I'm Sorry, Daddy OR Sean Takes a Dump
Young 15-year-old Sean was about to get a paddling from his Dad. This would be the second such paddling in the last six months but only his fourth paddling in the past two years. Sean was basically a good boy although he had recently taken the chance of testing the limits of his Dad's patience as regards paddlings versus other non-physical forms of punishment -- like having his "wings clipped" as his Dad called it when Sean would have his privileges such as going to the movies with friends taken away.
More recently, Sean's Dad had leaned toward the non-physical methods of punishing Sean but had decided on this ocassion to revert to a paddling. Sean was somewhat surprised when two days ago, his Dad had announced that his latest bit of misbehavior (talking back to Dad) was to be punished with a paddle.
"You're not too old to still get a good paddling, son," Dad had said after Sean had had the bad manners and disrespect to talk back to his Dad.
"Other guys can have a tv in their room, Dad. I think I should have one too. I think your ideas about tv's are old fashioned." Sean had blurted this out after a rather heated argument with his Dad.
"I'll give you a chance to retract that statement, son," Dad had said.
"Like heck I will," Sean had said defiantly. "You're just plain old-fashioned."
"You're not too old to still get a good paddling, son," Dad said calmly. "I thought perhaps you had outgrown the paddle but you obviously have not. You'll get a paddling sometime this weekend." They were in Dad's study, door closed so Mom wouldn't hear. "And until then, you've obviously got your wings clipped."
"This weekend...but Dad..." Sean started to complain.
"You're digging a deep hole, son. Sit down and listen." Sean sat in a chair facing his Dad's desk, a look of defiance on his face. "Are you listening?"
"Yes...sir," Sean intentionally paused before adding the 'sir'.
"A deeper and deeper hole," Dad said. "Now listen carefully," he began. "You apparently need some strong punishement. Clipping your wings is not enough, obviously. A paddling will get you attention for a day or so -- at most." Dad paused. "What you need, son, is some humiliation. You need more than just exposing your bottom and getting it soundly paddled. You need to have your recent attitude severely changed. You need -- as my Dad would say -- to be brought down a peg or two. Somehow, you've apparently forgotten that you're the son, I'm the parent. You do as I say, conform to my rules."
Sean knew the signs. This had all of the signs of a lecture. Dad was continuing.
"...and extend more privileges to you. Privileges such as privacy. You've got your own room and I let you close the door. I don't invade your space because I trust you and I know that....
Sean tuned-out for a moment. He'd heard this one before. How he had privacy while some boys -- especially boys with brothers and sisters -- had little or no privacy outside of using the bathroom and shower. Sean was lucky, his Dad would say -- and, in fact was saying now.
...can't appreciate that privacy unless it's taken away. Perhaps that is the answer, the means to make you realize how lucky you are." Dad paused. "Are you listening Sean?"
"Yes, sir." That was only partly true, however.
Dad continued. "Therefore begining tonight you are *not* to use the bathroom except for personal hygene and to pee. Specifically, son, you are not to have a b. m. until Saturday morning at the earliest. That's a full day from now and then some. You'll postpone your next b. m. until then."
"Sir?" Sean asked.
"You heard me, son, and you understood exactly what I said. You are NOT to have a b. m. until at least Saturday morning at the earliest. You *do* know what a b. m. is don't you? A bowel movement. I'll not use the slang term that I'm sure you use with you contemoraries. You know what I'm saying. So, do whatever you need to make that happen -- or not happen as the case may be. Am I understood?"
"Yes, sir." Sean was suddenly less angry and was showing respect -- although a little late. I can't take a _s_h_i_t_ until Saturday morning, he thought.
"Anytime after Saturday morning at, we'll say 10 o'clock, when you need to use the pot, you'll come to me. You'll perform your next b. m. in front of me, in your bedroom, on you bed just before you're paddled. Understood?"
"In front of you?"
"Yes. And if for some reason that I can't imagine off-hand, you absolutely cannot hold off until Saturday moring after 10 o'clock, report to me; I'll be working at home for the next week so I'll be around. We'll see if having your privacy grossly invaded will change your attitude."
"But, Dad...Saturday morning that's a long --"
"Yes," Dad said looking at his wristwatch, "some 36 hours from now. You can do it, son. I know it, you know it. Questions?"
"I'll get a paddling too?"
"Oh yes, a good one I can promise you. But not until... well, there's no use repeating what I just told you. Other questions?"
"Dad, I've never heard of a punishment like--"
"Sean, you're not quite 16 years old. Do you think you've already heard of everything there is to hear about?
"No, sir, but..."
"In some cultures, Sean, they publically punish mischievous boys your age by beating the soles of there feet with wooden rods or sticks. Have you ever heard of that?"
"No, sir."
"You see. You don't quite know everything then, do you?"
"No, sir."
"Go to your room and stay there the remainder of the evening." Sean started to get up from the chair.
"And Sean," Dad said. "Just so there is absolutely no misunderstanding, if you should need to use the pot tonight or all day tomorrow or Saturday morning, is that an option?"
"No, sir."
"That's all for now then."
Poor Sean. Grounded on a Thursday evening for at least through the weekend. And a paddling probably on Saturday morning as well. And then this other humiliation. What the heck was that about? Taking a _s_h_i_t_ (or having a "b. m.", as Sean's Dad would say) while Dad watched? Never heard of that before, Sean thought.
Twice on that Friday Sean felt a strong need to use the bathroom, and twice he managed to postpone the deed. It gave him much to think about; how humiliating it would be to do such a private thing in front of his Dad. And then to be paddled after. He looked with dread upon what might happen on Saturday. He had an immediate change of of attitude as a result. He was respectful to Dad -- went out of his way to be so -- all of that Friday. And dutifully went to his room after dinner on Friday and remained there the entire evening.
Again on Friday evening, Sean felt the need to sit on the pot. This urge was stronger than the two he experienced earlier that morning. He intentionally squeezed his anus as tightly shut as he could and the urge to empty himself slowly faded over the next few minutes. He found, by accident, that lying, face down, on his bed seemed to help but his bowel was starting to cramp and the fullness he felt made it difficult and uncomfortable for him to do much around the house. His recalled Dad saying that if he couldn't hold off until after 10:00 o'clock on Saturday, that he was to go to him and say so. But Sean was determined that, short of _s_h_i_t_ing his pants, he would wait. He would not give Dad the satisfaction of seeing him fail.
The next day, Saturday, shortly after 10 o'clock, Sean could not hold-off his full bowel any longer. He sought-out his Dad. He found him in his den/office, working. Sean knocked lightly on half-closed door.
"Come in." Dad said. Sean entered the den and stood near the door. "Yes, son," Dad said looking up at Sean from his desk.
"Sir...You said to come to you when...." Sean was embarrassed to finish the sentence.
"Right," Dad said. "You're ready I take it?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good. I'll send your Mom off to the store. She hates hearing you being paddled. Go up to your room. Stand facing the corner nearest your closet, hands behind your back. I'll be up in a few minutes."
Actually, Dad didn't need to tell Sean where and how to stand as he awaited his paddling. Sean well remembered that Dad believed in what he called "corner time" before a paddling session. Sean hated corner time. But it had its intended effect: Sean stood with his face inches from the walls, hands behind his back. In this position, he couldn't help but think about what was about to happen. His thoughts flickered back and forth between the pain of the paddle and the humiliation of having to _s_h_i_t_ in front of Dad. His bowel felt very full and he could feel his rectum bulging as he squeezed his anus tightly shut. He knew that he could not hold-off his b. m. much longer and had visions of _s_h_i_t_ing his pants before Dad arrived. Wouldn't that be wonderful, Sean thought. "I'm sorry, Dad, I had to do it in my pants."
Sean heard Dad walking down the upstairs hall. "At least it will soon be over," Sean whispered to the wall.
Dad entered the room and quietly closed the door. He said nothing for at least a minute but Sean could feel his Dad's eys on him. Corner time was the pits, Sean thought and it wasn'r the first time he had come to this conclusion.
"Are you ready, son?"
"Yes, sir."
"Do you need to pee as well?"
"No, sir."
"Have you done as I said?"
Sean suddenly found himself fighting back tears. "Yes,.. sir." Sean paused. "Sir?" He could his voice was shaking. God, this is awful, he thought.
"Yes, Sean."
"Sir....do I really have to sh--....you know...do I-" Sean almost said the word '_s_h_i_t_' which, he well knew, would not have been wise to say the least.
"Yes, son," Dad said sternly, interrupting his question and letting Sean's near mistake pass.
"But, sir, I'd rather have the paddle. Why do I have to--"
"You'll get the paddle and again next Saturday if you continue to argue. Now stop it, right now! I've tried everything else, Sean. I've given you lectures, I've taken away privledges and even assigned you extra work around the house. None of these worked. I thought that perhaps your days of being paddled were over so I gradually used the paddle less and less. I had hoped that you were becoming grown-up and responsible enough that your paddle could be put away. But I was obviously wrong. So, I decided, when you showed such obvious disrespect -- and poor judgement -- the other night that perhaps severely embarrassing you might be the answer. It might stick in you mind long enough that you would recall what happens when you intentionally misbehave. So, here we are.
Again Sean felt hot tears fill his eyes as he realized that his humiliation was imminent. "Remove you shoes and socks, son," Dad said in an even, unhurried voice. Still facing the corner, Sean bent down and untied his sneakers and removed them. Then he slowly pulled off his socks. The mere act of bending over was uncomfortable for Sean. God, I hope this is over soon, he thought.
"You're moving awfully slowly, son. You must not be in much of a hurry. When you told me downstairs just a few minutes ago that you were "ready", I assumed that you were. Now I have my doubts. Should I have you stand in your corner and return in an hour or so?"
"No, please, sir, I *am* ready, honest."
"Then show it by quickly removing the rest of your clothes."
"Everything?" Sean asked.
"Yes, everything son. You remember how a paddling goes. It hasn't been *that* long ago. The rules haven't changed. All clothes off."
"But, Dad, you've never had me--"
"Sean David!" Dad said loudly. "Do...as... you're...told." Sean's Dad rarely raised his voice. He was calm and methodical -- even when actually paddling. "Sean, you really are trying my patience," he said in a soft voice once more. "I am quite disappointed in your behavior. You've become a little rebellious. Do you realize that? If you say one more word, then we'll repeat the paddling next Saturday. Now do you not understand that?"
"No, sir...I mean Yes, sir. I"m sorry sir."
"You're testing me, son. Trying to see just what you can get away with now that you're a teenager. I did the same. All teenage boys do. And they often pay a price as you are about to do."
Sean continued to peel off his clothes, shirt, undershirt, jeans. "You're about to find that you not only reached your limit with me but have crossed it." Dad paused, looking at Sean standing with his back to him in only his undershorts.
"Right now is a perfect example. I told you to remove your clothes and yet you stand there with you underpants still on. That's it Sean David. We'll repeat this paddling next Saturday. I warned you."
Sean quickly slid his undershorts down to his knees, letting them fall to his ankles and stepping out of them.
Sean's dad droned on, repeating himself now. But Sean was used to his long lectures.
"I'm begining to think that I left off paddling you way too soon. I thought that with age would come more maturity, more responsible behavior, no more of the little boy stuff that got you a paddling in the past. At this rate, I'll have paddled you as much between your 15th and 16th birthday as I did between your 6th and 15th. We are moving backwards, son. And so, more than just paddling this time in hopes that some humiliation will cause you to remember yourself -- the paddling alone isn't working."
Sean stood with his butt fully exposed to Dad. This alone was very humiliating, Sean thought -- especially now that he was a boy in his mid-teens. And the growing fullness in his rectum reminded that his humiliation was only just begining.
Although Sean couldn't see, while Dad was delivering his lecture, he placed the paddle he was holding at the foot of the bed then pulled the bedspread down, uncovering the two pillows at the head. He moved these pillows, one atop the other, to the middle of the bed. He looked at the stack of pillows and folded the top pillow to make the stack even higher. "Turn around, son," Dad said. As Sean turned, he saw the two pillows and soon discerned their purpose. Dad now took a rather worn, old-looking bath towel from over his shoulder and spread it over the pillows and down onto the bedspread.
"Get onto your bed, son," Dad ordered, picking up the paddle again. "Lie face down, your middle on top of the pillows, hands behind your back, and turn you head to face me."
Sean slowly climbed onto the bed and assumed the position Dad had dictated. This placed his butt high in the air, atop the towel and pillows. He slowly placed his hands behind his back and turned his head to the right facing his Dad. The weight of his middle, the pillows pressing up against his belly made his desire to empty his rectum even stronger. He consciously squeezed his asshole tightly closed to fight off the feeling. He felt a tear running down over his nose.
Dad sat on the bottom edge of the bed and leaned over. "Raise up a second, son," he said. "Raise your butt." Without the use of his arms, Sean had to press his knees into the bed, raising his butt up off the pillows slightly. Dad reached under his middle and pushed Sean's balls and penis up against his stomach as much as possible. "Now, back dowm," Dad said, sliding his hand from under Sean. Sean flinched at his Dad's touch. He was not used to being touched there. "Spread you legs, son. All the way to the edge of the bed."
Sean lay in an awkward position with his butt elevated his laegs spread very wide apart. He could well imagine the view this provided his Dad. The pressure in his rectum lessened somewhat but he knew that he would soon have to empty himself and that Dad would be watching his effort. He realized that in this awkward position it would not be easy to "do it". But he wanted now only to "get it over with" and Dad's continuing lecture was only delaying the inevitable. His feeling of dread made it difficult for him to concentrate on his Dad's words.
"...put you through this but you leave me with no alternative. And goodness knows, son, I changed your diapers and wiped your bottom often enought and not too many years ago either.."
Sean looked at his underwear and jeans lying on the floor near the corner wondering how long it would be before he could put them on again.
"...this will stick in your mind strongly enought to cause you to..."
Sean found himself thinking that if Dad didn't stop his lecture soon, his strong need to _s_h_i_t_ would pass as it had the evening before and again earlier this morning. Suddenly, the word 'paddle' caught his attention.
"... and then you'll feel the paddle. But for now, you can start."
"Sir?" Sean said, his mind coming back to Dad's lecture.
"I said 'start'. Don't make me say it again."
Now that the moment had arrived, Sean found the task before him less ominous than he thought. "Just get it over with," he thought again. But his position, with butt raised high off the bed, his arms clasped behind him and his legs spread wide, made it difficult. He pressed downward and felt the muscles around his anus relax as he continued to push. But no matter how hard he bore down, he could only open his anus what felt like a small amount, certainly not enough to pass the large turd now pressing hard against the wall of his rectum and the inside of his anus. After a minute or so of grunting and straining, he exhaled loudly and relaxed, his anus quickly closing tight again.
"C'mon, son," Dad said. "Try again. Even harder."
"I am trying, sir," Sean said, both embarrassed and frustrated at his failure to not have had his b. m. over with by now. "I can't do it in this position, Dad. Honest. I just can't. I'm trying. I can't push hard enough."
"Well, try harder, son. It's got to be done, so do it."
Sean did try again...and again...and again and finally after much pushing, straining and grunting, he was successful. He depositied a very large turd onto the towel spread beneath him. He felt a mixture of relief and deep embarrassment as he lay exhausted, his anus feeling as though it had been terribly stretched -- which, indeed, it had been.
"Raise up again," Dad said and Sean once again raised his middle off the towel and pillows slightly. Dad reached over and pulled the towel from under him and folded it tightly over the single, large turd. He moved the folded towel to the bottom of the bed. "Stand up, son. Put you underpants on." Sean quickly got off the bed, stepped into his underwear and stood facing Dad.
"Here," Dad said, picking up the towel and holding it out to Sean. "Take this to the bathroom and empty it in the toilet. Then clean yourself. I'll expect you back here in less than five minutes."
Sean quickly left the room and went into the bathroom across the hall. There he unfolded the towel and looked at his turd. It was huge. Well, at least I gave Dad a good show, Sean thought. He flipped the turd into the toilet and flushed. He wadded the towel up and threw it in the corner. As he pulled his underpants down and sat on the pot he became very aware of his anus. He could "feel" it. It felt as though it had been stretched to the limit, which it had. As he wiped himself, he again became aware of exactly what he was doing. He felt the soft tissue as he rubbed it across his anus. He felt the "soreness" of his anus a little more as he pressed the tissue hard for his final wipe. He suddenly that he was starting to get a slight erection. He quickly sttod, pulled his underpants up, flushed the tissue and started back to his bedroom. Dad would be waiting. Before he entered the room, he looked down at his crotch. Yes, he thought, a definate bulge there, but not a dead give-away. He hoped.
His Dad heard the toilet flush once and after another minute, yet again. Sean reappeared without the towel. His dad had placed one of the pillows at the edge of the bed.
"Lie over the edge of the bed on the pillow." Sean assumed the position. He felt his Dad's hands gently pulling his underpants down over his butt. Then with a tug, his Dad pulled the pants down past his knees and ankles.
"I'm sure you remember what to do, Sean." Sean spread his legs slightly and placed his hands behind his back. His toes just touched the floor, his butt was raised by the pillow. It would soon be over, he thought. And the worst part was finished. God, it was horrible, but over.
Sean's Dad always paddled the way he scolded: slowly, deliberately, methodically. His smacks were all of the same intensity and all spaced about 5 seconds apart. This resulted in the pain from one smack just begining to fade as the next smack landed. The build-up in pain was therefore somewhat cumulative. The only variation in the drill was the spot where the paddle landed and this Sean's Dad varied. Some on the left cheek, some on the right, some down low near the legs, some higher up, some on the inner, exposed portion of the buttocks and upper thighs. Most squarely across both cheeks. Usually twenty - thirty well-paced relentless smacks was the standard drill.
"One, sir." Sean knew to count the smacks his Dad delivered. The paddling routine hadn't changed. Even the intense sting that the narrow paddle caused was very familiar to Sean.
"Five, sir." Sean heard himself saying now. His mind was wondering. The cumulative effect of the smacks were now starting to build. Sean remembered how this went. Sting upon sting. Man, this hurt but it was endurable. Just a matter of time.
"Twelve, sir." Now the squirming began. Always around the 10th or 11th smack Sean would not be able to stop himself from wiggling and squirming beneath the paddle. He hated this since it showed Dad that the paddle was doing a good job of causing severe discomfort. But the next phase was the worst. Not only was the pain becoming more intense but Sean couldn't help but starting to pleading around the 16th smack.
"Seventeen, sir. Please Dad, no more, please." The uncontrollable pleading and squirming were now joined by leg kicking. Again, Sean found he couldn't control this. He just started kicking his legs up and down at this point. This was also when Dad would reach down and hold Sean's wrists firmly and press them against his back. Humiliating. God, he hated it.
"Twenty-one, sir. Oh, please, please, Dad no more, please!"
More pain now. Wiggling around, kicking of legs and now down right begging. Sean's humiliation at being so out of control, at not being able to just lie there and take it quietly was still was the worst part of his Dad's paddlings. God, he wanted it to end.
"Twenty-three...sir. "Please, please, Daddy, stop, Daddy, stop. Oh, Daddy, Daddy, I'm sorry.
"Twenty-nine...sir. I'm sorry, Daddy."
And as if calling him 'Daddy' as though he were a little boy again wasn't enough, Sean knew the tears would now come no matter what he did to stop them. Damit, he thought, he was way to *old* to cry. He was way too old to say 'Daddy'. And his Dad witnessing him literally turning into a screaming, kicking, crying, little kid was awful.
Sean buried his face in his bedspread in utter shame. Having to _s_h_i_t_ while Dad watched was horrible. He certainly didn't enjoy that. And now this. Reduced to a 15 year old "cry-baby", ashamed to even look his Dad in the face. God, I'm glad it's over.
"I hope you've learned from this, son. We'll see. At any rate we'll repeat the paddling next Saturday. And Sean, I hope that that will be your last paddling in this house."
Sean lay waiting for the sting to die down and for his anus to not feel so.... well, to have no feeling at all, actually. But that make take a while he thought. He was alone now. Sean kept his face buried on his bespread, his naked butt still over the edge of the bed propped up by a pillow. Sean made his hands into two tight fists and pounded them on the bed. He continued to cry softly as he said, "I'm sorry, Daddy, I'm sorry."