"How did you sleep, B. B.?"
"Like the dead, Tom. Um, I mean sir," B. B. replied. "Looks like a gorgeous late fall day out there."
"We don't get many like this one," Tom replied. "Going to be sunny and near sixty. Got lucky, really. I have some nice heavy yard work planned for this morning. You ever use a chain saw?"
"No, sir. But I can learn."
"Well, I'm sure you can, but I'm not sure the risk is worth it in the few hours we have. One good kickback and you may be spending life with a few less toes or fingers than you were born with, B. B. You can run the chipper and stack the wood. That will take your mind off that trip out behind the shed I promised you, boy." Tom put a plate with sausage, eggs, and toast on the table for each of them.
"After last night I'm not sure I need it! Felt the heat of that creme till I was sleeping," B. B. said.
"A promise is a promise, boy. And I keep mine. Rare experience for you anyway. When we finish breakfast you go downstairs and get the razor strop and take it out to the shed. You know where it hangs."
"Yes, sir," B. B. answered quietly, "I sure do."
"Stand up, boy, and let your jeans and briefs down. Let's see if there is still any damage there from last night's licking."
B. B. stood up, turned his back to Tom, then slid his jeans and briefs down just enough to bare his butt. He had taken a good look on the way to the shower and was surprised his ass looked just fine.
"Nah, nothing there," Tom said. "But there will be later this morning!"
"Yes, sir," B. B. replied as he pulled his pants up and resumed eating his breakfast.
"Tell you what. You do the dishes and I'll go out and gas up the saw and chipper and get the ropes out. When you finish the dishes, put a light jacket on and take the strap out to the shed."
Tom put his empty plate on the counter, smiled at his house guest, then went out into the garage. B. B. finished his breakfast, quickly washed the few dishes, and threw on a nylon shell against the cool early morning air. Then he went down to the workshop in the basement and took the razor strop from the bench and went out to the shed. Tom was already in the shed and the smell of gasolene greeted B. B. when he opened the door. He hung the strap on the hook just inside the door and looked out the windows to the woods surrounding the shed and the house. The entire south side of the shed was glass windows so it would double as a greenhouse in the spring.
"Here's what we're going to do, B. B. I have to cut down a few branches hanging too low to the roof. Once I have them on the ground, you pull them over to the sawbuck, take a bow saw, and cut them into shorter pieces. Most of it will be thin stuff and you put that through the chipper. The bigger pieces just stack on the end of the firewood. Out behind the shed you'll find a sawbuck where I cut the limbs up: that's what we use out here for a whipping bench, boy."
"So where is the chipper?"
"Out behind the shed with the buck. Just wheel it around front and get it going. Same as a lawn mower, really, but twelve horsepower. I use the chips for mulch. One more thing: you keep these on at all times!" Tom tossed him a pair of safety goggles. "And keep your hands clear of the inside of that chipper."
B. B. went out behind the shed and found both the buck and the chipper. He pulled the chipper out into the open by the garden, primed it, put the choke on, then pulled. On the third pull it roared just as he heard Tom pull the chainsaw to life. B. B. looked at the sawbuck for a long time and felt himself starting to get hard just thinking about it. Might be a cool day out but he knew he would be plenty warm once he was bent across the buck for a strapping.
Tom was up on a ladder into a thirty foot pine tree zipping lower limbs off with ease. After a half dozen littered the ground he moved to a large maple and started surgery. B. B. pulled the limbs back to the shed, took the bow saw to cut them down, then fed most of it to the chipper. For an hour he continued to keep up as Tom cut his way around the house and yard trimming. By ten o'clock B. B. was perspiring heavily in his sweatshirt having long since abandoned the nylon shell. The sun has raised the temperature to an unseasonly sixty-five. Just two hours, he thought to himself, till noon. At noon, he and Tom had agreed before this trip, they would switch roles. He looked at the big willow next to the garage and smiled.
"Yo!" Tom shouted through the roar of the chipper. "How about a break?"
B. B. throttled the chipper down, then choked it off and silence returned to the woods. Both had beads of sweat running down their foreheads from the work.
"Where are the safety glasses, B. B.?"
"Oh, I ah . . um . .guess I forgot them," B. B. replied.
"Well, I really did not need any excuses, boy, but you might want to consider that you only get one pair of eyes in this life and a wood chip at one hundred miles an hour would take it out before you could blink."
"Yes, sir," B. B. replied.
"And your gloves? Forgot those, too, did you?"
"Guess so, I just . . "
"You just don't think much, do you? Well, I suppose a city boy doesn't know any better. And I noticed you also 'forgot' my orders to keep your hands OUT of the chipper. I saw you reaching down in there to pull out plugged stuff."
"I was careful, believe me."
"Oh, I do believe you, but I also know you have no idea how fast it happens and how irreversible it is, boy. That thing can suck your hand in like a vacuum. You keep your hands OUT, you hear me?"
"Yes, sir."
"When it plugs, you use a long branch to poke and probe to open it. Or you shut it off, take the rubber boot off the spark plug, then you reach in and pull the mess out. Got it?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good. Now let's make sure you remember all that, B. B.," Tom said, pulling his own gloves off. "Get me the razor strop."
B. B. went into the shed and took the strop from the hook inside the door, then went out behind the shed and handed it to Tom. He looked around and wondered if the neighbors could hear since the woods was very, very quiet.
"Take your pants down, boy, and get across the sawbuck."
B. B. unbuckled his belt, let his jeans puddle at his feet, then pulled his briefs down to bare his ass for the strapping. He leaned forward across the double sawhorses which served as a sawbuck and let his hands reach down to the damp earth below. He was sweating but the air was cool on his bared butt.
"How long has it been since you've had a good whipping with the strap, boy?" Tom asked. He took his place to the side and behind B. B., the razor strop hanging nearly to the ground.
"Too long, sir," B. B. answered.
Tom pulled the strap back, took aim, and cracked it moderately hard across B. B.'s thrust out backside. The sharp report of the strap on the skin rang through the woods like a shot from an twenty-two rifle and brought a two inch wide stripe to the B. B.'s ass.
"When you were a boy, your daddy used to take his razor strop to you?"
"Yes, sir, he sure did!" B. B. replied as he felt the heat of a second, third, and fourth lick.
"Nothing like a good strapping to get your attention and make you remember a point, boy. "
Tom underlined his message with a slow, deliberate strapping of B. B.'s butt cheeks, painting broad stripes from the top to the bottom, and then working his way back up again. Soon enough darker lines marked the welts where the edge of the strap bit, especially on the hips where the tip snapped home. He continued his lecture as he laid the strap on till finally B. B. was bucking hard with each lick. Tom would wait till he had regained his own control and raised his ass back up to ask for another.
"Just want to make sure you don't go back home without a real good memory, B. B. You think you've had enough of this strap to remember?"
"Yes, sir!" B. B. quickly answered. "More than enough!"
"You think it was as good as the stories I posted at MMSA Stories, boy?"
"Even better, sir!"
"Good," Tom said.. Then he pulled the strap back high over his should and lashed it as hard as he could full across the backs of B. B.'s thighs. "THAT ought to leave you a 'red badge of courage' to take back home with you, boy. Now stand up."
B. B. stood up, dancing as he had the night before, his ass on fire, and grabbed for the heat with his hands. His _c_o_c_k_ again sprang to life.
"Might as well finish this part of your visit like most of the boys in my stories do, B. B. Put the strap back where you found it. And leave your pants down."
B. B. took the strap from Tom and hobbled his way back into the shed with Tom behind him. He put the strap back on the hook and stood there, now erect and dripping, his ass still on fire.
"OK, B. B. jerk off for me," Tom ordered. He looked at his watch. Nearly eleven o'clock. Just one hour till the tables would turn. He felt his own erection rising as he watched B. B.'s eyes close just before he shot a load out onto the dirt floor of the shed.
By this time tomorrow B. B. would be at 30,000 feet on his way back home. But there was this afternoon and tonight first, B. B. thought to himself. And he was going to enjoy it thoroughly.