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A New Order

by Y Lee Coyote

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: 06 Dec 2006

This story is fiction and deals with MM spanking and shaving.  If such subjects are offensive, uninteresting or if you are a minor (i.e., child) please leave now.

This work is copyright by the author and commercial use is prohibited without permission.  Personal/private copies are permitted only if complete including the copyright notice.

The author would appreciate your comments – pro and con, including constructive criticism, and suggestions.

With both my parents working, I grew up having everything that I needed.  When I was in college Mother died and things changed a bit.  She had been making more than Dad so our standard of living dropped.  Fortunately, I was able to continue college and get my degree since she had, thoughtfully, set up her insurance to assure the money for my education.  It was very good that she did so because Dad lost his job when I was a junior and we were forced to move to a smaller place.  Dad did get employed again after a few months but lost that job soon after I graduated.  I was fortunate to get a good position.

It was really impressive what a difference a college degree made in remuneration.  My salary was much greater than Dad's wages when he did work for he didn't even have a high school diploma.  I would have been happier if he had been working because then he was happier but I did not have a problem supporting him.  After all, even though Mother had been the major earner, Dad's wages had made a difference in our standard of living and I appreciated that.  The problem, especially after unemployment ran out, was that Dad, depressed and discouraged, was just moping about the house.  It got so bad that he even stopped doing the chores as we had agreed he would.

One faithful day our discussion escalated into a shouting match when I complained that he was not doing things that he could about keeping the house orderly.  The issues were quite familiar to me as I had had this sort of discussion before when I was younger.  Like all kids, I had neglected doing my chores and got yelled at.  Well, although the shoe was on the other foot this time, Dad still used his favorite line: "This is my house for I pay the bills!  You will follow my rules and accept the punishments that I feel you deserve."

The following silence was deafening.  Dad immediately looked horrified as he realized what he had said and what that had meant.  A few years earlier, within a minute of his saying that, I would have had my jeans and pants yanked down and flipped over his lap and getting spanked.  Spanked hard and long until I learnt the errors of my ways (at least for a while).

"EXACTLY!" I snapped back at him,  "This is my house for I pay the bills!  You will follow my rules and accept the punishments that I feel you deserve."  He was even more shocked at my saying it than I was when he said it.  I did not realize what I was about to do until it happened.  I grabbed my father as I sat down on the side chair.  I yanked down his sweat pants and pulled him over my lap.  I looked down at his bare butt and began to spank hard just like he had done to me a few years earlier.  It certainly was not anything that I had planned to do but I was caught up in the whirlwind of anger.  I brought my hand down on my father's bare ass as hard as I could.


As I raised my hand up for the second spank, I could see my hand print form and Dad began to yell for me to stop.  But, just like he ignored me and Granddad had ignored him when we had yelled, I kept spanking him as hard as I could.  After a dozen hard spanks, his butt was dark pink and my hand was hurting.  I had just learnt a lesson myself: spanking hurts the spanking hand as well as the target when the target is not small and soft.  I leaned over and picked up the flip-flop that Dad had been wearing and continued spanking with that.  It was much more effective as I spanked away.  Dad's butt turned red and then crimson.  The pain I felt was not in my hand but in my heart.

Dad continued to yell and protest but I was as big as he was and in much better shape at twenty-four than he at forty-six.  I was reminded how I had resisted crying and begging the last few times when I had thought of myself as a man, for Dad was doing the same thing.  I regretted starting this but knew that there was no turning back until the spanking was complete – that is, effective.  I spanked away with the thick flip-flop watching Dad's ass get darker and darker.  Then he broke.  He stopped yelling and was silent for a half a minute before starting to cry.  He cried just like I had when he spanked me.

I remembered what I felt and knew that he was undergoing a change inside his head.  When you cry when you're no longer a boy, it has a lasting impact.  The spankee learns that a certain behavior is most unacceptable and has very unpleasant consequences.  I remembered a spanking from eight years before.  I had been very arrogant and uppity like almost every seventeen-year-old can be when they get far too big for their britches and know that they know everything.  Not only had Dad spanked me long and hard but he reminded me that I was still a little immature boy who could not live up to his responsibilities.  What he did was terrible in the short run but it did me great good in the long run.

I stopped spanking and helped Dad to stand up.  I ripped off his old T-shirt and dragged him to the bathroom.  As he had kicked off his pants he was naked when I got him into the tub.  He was still bawling as I took the moustache clipper from the charger and drove it through his pubes.  Three quick passes decimated them and then his howling protests stopped for he realized that it had happened.  I took another few passes and he looked like he had a fight with an angry barber.  I wet him down and smeared some shaving gel over the area.  I got a fresh razor and finished the job in just a few minutes.  He was as hairless as a little boy.

"Shower, dress and come see me." I ordered, leaving him alone in the bathroom.

A few minutes later he was sitting in the chair across the table from me.  "It is time for a change around here." I said. "This is my house as I pay the bills!  You will follow my rules and accept the punishments that I feel you deserve or you will move out."  Of course, he had nowhere to move to except the city shelter or park.  "You will stop moping about like a spoiled brat.  You will do the chores.  You will look for a job."

"But…" he started.

I cut him off.  "NO BUTS!  You will shape up or move.  When you get a decent job we can talk about 'buts'."

* * * * * * * * * *

The next morning I had to leave early for a meeting so we did not see each other until I got home in the evening.  There had been changes.  Many chores had been done and I found Dad working on his resume.  I offered to help him and he accepted.  Together we came up with three versions that each emphasized different objectives and a work history so he could fill out job applications quickly.

Dad did get a job but at the usual low pay within a week.  He did his share about our home as did I.  There was never a reason to spank him again.  This continued for several months and then one day I came home and he was studying the catalog from the local college that just showed up in our mailbox.  He was thoughtful and spoke about getting some more education so he could get a better job.  A few days later he was enrolled in night school to finish high school.  This seemed to be a better option than going for GED since he was so close.

It was hard for him as he had not studied since before I was born.  I helped him study and took over some of the chores.  He was discouraged when he did not do well on the first couple of tests but I encouraged him and he kept at it.  It took a lot of hard work but he did better as the term progressed.

I had to go on a business trip for a few days but I figured Dad would be OK – he really wasn't a kid anymore.  I was wrong.  The day after I got back, he brought home a failing test grade.  We talked about it and then he confessed – he had gone out drinking and bowling rather than studying.  I knew the feeling for I had done that a few times myself – both in high school and in college.  Afterwards, I always felt terrible and guilty.  Beside the damage to my grades, I missed the catharsis I got when I was punished.  I never had the guts to ask for it.

"You broke the rules.  You need to be punished.  Give me your belt and get into position." I said.

Father was still for a couple of minutes and then he got up.  He pulled his belt from his pants and handed it to me before getting into position.  He did not say a word as he bent over the chair and gripped the legs.  There was nothing for me to say either, so I just raised the belt and brought it down hard on his bare ass.  It made a loud thwack and left a wide red stripe.  Father remained in place and I gave him another nine.

"That's it." I said, "You can get up now."  After he had dressed, we hugged and I told him: "We need to work harder now."  He nodded.  "Shall we get to work, now, Dad?"

"I'll get my books." he said.  We worked hard for several hours and then when we took a break he said: "I deserved that.  It won't happen again."

It took more than a year but he did get his diploma.  We were both so proud.  I wish Mother had been here to share this joy.

The End

© Copyright A.I.L., December 6, 2006

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