulls you back and you fall into the pool. At first you are upset, but everyone else is laughing, so you laugh too. They all jump in and once again, you lose track of time. 5PM rolls around and the pool closes. You all begin to walk home and your heart sinks as you realize that by the time you arrive, your father will already be home, and after seeing the state of the garage and the uncut grass, he will almost certainly be eager to punish you.
"See ya tomorrow! Wait, I mean, see `ya next week!"
You say goodbye to your friends on anticipation of being grounded for a week, even though you know full well that's a highly unlikely scenario. You walk into the house, and find your mother and father sitting at the table eating dinner. They turn to look at you, and as they do, you realize there is no place set for you at the table.
"I think you better get down to the basement, young man."
You know the basement is where the spankings are administered.
"Dad, I know I screwed up and didn't get my chores done.."
He interrupts: "you're _d_a_m_n_ right you screwed up"
"....could I please take a quick shower to get the chlorine off? Then we'll deal with the chores."
"Oh we'll be dealing with it alright get your ass into the shower and then into the basement in 10 minutes."
You quickly run upstairs and notice the clothes from earlier thrown haphazardly on the floor since you hastily got changed to head to the pool. You throw them in the hamper since you probably won't be wearing them again today. You then hop into the shower and after a few minutes hear a pounding at the door.
"You got 2 minutes, get on with it!"
"Yes, sir" you shout.
As you get out of the shower, stark naked, you notice your father waiting for you. He looks disapprovingly at you and orders you to get a pair of underwear on and get into the basement. It will cost you one additional stroke for every second you are late. You run back into your room, throw your hand into the hamper and grab your boxers from earlier. Putting them on and running downstairs at the same time, you trip a bit, and eventually pass your mother on the way down.
"Good luck down there" she says.
"Thanks" you say, pumped now on adrenaline.
You make your way to the cold, dark basement and upon reaching the bottom of the rickety stairs, you flick the light switch and a soft light illuminates the center of the unfinished space, leaving the perimeter gloomy. On your right is a workbench where your father's tools are laid out, obviously in the middle of a project. To your left lies another workbench, with its own set of tools hanging on the wall above it, and plenty of room for your father to commence a new project of sorts.
Your heart starts to pound a little harder as you take a slight left and start walking over to the empty workbench. It is over this bench that in just a few minutes you will be bending, your bottom rising high, skin stretched tight, ready to pay the price for your misbehavior. As you get ever closer, the instruments of discipline on the wall become clearer you see your father's old fraternity paddle that is used on your little brother, next to it is an old leather belt, and you're not sure exactly what it's for since you've never had it across your rear end nor has it ever been threatened.
Next to the belt, however, was a tool you knew all too well: an old fashioned razor strop, used to sharpen razor blades in one life, and in its present existence, used to correct errant bottoms. It is with this strap that tonight's session will likely be carried out, as it was reserved for only the most serious of punishments.
THUMP! THUMP!
Your heart jumps a mile as you hear your father begin the descent down the basement stairs, as he comes to correct you. You know you must be ready and in position when your father appears, and thus you quickly remove your boxer shorts, fold them neatly, and place them on the edge of the workbench. Feet flat on the floor, you bend over the bench, your chest flat against its surface, leaving your bottom thrust out and vulnerable.
"That's what I like to see! My boy ready and waiting for his thrashing" Your father says as he enters the basement.
"Yyes, sir" you mutter out.
"What are you nervous about? We've done this before! You just don't seem to learn, young man. And until you do, we'll be meeting down here in the basement for a session with the strap"
You say nothing. After a few seconds, your father swats you on the bottom with his hand. Not expecting this, you jump.
"Keep that ass in place, young man. I don't want to have to add strokes."
That was one of the family rules. If you move during a spanking such that the next stroke would not be placed effectively upon your bottom, you receive an additional 5 strokes.
"Sorry, sir."
"Do you have anything to say for yourself?"
"Just that I am sorry, sir. I just forgot about my chores because I was hanging out with...."
He cuts you off. "You've forgotten about your chores for the past week. It's unacceptable."
"I know sir"
"So do you remember what we agreed the punishment would be when you forget to do your chores?"
"Yes, sir"
"Well....?"
"A spanking sir"
"Yes, do you remember the details?"
"Fifteen strokes with the strap, sir"
"That's right. And this time not only did you fail to do your chores, but you expressed absolutely no remorse. For that, we shall add five strokes."
"C'mon dad, I said I'm sorry"
"..and another five for arguing, we're now up to....!"
"But....." You interrupt
"Thirty."
You learn your lesson keep your mouth shut! You just successfully earned another ten strokes of an already sure-to-be- painful spanking, all because you couldn't keep your mouth shut.
"Now, get that butt out"
You reposition yourself on the workbench making sure your bottom is extended as far as it can be, and stretched as tightly as possible. Your father lightly taps your bottom with the end of the cold strap. He puts it over your bottom so you can feel its entire length across both of your cheeks.
"So, you understand what today's spanking is for?"
"Yyes, sir. For not doing my chores, for not being sorry about it, and then for arguing about the spanking."
"That's right. Are you ready?"
Your father always asked you if you were ready to be punished. It was a bit of a silly question, since either way, it was going to happen. You have often wondered what he would do if you said "no" but was afraid to on the grounds that it might mean added strokes. You gulp hard.
"Yes, sir"
No sooner than you said that you felt the cold leather strap leave your bottom and you are overcome with a sense of calm. You then feel a rush of air, a draft of sorts. You know this feeling all too well it's the rush of air being pushed towards your protruding bottom as the strap makes its way through the open space before it lands on your skin.
THWACK!
Stroke one had been administered. A searing pain begins to spread over your entire body, as the intense blow sets in.
THWACK!
Stroke two had a similar effect, and the cumulative effect of the pain starts to set in.
THWACK!
THWACK!
By stroke four you could no longer take the pain, and begin to cry.
THWACK!
THWACK!
By now your face is bright red. You are bawling and cannot control yourself. You start to squirm.
"Stop that moving, son, or you'll find yourself with some extra strokes!"
WACK! THWACK! SMACK! THWACK!
The rapid fire portion of the punishment had begun. In between slow, calculated strokes, your dad liked to include periods where several strokes landed all within just a few seconds of each other, and within a few inches of each other on your bottom. The pain was unbearable. You jump up and star to try and hold your bottom.
"Get that ass back in position, young man" your father barks. You quickly do as you are told, knowing that you just earned another five strokes for moving.
THWACK! WACK! SMACK! THWACK! THWACK!
The five were administered in rapid succession on your lower bottom and thighs, causing you to scream with pain.
"PLEASE DAD!!! Please stop!!!!"
"Maybe you'll think about this the next time you decide to head off to the park before doing your chores."
THWACK! THWACK! THWACK! THWACK! THWACK!
Another five landed squarely in the middle of your bottom.
THWACK! THWACK! THWACK! THWACK! THWACK!
And the next five on your lower bottom again. The final ten would be the worst. You know your father saves the best for last.
THWACK! THWACK! THWACK! THWACK! THWACK!
The final five came as slow blows and covered your entire bottom.
THWACK!
THWACK!
THWACK!
THWACK!
THWACK!!!
Finally, the punishment is over. You know from previous spankings that you are not to get up until told by your father. By now tears are streaming down your face, the pain from your thrashing is felt in every fiber of your being. As your dad puts the strap back on the wall, he inspects your bottom. He was always good about spanking such that your bottom was bright red and experienced much pain, but the strap marks never lasted more than a couple days, and he never bruised you.
"So, how does that feel?"
"Painful, sir. I have definitely learned my lesson. I'll have that lawn mowed and garage finished tomorrow"
"I sure hope so I don't want to have to do that again now, do you understand?"
"Yes, sir, I promise you won't have to" you say in between sobs.
"Alright, now get up, get those shorts back on and get to bed. I don't want to have to spank you for not getting to bed on time"
"Yes, sir"
You slowly get up, and experience what is arguably the worst part of the spanking when the stretched and soundly strapped skin is returned to its normal state. The pain is devastating, but somehow you get through. You pick up your boxers that are still neatly folded on the side of the workbench, although the corners are wet from your tears. Slowly, you slide the waistband up past your reddened bottom while your father watches. After they're back on, your dad reaches for you, and you embrace the punishment was out of love, and it's important that you two show each other that you understand.
"Better get off to bed!" he says, as he gives you a light swat on your boxer-clad bottom.
You begin to walk up the stairs, knowing that you have been corrected for your misbehavior. With the slate wiped clean, tomorrow will be a new day a day on which you will wake up on your stomach!