A Fateful Day at the Airport
|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 Aug 2008
The following story is fiction and contains scenes of spankings and discipline of men by a youth. If these 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.
In the airport
I first noticed them at curbside when I got out of my taxi. The youth, fourteen or fifteen, was standing by their luggage as the man rushed up with a luggage cart. "It sure took you long enough. Now get this stuff on the cart."
"Yes, Sir." responded the thirty-five-year-old (as I learnt later) man as he began the task. The youth just watched without lifting a finger.
On the check-in line, the youth snarled at the man. "Be still, Dad. You're acting like a three-year-old." The chagrined man then stood very quietly leaning on the luggage cart as they waited their turn. The youth dealt with the agent efficiently – handling her the tickets and stuff, making the seat selections and collecting the luggage checks and boarding passes. I was absolutely certain who was in charge now.
The waiting area was busy because there had been several flights delayed. I found a seat in a corner and was looking down the line of seats on the adjacent wall. The youth took the one seat available and his father was left standing. It was easy to eavesdrop without being noticed as I worked on my papers. A couple of times the youth sent his father to fetch stuff – a drink, a snack, another magazine. The man never had a drink or a snack and just stood next his seated son who acted like a prince.
The man was nervous for he fidgeted a lot. The youth found this annoying and told him to be still a couple of times. The second time he took out a little notebook and after making a notation said: "That makes nine times I had to scold you since your last spanking. Do you need another one so soon?"
"Oh, no, Sir. I'm very sorry." the man said and then whined: "Please don't spank here, Sir. I'll be good; very good, Sir. I promise, Sir." He sounded just like a little boy. The youth did not respond but went back to his magazine, drink, snack and turned up his music on his earphones.
The wait stretched to three hours. The man's fidgeting increased and the youth berated him for not fetching the right snack. He did not care that the vendor did not have the exact product he wanted. "That's the last straw, boy." he snapped suddenly. "Come with me. You're going to get it now!" He stood up and grabbed his father's wrist. He headed for the rest rooms dragging his dad along like he was a naughty small boy. I followed at a discreet distance. They went right past the standard ones and headed for the family units. They entered one and I stopped by the door like I was waiting for someone but with my ears wide open.
Junior was very loud when he shouted at his dad in the not at all sound proofed room. He recited a long list of trivial transgressions and then ordered his dad "Drop 'em and bend over." Dad pleaded for a reprieve but he should have known better for the response was: "that's two extra for insubordination and delay."
Then I heard ten sharp cracks of a belt on a naked, naughty boy's bottom along with yelps of pain. By the end there was sobbing. I rushed back to the seating area and positioned myself to watch their return. The youth was standing very tall, looking very confident and clearly in charge. Dad was not doing very well. His shirt was not tucked in neatly as it had been before. He was dabbing his face and eyes with a towel. His eyes were red. His head was sagging. He certainly looked and behaved like a well-spanked boy.
Another flight was called and the extra chair between me and the youth was vacated. The man was not anxious to sit since it was a metal folding chair without a seat cushion. The youth ordered him to sit and it was clear that he was uncomfortable sitting on his freshly strapped butt. He grimaced and fidgeted a lot.
In the air
I boarded first and quickly stowed my carry-on in the overhead compartment and settled into my window seat. The youth sat next to me and his father had the aisle seat. I observed that the father had carried all their bags and stowed them while the youth just took his seat. I immediately hoped that I would be able to discuss this unusual situation with the youth.
When the Flight Attendant came by to inquire about drinks, the youth answered. "I'd like a cola while Dad doesn't need either alcohol or sugar so just water for him." Normally I get a scotch and soda but that somehow seemed to be wrong to do that this day so I just got seltzer (club soda). The youth also appropriated his dad's pretzels.
As I did some work, I noticed that the man was fidgeting a lot and then the youth told him he had a timeout for fifteen minutes. The man said "Yes, Sir." and assumed a straight up position with his hands folded in his lap. The youth continued to read but when I noticed him looking out the window, I spoke. He returned my greeting and I made the point that I had observed how he was in charge. He smiled. I commended him on how well he did the job and confirmed that the man was his father.
By the time the flight ended, I had learnt a great deal. His father had knocked up his mother when they were twenty and the marriage was forced. By the time Douglas was twelve he realized that his mother was in charge of his undisciplined father and even used CP on him. Further he learnt that his grandparents thought their son was irresponsible and undisciplined and had used CP on him up until he got married. Douglas was almost fourteen when his mother died and he was forced to take charge. "My father responds well to a strict regimen for otherwise he quickly reverts back to acting like an irresponsible boy. Grandfather helped me take over but I would have anyway since it was so necessary."
When Douglas asked for my phone number, I gave it to him. That would be a cusp in my life.
It was a few days after I returned home that I heard from Douglas. He invited me for dinner as he wanted to talk about his relationship with his father. The table was set for two and his father was the entire servant staff – from cook to butler to houseboy. He was wearing a tight black T-shirt and tight white short-shorts, a white bow tie and white gloves. I had not anticipated this and must have shown some surprise. Douglas picked up on this immediately. "Oh, that is his formal house uniform. It helps him remember his place and to behave better."
Douglas and I talked about his relationship with his father but only briefly. What was really on his mind was me. Just as I had observed him and his father, he had been observing me without my noticing. I did not come up to his standards. True, I was not nearly as deficient as his dad but he confronted me with some harsh truths. He said I was not living up to my potential and had not been working anywhere near as diligently as I should have been on the plane. We talked a long time and I found that I could not resist his most dominant personality. I was soon telling him everything about myself especially about my short comings without holding anything back. Looking back, it was like he was the adult practitioner and I was the child patient for he extracted complete information about me while telling me very little about himself.
After dessert, he told me that I need supervision and guidance to get back on track. He talked about how I even failed to keep fit, admitted to poor housekeeping and having a very sloppy personal life. I had not heard such direct and blunt talk since my father talked to me like that when I was only thirteen some two decades earlier. It came as quite a shock. It was only after I was back home in bed that I recognized that he was right. I did not know what to do about it, however. I could recall a long sequence of failed good intentions to change over the last decade.
When Douglas called a few days later, I was emotionally ready to accept his suggestion that I accept him as my mentor/disciplinarian with all the authority that a father has over his boy. The next day I got a printed contract in the mail and, obediently and docilely, I filled it in, signed it and, after getting it notarized, mailed it back. I was committed far more than I realized.
I really should have anticipated his visit a few days later and cleaned up the house in preparation but I failed to do so. Suddenly, he was at my door and I let him in. He made a quick inspection and immediately found my housekeeping woefully lacking and a large collection of unpaid bills sitting on the table. Most properly, he started my retraining immediately. I was quickly stripped and taken over his lap. Yes, exactly like a little boy is taken over his father's lap for a disciplinary spanking. I did not resist in the least but not because of the paper I had signed but because his dominant personality prevented me from doing so. I dutifully obeyed every order. Even before the first spank, I felt like a little boy. Douglas lectured me as he gently spanked me with love taps. I was sure that I could have just jumped up and stopped this but I knew in my heart that would not be the right thing to do. Then he switched to real spanks. Those were hard and stung. One would expect that a thirty-three-year-old man could take a spanking from a youth less than half his age without crying. In that case one would be wrong; very wrong. I felt so little and boyish in this position that I responded as a boy would – I began to cry. He kept spanking and soon I was bawling. It was then that it was well impressed on my psyche that he was the MAN and I was just a little boy. He was in charge and I must obey him. Of course, at the time I did not realize all of this although I see now looking back.
I don't know how long I cried while he held me but it was a long time. He told me that he was sorry he had to spank me so hard but that I had been a very naughty and lazy boy and it had to be done to set me on the right course. Later, he told me that I had been saying stuff like: "Yes, Daddy.", "I'll be a good boy.", "I'm sorry, Daddy.", "I promise to be a good boy, Daddy." It even seemed right and proper that he was fully dressed and I was naked. Little boys are often naked when the grown ups are dressed.
I was not expecting his next remark at all. He gave my pubes a hard tug and said: "Little boys like you don't have hair here. I'm going to remove it." He left me standing by the bed while he fetched something he had brought. He had me lie on my back which reminded of how much my hot butt was hurting. He plugged the thing in and it hummed like a barber's clipper. But it was far more sinister. "I'm going to puck out those offensive hairs, boy. Puck them out by the roots so that they won't come back for a long time or leave you with rough stubble. It's going to hurt but it's going to happen. If you resist, you shall get another spanking and that will hurt even more than the one you just got. Put your arms behind you, boy."
There was even more than the usual authority in his voice and I was scared of what was to come but even more fearful of extras that his wrath might generate than any immediate pain. He turned the thing on and started on my pubes. One by one it grabbed each and every hair and yanked them out root and stem. It hurt like the spanking hurt and I cried some more. Perhaps at what was happening more than the pain which, although sharp, faded quickly. In less than a quarter of an hour he had my crotch as smooth as a little boy's crotch should be. I realized that I would miss that hair but already I knew that Douglas knew what was best for me. I then had to raise each arm while he did the same to each of my arm pits. I guess he would have done my chest also if I had any hair there.
Douglas took me to the bathroom to brush my teeth and pee-pee and then he tucked me into bed. He talked softly to me that I would have to change my ways. He promised that he would bring printed rules for me in a couple of days. In the morning I was to clean up the apartment thoroughly meaning that I should get behind and under everything and do all the laundry. I was to address him as "Sir" or "Daddy" all the time. I cried myself to sleep knowing that my life was transforming although I was excited at the prospect.
I the morning I found that there were a few rules set down for me in addition to the ones I already knew. The first was no alcohol and a more healthy diet. The few cans of beer I had in the refrig I now found open and upside down in the sink. My snacks were gone. I ate breakfast and got ready for work. I felt like I was a boy again getting ready for school. I knew that if strayed I would be punished yet I knew that was best for me. I imagined that Douglas', er, Sir's dad felt the same way.
I rushed home after work stopping only to pick up dinner so that I could do the laundry before others got to the machines. I knew I would have at least five loads. I did a basic pickup as I collected the laundry and spent hours making the bathroom shine. After a late dinner and putting the laundry away, I showered and went to bed, exhausted.
The next evening I did the kitchen and was amazed at the stuff lurking in the refrig and the main room. I actually felt better about how my apartment looked. I got a call from Sir that I was to be ready at nine Saturday morning for him. He showed up promptly letting himself in with the keys he had copied from mine. Sir was actually pleased and instructed me that I was to do the cleaning at least twice a week. He also weighed me and declared that I was overweight which meant that I was on a reducing diet. After a couple of weeks he was not satisfied so I was required to do some exercises regularly and get more exercise generally.
Things went on like this for a couple of months and I found that I was living better. With the house cleaner and neater, better eating habits and the exercise I did feel better. That a youth was directing did not seem to matter.
When Douglas found out that I hadn't had a medical checkup for more than three years, he arranged for one with his own family doctor. He even took the trouble to go to the doctor with me. I was a little surprised that he went in with me when I was called although the doctor did not seam surprised that he was with me. I guessed that it was because that was the way Doug's dad got treated. He listened as the doctor questioned me and even supplied some answers. When the doctor sent me to the exam room with orders to undress Douglas went with me. Douglass not only repeated the doctor's order to strip but expanded it to completely strip for the examination not to bother with the examining grown. Since I was slow and wanted a gown, I got scolded and I realized that the doctor heard it. He smiled at that especially when Doug said: "Little boys don't have to be modest." Douglas stayed the entire exam and, of course, the followup discussion. The doctor agreed that I was OK except that I needed to lose some more weight and exercise more. He ordered a couple of vaccinations.
When the doctor checked out my groin, he stated that it was healthy for boys to be smooth and hairless. Douglas chucked and said: "Yes, after your son explained how good it was to have removed yours I've followed the practice with Petey just like with Dad." The doctor definitely blushed when he heard that.
I wanted to get dressed, but Douglas told me to wait until I got my shots. A few minutes later, two aides came into the examining room. The older one, a woman in her forties, addressed Douglas most politely – Mr. Donaldson – and introduced the young lass (low twenties) as a new assistant who was still in training. The two then turned to me and Douglas told me that I shouldn't hide from the assistants as they had seen lots of naked boys. As you can guess, I had my hands in front of my crotch which I quickly move to my sides before I got a spanking. I was told to bend over the table for the shots. The young lady did the honors. I got wiped with an alcohol swab and then I got a slap on the other check as she drove the needle into my butt. The process was repeated for the other shot. The aide told Doug that they were done and I should remain in the waiting room for a half hour just in case I had a bad reaction.
All during this time, I found that I was spending a lot of time with Douglas and his father, Thomas. We did a lot of stuff together and I became good friends with Tommy. A month before my lease was up, I got the renewal notice but Douglas prevented me from returning it. I was to move in with him and Tommy. We got rid of a lot of my stuff and I moved. Doug, of course, had the big master bedroom and I shared a bedroom and a double bed with Tommy. I was now part of a proper family that lived together. Douglas was the father and Tommy and I were his two boys. In effect, Tommy and I were now brothers. I had, functionally, been adopted.
My new life
As you can imagine, life was very different from it was before I met Sir. I was now part of a family. Tommy was my brother in every possible way and we both obeyed Douglas as if he was our father. We both worked at regular jobs and appeared to be regular adults to the world, but we both knew that was only an act while our private relation was the real one.
Of course, this did not happen over night as I had to learn to be a good boy. As you can imagine I got spanked a lot at the beginning but now, I'm happy to report, that does not happen frequently. My worst, i.e., most painful, spanking happened short after I moved in with Douglas and Tommy. I had not yet completely learnt my place and was quite uppity about my misbehaviors. It was a Friday afternoon and I was late coming home from the office. It had been a coworker's birthday and we had all gone to a bar to celebrate. My transgressions quickly accumulated: being late, drinking, tipsy, disrespectful, back talking, ... Well just about everything that I could do to make the situation worse. Tommy tried to get me to shut up and behave but I was too high to listen to his good advice. What did get me to shut up and listen was that Douglas slapped my face. It was a real shock and it worked. He was furious and Tommy was astounded that he had to resort to such a tactic.
"Take him to your room, and park him in the corner naked, Tommy." roared Douglas. I did cooperate with Tommy but I was in for it. I must have stood in that corner for an hour before Douglas came to me although during that time my body was metabolizing the alcohol that I should not have had at all. He was still very angry but under control. I pleaded for mercy but my transgressions were so many and so great that none was forthcoming.
He called me from the corner and lectured me for a long time about my most errant behavior even pointed out that some of my problems stemmed from the forbidden alcohol. After that I was taken over his lap as he sat in the straight back chair. Even before he started, I was fearful because he was holding a hairbrush; not just any hairbrush but one which was designed to spank naughty boys as well as brushing hair. His great-grandmother had used it on his father and uncles. It was some three inches (7.5 cm) across and a quarter of an inch (0.6 cm) thick made of heavy, dense oak. I can attest that it packs quite a wallop! I certainly lost count of how many times he whacked my poor bottom but I was soon crying like a little boy and my bottom was on fire.
I was still crying when Douglas returned me to the corner. I wished that I could at least try to rub some of the pain away but my hands were on top of my head. I cried for sometime but by the time Douglas came back I had stopped. When I was called from the corner, I froze when I saw what Douglas had in his hand – THE STRAP! Let me explain. The Strap was only used when we had been very naughty and it was a heavy tawse. "Kneel and lie on the bed, boy."
"Please..." I begged but again to no avail. I knelt by the bed and rested my torso on it. Douglas told Tommy to hold my wrists so that I would not move and he got into position and delivered the first cut. I howled like a banshee from the pain. It was extra bad because I was already hurting from the hair brushing. I howled like that for each cut between the sobs which quickly commenced. I would have run if Tommy had not been holding me with a death grip. That certainly would have gotten me many extra cuts.
After I put in another stint in the corner Douglas returned. I thought that I would be allowed to go to bed and cry myself to sleep but not yet. He sat on the bed and I was again over his lap. He lectured me once again while letting his hand caress my flaming tail. Even that hurt and I was thinking that this was over. Unfortunately, I was very wrong, again. Douglas then proceeded to spank me with his bare hand. That spanking hurt like the blazes because I was super tender nevertheless, it did teach me to fear even a bare handed spanking as I had not previously. Each spank hurt like fire and I was soon crying again. When he was through, Tommy took me to the toilet to pee and then put me to bed. At that time I was in too much pain to realize that I hadn't had dinner.
I was still in pain in the morning. I was required to do my chores as usual even though I was hurting. In the afternoon, Douglas and Tommy went to the park and I had to stay home write an essay about following the rules. Sitting naked on the wood chair kept my mind on the subject very well.
I'm glad that I never got punish like that again. I certainly learnt that multiple transgressions are very painful and I was extra careful to avoid them. That, of course, meant that I had to be careful about everything. Slowly, that go to be second nature and minimized the spankings I received.
As you can imagine, I'm very happy with this arrangement.
© Copyright A.I.L., August 6, 2008
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