Text by: StrictopPictures by: Bruce
…a thong bikini!
“DAAAAAADDD!!!!” The boy squealed in surprised mortification. He was obviously as embarrassed as I was surprised.
In retrospect, I’m not sure why I was so astonished by the fact that the boy had on the kind of tight little garment that I’ve seen strippers wear. It was like the boy was mocking me. Here I was trying to teach him a serious lesson about smoking and respect and keeping his word, and out pops his pert little tush in hooker’s gear! It was like I had been MOONED!
And it only made me madder!
Blood boiling, I grabbed him by the arm and jerked him back over my lap.
“Please, Dad…Sir. Not on my bare butt! I’ve had enough…Sir. Please don’t spank me any more!”
Without a word, I lit back into his naked butt cheeks with renewed vigor. The sound of hand on bare flesh was completely different from the way it sounded on the seat of the boy’s shorts.
CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!
The sound popped like shots from a gun.
“OWWW!” The boy howled. “Please, Sir. I’m sorry, Sir!”
CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!
I ignored Rusty’s wails and cries. Over and over again I slapped the boy’s butt cheeks as he kicked and squirmed.
CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!
Once more, I became lost in the rhythmic sight and sound of hand cracking against tender skin. Oddly, my mind began to drift.
Suddenly, it dawned on me. It wasn’t just me that this boy had disappointed with his failed promises to quit smoking. There was the matter of his Uncles — his mom’s brothers. Those guys had been incredibly good to him after her death. They felt her loss probably more than any of us, and they looked after her son as if all their love for their sister and been transferred to the boy. They took him to games. Went camping and hiking with him. Supported him in Boy Scouts, attending several father-son events that I couldn’t make. These guys have also tried to get Rusty to quit smoking. In fact, it often seemed like the most important thing in the world to them was that he be safe and healthy. It was like losing him would be the same as losing their sister all over again.
So, I got an idea.
I paused, my hand hovering over the boy’s upturned butt.
“Oh, Dad. I’m really sorry. I mean it, Sir.” His tone of voice sounded like he thought it was over. But, something didn’t quite ring true. Somehow I could tell that he thought he had gotten off lightly.
“THIS time I’m really gonna do it, Dad. Honest. This time I…” I cut him off with a meaty slap to his unsuspecting backside.
“Get up, boy,” I ordered. Rusty struggled to his feet.
I walked over to the desk and placed a few calls while Rusty looked on — embarrassed, perplexed, and very very nervous. In harsh tones, I ordered the boy into the corner and told him to think about why he had been spanked.
Grudgingly, he shuffled over to face the wall, but he didn’t have to wait long.
One-by-one they arrived cheerful and in full agreement over what needed to be done. Rusty’s uncles plopped comfortably onto the couch and grinned at the mortified boy standing in the corner.
“Ok, Rusty.” I motioned the boy to resume his position across my lap. “We aren’t done yet.”
