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Wooden Spoon

by Southern Justice

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 Jan 2018


You just never know what is going to happen. One minute you are just being you and the next, you are face down, bare assed and on fire.

This happened to me today. It’s my own fault and I did learn to never assume anything again. Dad and I had gone to a friends time share for the weekend. We had packed light since it was just a weekend trip and I was delighted to see that to my knowledge, Dad had not packed any heavy duty implements. Both the frat paddle and the Jokari was still safely in their homes.

I guess that made me a bit daring. Turns out it was more than a bit stupid on my part to think that since dad had left that stuff at home, he couldn’t possibly have anything that would cause me much pain should I get into trouble over the weekend. And I certainly had no intention of doing that and if I happened to do so in any event, I sure would not do anything bad enough to warrent him cutting a switch.

We had a great drive down and Dad even let me drive part of the way. We hit the beach as soon as we were settled in and played in the sand, the ocean for most of that afternoon. That first night we went out to eat and catch a movie, which is rare for us, and then back to the condo and to bed.

This morning dawned bright and beautiful and I got up and made us breakfast before we headed out to a flea market that we had scoped last night. We browsed the place for a few hours as it was huge and didn’t buy anything. We then headed down to the boardwalk to walk. It was here that things began to unravel.

Dad had been in one of his quiet moods, which I usually read pretty well. Today, however, I didn’t read it right. He was not in just his quiet mode, he was in his leave me the hell alone mode. I realize now that he only went out to the flea market and such because he knew that I had wanted too and it would have hurt my feelings had he said no.

So being my usual self, I tried to coax a smile out of him by picking at him and trying to get a rise out of him. When nothing worked, and believe me, I tried several things; I foolishly resorted to child antics. We had stopped to eat in a little diner type place just off the beach and I babbled endlessly during the meal and when dessert arrived, a shared banana split with cherries on top, I flung a cherry playfully at Dad. It hit him squarely in the eye. Bad move.....

Now as I have said before, my Dad doesn’t yell or make a scene when he is mad. I have always called it his silent fury. Tonight, I most definitely saw that silent fury. His steel blue eyes would have arced had it been possible. He didn’t say a word, he didn’t have too. We ate the split because it would have been even worse to have wasted it. I could barely enjoy the ice cream because I could see the storm rising.

The walk back to the condo was silent, awkward and swift. I had earnestly apologized and I truly believe that dad knew that I had not intentionally tried for his eyes, but I had screwed up royally. We both knew it and I knew he was going to deal with me harshly. I was again, silently thanking my maker that he had left the Jokari and frat at home.

When we walked through the door, dad stood holding it open for me to pass and pointed to the corner. I lost my clothes and stood there awaiting my fate, not sure what that would comprise of...I soon found out.

There was no lecture, there was no big production made of what was happening. Dad came to the corner and grabbed me by the ear. He reached over and took a wooden spoon from the kitchen counter on his way to the ottoman. He sat and briskly pulled me across his lap and began a fierce and immediate draw down on my ass.

The fire and pain that spread throughout my body was undefinable. I never knew something as simple looking as a wooden stirring spoon, could make such a painful and serious discipline implement. My ass hurt just as bad as it normally did when dad was using his Jokari full force. I don’t know how many licks he gave me. I do know, and I am not exaggerating, that the spanking lasted for a full 15 minutes with not let up in severity.

My legs were kicking, I was holding on tight to his leg and I was crying my eyes out. But my ass was presented as it was expected during a paddling and my father did his dead level best to blister my ass. He succeeded. When he put me back in the corner, still bawling, he dared me to touch my ass. He announced that I would get another dose directly before bed and since we were sleeping in the same bed, that I would go to bed with a freshly whipped ass and I would stay still, not squirm, not make any noise and go to the sleep if I knew what was good for me.

I remained in that corner for an hour. Dad had stepped out onto the balcony and left the sliding door open, so I could hear the ocean waves crashing against the shore. It was not comforting tonight. I was scared because Dad had broken the spoon during that first session and I believe that was the only reason he stopped when he did. When he had gone outside, I was afraid that he had gone for a switch. But instead, he came back in and sat down to watch TV. From his vantage point, he could see the TV and a clear view of the ass that he had torn up.

There still was no lecture, no warning of getting my act together. All he said at bedtime was for me to go brush my teeth and then to sit on the bed and wait.

That was an agonizing wait. I had to sit there alone for about half an hour. Then dad came in, stripped, brushed his teeth and then walked naked back into the kitchen. I heard drawers opening and when he returned, he held a wooden spatula in his hand.

I quivered all over. Dad sat on the edge of the bed and motioned for me to stand before him. Are you ever going to pull a childish stunt like that again in public, young man? No, Daddy, I swear. I muttured in a cracked voice. I’m going to make sure you don’t. With that he pulled down over his lap again. This time he instructed me to angle my head so that I could see myself in the reflection of the mirror that hung on the closet door. He wanted me to see the spatula as he raised it high over his head and brought in down with a crescendo that exploded into the room when it made contact.

Once again, it was a non-stop flurry of licks. Hard, fast and determined. I was crying almost instantly and holding on for dear life. Daddy flat out blistered my ass for the second time within as many hours. I heard the crack of the spatula as it too broke and then heard my father say that he would go into town tomorrow before we left and buy a replacement spoon and spatula and that both would come out of my allowance.

When he let me up, he pulled back the covers and pointed at the mattress. I wordlessly got into bed and he covered me up. No tossing of my hair, no goodnight kiss. He went round and climbed in beside me. Remember what I said, son. And snapped off the light.

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