Copyright on this story text belongs at all times to the original author only, whether stated explicitly in the text or not. The original date of posting to the MMSA was: 28 May 2014
After Dad spanked me and all my brothers together, something changed that ended up making our summer
different than probably any of us
kids expected. For one thing, despite the range of ages, we experienced a different, closer bond between us – a kind of shared awareness of our joint vulnerability and susceptibility to discipline by our Dad, and a more relaxed, shared fun together.
We all knew without question, each of us was at risk for getting spanked by Dad if we misbehaved – and it didn’t matter how old anyone was, or what his status was. We were still our Dad’s sons, subject to being spanked by him as he deemed it needed. So, in that sense, regardless of our ages, we had that apprehensiveness in common.
Jonathon was still too young to participate in our post-spanking, therapeutic wanks. Yet, he had to be aware of my twin brothers and I scurrying out of sight together once we had re-composed our post-spanking, lachrymose emotions, in order to share our temporary relief and assuagement.
We enjoyed swimming and fighting together in the water, and hiking together on long treks in the woods. Always, my brothers, the twins, were vigilant not to let me out of their sight.
Despite the fact I still had some terrifying dreams on occasion, that would wake me up, nevertheless, I did feel like I was relaxing and healing in the warmth of my family’s love and obvious care for me. By the time the summer was waning toward Labour Day I was relishing this vacation as much as the rest of my family, and now was glad I’d had to go.
One night, after a delicious, grilled dinner outside, the twins and I remained sitting outside with Dad. They were talking about starting college, and I could tell they were both excited and apprehensive.
Dad assured them that, having been good students in high school, they would quickly adjust to college study and do well. He turned to me and asked if I wanted to see if I could re-activate my admission to the medical school. I gulped, feeling a nervous, panicky feeling.
I, ah, don’t know, Dad, ah, I’m, ah, I mean, I don’t know if, um, I’m ready.
Gotta get back up on the horse, Jared, Justin spoke up with uninvited advice.
I looked over at him, but didn’t respond. Dad did, however.
What Jared’s been through is not falling off a horse, Justin. And it’s not having trouble with school. Jared’s never had trouble with school, when he worked.
This is not something he chose to do, and can choose to do again. In fact, it’s something he would never choose, and still has nightmares about. I know that. He needs time, and we need to be patient and help him regain his confidence and self-regard. Understand?
Yes, Dad. I’m sorry. I was just trying to use a little tough love with Jared, that’s all,
Justin tried to explain and excuse himself.
Well, maybe so, but you have to recognize that you have no idea – and I hope you never
do –what Jared went through. It’s not something you just turn a quick page over and go on as if it never happened.
It’s not that we have to baby him, but he does need our help and special consideration and kind
treatment while he is healing and recovering. That’s what we all have to do. I need to be able to count on you, as his brothers, to help with this.
We will, Dad, both Justin and Jason responded in unison.
And you cooperate with your brothers, too, Jared. After all, it’s a two-way street.
I know, Dad, and I will, I answered.
Okay, boys. Tomorrow we pack up to begin the long trek home the next day. Everybody has to h help – even Jonathon.
So the next day was spent packing up and preparing for the trip home. The following morning, Dad had us up out of bed early, down to the communal showers to clean up, and afterward dressed. Mom prepared a quick breakfast. We ate and helped her clean up. Then we were on our way home.
As we got closer to Mississippi, I could sense my brothers, the twins, starting to become more wound up, anxious, about starting college. In one sense, I envied them, starting out fresh, enthusiastic, optimistic, with no bad, sordid experiences to sully their outlook.
In another sense, I knew I was emotionally terrified at the prospect of going out, going to school, being amongst people, and away from my family. It was nightmares of being out in a crowd, and kidnapped and dragged off and away that sometimes woke me out of my sleep in a sweating, fearful dread.
Everybody in my family knew about me doing that sometimes, although nobody talked about it in front of me.
Anyway, Justin and Jason went off for their first day of college. In the days and weeks following, as they studied and talked about their experiences, I was left at home with my Mom, remote from their new encounters and events.
I felt sad, and kind of ashamed, about staying back at home. Yet, as long as the traumatizing recollections, transformed into the spectre of dreams, continued plaguing me, I knew I was still not ready to leave.
Dad was amazingly understanding and patient. He gave me plenty of chores to do (as did Mom), and recommended I take some courses online, which I could do from home. They could be courses that I could get credit for whenever I was ready to go back to school.
So, I did that, and found my time somewhat occupied. Still, I had much more free time on my hands than my brothers who were freshmen in college. They came home every night, and after supper, went to their bedroom to study. Dad had the same routine, schedule, and curfew for them as he’d had for me all though college.
Anyway, we all got along, although they didn’t have much time to spend with me, until a Friday or Saturday night, when we could sit down together and watch a movie or some television, and talk. Dad allowed us no television during the week nights.
Whenever I needed, or less often, wanted, to go somewhere, if Mom or Dad couldn’t take me, my twin brothers did. I never went anywhere by myself, and truthfully, I never wanted to go anywhere alone, although sometimes I felt a little self-conscious having to have my younger twin brothers with me anytime I went anywhere.
We seemed like a family of brothers that accommodated each other, got along, watched out for each other, and occasionally enjoyed being with each other. I respected the responsibilities and obligations my twin brothers had, as college students; they seemed to respect me for my age, and for what I’d gone through.
Early on a Thursday morning, in early November, Dad had a call from his mother, my grandmother. She said my grandpa (Dad’s Dad) had a stroke and fell down some steps. He was in a hospital in Virginia. Dad and Mom decided immediately to go there, and try to decide what needed to be done to address the situation.
Dad had to tell the medical school he needed an emergency leave, which he got without any delay or problem. The next question was what to do with us boys.
Justin and Jason needed to stay at college, although they were worried about our grandpa. Jonathon could go with Mom and Dad. The remaining question was what to do about me.
Dad concluded it would be better – and safer – to leave me at home. They could focus their attention on grandpa and grandma; I’d be safer staying at home; and the twins could keep a look out for me.
Dad took all 3 of us aside and cautioned us to keep on the same schedule and routine, and keep the same hours, as we knew we had to do when he and Mom were home. He printed out a list of rules we were to follow –
or else – which included many of the standard rules we all were
familiar with in our parents’ house.
1. Do chores, homework, other tasks – on time and right the first time;
2. Keep our bedrooms clean and tidy, and make our beds after breakfast every morning;
3. Fold clean clothes and put them in dresser or closet; put dirty clothes in laundry bin, not left lying on the floor;
4. Turn out lights when no one is in a room;
5. No alcoholic beverages; no smoking; no drugs;
6. Definite, fixed bed times and get-up times;
7. No visitors.
8. No cursing; no arguing or fighting.
9. Treat each other with kindness, good manners, and respect.
10. No immodest or improper dress or behaviour;
11. No taking off and disappearing without informing each other first; and no failure to respond to calls, text messages.
12. Always tell the truth, no matter what..
Dad turned and looked straight into my eyes, in front of all 3 of us.
You help Justin and Jason,
let them knew where you are and what you’re doing – or want to do – and listen to
them, because I’m placing the responsibility on them to see you are safe, Jared.
I felt kind of juvenile having this explanation given to us. Nevertheless, he stated in clearly, in front of all 3 of us: if questions or doubt or disagreements arise, Justin and Jason will decide temporarily, until Mom or Dad can be consulted.
He also made it clear to Justin and Jason they were to behave themselves, continue to be good students, and be good brothers and take the responsibility he was putting on them, to make sure I was safe. He stressed to them to remember what I’d gone through, and was still vulnerable; and he told them he was placing responsibility for me in both their hands and my hands. Therefore, we needed to cooperate and help each other out.
He told them they were to take extra care, consideration, respect, and accountability with me, their big brother; and he told me I was to listen to and heed Justin and Jason, because he was depending on them to make sure I was safe, and okay. I was not to give them a hard time, or make it difficult for them to meet the duty he’d placed on them.
Of course, we all agreed and assured Dad we would. The next morning, he and Mom left early, but not before hugging all three of us and firmly reminding us of his instructions and our duties.
A couple of hours later, Justin and Jason drove off to campus for classes. Dad had bought a 16-year old Toyota, with over 200,000 miles on it for them to drive. He explained that it was for them to go to school, and help out with driving me or our youngest brother, Jonathon, places we might need to go.
I was wearing an old pair of Southern Miss basketball shorts, and a way-too-small Billabong t-shirt, with my bare feet in my flip flops. After they left, I cleaned up the kitchen (as Mom had me do most days).
Because it was Friday, I went around gathering laundry from everyone’s rooms, and started the clothes washing. Also on Fridays, Mom washed floors, vacuumed, and dusted, and cleaned bathrooms. I was used to helping her do that too. So, I did that also.
It was almost 5 p.m., when Justin and Jason came home. I had all the laundry finished, folded, and delivered to each person’s room. The house was clean and fresh smelling, and I’d cooked a meat loaf in the oven for us to have for dinner, and possibly a couple of more dinners.
I’d been busy and diligent with all the inside chores that I usually helped Mom with. I had not gotten to any of the outside work of mowing, edging, trimming, and cleaning up that Dad expected me to do each week.
Justin and Jason came in, tired, but chattering about the day’s classes and events. They commented on how clean the how looked and smelled, and especially the aroma of the meatloaf I’d baked. I told them to hurry up and change – and put away their clean clothes – and dinner would be ready.
About 15 minutes later, they both came into the kitchen and sat down at the table already set. I put out the dinner, and sat down with them to eat together. We talked about what they were discovering about college life and what they were learning. We wondered how Mom and Dad, and Jonathon, were doing, and grandma and grandpa.
Near the end of dinner, Justin needled me just a little. While commenting on how good the dinner – and especially the meatloaf – was, he said I’d make a good wife and mother. My face reddened immediately, both with embarrassment and irritation.
Ah, thuh-at’s one benefit of being back home, with Mom and Dad. They’re teaching me what needs to be done, and how to do it all, to be able to live independently, on my own, I replied.
You’re never going to live on your own, Jared, Justin retorted.
You’ll never leave here, you know it. Everybody does.
I was shocked and saddened at once for my younger brother to talk to me like that. Jason responded,
Come on, Justin. Don’t say that. Jared’s working on getting better. Leave him alone.
It’s true. Dad’s way too soft and easy on Jared. He’s not like that with us – and that’s what Jared needs. He needs Dad to tell him to suck it up, and get up and get going, or expect to be standing up for a long time, cause his butt’ll be sore and hurting until he does.
That’s not totally true, Justin, Jason answered.
Dad’s been different with all of us since Jared was found and rescued. I think he knows how quick he could lose any of us. Remember what Dad said: remember what Jared’s been through.
Okay, okay, Justin yielded.
So, how bout going to that movie – the new Captain America – tonight? There’s a showing at 7:30.
Sure, great! Jason responded.
Let’s help Jared get the kitchen cleaned up and everything put away, so we can get outta here. They both got up and started clearing the table, putting away the leftovers in the frige, and dirty dishes in the dishwasher.
Go change into something better looking, Jared, Justin spoke to me.
You know, man, jeans, polo shirt.
I looked at both of them.
I, ah, don’t really want to go to the movies, I said.
I’ll just wait here for you guys til you come home.
Come on, Jared! You can’t hibernate forever – and we can’t leave you here alone either. Now go on, get going, and get changed, so we can go! Justin barked at me.
Instead of doing what he said, I stood staring at both of them, wondering why they didn’t understand, I didn’t want to go out with a crowd of people in a packed theatre.
Jared! Damn it! You’re gonna make us late! Now get hightailing it and get changed – right now! Coming over to me, grabbing the back of my neck and bending me forward, Justin took me to task right there in our kitchen, with a volley of hard swats to my backside.
I jumped in place, held by Justin’s grip on my neck.
Heeeey! Stop it, Justin! You can’t do that! I’m gonna tell Daa-aaaad-aaaa-ow-ow-stop it! I shouted, writhing to stand up straight and turn around.
No you’re not, Jared. You remember what Dad said. We decide, and you’ve got to do what we say; and we’re saying, go get your butt changed – right away – so we can go see the movie!
Justin was taking over at the moment, fully in charge, and I was expected to comply and obey.
No, Justin! That’s not what Dad meant at all! No way. I’m the older brother – the oldest-aaaaa-nooooo! I don’t have to do what you saaaaay-aaaaa-aaaaa-noooo-aaaa-staaaahp it! Nooooo-nooooo-aaaaa-ow-ow-ow-stuh-opp-it-aaaa-ow-ow-it’s-aaaa-hurrrrrrr-urrrrr-teeennng!
Come on, Jason, help out, Justin called to his twin.
Get Mom’s wooden spoon. We need to get going, and Jared’s got to cooperate – or else.
Jason opened a drawer, pulled out the long-handled, wooden spoon, and came over to join his twin brother. The next think I knew, I was being dragged into the living room where they both sat down, side by side, and dragged me across both their laps.
I was already fighting and shouting when they yanked my shorts down my hips, off my buttocks, and down to my now bare feet. Next my boxers followed, pulled down to join them, and I shrieked my vociferous protests.
My high-pitched screeches eclipsed those shrieks, as Justin worked the wooden spoon all over my buttocks and upper legs, especially the curved lower buttocks where they meet my thighs – over and over and over. I was angry for the first couple of minutes. After all, I shouldn’t be getting spanked by my twin brothers who were 7 years younger.
Quickly, however, I was screaming, yelling, then begging and pleading for them to stop, but they must have decided to teach me a lesson. The pain exceeded the shamed humiliation of being forcefully stripped, taken over my younger brothers’ laps, and spanked like I was their little brother.
When they finished, I was no longer the older, big brother, but a vanquished, bad child weeping and sobbing from the pain inflicted on my bottom and the humbling manhandling I’d been subjected to. They did not allow my any time to cry and try to recover control. Instead, they pulled me up off both their laps, tugging off my too-snug t-shirt before guiding me naked into my bedroom.
They pulled out boxers, a t-shirt, jeans, socks, and a long-sleeve polo shirt, dressing me roughly and rapidly in them. They pushed me to sit down on my bed while they pulled on my socks and a pair of shoes on my feet, while I winced and grimaced from the painful weight and shifting of my butt on the bed.
They grabbed a jacket for me, then pulled me up and dragged me along with them. Out the door we went, which they locked. They placed me in the back seat of the Toyota, and off we went.
We just got there to get tickets before the trailers began. Jason had hold of my arm, trying to direct and keep control of me as inconspicuously as possible. Several of their friends came up and met us as we entered, and Justin and Jason introduced me as their big brother.
Before we went into the theatre where Captain America was showing, I pulled against Jason’s hold.
I need to use the bathroom, I whispered. He told Justin to go on in and save us seats, while he went with me to the bathroom. After we both urinated, he washed his hands and waited while I did the same.
Afterward, he took hold of my arm and towed me along into the theatre to find Justin and their friends, where we sat in the same row with them. I sat quietly, silent throughout the movie, but turned out to enjoy it.
When the movie was over, the twins’ friends told them about a party at a house in town, and invited them to go. I could see they were tempted, but then looking sideways at me, they decided they had to take me home and make sure I was safe there.
We can’t tonight, Justin said.
Our parents are in Virginia, and we’re waiting to hear about our grandparents. Another time, though. Thanks for the invite.
Grabbing hold of the back of my jeans’ waistband, they began maneuvering me out of the theatre. I started to object, only to find my already smarting, sore bottom smacked by him 5 or 6 times. I desisted from any resistance immediately, and just allowed myself to be steered by my brothers to the car.
The opened the back door for me to get back into the back seat, then got in and drove off for home.
So, what’d you think, Jared? How long’s it been since you went to a movie? It had been years, and I told them so. I said I’d enjoyed the movie.
See, Jason, Justin responded.
This what Jared needs – somebody to stop babying him, make him get out, go places, see people and things. And he tries to refuse, whip his butt til he does it. It’s good for him. He’ll progress better this way.
I was humiliated and saddened sitting there listening to my younger, twin brothers talk about me like I was their kid to train and teach. I heard Jason say to Justin,
Let’s see, Justin. If you’re right – if it works – maybe we could tell Dad, and it might help him in working with Jared. I felt very diminished and reduced in my own eyes, and in the eyes of my brothers.
I know I’m right, Justin declared.
Look at how Dad’s raised us, and we’re not timid, little mice running from any shadow! Jared needs a strong hand, not a mild, sentimental one. Who knows, Jason? Maybe this all is for a purpose. Maybe if we get Jared whipped into shape, when Mom and Dad come home, they’ll be shocked at how good he is.
As Justin parked the car in the driveway, Jason replied,
Maybe, but don’t forget, everything Jared went through has had a big effect on him. So, we have to be understanding too.
We all got out of the car and walked to the side door that leads into the kitchen. Jason unlocked the door, opened it, turned on a light, and held it open for me to enter. Justin followed behind me, with Jason closing rank and locking the door.
It’s Friday night, Jason uttered with a tone of relief.
Let’s go get some chips and sodas and watch TV.
Get me Sprite, Jason, Justin spoke up.
Me too, Jason, I added.
Oh, no, you don’t, Jared. You’re not gonna stay up late with Jason and me watching TV. Dad said you needed to keep your bedtime – I guess need your rest. So, you’re going to get ready for bed, right now, Justin ordered.
No way, Justin. I’m older that you, and Jason, and what Dad said he meant for all of us. If you’re
going to stay up later, so am I. We can watch a movie on TV, I suggested.
No, Jared, you are not staying up, and you’re not watching anything. You are going straight to bed, get a good night’s sleep, so we know you’re taken care of, Justin replied.
I felt angry and sickened at the way my brothers – especially Justin – were treating me.
Come on, guys. This is not fair – and it’s not what Dad meant. I’m not gonna let you treat me like this, I stood my ground objecting.
Hey, Jason! We’ve got another problem with Jared! He’s refusing to go to bed, and we know Dad wants us to make sure he’s taken good care of. He needs rest, a good sleep, and he’s got to go to bed –
now! Go get Dad’s hair brush, he directed.
A minute or so later, Jason re-appeared with the hair brush he’d retrieved from Dad’s and Mom’s bedroom.
Look, Jared. Don’t be a problem, don’t fight it. Just do what we tell you, cause we don’t want any problems with you, but we don’t want any trouble with Dad either.
No, Jason! I blurted out my protest.
This is not what Dad meant, and you guys know it! You’re trying to treat me like I was a kid – younger than Jonathon – and had to do what you say. But I don’t! If you keep on trying to take advantage, I’m going to tell Dad when he returns.
Jason and Justin both stared at me with annoyance on their faces.
No, Jared, I don’t think so. You won’t tell Dad, because if you do, we’ll tell him you tried to fight and oppose us, and do what you wanted despite us; and we were afraid you were going to try to run away. Besides, if you make that threat again, we’ll whip your butt every day til he and Mom come home.
To my surprise, that was Jason speaking.
So, one way or another – easy or hard –
you are going in and getting ready for bed, and into bed – now, Jared!
I stood there unmoving, staring defiantly, angry beyond being able to express. In less than two minutes, they were on me, stripping, undressing, and denuding me along the way as they frogmarched me back to my bedroom.
They pushed me naked into my room, closed the door behind us, and sat down next to each other on my bedside. Grabbing my skinny, bare arms, they hauled me down lean, lanky, and naked across both their laps. Jason held my upper back and shoulders down, while Justin wielded the hair brush, popping and cracking it all over my already badly marked, deep red rump.
I began squealing at once, which quickly turned to screaming, before bursting into crying. I cracked, then broke, sobbing, weeping. It hurt so bad on top of the whipping they’d delivered 3 hours before.
I writhed and wriggled, and bucked and twisted, trying to get off their laps; but they held me in place. Of course I felt the humbling disgrace of being spanked by my younger brothers like I was the child; but the blistering agony on my already sore bottom overrode my pride and I was bawling with hopeless, helpless abandon.
To my wailing dismay and desperate chagrin, my younger, twin brothers administered one of the worst spankings I’d gotten since I’d come home. Before long, I could hot hold out, or hold on, any longer. Regressing under the punishment, I was promising to do whatever they said, to obey, to be good, and begging and pleading – if only they would
stop spanking me, I squalled.
Eventually, they did. Again, they did not want to allow me time to cry myself out. Instead, they pulled me up, grabbed a pair of pajamas from out of my dresser, and quickly got me into them, pulling them on me as I stomped and cried and vigourously, rubbing and clasping my burning behind.
The twins pulled down my bed, then pulled and tugged me forward by my arm down onto the bed, lying on my face and stomach. They pulled my sheet and blanket up over me, as I lay there, still crying disconsolately in my pillow. They turned out the light, and feeling like their little, kid brother, I was left in my darkened room, to cry myself to sleep.
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