10:30 p. m., Friday, May 30.
"Good night, Barry. Good night, Norm. 'Night Brad"
"Good night, Tom. See you in the morning," they all called back.
It was the end of May, but the night air was still chilly. Walking away from the building amongst the shadows from the trees and street lights, Tom shivered as his long, lean shadow moved toward his car. Opening the door lock, he slipped in quickly, lowering himself into the seat of his Mustang. At 10:35, he still had a drive before he would be home at the family farmhouse, and able to rest. Tomorrow morning he would have to be back at the store by 8:15, so Tom really wanted to get home, have something quick to drink, and get into bed.
Driving along the dark, lonely road out of town, Tom Donovan felt a weariness throughout his body. He had worked all week from 8:15 a. m. to 10 p. m. during the Memorial Day week long sale at Leibner's Apparels, and he could feel the fatigue down into his bones. He was 11 days from graduation from high school. Usually, he worked after school in the afternoons and Thursday and Friday evenings, and all day Saturday and Saturday night. He was a salesman and stock boy. But this past week, Barry and Norm Leibner had asked him to work extra during the special sales week, and he had done it.
So, all week long, he had driven from his home on Monday morning at 7:30 a. m., carrying his bagged lunch. But, instead of driving to Monroe High School, he had gone directly to Leibners, where he sat in his car in the parking lot until 8:30, when Barry, Norm, and Brad Sanderson (their full time salesman) would arrive. Then, Tom immediately began his stocking duties, and carried out the sidewalk sales racks and tables for the Memorial Day sale, and then filling in for sales whenever the store got busy.
The cool night breeze refreshed Tom's face, relaxing his tired body more as he drove along. He loosened his tie slightly, and leaned back resting against the seat of the car as he headed it towards home. Twenty minutes later, he turned the car down the winding, narrow drive to the farm house. Pulling up to the back of the house, he turned off the engine, opened the door, and pulled his tired body out of the car. The night air was even cooler out in the farm lands, and his exhausted body began shivering again as he made his way up the steps to the back porch of the house.
Inside the porch, Tom closed the back door, then took off his shoes at the closed kitchen door. Friday night – Mom would have washed and waxed floors today, and he was well-trained to take off his shoes before entering. Slowly he opened the door, and stepped in to the kitchen in his socked feet.
Mom was sitting at the side of the kitchen table closest to the refrigerator, with Dad sitting at the end of the table.
"Hi, Mom. Hi, Dad," he greeted them softly.
"Hi, Tom," they replied almost in unison. Long day, eh, son?" Dad added.
"Yes, sir. I'm dead tired. I can't wait to hit that bed."
"Do you want something to eat first, Tom?" Mom asked.
"Thanks, Mom, but I ate about 8 tonight, in the basement of the store. But I sure would like a cold glass of milk." Tom replied.
Mom got up, went to the refrigerator and took out the milk container. Then she poured him a tall glass of milk, and handed it across the table to him. Sitting down across from Mom, Tom slowly gulped the cold, refreshing milk. Dad, sitting to his left, kept eyeing him.
After a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, he emptied the glass, and got up from the table. Taking a couple of steps to round Dad's chair, he announced, "Well, I'm going to hit the hay, " adding "Good night, Mom. Good night, . . ."
Suddenly, Dad grabbed his left wrist with tight power.
"Just a minute, Tommy. Not so fast." Dad commanded, stopping his movement with a firm grip.
"What is it, Dad?" Tom returned, looking unsuspectingly at Dad's face.
"How's school, son?" Dad asked tersely, peering at Tom's eyes.
Oh, oh. Did he know? Dad rarely ever asked about school. He didn't need to. Tom was an A-B student, who conscientiously did his work, played soccer and basketball, and was an overall exemplary high school student.
"It's okay, Dad," he replied, and turned to pull away from Dad's clasp. Dad did not let go, however.
"Probably preparing for finals next week, eh?" Dad added. This was definitely not like Dad. Tom could feel himself becoming nervous and his breathing accelerated slightly.
"Right." Tom answered.
"So, are you ready, then, Tommy?" Dad kept on questioning, and staring directly at him, while continuing to call him "Tommy" – something that over the years had usually signaled he was in trouble. All this was way out of character for Dad. And he continued to hold a fast, solid grasp of Tom's wrist.
"Yeah, . . . er, ah . . . I mean, yes, sir, I guess so."
He almost forgot how to express himself in the hasty nervousness of wondering what Dad knew.
"All right, Tommy. Let's stop the make believe, and cut out your pretense. Mom had a call from the high school office today, wondering how you were feeling. They told her you hadn't been to school all week. Mom called me, and I telephoned Mr. Adams. He said you've been missing all week. What's going on, young man? What have you been doing?" Dad demanded, squeezing his wrist securely tight.
Oh, oh. Mr. Adams was the principal. His parents knew the truth.
"Ah, Dad, . . . ah, I was going to tell you, . . . ah, . . . tomorrow. Norm and Barry asked me to work full time this week – they needed me at the store because of the sale."
"Oh, Thomas Ryan Donovan!" his mother exclaimed with disappointment.
"So, you just decided to skip school all week, and work at the clothing store?!" Dad interrogated. "You thought that was all right, that you could do that?"
"Ah, . . . n-no, not, ah, not really, but . . ." Tom stumbled trying to find words to answer.
"But nothing, young man! You know you had no business skipping school for any reason. You're facing final exams next week, and you missed an entire week of preparation for them. In 11 days you're supposed to graduate, and 3 months from that you'll be 19! This sure isn't the picture of a young man who understands how he is supposed to conduct himself, and then acts in accordance with what he knows!"
As he spoke, Dad maintained his steely grip on Tom's wrist, but slowly pulled Tom around to Dad's right. Dad's slow-mounting anger was beginning to surface.
"No, sir. . . . ah, but I can . . . ah. . . explain . . . ah, they needed me to . . . "
"Cut it out, Tommy! You cannot explain deliberately cutting classes for a week, when you know you have no right to do so! Well, you're not going to get away with this, young man! You're going to learn a lesson that you won't forget for the rest of your life. If you ever even dream about cutting another class, you will remember the lesson of the consequences from skipping school! Do you understand me, young man?"
"Yes, Dad, but . . ."
Dad interrupted by placing his left hand powerfully onto Tom's left wrist, and with his right hand grabbed the back of Tom's neck, pulling him forward, down, and over Dad's lap. Tom's heart was pounding rapidly, his pulse was racing, as he was dragged across Dad's knees.
"Wait, Dad! There's a mistake here. I can explain . . ."
"The only mistake, Tommy, was your decision to skip school!" Dad's left arm pushed his upper back and head down towards the floor, over Dad's left thigh.
WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!
That suddenly and quickly, Dad was swatting the seat of his khakis. Then, Dad stopped abruptly, and reached into Tom's back pockets, removing his wallet, comb, and handkerchief. No obstacles to the hard-hitting spanks now!
WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!
Those 25 rapid swats to his backside jolted Tom out of his fatigue. He began moaning slightly amidst his heavier breathing.
"Aiyahh! Ummmphaa! Umm-ahh-ahh! Uuuuu-ahh-ummmph! Aiyummphaah! Ah-ah-ah-yumm-aaaah! Eeaayummah-ow-ooo! Ah-ah-yummphowww! Ah-ah-owwch!"
The heat was swiftly building up in his bottom, as it was warmed under the powerful barrage of Dad's spanking. He began squirming and wriggling across Dad's lap. Dad grabbed his right arm, pulling up behind his back, and holding it between his shoulder blades.
WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!
"Ahhhh! Ah-ah-ah-ummmmaaaah! Ouch! Ouch! Ouch-a-ow! Dad! Ouchah! Ow! Ow! OW! OUCHAH! OUCHAH! AHYOWWW-AH! UMM-AH-AH-OWWW! WAIT, DAD! OW! OW! OW! OWOWOWWW! AH-UMM-AYOWWW! OWOWOWWEEEYOWWW! DAD! WAIT! OW! OW! OWOWOWOWOWCHAH-YEEOWOWOWWWWW!!
WHEW! WOW! He was twisting, bouncing, and pushing – up and down, back and forth – as far as he could move under Dad's hold and spanks. Not only had he not been expecting this, it had been almost 2 years since he had gotten a spanking, and he'd almost forgotten what this feels like! He felt a sudden desperate wave of fear rush through him. He needed to get out of this – fast! The unrelenting succession of spanks was igniting a fiery inferno on his backside!
WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!
Tom began begging, pleading, promising.
"OOO-WOWW! AH-DAD! PLEASE! OWOWOWWW! AAAA-OOOO-DAAAAD! STOP IT! OWOWOWEEEYOWW! STOP IT! STOP IT! PLEEEZE! IT'S HURTING! OOO-AH-OWU-OWU-OWUAHHH! NO, DAD! NO! PLEASE! AIEYOWWEEE! I'M SORRY, DAD! OWW! I WAS WRONG! OOO-AH-YOWW! I'M SORRRY, DAD! DAD! OH, NO! IT'S HURTING, DAD! OWOWOW-AH-YOWW! DAD! DAD! OOO-AAAH! DAD! IT HURTS SO BAD! AAH-YOWWEEE! I SAID I'M SORRRY! NOOO-AH, DAD! DAD, NOOOOO-AH! PLEASE! AAH-OOO-YOWOWOWWEEE! I'LL NEVER DO IT AGAIN! DAD-AH-AH-OWOWOWWEEE-AAH!"
Tom writhed and thrashed about across Dad's legs, as much as his fettered constraint allowed. His bottom was ablaze! Each spank brought a hotter torch to scorch and blister his behind!
Again, Dad stopped abruptly. Tom's bottom was a burning, searing wildfire that pushed its way into his consciousness, overriding anything else!
Suddenly, Dad reached over his back, and under his chest, while still holding onto Tom's right arm, and rolled Tom over, hanging backward, facing upward, across Dad's legs. Instantly, Tom sat up, to try to get himself off Dad's lap. He was met with Dad's strong hand and arm pushing him down, backward. Tom lost his balance, and the back of his head hit the floor. Dad's hands swiftly grabbed Tom's belt buckle, undid it, and then speedily unzipped his khakis.
OH NO! THIS COULDN'T BE! THIS COULDN'T BE HAPPENING TO HIM! NO WAY WAS DAD GOING TO DO THIS!
Tom summoned all the strength his exhausted body could gather and sat straightaway up, with might. To his surprise, Dad did not resist him. Instead, Dad grabbed Tom's tie and pulled it up, lifting Tom's head, neck, shoulders, and hips up off Dad's thighs. Then Dad grabbed the bottom of the unzipped pant's fly and yanked the pants down from Tom's hips, buttocks, thighs, and past his knees, to gather down at his stocking feet.
"NO, DAD, NO! NO YOU DON'T! STOP IT! NO WAY!"
Tom immediately reached his hands up to Dad's arm that was dangling Tom by his tie. At that moment, Dad released the tie, dropping Tom's brief-covered butt down onto Dad's legs. Pain immediately radiated from his behind to his brain, as Tom fell backward part way. Then, Dad grabbed Tom's right arm again, pulling it behind Tom once more, and rolled Tom back over on his stomach, hanging across Dad's lap. He felt Dad reach around and under him, pulling Tom's belt out of his pants loops. Dad doubled over Tom's belt in Dad's right hand. Dad braced Tom in place by holding tightly Tom's right hand and arm and continuing to push Tom's lower back downward over Dad's left thigh.
OOO-NOOOOO! MORE? WITH THE BELT!? HE HAD TO GET AWAY!! Tom tried a one-handed pushup with his left arm, bracing himself on his tip toes, across Dad's legs. He raised himself as high as he could. Dad's left arm, still holding Tom's right arm up against his back, raised Tom's white shirt tails up, baring the small of Tom's back. Then he pushed Tom there, forcing him back down to face the floor.
Urgently, frantically, Tom resumed his begging and pleading.
"NOOOO, DAD, PLEASE! STOP! NO MORE, DAD, PLEASE! WAIT, PLEASE! DAD, WAIT! . . ."
CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!
"AIEEYA-OWW-UH-UH! OOOO-UH-UH-I'M SORRRRY! UH-UH-OOOO-AYOW! STOPSTOPSTOP! OOO-UH-UH-AUGH-UH! DAD! I PROMISE! NEVER! OOOOO-AH-YOWWW-AH-NOOOO-AH-MORE! OWW-AH-UH-UH-YOWWW! NEVER, DAD! NEVER! AAA-UH-OOOO! NEVER AGAIN! STOP! PUH-LEEZE, DAD! OWA-OWA-YOWWEE-UH-UH-AIUGHAA-UH! STOPIT! STOPIT! STOPIT! UH–UH- PLEASE!! OOOO-UH-UH-AIEEYOWW-UH-UH! IT HURTS SO BAAAAD! UH-UH-AAAEEYOW-AH-OW-AHYOWW! AIEEYOWOWOW! OOO-AAH! UH-UH-UH-HAUGH-UH-UH-OOOO-UH-AAA!"
Tom was first crying, then howling and sobbing, while bucking and kicking furiously and violently. Dad paused briefly, grabbed the waistband of Tom's briefs, and began bouncing Tom up and down on Dad's lap, while jerking the briefs over Tom's hips, bottom, past his thighs and knees, to join his tangled pants at his feet.
Tom exploded! "NOOO-AH-WAY-AH-DAD-AH-OOOOOO-AH-UH-AIYAUGH! OOOO-UH-UH-YOWWW!" His protest was cut short by the belt biting into his bottom.
CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!
Then Dad began to speak slowly, softly, but firmly, lecturing Tom.
"Tommy" CRACK! "Donovan" CRACK! "This" CRACK! "is" CRACK! "the worst" CRACK! "thing" CRACK! "you've" CRACK! "ever" CRACK! "done." CRACK!
"But" CRACK! "I'm determined" CRACK! "that you will learn" CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! "a lesson" CRACK! "that will stick" CRACK! "with" CRACK! "you" CRACK! "for the rest" CRACK! "of your life." CRACK! CRACK!
"You skipped" CRACK! "five" CRACK! "days" CRACK! "of classes." CRACK! "So," CRACK! "you are going" CRACK! "to get" CRACK! "five days" CRACK "of spankings" CRACK! "beginning" CRACK! "tomorrow night" CRACK! "when you come home" CRACK! "from work." CRACK!
"You want to skip," CRACK! CRACK! "young man." CRACK! "So, we'll skip Sunday" CRACK! "and Wednesday." CRACK! "And, of course" CRACK! "this one" CRACK! "doesn't count" CRACK! "either." CRACK! "We'll skip tonight" CRACK! "altogether" CRACK! CRACK! "in counting" CRACK! "the five" CRACK! "spankings." CRACK! CRACK!
"So," CRACK! "Tomorrow night," CRACK! "Monday night," CRACK! "Tuesday night," CRACK! "Thursday night," CRACK! "and Friday night," CRACK! CRACK! "You be sure" CRACK! "that you come" CRACK! "straight home" CRACK! CRACK! "from work: CRACK! "every night" CRACK! "And when you get home," CRACK "you can look forward" CRACK! CRACK! "to another" CRACK! "spanking" CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! "Do you hear me, Tommy?" CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! "Maybe" CRACK! "You'll be able" CRACK! "to sit down" CRACK! CRACK! "by graduation." CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!
Tom could not speak. Each smack of the belt added a more severe, blistering sting to Tom's bottom. Involuntarily, he was bouncing and shrieking with each lick from the belt, choking and gagging in his sobs and gasps.
"AIEE-UH-UH-UM-UH-UH-SOR-UH-UH-SORREEEE! OOO-UH-UH-HUH-UH! OOOO-UH-NOOOO-UH-UH! AIUGH-UH-UH-HAUGH-UH-UH! AIYEE-UH-UH-NEVER! UH-UH-DADDY! UH-UH-UH-NEV-UH-UH-NEVER! UH-UH-OOOOO-UH-DAAAADEEE! UH-UH-NEVVVV-ER UH-UH-AGAIN! OOOO-UH-UH-YOWWW-UH-UH! AIUGH-UH-UH-YOWOWOOOOO-UH-UH! AIEE-UH-SAID-UH-NEVER! NEVER!"
CRACKCRACKCRACK! CRACKCRACKCRACK! CRACKCRACKCRACK! CRACKCRACKCRACKCRACKCRACK! CRACKCRACKCRACKCRACKCRACK! CRACKCRACKCRACK! CRACKCRACKCRACKCRACKCRACKCRACKCRACK! CRACKCRACKCRACKCRACKCRACK! CRACKCRACKCRACKCRACKCRACK! CRACKCRACKCRACKCRACKCRACKCRACKCRACKCRACKCRACKCRACK!!
Dad had accelerated and intensified the spanking – faster and faster, harder and harder. Tom totally broke down, collapsing into frenzied hysteria! He could not think or feel, except the jerking and jolting from the agonizing flames that were branding his bottom! Sobbing and yowling, he could not get enough unbroken breath to continue breathing and speaking through his convulsive shaking and jumping.
Dad redoubled the strength and speed with which he was blistering Tom's behind, concluding with thunderous, lashing spanks.
CRACKCRACKCRACK! CRACKCRACKCRACK! CRACKCRACKCRACK! CRACKCRACKCRACKCRACKCRACK! CRACKCRACKCRACKCRACKCRACK! CRACKCRACKCRACK! CRACKCRACKCRACKCRACKCRACKCRACKCRACK! CRACKCRACKCRACK! CRACKCRACKCRACKCRACKCRACK! CRACKCRACKCRACKCRACKCRACK!! CRAAAAACK!! CRAAAAACK! CRAAAAACKK! CRAAAAAACKK!! CRAAAAAACK!!!
"OOOAH-YAIKEW-UH-UH-OOOOO-UH-UH-AUGHA-UH-UH-NOOOOO! UH-UH-AIEEOW-UH-OOOOO-UH-UH-NOOOO-UH-UH! UH-UH-UH-UH! AWWWEEEE! UH-UH-OOOOOO-UH-UH-OWWW-UH-UH-AIEEYOWW-UH-UH-AIUGHA-UH-UH-UH! NO-UH-NO-UH-UH-UH-NOOOO-UH-MOOOOORE-UH-UH! UH-UH-HAIUGHA-UH-UH! OOOO! UH-UH-OOOOO-UH-OOOOOO! UH-UH-UH-OOOOOAWWW-AUGHA!"
Dad stopped. Heaving and shaking, Tom lay for a long while, with his face resting, wetting on the floor, hanging over Dad's lap. Reaching under Tom's arms, Dad lifted him up and off, to stand to the right of Dad's knees. Doubled over with racking sobs and shakes, Tom faltered and wavered on his legs, almost falling down. Dad grabbed Tom around his waist with a powerful hold that steadied him.
"Alright, young man. You were tired, so get yourself up to bed – RIGHT AWAY! Tomorrow will be here before you know it, with another lesson! NOW, MOVE IT!" Dad's right hand swatted Tom's bare, smarting, incinerated bottom with a powerful smack.
"EEEYOWOOOO-UH-UH-AUGH-UH-UH!" Tom shrieked and gasped again, and jumped off the floor, his feet still entangled by the khakis and briefs coiled around his ankles. At once, he crumbled back into the convulsive sobbing and shaking over which he had scarcely gained control. Then, as Dad handed him his own belt back, Tom woodenly hobbled away, and up the stairs to bed.
During the short, turbulent night's sleep, Tom several times turned onto his back, only to be shocked by the throbbing, raw pain of his backside. Quickly, he shifted back onto his stomach.
At 7 a. m., he painfully pulled himself up from his bed, being careful not to touch his behind against the mattress. He stiffly staggered down the hall and into the bathroom, where he adjusted the shower temperature to lukewarm, in an effort to ease the still-stinging pain in his bottom. He shaved quickly in the shower. Gingerly and tenderly, he dried himself with a towel. Brushing his teeth, and combing his hair, he noticed that his eyes were still reddened, – like his behind. He returned to his room to dress.
Putting another dress shirt and tie on was not a problem. Pulling on a clean pair of briefs, and a pair of navy pants, was an exercise in trying to reduce pain. Bending over to put on his socks, his rearend pulsated shockwaves of pain to his brain. He stood up straight quickly. Carrying a pillow from his bed under his arm, he eased himself down each step of the staircase, walking slowly into the kitchen. Mom and Dad were back at the kitchen table, almost as if they had not left it the previous night.
"Hi, Mom, Dad," he softly spoke.
"Good morning, Tom. "Morning, son," they replied.
Standing at the counter, he poured milk on a bowl of Wheaties, and drank down a cup of coffee. Turning quickly and depositing his dishes in the sink, Tom picked up the pillow and moved toward the kitchen door to leave.
"I've got to get going. They expect me by 8:15!"
"Just like all week long, eh, Tom?" Dad chided. "Just be sure you come right home after work tonight, to start the first of our 5 lessons. Don't be late, or it may add to 5 already scheduled. Understand?"
"Y-yes, sir. Okay. I won't be. Ah, . . .'bye."
"'Bye, honey. 'Bye, Tom. Have a good day, and be careful!" Mom and Dad called back.
He opened the door, walked through it and stopped, grimacing as he stooped over to put his shoes back on. Then the door was closed, and he walked out of the porch, down the steps, and over to the Mustang. Opening the door, he stuffed the pillow, doubled over, onto the seat, and winced and quivered as he lowered himself into it. His bottom hurt with radiating intensity, whenever he lifted his foot to press the brake, and reached forward to shift into reverse.
Saturday was along work day, anyway; but it was even longer, and more wearing for Tom, because he remained standing throughout the day, avoiding sitting anywhere if he could do it. He inhaled a fast lunch, and then, dinner, standing all the while in the back of the store. Norm and Barry urged him to "sit down, and take a load of your feet for a while," but he shook his head and continued to stand.
At 10:35 p. m., putting away the last of the clothes that had been out and shown to customers, Tom suddenly remembered that he needed not to be late. He quickened his pace, but it was still 10:50 before the store door was locked, and they all left to walk to their cars. At 11:15, he was walking, stocking feet, into Mom's kitchen. She was not there, but Dad was – sitting and waiting.
"Well, Tommy, you must not have thought I meant what I said about coming straight home to start your spanking-lessons. So, we'll add another one for a week from tonight also!"
"Dad, no! Wait! It's not what you think! It's not my fault! We had to stay late to clean up! I had to stay – Dad!"
"Well, then, young man, you know how to pick up the telephone and call, and tell us that – especially when you know what's waiting, and what the stakes are! But you didn't do that, did you?"
"N-no, ah, . . . sir. I was trying to hurry to get back here, and . . ."
"Well, Tommy, last night must not yet have steeped into your memory as an unforgettable consequence of skipping school. So, we'll keep the additional one next Saturday night, too." Dad decreed.
"But, Dad! No. . . It's not fair."
"You heard what I said, young man. What's fair is that you find out, without delay, the consequences of skipping school. As it stands, you're going to do that over the next 8 days. Now get on over here, and drop your pants. It's time for lesson number one!"
Biting his bottom lip, Tom walked slowly over to Dad, unfastened his belt and zipper, pulled down his pants, and stepped out of them. Hauled across Dad's lap again, Tom lay there, dangling, waiting for the first of the – now 6 – spankings to begin. Dad yanked down Tom's briefs, and began wailing the still-smoldering fire into flames on Tom's backside.
The whole lesson took about 20 minutes, and Tom was broken into sobbing and screaming almost at once. Then he was released to get up, and go to bed. The next morning, at church and Sunday school, Tom again tried to remain standing as much as possible, although Dad muttered sternly to him that he had better get his butt into a pew quickly, and sit down, or they would be adding lesson number 7. He obeyed Dad's directive.
Tom was in school all week, struggling to sit through final exams. Monday night and Tuesday night, he came directly home from work. Dad resumed the repeated, bare-bottomed spankings, after which Tom went weeping, off to bed.
Thursday, Friday, and Saturday nights, Tom came home promptly, readying himself for each night's spanking. The following Sunday, he again sat with unease and discomfort through church and Sunday school; but the seemingly endless punishment of spankings for having skipped a week of school were finally over. Although his bottom remained tender and aching for almost two more weeks, he managed to sit through his graduation on Wednesday night. Now, he was a high school graduate, heading off to college in about 3 months time.
Throughout the 4 years of college, Tom never, ever cut a class. Seven years from the week that Tom learned the lesson of consequences for skipping school, he found himself unable to get to his 8 a. m., law school class, in UCC secured transactions, because his car wouldn't start. He was back living at the farm home, as he attended the university law school in his home town. Later, realizing that he had in fact "cut" this class, he felt deep remorse as he imagined the burning, biting fire of Dad's spankings for skipping school.
That night, he sought out Mom and Dad, told them what had happened and why, and promised them that it would never happen again, if he could possibly help it. They accepted his explanation, and his promise. A few weeks later, Tom graduated from law school, began studying for the bar exam, and passed it. He accepted an offer from a state agency in the state capital, and was noted for his reliability, punctuality, and performance of his work duties. He learned the lesson well.