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Marks That Pledge Can't Remove

by Eric Blyton

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: 14 Nov 2003

Andrew Foley pulled into the driveway of his suburban home. As he did every day, he admired the lines and profile of the house. Hed designed it himself, of course. His architectural firm had generated enough revenue for him to build what he called his realistic dream house. His ultimate dream house would be about four times the size and on a much bigger piece of property, but he was still in his mid thirties and just starting a family. There was plenty of time to upgrade and he preferred to have a manageable mortgage payment than to be breaking his neck spending every hour in his office to pay for a house that he never spent time in.

He pulled into the garage and got out of the car. Opening the kitchen door, he went inside to look for his wife and young son. He found the former first. "Dear, come look," Angela said, putting her finger to her lips to indicate that he should be quiet. Somewhat amused, Andrew let her lead him by the hand to the entrance of the living room. What he saw, however, did not make him happy. Crayon in hand, little James was busily doodling on the wooden coffee table. He looked at his wife, unsure how she was expecting him to react.

"Hes been drawing all day," she whispered. "Such imagination! You should see his drawings."

"Well, fine, but why is he drawing on the furniture? Doesnt he have any paper?"

"Oh, I gave him some, but he preferred to draw on the table. I didnt want to stifle his creativity, Dear."

"Well, I dont want him ruining the furniture, either," Andrew said, now getting kind of annoyed by the whole situation.

"Really, Andrew. It comes right off with Pledge."

"It wont if he decided the walls make a better canvas," he said. It was time to take control of the situation. He walked into the room and squatted next to James.

"Hi Daddy!" James said, throwing his arms around his fathers neck.

"Hi Big Guy," replied Andrew, returning the hug.

"Do you like my picture?"

"Its very nice, but Id rather see it on a piece of paper. That way I could hang it on the fridge to keep. Also, we shouldnt make marks on the furniture."

"But Dad, it wipes right off with Pledge!"

"Even so, I dont want you doing it. Lets get you some paper, okay?"

He picked James up in one arm and carried him to his office. Opening a desk drawer, he pulled out a large sheet of paper and handed it to the boy.

"Here, draw Daddy a nice picture, okay?" he suggested. James gave him an impish grin and nodded. He went back into the kitchen and got the Pledge from Angela.

"Honestly, Dear, I think you are making a big fuss about nothing," she said, sounding a little offended that hed questioned her way of handling the situation.

"Im not allowing our son to scribble anywhere he wants," he said. Angela was an intelligent woman, but sometimes she got the most ridiculous ideas in her head. Probably something she read in a parenting magazine. He cleaned off the table and then went in to check on James. The paper lay unused on the desk and his five-year old son was busy inscribing a masterpiece on the top of his mahogany desk.

"James!" he said, "what did I tell you?"

"It wipes up, Dad!" James repeated, looking up from his drawing.

"I know it does, but thats not the point. I told you not to do it. Let me have your crayon, please. No more drawing for you today."

With a bit of a pout, James surrendered his crayon and left his fathers office. Andrew sprayed Pledge on his desk and wiped it clean. He had to admit, it did give it a nice shine and left his office smelling lemon-fresh. He went back into the living room to clean off the coffee table. To his supreme annoyance he saw James, armed with a fresh crayon, busy defacing the door to the guest bathroom.

"James!" he snapped, "What are you doing?"

James looked back at him, a little unsettled by his fathers outburst but clearly unaware of the line hed just crossed.

"You said not to draw on the tables, so Im drawin on the door," he explained.

"I told you to draw on paper, not on anything else," he corrected him. "And furthermore, I told you that you were not allowed to draw any more today. Dont pretend you didnt understand because I know you did."

"Yea, but...." James stammered.

"But what?"

"Itll wipe up, wont it? With Pledge?"

"There are some marks that Pledge cant remove," Andrew told him. "I might be able to get the door clean with some hard scrubbing, but thats beside the point. You disobeyed me twice and now Im going to have to spank you."

James face fell in a most comical way. It was like wax melting from the heat.

"Waaaaaaaahhhh!" James cried, balling his fists into his eyes. "Dont spank me, Daddy, Im sorry!"

This performance was a little theatrical and Andrew knew what audience James was playing to. Sure enough, Angela popped into the room on cue.

"Andrew...." she started, but he put his hand up. This wasnt the time or place for the debate she wanted to have. She was opposed to corporal punishment while he was in favor of it. Neither felt all that strongly about it and they had agreed that it could be used in limited cases. Andrew had decided that this was one of them. Obviously, she didnt agree, but shed have to argue about it after the fact. He took James by the hand and led him into his office. James peeked over at his mother, looking for rescue but Andrew positioned himself between them. He didnt want his naughty son to see so much as a sympathetic look His actions meant that hed have to go without sex for a couple of days, but hed make do.

He firmly shut the office door and locked it for good measure. He thought his wife had enough sense not to burst in on a spanking in progress, but given her silliness in allowing James to draw on the furniture in the first place, he wondered. He sat on the black leather couch and place James beside him.

"James, why did you continue to draw on the furniture after Id told you not to and given you a piece of paper?" he asked.

His son made some meaningless gestures with his hand as he tried to speak. At last he got out some words.

"I dont know!" he cried.

"Well, think."

"Cause it was fun," James admitted after a few more contortions.

"It might have been fun for you, but its not fun for whoever has to clean up your mess," Andrew said. "Now why did you continue to draw after I took your crayons from you and told you to stop?"

James looked at his father and then down at the floor. Silent tears were streaming down his face.

"I dunno Daddy, please dont spank me! Im sorry!"

"Sorry, James," he said. "You wrote your own ticket on this one. You havent given me a single good reason why I should let you off."

Andrew took James by the middle and lifted him over his lap. To his credit, his son did not try to fight or kick. He did cry very loudly, no doubt still clinging to hope that Mommy would come in and rescue his little ass.

Andrew looked up at his desk, planning to reach for one of his drafting rulers, but then changed his mind. There was a different way to do this. Reaching underneath James, he unsnapped his shorts. The boy didnt even realize what was up until he felt his pants being tugged down. By the time he thought to grab for them, Andrew had them past his knees and out of reach. All there was between James bottom and his fathers firm hand was a pair of Spiderman underpants. Andrew had intended to spank James on his briefs, but his sons attempt to keep his pants from coming down and annoyed him to the point that he decided to complete the process. James was still trying futilely to reach for him shorts so Andrew took firm hold of both thin wrists in one hand. When James felt his father pulling at the waistband of his briefs he let out a howl that Andrew was sure was not faked. It seemed that getting spanked bare-bottomed involved some genuine dread. This was useful to know and Andrew filed it away for future reference.

Rather than just pull them down in back, he decided to take them all the way to James ankles. Along with the shorts, this might help minimize any kicking and it wasnt as if James needed to be ashamed of his father seeing his little penis.

Andrew shifted his legs slightly, raising James now naked bottom a bit higher in the air. He wasnt reaching for his clothes any more, but all the same, Andrew didnt release his arms. Better to keep them secured for now. He put his hand on his sons bare rump, rubbing it slightly as he prepared himself. He noticed with some amusement that James had not learned the trick of tightening his butt muscles to reduce the pain of his impending spanking. The boys cheeks were soft and smooth under his hand. Time to take care of business.

SPANK! He drew back and whacked his son good. James yelped in protest, but Andrew felt that it really wasnt hard enough. Better make the next one a bit firmer.

SPANK!! That was better! His sons bottom jiggled from the impact and he saw a red handprint start to show. James cry had held the right note of distress this time.

SPANK!! SPANK!! SPANK!! With a methodical rhythm, Andrew spanked his sons bare bottom. James was throwing his head back and kicking down with his legs, but Andrew sensed that it was mostly reflex rather than an attempt to get away or interfere with the spanking. He released his sons arm, using his free hand to push his shirt up to his shoulders and hold down his back. SPANK!! SPANK!! SPANK!!

Despite having free hands, James made no effort to cover himself. He balled his little hands into fists and pounded on the couch but Andrew considered this acceptable behavior during a spanking. His little boys bottom was turning quite red, but he wanted to drive the message home. He judged that James needed a few more hard spanks for this. SPANK!!! SPANK!!! SPANK!!! SPANK!!!

That should do it, he reflected, looking down to inspect his handiwork. James was having a good cry and his bottom was a hot shade of crimson. Andrew knew that it would be stinging quite effectively. Hed done a good job reddening the whole area of his sons bottom (not that there was that much area to cover). Given that James had behaved himself during the spanking, he decided to offer him a bit of relief. Gently, he placed his hand on his sons toasted buns and started to rub them.

James crying started to diminish in volume and was soon reduced for a few sniffles. Andrew pulled him upright and sat him carefully on his lap. His shorts and briefs fell off during this maneuver, but neither father nor son seemed to care at this point.

"You need to listen when I tell you not to do something, James," Andrew said softly to him. "Then I wont have to spank you."

"I know, Daddy, Im sorry," James sniffed. Andrew got some tissue from his desk and helped James blow his nose. He held his son for a few more minutes to let him recover fully.

"Dad?" James said softly.

"Yes, James?"

"Can I help wipe the crayon off the door?"

"Yes, you can help. Id like that."

James got up and reached for his pants. As he bent over for them, he caught sight of himself in the mirror over his dads desk.

"Ive got red marks all over my bottom!" he said in shock.

"Yes, thats from the spanking," Andrew told him. "Theyll go away after a while."

"I dont guess you can wipe them away with Pledge!" James said.

"No," Andrew answered, glad to see his son finding humor in the situation. "As I said before, there are some marks Pledge cant wipe off!"


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