Making Hay

by Skinpang

The wooden shed stood on the edge of a field in Jack Dobson`s farm. It was used as a workshop to make minor repairs to the farm machinery, and on this particular day farmer Dobson was inside making a few adjustments to a plough. A small window looked out onto a drove which ran alongside the field. Every now and then boys from the boarding school, which was about half a mile away, would come jogging along the drove in their running kits. They used the drove as part of a cross-country course, and apart from the official cross-country runs the keen ones would use it in their own time in order to keep fit. This was such an afternoon. The drove was not a public right-of -way; it traversed the farm and belonged to Mr. Dobson. He had given the school permission to use it whenever they wanted providing the boys kept to the drove and did not go onto any of the fields.

The farmer happened to look out of the window when a boy came into sight running alone. Mr. Dobson guessed that he was about thirteen or fourteen years old. The boy suddenly stopped, looked all around him as if to see if anybody else was about and then jumped across a ditch into the field and disappeared from sight behind a haystack which stood about thirty yards from the shed.

"What`s that young scamp up to?" thought Mr. Dobson. He came out of the shed and went over to the haystack to investigate. He crept carefully round the stack so as to make no noise. As he turned round the corner he pulled up with a start! There was the boy with his shorts down to his ankles, squatting on his haunches answering the calls of nature! He had his back to Mr. Dobson so was unaware of the farmer`s presence. Eventually he grabbed a handful of straw to use as a substitute for paper!

"You filthy little hound!" bawled out the farmer. The lad sprang up pulling his shorts up all in one action and swung his head round with a guilty expression on his face.

"I-I-I-I`m sorry sir! I needed to go really badly!"

"So you chose my haystack! People have got to work here and you were going to run off and leave this mess here!" The boy did not respond. "The old saying `caught with one`s pants down` has some real meaning on this occassion, hasn`t it? What`s your name boy?"

" Harding sir. I`m really sorry sir!" replied the boy shaking like a leaf.

He was a handsome boy with fair hair and deep blue eyes. Mr. Dobson was getting a mental picture of putting the boy across his knee and spanking him! He had not had a boy across his knee since his own son was about this lad`s age, and that was twenty years ago! But how was he going to work it? A plan was beginning to formulate in his head.

"I`m going to report you to your headmaster! I hear that he`s quite handy with a cane!"

Alan Harding was only too well aware of that. He had seen boys who had had the cane unable to sit down for two or three days! Furthermore, he had more than once walked past the headmaster`s door when a boy was being "dealt with" and had heard the crack of the cane followed by the agonising screams! He had always been a "goodie" at school because of it. He feared getting a taste of the dreaded cane more than anything!

"What`s more," went on Mr Dobson, "I`m going to withdraw my permission for your school to use my drove! That will make you popular! You`ll probably get a public thrashing in the assembly hall!"

Alan had heard of that happening in the distant past. Apart from the physical agony of such a punishment everyone at the school would know what he had done! He would be the laughing stock of the school for the rest of his school days! He was now in a state of terror, weak at the knees and trembling from head to foot!

"Oh! Please sir , no. Please don`t report me! Please please sir!" he wailed like somebody pleading for his life!

The farmer knew that he had the boy eating out of his hand! He would agree to anything rather than face the dreadful consequences at the hands of his headmaster!

"Well," said Mr Dobson very slowly, as if he was carefully concidering the matter, "I might just think of giving you an alternative!"

" Anything sir, anything!" Alan blurted out, "but please don`t report me!"

"Very well! I won`t report you if you agree to take a spanking from me instead!"

Alan dare not even give himself time to think, lest the farmer changed his mind and withdrew his "offer!"

"Yes all right sir! Thank you sir!"

Mr. Dobson wondered whether anyone had ever before thanked somebody for offering to spank him!

"Right, then. But first you are going to dig a hole and bury that deposit you left behind.! Come over to the shed and get a spade!"

The boy was made to dig a hole on a bare piece of ground about twenty yards from the haystack and then fetch the offending heap on the spade! It was probably the most humilitating thing he had ever had to do in his life! That completed, the farmer took the boy back into the shed and sat down on a large wooden box.

"Come here," he said "and take down your shorts!" Alan hesitated. "Well get them down boy! You`ve got nothing to hide under there! I`ve already seen your bare backside, doing what it was designed for! Now I`m going to show you another good use for it!"

Alan pulled down his shorts. Mr. Dobson put him over his left knee and trapped the boy`s legs with his right leg. All the memories came flooding back. It had been twenty years! The farmer never dreamt that the oppurtunity would ever arise again. It was a case of making hay while the sun shines! There were pieces of straw trapped between the boy`s bum-cheeks, an indication of the sudden interuption he had encountered at the haystack!

"When you get back to school after I`ve finished with you, you want to get yourself cleaned up." said Mr. Dobson, "You`ve got half my haystack stuck up your arse!"

Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack!

Alan was desparately trying to shield his bottom with his right hand. Mr. Dobson got hold of his wrist and pulled the hand underneath the boy`s body.

Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack!

"Arrrrr. Arrrrr. Arrrrr. Arrrrr. St-st-stop it p-p-please!"

Alan was squirming, his left hand was folded into a fist banging up and down on the floor, his once white bottom had turned a deep shade of red and tears were pouring onto the ground.

Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack!

"Arrrrr. Arrrrr. Arrrrr. Arrrrr.

Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack!

His ordeal was finally over when Mr. Dobsom`s palm was stinging so much that he could not carry on spanking! He lifted the boy up.

"Pull up your shorts" ordered the farmer. Alan did so, then thrust his left hand inside his shorts to try and comfort his stinging bum, while his right hand was rubbing his eyes. Mr. Dobson kept a roll of paper towel in the workshop.

"Here! Don`t rub your eyes. Everyone will see you`ve been crying! Dab them with the paper."

Eventually the tears began to subside. He still had his left hand inside his shorts, firmly planted on his rump!

"You can go when you want to, but if you want to stop a little longer to get over it that`s ok with me."

Alan waited another five minuits until he had completely stopped crying..

"May I go now, sir?" he asked.

"Yes. I told you before that you could." replied Mr. Dobson.

Alan walked out of the door, then turned round and came back to the doorway.

"Thank you for not reporting me!" he said, sounding genuinely grateful.

Mr. Dobson felt a wave of sympathy for the boy, and remembered that he had felt the same emotion after he had spanked his own boy all those years ago!

"All right, son! Off you go! Oh! And by the way, you can still come onto the drove, providing you behave yourself in future!"

"Thank you sir!" He turned and disappeared from view.

It was to be a day that Jack Dobson would never forget. Nor would Alan Harding!

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