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: 05 Feb 2018
Our shared, post-spanking suffering, while we were sitting, crying, on the couch, was shattered by Dad’s next words.
You boys are to get all your things. You, young man, he addressed Jamie.
Get every last
piece of clothing or other possessions you own, pack it all up, and bring it out here to set by the door.
I’ll fix a breakfast for you both, and after that you’ll pack up your car, and leave, and never
come back. Nor will you make any effort or attempt to contact Lincoln again.
Jamie’s face reflected the pangs of shocked horror he felt.
Lincoln, you will pack up everything you own, except for just what you will need for the next five days while you take your final exams. I’ll pack all of that in my vehicle to take home.
I’ve taken the week off work, and am going to stay here until your finals are over. At that point,
we will put what was left into your car, leave this cabin clean and empty, and drive straight home together.
Mom expects us home Friday night, understand? he asked.
I nodded my head up and down, affirming I understood, while feeling like my animated response was
manipulated by the knife I felt in my soul.
Stay put, he ordered both of us, as he got up went
to look in the kitchen.
Okay, you’ve got eggs and bacon, along with bread, he called out from the kitchen.
make a breakfast that will hold you, Jamie, until you get back to Tennessee. It’ll also hold you until
we eat supper tonight before I leave for home, Lincoln, he declared.
Alright, boys, you can get up and get busy doing what you’ve been told, Dad called out further.
We both stood up on wobbly legs, communicating through furtive glances at each other.
go-oo-uh-first, Jamie spoke through still weeping. He turned to head to the bathroom.
Where’re you going, kid? Dad inquired.
Uh-uh-to-uh-guh-et-uh-uh-shower, uh-cleaned up, Jamie answered.
Oh, no, you don’t, Dad replied.
Neither one of you is permitted to shower and get dressed
until you have completed the task each of you has.
When everything is packed up for both of you, and you’ve eaten breakfast, then and only then you’ll
be allowed to shower – and not together – and get dressed.
That’s the conditions, boys. Any reluctance to obey them will be met with a second dose of harsh,
hard spanking, immediately. You both understand?
uh-uh-yes-uh-Duh-addy, we each replied vanquished.
We walked slowly into the bedroom together to embark on the complete emptying and packing up of everything we had in the cabin (except for my needs for the next 5 days of final exams. Neither one of us dared to talk to each other, in ordinary voice or whispers, for fear my Dad would hear us.
Two, totally bare young men, with very harsh, angry red-marked bottoms, were walking back and forth, bending over pulling out clothes from drawers, and stretching to pull down bags and suitcases, to pack. We did it, as ordered, with dutiful diligence, but it did not keep us from shedding silent tears which only augmented our unspoken, shared pain and grief.
After almost 2 hours, Jamie’s bags were at the door, and mine were on the couch. Still treading around, back and forth, totally nude, we stopped when Dad, seeing our completion of our tasks, summoned us into the kitchen for breakfast.
He directed us to sit down on our sore, hurting bare rumps on the hard seats of the chair. We did as ordered, wincing and shifting as we sat.
He served us all lots of eggs, bacon, toast with jelly available, coffee, orange juice, and milk. Despite our depressed grief, we were hungry and ate ravenously, especially Jamie.
When we were finished, Dad ordered Jamie to go into the bathroom and shower, clean up, get dressed, and come back out. Meanwhile, he had me help him clean up the kitchen.
Jamie must have hurried, notwithstanding the fate to which he (and I) were headed. Jamie exited the bathroom in jeans and a long-sleeve sweatshirt over his t-shirt, and hiking boots.
Dad immediately dispatched me to the bathroom to do the same thing. While I was in the shower, relishing the refreshing warm downpour, I also took advantage of the opportunity to ease my anguished mind and emotions by giving my demanding wanker relief.
In the meanwhile, Dad had helped Jamie carry his bags out to his car and pack them in. Jamie was quiet and intimidated, wanting, but fearing, to say he’d like to wait to say good bye to me.
Instead, my Father took control of the moment.
You drive carefully going back, young man, and
attend to the reason you are in school. When you’re finished, you go straight home, but do not try to
see or communicate with Lincoln again, ever.
I know where you live, and who your Grandparents are, young man. If you heed my words, and strictly
comply, you will not make it necessary for me, to contact them, and fill them in on what’s been going
on between you and Lincoln. Now go, at once!
Jamie gulped, flushed red, looked down to keep his tearing eyes from being seen, and walked around to get in behind the wheel of his VW. He grunted softly as the weight of his tortured, sore bottom made contact with the seat. Starting up the engine, he drove away.
When I came out of the bathroom, I too was dressed in jeans and crew-neck sweater. Immediately, I noticed Jamie’s things were gone and walked to the door, opened it, and confirmed he was gone.
I became angry instantly.
He’s gone! Dad! You sent him off without me even having a chance to
say goodbye! How can you be so harsh, and mean?! I shouted.
You just calm yourself down immediately, Lincoln, unless you need another dose of what you got
this morning! I’m warning you, son! I mean it! he rebuked me.
This whole, sordid mess is over with, and you are going to leave it, run from it, and never, ever
have anything to do with it, or that young man, again! I don’t want to have to keep disciplining you,
unless you make it necessary, create a need to do so. Listen to my words, son.
I knew I had to back down, and I struggled hard to do so, except for my sad, sorrowing, gulping sobs. I just focused on them, trying to get them under control, to keep from speaking up, talking back, to my Dad.
He took my packed belongings and carried them out to his car and put them in. Back in the house, he grabbed the sheets of my bed, the towels, and my dirty clothes, and put them all in the washing machine, to launder them.
It was a signal he was purging my whole relationship with Jamie. It only hurt deeply, paining me emotionally, all the more, and I broke down crying audibly and hard.
Dad was exasperated with me. He came over, grabbed hold of me, and dragged me with him to the couch. I could not stop him as he stripped off my jeans, and reached for the waistband of my trunk briefs, tugging them down over my thin, bony hips, my lean, narrow rump, my skinny, little legs, down to tangle around my feet.
Immediately, I was dragged back across his lap, slanted and elevated into position for him to strike. I screamed out, promising, assuring him it was not necessary, I would behave, do what he said; but he told me it was too late now.
He blistered my already very wounded and battered bottom with that ping pong paddle until I was incoherently screeching and sobbing, broken and begging. When he finished that second licking, I was consumed with pain, humbled disgrace, and subdued, broken submission.
You are going to make some serious adjustments living back with us, Lincoln, if you don’t want
to have your bottom incessantly seared and on fire, he admonished. I wailed, stomping and fervently
rubbing and kneading my excruciating behind.
While I was hopping around, he grabbed my harm, holding me still, in place, and pulled my briefs and jeans back up on me. He had to push my woody down into my briefs and zip up my jeans tightly over it.
Go wash your face and comb your hair, son, he ordered somberly. I did, and came back out.
The laundry was done. He handed me the linens to remake my bed, and also my clean clothes to fold and put away.
We ate an early supper that night, after which Dad told me to go into the kitchen, take my books and notes, and study for my final exams. I had one each day, Tuesday through Friday. Obediently, I took my Friday exam papers first, and began studying for it.
About midnight, Dad came in and told me it was time for bed. He said I should put everything in order, noting where I was stopping, so I could pick up right there at once tomorrow. I knew that, of course, but bit my tongue to avoid telling him so.
He got a pillow and blanket for himself to sleep on the couch, waiting while I want into the bathroom to brush my teeth and clean up for bed. When I came out, he told me good night and to go get into bed.
Dad finished getting ready for bed, stripped down to his underwear, and turned out the light. Stretching out on the couch, he lay there until he rapidly fell asleep. He did not hear me later, stretched out on my stomach and chest, weeping softly in my bed.
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