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When the Chores are Done

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: 03 Feb 2018


Sometimes I hate living on a farm. Especially a working horse farm. There is ALWAYS something to do and nothing else can be done until all the chores are done. My Pa is a dick. He really is. He uses me as his personal work slave. I get all the nasty jobs that he doesn’t want to fool with; and if I don’t get done quick enough or I’m thorough enough, he’ll tan my hide.

Today is a case in point...Last night I had been given permission to go out, which very seldom happens. Now out here in the middle of freaking nowhere is Wyoming; going out means getting on a horse and riding several miles into a podunk town with only a Rexall store to serve as a hang out. With miles between farms, a 17 y/o boy like me has few friends to hang out with.

I had slaved all day mending a broken fence down in the far end of the western fence, about 1/2 mile away from the bulk of the farm. Pa had told me that I could go into town only if I got the fence mended. So I worked on it all day long. I hit my thumb a few times and let out curses, that if Pa had heard me, he would have taken a switch to me. I also got a few splinters. So as sundown approached, I was getting tired of that damn fence, so I only put two nails in each post instead of the usual 4. It also looked like it might rain and I wanted to get cleaned up and to town and home before the rain hit.

I got into town and met my friend Jackson at the Rexall and we had burger and fries, coke and piece of strawberry short cake. That was pretty much it for the night out. I heard a distant rumble of thunder and I spurred the horse to get me home quick. I got in just as the first drops of rain started to fall and was tucked warmly in my bed by the time the gullywasher let loose...

At the crack of dawn, Pa rustled me out of my warm bed with instructions to go and feed the animals, replace the hay in the barn while he went checked the perimeter for storm damage. I did as I was told and within a few hours, the blistering hot sun was out in force and I stripped down to just my jeans and boots so that I would have a little relief from the heat as I worked.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Pa come in from his perimeter search, gather some tools and head back out. I noticed he didn’t call for me to go with him, so I assumed it was only a minor problem he found. What I didn’t notice, was that Briggs, our farmhand who works during the day with us, had gone with him.

Late that afternoon around 4:30 or so, Pa and Briggs came back all muddy and sweaty. As Briggs passed me on his way out of the barn home, he smriked and grunted. I did not know least yet. I had just finished putting the tack away after rubbing the horses down when I started towards the house. I stopped at the water spicket to get a drink and Pa stepped over to me.

Caleb, are your chores done?

Yes, Sir.

Get your ass to the barn. We’ve got business.

That statement sent shivers up my spine. That was Pa’s code for you are about to get your ass whipped. I went to the barn and waited with bated breath and trembling knees. I did not know what I had done. I thought I had been pretty good lately.

When Pa came in the barn, he gruffly grabbed my ear and drug me into the tack room to where the saw horse is. STRIP! was on the only word he uttered. I shucked off my clothes, still not knowing why but the sight of the saw horse made me even more terrified.

Pa wordlessly reached up and took ropes off the wall, lead me over to the sawhorse and tied my limbs spread out to all four corners through eyebolts he had specifically built into the horse. This position has my ass at just the right height to be fully exposed and I was spread eagle without the abililty to move.

Pa reached up on the wall and took down the heavy strop that he kept there and I began to sweat in fear. He walked behind me and placed his hand on my ass.

Boy, when I tell you to do something, I damn well expect it to be done properly.

But, Pa—I stammered. I don’t understand what is wrong?

What is wrong boy, is that your half assed repair to the fence on the lower side didn’t hold during the storm and not only did I have to mend the fence again, 5 horses got out and Briggs had to help me corral them back in!!

If you had put 4 nails in the post instead of 2, it would have held. Now I’m gonna take those extra nails and all that extra work and mess out of your ass!


That heavy leather bit into my tender ass flesh and I let out a yelp of pain but it fell on deaf ears. Pa was pissed and he meant business.


My tears flowed and my cries echoed through the barn as Pa made sure I paid the full price for not doing my chores correctly.

Now boy, you are gonna stay just like that till I say otherwise. You think about what you did and what it cost me in wasted time and labor.

With that, Pa replaced the strop on the wall and left me naked, restrained and crying in the barn.

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