Barry lightly touched his paddle to Chip's butt. The young man rose on his toes and clenched his cheeks. Barry pulled the board away, and when he saw that Chip had once more relaxed...
Smack! He slammed the paddle against his son's left butt cheek. The pattern had begun again.
"Yeow!" Chip, having more experience at taking his father's paddlings, managed to keep himself in the same posture. He had to bite his lower lip to do so, however.
The sequences of three continued furiously. Shawn fully approved. Not only was Dad teasing Chip's butt before each lick, he was also hitting harder.
Smack! Smack! Smack!
Shawn was now in a much better position than earlier to appreciate his father's paddling technique. Although his own butt still tingled, he knew that Chip's was tingling a whole lot more. And boy was it red!
Smack! Smack! Smack! Again and again.
At last the licking drew to a close. Shawn watched his dad tighten his square jaw to make sure the last trio of swats really burned. Chip wouldn't have called himself crying, but tears streamed from his eyes.
Barry stopped paddling as the echo of the last licked died away. Evidently he had judged that his son's butt was a satisfactory shade of red (no sympathy for Chip!) Chip rose, ever so painfully. He reached back and rubbed his anguished buns, pretending it didn't hurt to touch them. Shawn noticed with amusement that his brother's little willie, nothing to brag about in the first place, had shriveled up into his pubic hair, as if trying to hide from all the commotion. Chip rubbed his butt unashamedly.
"How does if feel, son?" Barry asked.
"Ohhh...." Chip moaned.
"That's what I thought! Well, we're not even half finished."
Chip gaped at his father. "What d'ya mean?"
"I mean, your brother got a whipping with the belt, sooo... guess what?"
"Oh, no, Dad!"
But Barry was already preparing the next stage of his older son's punishment. He picked up the pillow from the head of Chip's bed and moved it to the bed's middle. He then placed the pillow from Shawn's bed on top of the first Barry looked at Chip and pointed to the bed. "Over."
"Oh, nooo!" Chip wailed, but began to walk slowly to the bed. He lay face down across it, positioning his midsection on top of the pile of pillows, as he knew his father desired. His young butt was now perfectly elevated for more whipping.
Barry clapped Shawn's shoulder. "Want to help me, buddy?"
"Sure thing, Dad!"
Chip stared at them in disbelief. The look on his face was priceless.
"Good boy!" Barry tousled Shawn's hair, and Shawn beamed.
Barry handed Shawn his belt. "Now you use this ..."
Wow! What a privilege!
Barry pulled Chip's belt from his discarded jeans. "And I'll use this. Poetic justice, huh? Your big brother's gonna be whipped with his own belt!" He slapped the leather against his palm. Shawn did the same with his dad's belt and hoped Chip heard it.
Barry moved to one side of the bed and motioned Shawn to the other. They grasped their belts.
"Okay, son. Let's make some blisters."
Chip whined into the bedspread. He had already been thoroughly humiliated, and the real pain was only about to begin.
"You first, big guy" Barry offered.
Shawn gleefully took aim with his belt at the big red butt.
Crack! He brought it down as hard as he could on Chip's left cheek.
"Attaboy!" his dad encouraged. "But you need to put some muscle behind it. Like this."
Crack! He striped the right butt cheek with a real scorcher. "Got it?"
"Got it. But you know what, Dad? I was still wet when I got my whipping, and that made it hurt a lot more."
"You're absolutely right, son. And I've always tried my best to treat you boys equally. So why don't you take care of that for Chip?"
Shawn happily went into the bathroom as Barry asked Chip, "Isn't your little brother thoughtful?" Shawn didn't hear the answer as he soaked a washcloth then returned to the bed. He squeezed it over his big brother's butt, covering the entire red hot area, and providing (momentary) comfort. Shawn deliberately let the water dribble down Chip's upper thighs in the hope that his dad wouldn't neglect them as potential targets.
He completed his task, and Barry said, "Let's see if that made a difference."
Crack! He delivered a sizzler to the now wet butt.
"Yeee-!" Chip squirmed his whole body and bit the bedspread.
"It did! Your turn, son."
Father and youger brother then eagerly alternated vigorous strokes of their belts across big brother's butt.
Shawn was having fun, but realized that not only was his dad doing a better job, but was itching to lay on the leather at his own rapid pace. Shawn excused himself with the bogus excuse that he felt Chip had been punished enough.
"Okay, pal. But how about "refreshing" your big brother again for me?"
Shawn obligingly drenched the hot cross buns and (still unmarked) thighs, then stepped back. He sensed his father was preparing a final blistering assault.
He was correct. Barry still (unfairly) blamed Chip for his own mistake regarding Shawn, and Chip was about to pay for it. (Barry would repent later).
"All right, buddy boy!" Barry practically snarled.
Crack! Crack! Crack! The licks came fast and furious. Chip squalled, kicked his legs, and pounded his fists on the bed.
Crack! "Yeow!" This last was produced by a stroke across the upper thighs.
Crack! "Yeow!" Followed by another. Shawn's efforts had been rewarded.
Barry was winding down. "You ought to be embarrassed that I still have to do this to you, Chip. You're way too old to have to learn by way of your butt!"
And Barry let that butt have a especially loud crack of the belt.
"Oh, Daddy, please!"
Barry stopped. He knew when his big seventeen-year-old called him "daddy" he had gotten his message across. And that piteous wail had pierced his gentle heart.
He tossed aside the well-worn belt. "Okay, son, that's all. You can just lie there for a minute," he said softly. Chip sobbed, greatly relieved that his whipping was at last over.
Barry put a manly hand on Shawn's shoulder. "I'm sorry about whipping you, Shawn my man. I didn't hurt you too bad, did I?" He looked down at the red top portions of Shawn's rear cheeks, visible above his towel, and silently whistled.
Shawn took the opportunity to rub the affected area and wince with only a little exaggeration. "No, not too bad, Dad." He tried to put insincerity in his voice.
Barry fell for it. "Well, you aren't too mad at your old dad, are you? Here, I'll make it up to you." Shawn figured he would have Dad wrapped around his little finger for some time to come.
Meanwhile, Barry told his older son, "All right. You've got some corner time coming, mister!" Chip slowly rose from the bed and stood in the corner, face to the wall, rosy rump on full display.
Barry then parked his jean-clad butt - incidentally, the only white one left in the room - at the boys' desk, grabbed a sheet of paper, and began writing. Finishing, he signed it with a flourish. He returned to Shawn but spoke to Chip. Trying to put harshness back into his voice, he said, "And if you think this is all you're gonna get, think again, pal." Barry was much better at issuing threats, which he hoped he never had to act on, than he was at carrying them out. "Every day this week when you come home from your little stay after school, you're gonna come up here, take off all your clothes, and get another whipping with the belt. And your brother's gonna help me if he wants. He's definitely gonna be here to see you get it. Understand?"
Shawn barely heard the "yessir" Chip uttered.
Barry turned back to his younger son. "And as for my little buddy here..." He removed his wallet from his jeans, took a fifty-dollar bill from it, and handed it to Shawn. "You think this will help make it up to you, pal?"
Shawn knew what to say. "Aw, you don't have to do this, Dad."
"I don't have to, but I want to. Spend it on whatever you want. You deserve it. And here. I think you'll like this even more." He gave Shawn the note he had written.
Shawn read. "This document hereby certifies that Mr Shawn Vance is entitled to be fully exempt from two (2) whippings from his dad, to be used whenever he so desires." It was signed "Dad".
"Gee, thanks!" Shawn smiled. This was going to come in handy.
Barry clapped him affectionately on the back. "You're more than welcome, son." He returned his attention to Chip. "And as for you, young man. I expect you down at supper as usual. I may have a pillow for you to sit on - if I think you've really learned your lesson, and if I feel like it!"
Again a feeble "yessir" followed.
Barry couldn't stay mad for long at anyone, certainly not one of his own sons. He walked over and pulled Chip to him in a big hug. Chip, still sobbing, hugged back.
"It's okay, son, it's okay." Barry gave him too a pat on the back.
Then, he said "Allright," released Chip and placed him gently back in the corner. He started toward the door, winking at Shawn on the way out. "I'll see you boys at supper."
Shawn watched him go, then began dressing. He managed the whole time to keep his eyes on the amusing spectacle of his big brother's well-blistered butt.
Epilogue
Chip did indeed receive a fairly good whipping on both Tuesday and Wednesday nights. Neither was as severe as the first, since Barry was acting more from paternal duty than fatherly ire. After the Wednesday session, he felt Chip's teenaged butt couldn't take any more.
That evening as Chip stood red-bottomed in the corner, and as Shawn looked on, Barry completed another "coupon". He was acting on his principle of treating the boys equally, not that Chip's gift read exactly the same as Shawn's.
It said, "This document hereby certifies that Mr Chip Vance is due two (2) whippings with the belt from his dad, to be administered whenever said parent deems necessary." Signed, of course, "Dad".
After Chip read it, Barry took the note back and told his son, "This is going on my desk calendar, where every day I'll have a reminder of what you've got coming. So don't make me mad, mister!"
Despite his father's angry tone, Shawn was pretty sure that Chip didn't have to worry about those two whippings.
He was proved right. The effect of those three whippings remained with Chip for a little over a month. His behaviour during that period was impeccable. (Barry teased, not even half seriously, "Isn't it amazing the wonders a sore butt can work?") Then, one day, in an uncommon fit of generosity, Chip mowed the lawn, a chore usually performed by his father. As a reward, Barry presented him with the threatening certificate, telling him he could do whatever he liked with it. "You tear it up for me, Dad." Barry gladly did so.
Sometimes Shawn wondered if his dad wasn't soft-headed as well as soft-hearted.
(I should have indicated at the beginning of this story that many of its elements were inspired by "The Fifty-Dollar Spanking" by Keith, which also appears here at the archive. He was kind enough to allow me to use some of his ideas which appealed so much to me.)