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Part 35

by Graham

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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 Feb 2018

I awoke early Monday morning, but Dad was already up, showered, dressed, with coffee brewing. Just like when I was growing up, he was nipping at my heels, urging me to move along, get ready, get busy.

My butt was killing me, and my heart was hemorrhaging. Dad took the initiative to fix breakfast again, and summoned me into the kitchen to sit down and eat. As we ate, he told me he was going to drive back home today while I was studying for my exams.

I know you need the time, son, and you can probably concentrate and bear down without my hanging around. I’ll be back in the early evening. I’m taking your car keys so you will only be able to study, and not get any ideas about going off, he informed me.

Gee, Dad! Is this the way it’s going to be when I move back home? I asked with obvious resentment.

For a while, young man, yes. We’re going to see how you do, complying, obeying, conforming to the rules and standards. If you prove you can be trusted to do so, you’ll get more freedoms. If not, you’ll get punished, spanked, pure and simple.

Hearing his decrees on me and my life really upset me. Here I was, a fall semester senior in college, and I was controlled and reined in, like I was a young, teenage boy.

Still, I had no options. I needed to graduate from college, and I couldn’t afford to support myself and go to school. I wanted things to go back to the way there were, especially with Jamie; but that had been ruled out by my Dad.

After breakfast, Dad grabbed hold of my by my arm, bending me forward, and swatting my extremely sensitive and sore behind. He told me to clean up my own kitchen, and get right down to studying and preparing.

No wasting time, Lincoln. I expect you to get very good grades in these courses of your next-to-last semester of college..

Aaaaa, Daddy! I cried out with juvenile submissiveness. Ah, you don’t have to remind me. I want to do that too, you know,I answered.

See to it you use your time to get prepared, then; and kick the attitude and tone, young man, if you know what’s best for you.

My face flushed red, but looked intimidated as he rebuked me. He hugged me, kissed my neck, and pushed me away. See you later today, son. Now get to work!

After cleaning up the kitchen, I put a pillow on the seat of the chair, sat down, and resumed where I’d noted I left off last night. Sitting in my jeans and sweater, and socked feet, I concentrated hard, working for almost 4 hours straight, getting up only to pee and get some more coffee.

I stopped at lunch time, heating up some leftover pizza Jamie and I had brought back Saturday night. Every time my exceedingly sore butt hurt, it reminded me not only of how I was back under my Dad’s thumb, but the reason and the result that Jamie had been ordered out of my life.

My feet felt cool, even in my socks, on the floor. I hurried into the bedroom to put my shoes on. Sticking my left foot in, I felt something inside the shoe, wadding up at my toes. I took my foot out of the shoe, reached into it, and pulled out a note from Jamie.

Before leaving to drive back to Johnson City, Tennessee, Jamie had left a quickly scrawled note for me. He hid it in my shoe, which I would only discover when I put my foot into it. The note read:

Dear Lincoln, I don’t know what to say that won’t rip out my heart and tear up all my emotions. I want to apologize for speaking up to your Father, and acting like a brat whom he needed to take down a few pegs.

I know I was bad, acting bold and arrogant, making him really angry with me, and then with you to. Please forgive me for my behaviour, Lincoln. I truly know better than to act like I did, and can only account for it as the desperate frustration of being forced to separate from you.

What I’m saying is something I’ve known for a long while now, and only sort of shared with you; but now I want to, feel that I have to, tell you outright. From the moment you picked me up, like a drenched mutt, in your car, you started to radiate this aura of influence on me.

You did it is a subtle, soft, kind and friendly, but gradually growing, weblike influence that really took control eventually. In a commanding, masterful way you sucked me into your trance, starting with giving up my spring-break trip to the beach, and then longing to spend more and more time with you.

You’ve been there for me every time, from when I almost fell off the side of the mountain; to when I tried to visit you when I had the flu, and you took charge, took care of me, and nursed me back to health; to the times I’ve had to admit, and you seen it, I lose control and need to be forcefully put back in my place.

You compelled an immediate, real, and long-lasting change in me, much like my Grandpa does when he concludes I need a severe spanking to straighten me out and bring me into line. I am truly your captive, willing and eager to be under your spell, your control, even more than with my Grandparents, who you know I love without limit.

Anyway, everything seems so different know. What you have done has somehow changed me. I don’t know why, but I’m different.

You have this effect on me, this power over me. You possess something (I don’t know what it is) that has led me to accept, to want to have, your control of me, to willingly defer to you, let you be in charge of me. You have changed me, Lincoln.

I’m torn up having to leave you. Ever since you picked me up in the rain, we’ve been closer than anybody. I love you. There, I’ve finally said it. I think you love me too.

What do we do? What do I do now? I don’t know. I want to stay with you, Lincoln, be with you, share our lives together as we’ve been doing for a almost a year now. At the same time, we are both being driven apart, away from each other.

What should I do? I can’t hurt my Grandparents. I want you. You’re the best and closest person in my life, even more than my Grandpa. But I can’t figure out what to do.

My mind, thoughts and recollections, desires and emotions, needs I didn’t know I had, wasn’t aware of, didn’t know – they’re all under your spell, and satisfied only with you. If this is truly the end of us, of our relationship, I don’t know how I’ll every be happy and fulfilled again.

Just know this, Lincoln. I’ll never forget you. I’ll never be the same since meeting and coming to know you. Without you, I’ll never put the pieces of my life together again as they have fit with you.

Yeah, I’ll go on. I have to. I’ll get by, but I’ll always be a man with a huge hole in his life, and heart, without you, Lincoln. I love you now, and I’ll love you forever. Jamie

I broke down bawling. That letter said everything Jamie felt, and most of what I felt too. After I’d sobbed out my overflowing sadness, I picked up my phone and called Jamie. He answered.

Jamie, I spoke earnestly. I just found your note. Ah, damn, I miss you so much already. If we both feel like this, and can admit it now, why are we being driven apart and sent away? I can’t stand it.

Me, too, little buddy, Jamie answered. I laid awake in bed last night thinking of you, wanting to hold you close into me, and feel you breathing and smell your scent.

So, did I, Jamie. My Dad was asleep on the couch, and I was crying like a kid, missing you, longing for you, to be with you.

What are you doing, today? he asked. I told him Dad had gone to take most of my things back home, and I was studying for finals. He said he was doing the same thing.

His finals were Tuesday, Wednesday (2) and Thursday. On Friday, he would leave in the morning to go back to the Leary farm in Ohio, to celebrate Christmas. He already knew mine were spread out, one each day, through Friday.

Maybe we can get together at New Years, I spoke up.

And in March, at next spring break, we should get together and celebrate, kind of like an anniversary, Jamie suggested. I did not dare raise the question of how I was ever going to get away from my Dad to do that.

We both need to get back to studying, I began to end the conversation. You said it, so boldly and straightforwardly, Jamie. I need to, want to, do it too. I love you, red head!

He laughed amidst plainly sounding tears. So did I.

I love you, you hunk of hot, handsome little man. Be good, Jamie concluded.

Bye, Jamie. I love you. We ended the call. I was weepy and teary-eye.

I sat back down and tried to compel my brain to concentrate on the subjects before me, instead of the carrot-topped, white-marble, lanky hottie I longed for and missed. Eventually, I did get my brain back onto the subjects for the final exams.

About 5 p.m., Dad drove up, and came in. Getting it done, buddy? he asked.

Yes, Dad, I answered nodding.

Good for you, son. Why don’t I call and order Chinese? I can go get it and bring it back, and we’ll eat when I return.

He left, and I cleared off the table and set plates, cutlery, glasses, and napkins. While he was gone, my cell phone rang again. Immediately, I saw it was Jamie.

Hey, man! I answered enthusiastically. How’re you doing now? Are you still studying? No, I’ve stopped. My Dad’s gone to get us Chinese for supper, so I’m getting the table ready.

You think you’re ready for tomorrow? Good. You know you’re very smart, and very disciplined, Jamie. I wish I were as smart and focused as you.

Of course, we all get off course at times, but I need more constant direction to stay focus. It only takes one or two re-directional actions with you, and you’re back to the same ole Jamie.

I’m just hoping I can make myself stay focused to get through all these finals.

You can do it, Lincoln, Jamie said. You just force yourself, every minute. You hear me, little buddy?

Yeah, but I already can’t stand being separated from you, Jamie. Sometimes, it just buzzes through my brain, interrupting and interfering with everything I’m doing, until... aaaah, I gotta go, man. Bye.

As Dad was walking into the cabin with food, I quickly shut off the call with my phone in my hand. Who was that, Lincoln? Dad inquired.

Oh, ah, nobody, I lied.

Don’t lie to me, Jamie. That just guarantees you a very harsh, long punishment. Give me your phone. It’ll tell me who it was.

He reached out and took the phone from my hand. I hated it, having my phone grabbed from my hand like a dangerous toy seized from a kid.

Lincoln Collins! What is it going to take to get through to you. You are not to communicate with that red-headed, young man again, not by text, email, call, or anything else. If you continue to disobey me, you will continue to be spanked, young man.

I’m blocking all calls from that young man, and am going to add Mspy to your phone, so I can tell, without waiting to ask, whether you’re disobeying and initiating communication him, and also what you’re talking about.

This way, Mom and I won’t be caught be surprise like we were at Thanksgiving. We’ll know immediately if you are disobeying, Dad announced.

Nooo, Dad! Noooo! You can’t do that! I’m not some little kid that you need to keep monitory! I’m an adult! You should treat me like one!

You just calm yourself down immediately, young man. You are my son, and as you (and your brother) well know, I expect, and will have, compliance with my instructions. If you fail to comply, disobey, you will be punished, spanked, that’s it.

I was seething with rage at being so confined and controlled and distrusted. Shit, Dad! This is no way to live! I’m like an inmate with my own family! You can’t do thisss!

I was shouting with anger. Dad set the food on the table and came over to me. Grabbing hold of both my arms just below my shoulders, he held, and shook, me until I hushed my shouting.

Lincoln, you are going to obey. You are going to do what we tell you, and not do what we forbid. No haggling, no grousing, so cursing, and no sneaking and trying to get around what we tell you.

Tonight, though, it’s clear to me you need another round of punishment, another reminder of what you are to do, and what happens when you don’t. Get those jeans and your underwear down and off immediately, young man!

I hissed and inhaled deeply. I had dug myself another hole. Ah, um, Daddy, please. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t lose my temper, I know. I’m sorry, though. I’ll do better, I promise. I’ll listen, and obey.

Too late, again, Lincoln. The time to say all that is when you first start flirting with the idea you can disregard and disobey what you’re told. Not when you’ve already disobeyed and are about to be punished for it, Dad explained.

Daddy, no, please! Please, Daddy, nooo, uh, I’m, uh-uh sar-eeeee!?

He had run out of patience with me. Pulling me by my arm, he dragged me along to the couch, sat down, and pulled me between his legs. He unzipped and unsnapped my jeans, yanking them down my legs to my shoes, followed immediately by my briefs.

The cool air was instantly noticeable on my skinny bare legs, and my hurting, sore bum and thighs. Dad swerved me around from between his legs, over to his right, and hauled me swiftly down and across his legs.

I wriggled and squirmed, as if by those actions I could free myself and escape the licking I knew I had coming. Dad tightened his restraints on me, including placing his right leg over the backs of my legs, holding me rigidly in place on his lap, my bottom poised as a target.

He unleashed an all-too-familiar series of smacks with the ping pong paddle all over my buttocks and thighs. I shrieked and protested through ascending-pitched cries, but I knew I was defeated before the spanking began.

He spanked and spanked, and I squalled and bawled, sobbing like a broken hearted, little child. Daddy was whipping me, disciplining his son, taking his boy in hand and calling him to account for disobedience.

I could only admit, and apologize, and plead for forgiveness and another chance. At last, I capitulated, hanging defeated and surrendered, accepting the demeaning and painful punishment until I was completely crushed and devastated.

He forcefully pulled me up to sit on his lap sideways, while he hugged me close, pulling me into himself, giving me his left chest and shoulder to sob my sorrow, shame, and grief on. Slowly, he rocked me on his lap, in his arms, until my weeping dissolved into whimpers.

Standing me on my unsteady feet, he pulled up my briefs, against stuffing my stiffy into them, and then my jeans, up my legs, scraping against my scorched, sore thighs and cheeks.

Now, come on, son. You needed, and know you deserved, every bit of that. But our food has gotten cold while we had to bring you back in line. We’ll put it in the microwave, pour ourselves milk, and then eat.

We did all of that, and I sat uneasily with him, quietly eating with lachrymose attitude and outlook. When we finished, we put the leftovers in the kitchen, and Dad quickly cleared the table, telling me I had a few hours to study some more before bedtime.

I was afraid to ask what time he meant by bedtime, and just got my books and slowly settled my bottom back down onto the chair to return to studying.

My final was at 9 a.m., for 3 hours, I told Dad. He told me I was to be in bed by 10:30. When I disputed that, asserting I could stay up longer to study more, he came and stood over me.

Do you need another spanking, Lincoln? Do you want another one? Tell me, son,
what’s going to happen whenever you don’t listen, don’t obey?
He paused.

I was humiliated and infuriated by this treatment. Okay, I know. I’ll get punished, I answered with a somewhat dismissive and evasive answer.

Say it, Lincoln. It’s about time you got down off that pseudo high horse and came to grips with what’s once more going to be routine for your young life, son. Say it, now. How will you be punished? What exactly is going to happen to you, young man?

Realizing I was teetering on the edge of provoking him to undress and spank me again, I struggled, squawking a better answer quicker.

Ah, ah, I’ll get, ah, spanked. You’ll, ah, spank, um, me, Daddy. I’m sorry, I responded.

You better be, Lincoln, because when I stop you about 10:15, you’d better put everything away, get yourself ready, and be in your bed by 10:30. Otherwise, you’ll be another 15 minutes later, and with an even redder, hotter, sorer posterior, he cautioned.

I did everything he said, and was lying once again on my stomach and chest, trying to drop off quickly to sleep, and to suppress thoughts and feelings about Jamie. Once again, I needed the emotional purge of a wank to clam me down.

Surprisingly, afterward, and maybe as a result of having gotten two, more spanking in this day, my body and mind were ready to embrace the therapeutic relief of sleep.

In the morning, Dad awakened me at 7 a.m., shooing me into the bathroom to shower and get ready. When I emerged and dressed, he had a solid breakfast of eggs, potatoes, and sausage waiting for me, along with coffee and orange juice. That was kind of nice, and I consumed it all to hold me for the long 3 hours of my exam.

Afterward, he told me to leave the kitchen to him and go get ready to drive to campus. It’s always better to be early, then racing in at the last minute, he advised.

I drove off, embarking on four days of final exams for which I had studied, and would continue to study hard, until finished. My very tender, sore bottom reminded me of the topsy turvy world I was now in under my Dad’s command; but it also made me more keenly alert, if only because I was steaming and chafing over my rigid limitations.

Exactly the same thing happened every time I shifts uneasily in my seat during the exam; but it did keep me alert. When at last the exam was over, I got up and stiffly walked over to the proctor to turn in my exam answers.

Several guys after the exam asked me to join them for lunch. Fearing getting into a bind with my Dad, I quietly called him to tell him in a hushed tone. He said it would be alright for an hour or so, but to be back at the cabin by 1:30, and I knew I had to comply.

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