There was a chill in the air - the kind of damp frostiness that
comes in summertime with the approach of dawn - and yet it was only
just past midnight. Shivering against the tree, I watched Jeff leave
the barn and walk through the crowds. Dad and Reg were still inside,
talking with people they knew. Too tired and warm to smile at
strangers, I had excused myself and wandered outside. Although there
were a good number of men standing around the booths, most had
remained inside to await the announcement of the results. Fresh coffee
steam trailed from cups gripped in expressive hands as the men
discussed the finer points of the competition, debating the merits of
this or that spanking. Jeff passed between the groups and approached
two men standing at a distance from the others. He spoke to one of
them, and I knew immediately that the man was his dad. He had the same
light colouring, the same angular features;Jeff's
long, muscular torso was exaggerated in him, as though he were a
puffed-up version of the boy - a Norse God beside his Viking
worshipper. He took some money from his wallet and handed it to his
son. Jeff turned from his dad, glanced in my direction, and strolled
to a concession stand. Unsure whether or not he had noticed me under
the tree boughs, I did nothing to acknowledge him. He stood at the
counter for a few moments, then took two steaming cups from the man
working the booth and walked toward me. So as not to spill the drinks,
he kept his eyes on the cups until he was close enough to hand me one
saying, "I hope you like hot chocolate."
"Sure. Thanks."
Through the plastic cup, the chocolate burned my fingers, and I
shifted it from one hand to the other, blowing on it between
sips. "You having hot chocolate too?" I asked.
"Yes." He smiled at
me, his cup held firmly in his right hand.
In my history class, we
were studying ancient Greece. Some of it must have sunk in, because I
suddenly remembered the Spartans and their obsession with toughening
themselves through hardship. It occured to me to ask Jeff if he took
cold showers and slept on rock. But instead I said, "It looks like
your gang is going to win."
"Don't know. It seems pretty
close."
He meant by this, I knew, that the two teams
favoured to win were his Grim Strappers, and my Hell's Punishers. The
spankings had continued for at least an hour after Dad made me
quit. At the end there were only three boys left:
Reg, Jeff, and one other whom I didn't know, in an orange robe. Their
refs had called an end to it, deciding at about the same time that the
three boys had had enough. I didn't get to see it,
though;I only knew this much from what I'd heard in
the post-spanking chatter. After my last spanking, one hard stroke of
a cane across the top of my thighs, I had followed Dad to the
registration table, signed the form and turned in my cuffs and
timer. When I stepped away, intending to watch the other spankings,
the man at the table said, "And just where do you think you're going?"
Then Dad explained to me that when a boy quit, he had to join all the
other boys who had quit in the 'finishing line'. I followed Dad past
the table and around the crowd to one side of the barn. There, lined
up facing the wall, stood all the boys who were finished. Several
well-dressed bidders strolled along the line, stopping to lift up the
back of each boy's robe to examine the marks left by their
thrashings. Dad gave me a hug, telling me he was proud of me. "I'll
come back to get you when the competition is over. In the meantime,
just stand with your nose to the wall. Don't talk and don't move."
"What if I have to go to the washroom or something?"
"Put your
hand up if you need anything. One of the refs will escort you."
I took my place at the end of the line. It was embarassing when the first two men ran their hands over my ass, discussing the hardness of the welts and the colour of the skin as though I were a grade A turkey they were cooking for Thanksgiving dinner. In my nervousness, I almost asked them if they had remembered to bring their basting brushes. But I took it silently, and they moved on and were replaced by others. Eventually, my embarassment faded, and I became more bored than anything else. I could hear the spankings continuing behind me and I wanted to see them. I wondered how Reg and Jeff were doing.
I glanced sideways at the long row of boys. They all stood very
still, their hands clasped in front, in the manner of men at urinals.
The boy next me stared straight at the wall. I recognized him as one
of Reg's friends from theHot Whippers. I was about to say
something to him when the crowd behind us let out a moan, as though
something had disappointed them. As I looked over my shoulder to see
what was happening, theHot Whippers'boy whispered harshly,
"Don't turn around!"
Surprised, I looked back at the wall and
said, "Why not?"
"Just don't, that's all!"
Shrugging my
shoulders, I waited while several more men stopped to examine my
backside.
By then, I was getting really bored.This is worse than the spankings!I had decided already that the idea behind the 'finishing line' was to punish those who quit. The sooner you quit, the longer was your wait in the line. In this way, I suppose, we were encouraged to last longer the next time. But I didn't like it. "This is crap!" I thought. "Why shouldn't we be allowed to watch like everyone else? They may have raised the welts, but it was our asses that raised the money!"
"_f_u_c_k_ this!" I said
out loud, turning to walk back to the action. I had only walked a few
yards when three men descended upon me. Two of them grabbed my arms
and dragged me back to the wall. The third held the handle of a thick
leather strap. "You know the rules, boy," he growled. "I didn't see
any hand go up asking for permission to leave."
"But it's really
boring here!"
He smirked, "Then we'll have to do something to make
it more interesting for you. Drop the robe."
"Aw, c'mon!"
"Mike!" It was Dad. "Do as you're told!" He must have been keeping an
eye on me, because he had appeared in no time, as if by magic, at the
side of the strap-holder. Suddenly frightened, I pulled the robe off
and let it fall to the floor. The two men at my sides each grabbed an
arm and forced me back against the wall. The wood felt rough on my
shoulderblades. Dad's anger and disappointment was obvious on his
face. Suddenly, I felt like crying. I knew the difference between the
competitive spankings and real punishment. This was the real thing. I
was horrified that so many men would witness it. Already, a large
crowd had gathered to watch. But the worst of it was that Dad, also,
was there to watch;that it would be someone else
administering the punishment while he stood aside and allowed it. I
felt, somehow, as if he too were being punished;that
I had done something to shame him before all his friends.
The man raised the strap and brought it down on the front of my right thigh. "Keep your legs spread," he ordered. The men holding my arms each hooked a foot around one of my ankles and pulled my legs apart. Then the strap repeated its horrible descent onto my left inner thigh. Five times on each leg it landed. I was crying - the way I had cried when Dad had taken Reggie's strap to me the week before. But this was even worse. "Next time you dare turn around," threatened the strapper, "you'll get twice as much. Now get your nose to the wall!"
I whirled around, glad to face away from my tormenters;the watchers;Dad. I heard him say, "Thank you, gentlemen." His voice sounded restrained, formal, as though he were hiding his embarassment the way I hid my face. I pressed closely against the wall, the robe rumpled like a blanket over my feet, and sniffled while the sobbing eased.
A while later, when the tears had dried stiffly on my face, the
bell rang. The boy next to me stretched his arms over his head, turned
to me and said, "I warned you."
If I hadn't felt so miserable, I
might have slugged him. Instead, I just nodded, still facing the
wall.
"You can take a break now," he said. "Someone must have gone
around twice. Probably that nasty brother of yours."
I couldn't
help smiling at this. I had always been a little jealous of Reg's
ability to take Dad's strappings without hollering and crying like I
did. Now, hearing someone else praise him, I felt some pride in him,
as though my nerdy big brother had suddenly become something I could
brag about. I looked at theHot Whippers'boy and said,
"Yeah. He's pretty tough, huh?"
He smiled at me and said, "You're
not so bad yourself. C'mon. Let's go see how he's been doing."
We found Reg outside, laughing with a group of boys. He saw us
coming and broke away from the group.
"Hey, Gord," he said. "I see
you've met my rotten kid brother."
"Yep. I can see he's gonna be
another hard-ass like you." I knew Gord said this just to make me feel
better, but still - it worked. Flattery always does.
Reg laughed
and said to me, "You want a Coke or something?"
Gord wandered off
to the group, and I followed my brother to a concession stand. When we
had our drinks, I feigned an interest in the crowd, afraid of the
question I needed to ask. Unable to form the question, but feeling I
should say something, I asked, "How have you been doing?"
"Pretty
well, I guess. But there's a couple of other guys who are doing at
least as well. And I'm getting really sore. I don't think I'll be able
to last much longer."
I wanted to say something encouraging, maybe
even tell him I thought he was the best of the lot, but when I opened
my mouth to speak, the question I had avoided rose to my mind and
burst out like a prisoner in a jail-break. "Where's Dad?"
"He's
gone to the house for a minute with Butch. He told me to keep an eye
on you." He spoke matter-of-factly, as if he hadn't noticed my
anxiety.
"Oh."
"Let's go for a walk. I'm getting pretty
stiff."
We wandered through the trees, away from the bustle of the crowd. Reg didn't speak, and I didn't feel like talking. We just kept walking. It was only when we reached the woodshed that I realized that Reg had led me there deliberately. He opened the door, and I followed him inside, terrified now that he was going to ask what had happened with Jeff. He turned on the light. The empty lemonade cup still sat on the woodpile where I had left it. Reg picked it up and said, without looking at me, "Close the door."
I didn't
know if I was trembling from the cold air of the shed or from
fear. Reg looked at me and said, "Was that your first time?"
Feeling my face flush, I stared at the floor. "Yes," I whispered.
Reg was silent for a moment. Then he said, "Well? Did you like it?"
There was no condemnation in his voice. In fact, he sounded a little
excited, as if we were sharing the thrill of a successful prank.
I
grinned, still looking at the floor. "Yeah. It was great."
"Hooo-eeeee!" he hooted. "And he's a hot one! I had my eye on him as
soon as he showed up this afternoon."
I was never so proud in my
whole life. I grinned at Reg. "Yeah. He's pretty great!"
"And he
seems to like you. He nearly got disqualified when you stepped out of
the finishing line." I was suddenly horrified. Reg knew about my
punishment. And, almost worse, so did Jeff. "His dad had to drag him
away to get him to the next station on time. He was just standing
there, staring at you like he wanted to eat you alive. We were all
watching. I mean watching the two of you. God! That was really
hot!"
"I don't think Dad thought it was so hot," I mumbled.
"You mean when you broke out of the line?" Reg laughed. "No...I guess
not. He was pretty pissed! But he'll get over it. Besides...I think
you made an impression on that guy...what's his name?"
"Jeff."
"Yeah. I tell you...if I could get my hands on that one, I'd think it
was worth a few extra licks from Dad!"
I wasn't sure how I
felt about all this. Of course, I was excited that Jeff liked me, but
I couldn't help feeling embarrassed that he had seen me punished that
way - bawling in front of him like a wimp. Then another thought
struck me. If Reg knew all about what had happened in the woodshed,
then...
"Does Dad know about Jeff and me?"
Shrugging his shoulders, Reg replied, "Probably."
"_s_h_i_t_!"
"Hey...don't worry. What do you think he's doing up at the house right
now with Butch?"
I dropped my can of Coke.
On the way back to the barn, Reg and I were again silent. I wasn't sure whether or not I believed him about Dad and Butch. Part of me wanted to believe him - maybe because then I might not feel so bad about wanting Jeff. And I did want him. After my talk with Reg, I thought of little else. I kept seeing that strip of hair on his chest; and I imagined kissing my way from the top of the tee to the bottom... I longed to know what it would feel like to have his _c_o_c_k_ in my mouth.
The bell rang as we entered the barn. I walked back to the finishing line and took my place against the wall. I had seen neither Jeff nor Dad, and was glad that I hadn't. For the moment, they both scared the hell out of me. It was too confusing. I didn't want to think about it - much easier to just stand with my face to the wall, feeling the investors' hands stroke my bottom, imagining they were Dad's hands...or Jeff's.
Soon after, the bell rang again. The competition was over. I tightened the belt of my robe over my erection in a vain attempt to hide it, and wandered through the crowds. Reg found me and brought me to Dad, who stood in a group of men discussing the probable outcome of the event. Naturally, it was a topic of some importance to them. The gang that had raised the most money per boy would get to punish the other gangs. I fervently hoped, after humiliating Dad with my disobedience in the finishing line, that our team would win. He hadn't mentioned it to me - the shame I had caused him (although I knew, or thought I knew, with some certainty that he had felt ashamed of me). In fact, he seemed to be in a good mood. But my instincts told me that it might go a little easier for me if he got to whip the other gangs - if my efforts had helped (even just a little) to put him in that position. At the same time, I remembered the conversation I had had with Jeff as he'd led me to the woodshed. I had asked him if his dad would be angry if they didn't win. He had made light of it, shrugging his shoulders as if it didn't matter to him one way or the other. But I knew I had touched on a sore spot. I hadn't met his dad, or even seen him, but I thought from Jeff's reaction that he must be someone powerful enough to instil fear in his son. To me, Jeff seemed fearless and incredibly strong. What must his father must be like?
And so, I was divided in my loyalties, and felt uncomfortable listening to Dad and Reg discuss the outcome of the competition. I was also, by that time, very tired. When I saw Jeff pass by, heading toward the door, I asked Dad if I could go outside, saying I wanted to get some fresh air. He smiled at me and replied "Okay kiddo. Just don't wander off too far." I felt like a traitor.
I stood outside for a while, looking for Jeff. But he wasn't there. I must have passed him on my way out, somehow. I almost walked back into the barn to look for him, but then my courage failed me. I didn't know what I would say to him. What if Reg had been wrong? Maybe he didn't really like me, after all. He'd tricked me once. What if the whole thing was a trick? I wandered to the tree I had stood beneath earlier, leaned back on it, and watched the men. It was uncomfortably cool outside, but I didn't want to go in and have to face Dad again. That was when I saw Jeff come out from the barn.
Now he stood very close to me. I don't know if I could actually
smell him, but I imagined I could. Perhaps it was the smell of hot
chocolate and tree-moss. But to me, it was his body I was breathing
in, hot, slightly musky. I felt the tree against my back, and imagined
it was him pressing heavily against me, firm and rough. He put his
hand beside my head on the tree and leaned closely to me. "Are you
staying here overnight?" he asked.
I looked into my cup, swirling
the hot chocolate around so that it clung to the sides. He was moving
closer. I had to move the cup aside as the gap between us narrowed. I
could feel his breath on my cheek. I said, "Is this another
trick?"
He was rubbing the side of his face gently against
mine. "No. I'm sorry I did that."
I wanted to believe him. "I
don't know," I said. This was true. I knew that Reg was likely to stay
for the whole weekend. He always did when he went out with the
bikers. But Dad was there. And he had his car. It might be that I'd
have to go home with him tonight.
"My Pa and I have a room in the
guest house," he said. "But Pa won't be there tonight. He's got other
plans." He was kissing my cheek, my neck.
I reached into his robe,
found the hair between his pecs and traced it down to his
navel. "Maybe...," I said, feeling my way slowly through the words,
"...we should go someplace now...just in case."
He leaned against
me, hard, demanding. I thought he was about to agree, but then he
pulled away and said, "No. I want you for the whole night."
"Okay...How about if I ask my brother? He might know."
"Do it
now." His voice suddenly had that quality that Dad's voice
has:that uncanny ability to draw from me an
unquestionable need to obey. I handed him my cup, brushed past him and
headed off at a trot toward the barn, in search of Reg.
I
didn't have to go very far. Reg and Dad were standing just ten yards
away. Although too distant to have heard our whispered conversation,
they had obviously witnessed the whole thing. I turned red. But there
was no way to back out now. I went directly up to them and stammered,
"Are we staying overnight?"
"Well now," said Dad. "Let me
see...I'm afraid I didn't book a room in the guest house." I felt like
I was sinking to the earth with disappointment. "I suppose,"
continued Dad, "I could bunk in with Butch. But that leaves the
problem of where you'd sleep, Mike." He looked at Reg. "I don't
suppose there's an extra bed in your room?"
With a rather poor
attempt (in my opinion) at seriousness, Reg replied, "It's pretty
crowded in there already, Dad."
I couldn't stand it any longer and
blurted out, "I can stay with Jeff!"
"Jeff?" Dad said. "I think
you'd better introduce me to him first, son. Then we'll decide."
I raced off and pulled Jeff over to Dad. Nervous as a mouse in a mouse-trap factory, I watched while the two men talked. To give him his due, Dad never gave the impression that he was checking him out. Jeff seemed to be at ease, and the conversation never strayed much farther than bikes, bikers, and the spankathon. We went inside after a while. When we entered the warm barn, I realized how much colder it had got outside. But even in the heat of the overcrowded barn, squeezed by the crowds so that Jeff had to stand behind me, his arms wrapped around my chest, the shivering tension in my stomach remained as strong as it had been outside.
Then came the announcements. The five sponsors who had won paddles were called to the stage and presented with their prizes. Butch then called out the names of the top five, each of whom would have their choice of a boy, drawn from the contestants, for a private discipline session the following day. The audience applauded as each of the sponsors made his way to the stage, falling silent again as each of them took his turn at the microphone to name his chosen boy. Reg was the first one chosen. The audience cheered as he bounded to the stage and took his place beside the sponsor. Another boy was chosen. Then my name was announced. Jeff pushed me forward, and I glanced at Dad. He smiled at me and motioned me ahead. I knew this was supposed to be some kind of honour, but I felt embarassed and strangely disappointed. My sponsor, a handsome man of about fifty, shook my hand and drew me back with him so that the next sponsor could approach the microphone. I hardly heard the next name being called. I was too busy trying to find Jeff in the crowd. All I could think of was that I'd be taken away from him tomorrow and thrown over this sponsor's lap. I saw Dad in the crowd, but couldn't find Jeff anywhere. Then, suddenly, he was right in front of me, and I realized that the name the man had called was Geoffrey. It hadn't occured to me that Jeff was the shortened form. Then I didn't mind so much that I'd been chosen. Even though we wouldn't be together for our spankings tomorrow, we would both have to go through with it. Somehow, that made it better.
After the last boy had mounted the platform, Butch took the microphone again and said, "And now the winning gang." He paused for what seemed like hours, then said, "In third place, with an average of $214...The Grim Strappers." I looked over at Jeff. He was looking at the floor. Then he glanced at me, shrugged, and smiled. His father stepped onto the stage to accept a little trophy from Butch. Although his father seemed happy, smiling and thanking Butch, I noticed that Jeff was looking away from him. Then something odd happened. The man turned from Butch and went to his son. He reached out to hug him, and Jeff moved away - just a little. Possibly no one else had even noticed. I thought that the man looked hurt. But it lasted only an instant. Then he was hugging Jeff, and I wasn't sure that I hadn't imagined it.
"And now," Butch was saying, "it gives me great pain (it will
tomorrow, at any rate) to give the second prize to Hell's Punishers,
with an average of $217." Butch waved the trophy in the air, accepting
both the award and the applause. This was unexpected, and even though
the applause was loud, I could hear the rumble of voices as people
expressed their surprise. Neither of the two clubs favoured to win had
taken first place.
"And the moment we've all been waiting for,"
hollered Butch. The crowd hushed. "The club that takes first prize,
and gets to whap the living be-jeezers out of the rest of us...with an
average of $240...The Howling Tanners!"
A huge man climbed onto
the stage, waving an orange robe. At the foot of the stage, naked now,
was the boy who had worn the robe. He hooted and whistled as his
leader was presented with the honorary paddle.
We left the
stage and mingled for a while. After I had yawned a few times, Jeff
said, "C'mon. Let's get out of here."
I said good night to Dad. He
hugged me, squeezing me hard for a long time. His hand was patting my
ass and it felt good. Finally, he said, "All right now. If I hear that
you two have got into any trouble, there'll be hell to pay
tomorrow."
"Thanks, Dad."
I walked away with Jeff, leaving Dad
and Reg to a party I was sure would go on all night.