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: 15 Apr 2011
The ball crossed the field. Marcus ditched his opponents and went along the side line. Just in time he turned slightly left. The ball came waist-high. The last seconds of the additional time were quickly vanishing off the clock. Marcus jumped and his left leg came up. Almost horizontally in the air, his foot met the ball. It immediately changed direction, taking an inward curve, away from the goal. Everyone groaned. The last chance was gone. But then, like the ball was magnetically drawn, it took another curve. The goal keeper jumped and stretched but it was too late. The ball scuffed his finger-tips before hitting the far post, bouncing back and passing the line behind the keeper.
Marcus didn't see the ball crossing the line. He already was on his way to his coach, the arms held out like they were the wings of a plane. He 'flew' between shouting team mates and horrified opponents, and right as the umpire blew the final whistle, he jumped as high as he could, knowing the strong arms of his team coach would catch him. The coach indeed was awaiting the boy, clutching him against his chest and swaying him around with ecstasy and pride. The coach, of course, was I and Marcus is my son.
At thirteen Marcus was still a chatterbox and all the way home he repeated in full detail today's game. It was only when we pulled into the driveway and he saw my wife in the yard tending her prized flowers that his mouth remained closed. He diverted his eyes to his feet. There was no need for me to say anything. We had covered the whole affair yesterday and for me it was over once his punishment was carried out. I knew how much he was ashamed of his behavior and how much it had hurt him to see Angie cry.
It wasn't like that as Angie came into his life four years ago. Before it had been only him and I since his mother had died shortly after his birth. Suddenly there was another person trying to get his beloved father's attention. It had been a difficult time and it took almost two years and a period of four weeks with both arms in casts to break the ice completely. You see, it's hard to stay hostile with someone you had to rely on to be fed and get your ass wiped clean. But he still called her Angie.
I will not relay what he had said to Angie but I didn't think I would ever hear something like that. To his credit, his tears matched Angie's once he realised what he had done and more important was his tearful but accurate confession to me. I had stopped spanking him since Angie didn't believe in hurting children, as she said. Grounding, withdrawing of privileges and something like that were the substitutes. We always made sure Marcus understood what he did wrong and why he was punished the way he was. As usual, before telling him the sentence, he had the 'last word'.
And wow, what a last word it was. He said he was deeply ashamed of what he had said and that he knew a simply apology would probably be accepted by Angie but would not wipe out the guilt he felt. He said that grounding him wouldn't do that either and would only punish his team too since everyone knew the team needed him for that final match of the season. He explained that his best friend Thomas still got spanked and that it helped him to feel really punished. So Marcus asked to be spanked long and hard. It caused a lengthy discussion between Angie and me but in the end she agreed. I wasn't the one to be convinced.
So as we were pulling up to the house it wasn't alone the sight of Angie that hushed my son but the knowledge what was to come. We had agreed that the spanking would not happen before the important match because I didn't want to embarrass him in front of his mates in the showers since it was very likely some bruised would be visible for a while.
As I entered his room thirty minutes later I found a dining chair in the middle of the room and a stark naked boy pressing his nose against the wall with his hand on top of his head. On the chair was a long wooden ruler, the boy's hair brush and a large bath brush. As if that alone didn't show Marcus' sincerity, on top of all was the boy's favorite belt he refused to let anyone touch it.
It felt strange and yet familiar having him over my lap, his smooth buttocks bigger but still beautifully round and tight. He had wrapped his hands around my ankle and held on for dear life. I started slow with my hand and he took that without a sound. Same went with the ruler. As I changed to the hair brush he started to squirm a bit. By the time the bath brush came in use he cried silently. His butt and thighs were bright red and I hesitated but somehow I felt he wanted me to finish with the belt.
It took three licks with the doubled belt for him to break down. I added a last one. After a period of heavy sobbing by the boy and soothing back rubbing by me he was able to get up, only wrap his arms around my neck and telling me how sorry he was. I told him how much I love him and that I was really proud of how he owned up and took his punishment. Leaving him alone to compose himself I went down for a hug and kiss from my wife.
As Marcus came down for dinner he hesitantly went over to Angie. It was clear he tried to say something but the words weren't coming out. Angie just held her arms out and the boy flew into them.
“I love you” Marcus cried. And, for the first time in his life, he added, “Mum!”
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