Wait Until Your Father Gets Home
[Punishment delayed is punishment twice given]
"Jeremy," his Mom called. She was at the foot of the stairs, calling up to him.
"Yes, Mom," he answered from his bedroom. He knew only too well what she was about to tell him.
"Your Dad's on the phone. He wants to speak to you. You'd best hurry."
Jeremy got up from his desk and walked quickly down the hallway to his parent's bedroom. He took a deep breath then picked up the phone.
"Yes, sir?," he said. His voice already had a slight tone of contrition in it.
"Is what your mother tells me true, son?"
"I guess so."
"You 'guess' so??" Dad's tone of voice said that he was in no mood to argue.
"I mean, Yes, sir," Jeremy quickly said.
"You are hereby grounded, son," his dad said calmly. "As of this moment -- no TV, no computer, no CD player. You are to stay in your room until I get home. Understand?"
"Yes, sir," Jeremy said, resigned to the first phase of what he was sure was to be a two-part punishment. "And the bathroom..?? I can use the bathroom, can't I?"
"Jeremy," his dad said, losing his patience. "Don't quibble. Of course you can use the bathroom. You knew what I meant. Don't dig a deeper hole, son."
"Yes, sir," Jeremy said already sorry that he had asked the unnecessary question.
"Is your brother there?"
"No, sir," Jeremy said, again with a respectful tone. "He's still at school, I guess."
"When he gets home you tell him that I said to leave you alone. Stay away from you. You're quarantined, awaiting punishment. He'll get the message. Understand?"
"Yes, sir."
"And Jeremy..."
"Yes, sir."
"You -- right now -- change into sweat pants and shirt. Socks but no shoes. Understand?"
"Yes, sir."
"I'll be home a little later than usual tonight. I've told your mother that you're not to have dinner with her and your brother. Understand?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good. Now until I do get home, you just sit and think about it. Now put your mother back on."
"Yes, sir," Jeremy said. He turned to yell down to his mother but found her standing in the doorway. He wondered how many 'Yes, sir's' she had heard him say to his dad. Jeremy was already getting a taste of humble pie. Well, at least his older brother Mark wasn't there to hear him groveling on the phone. He held the phone out to his mom. She took it and looked at Jeremy, waiting for him to leave the room.
Well, at least he had some time. Good news and bad news. Good news, since he had time to shower and put on clean underpants along with his sweat pants and shirt. Dad always checked. Bad news, since he also had to wait...and wait. That was always the hard part, waiting for Dad to come in his room and say the words, "Bring me your paddle, son."
How many swats would he get for this infraction, Jeremy wondered. At least twenty he figured. Ten with his pants and shorts up, ten with both down and him bent way over. That was a fair guess. Last time, he'd gotten twenty and Dad seemed to think that was what really bad behavior deserved. Yes, twenty, for sure. Ten up and ten down.
Since Jeremy's thirteenth birthday, Dad had started using the paddle instead of his hand. He'd done the same with Jeremy's brother Mark. The two boys had begun to have their punishments separately too -- a concession on Dad's part to their growing embarrassment of showing their adolescent bodies. That was two years ago for Jeremy, three for his brother. Of course, the fleece-lined sweat pants that Dad usually had either of them put on for paddlings offered some little protection from the paddle -- but not much. The pants only served to muffle the sound of paddle on skin. The worst part of getting it on his "sweats" was knowing that not matter how much it stung, worse was yet to come.
There was the point at which Jeremy stood and lowered all protection, including underpants. And the sound and sting of the paddle changed considerably from that point onward. Jeremy was thinking about that as he took his shower. He was careful to soap his genitals and down in the deep crevice between his buttocks. Dad had always had Jeremy and his brother spread their legs for the final few smacks by hand or paddle. That was one thing that hadn't changed. This not only exposed the sensitive inner parts of buttocks and legs but also exposed the most private parts of his butt. Jeremy thought about this too, as he soaped his butt thoroughly then turned, pulling his buttocks apart with his hands and not for the first time he experienced an erection as he bent forward to allow the strong stream of warm water to splash across his anus.
Jeremy rubbed the rough bath towel against his wet skin and again paid close attention to every square inch of his butt. He carefully -- but thoroughly -- dried his genitals, his still slightly hard penis and his loose, low-hanging scrotum. Dad would see this part of his anatomy too as Jeremy faced him while lowering his pants. He took a fresh towel and dried his thick hair. He stood to view his naked body in the slightly fogged, full-length mirror on the bathroom door. He turned and looked over his shoulder at his naked butt. He had what was called a "swimmer's butt", well formed with a deep cleavage. Jeremy, however, still couldn't quite understand how the buttocks he now saw in the mirror had earned him a "runner-up" in his yearbook's "Cutest Male Butt" category -- a distinction bestowed upon him by his female classmates. One thing he was certain of, his white buttocks would soon be colored a bright red from his dad's paddle.
Back in his bedroom, his brother Mark hurriedly made an excuse to leave as Jeremy entered. It would have been better if Mark had teased him somehow or at least attempted to joke about Jeremy's impending ordeal. It seemed all the more ominous, however, when his brother said absolutely nothing, avoided his brother's eyes and merely made a hasty retreat from the room. Mark obviously knew, Jeremy thought. Mom had told him.
Now came the waiting. As he sat at his desk Jeremy could hear his mother and brother faintly downstairs. He was keenly aware of his butt and could feel the soft fleece of his sweat pants on the sensitized skin. With no CDs or TV, the bedroom was very quiet, every house sound magnified. Somewhere in the distance he heard some neighborhood kids playing and the clickity-clack sound of skateboards on the sidewalk. Hearing these sounds that were normally not worth notice only emphasized the solitude of his bedroom quarantine. He tried to remember exactly how the sting of the paddle felt but could only recall that it hurt. It hurt so bad that -- try as he may -- he couldn't help yelling at each swat. But Mark yelled too, so that made it not so bad. He looked up to Mark and despite his being an older" brother, they were close.
The paddle that Dad now used on Jeremy and his brother hung from a small nail on the inside of their bedroom closet door. Dad's thinking was that having the paddle in daily view would serve as a deterrent for both boys. It did. They saw it everyday and memories of its sting were never far away. Jeremy now though of that paddle. He started to open the closet door to look at it but changed his mind. He would see it soon enough, he thought.
He lay down on his bed. He sat at his desk. He walked to the door to listen to the downstairs sounds. He looked out his bedroom window. He lay on his bed again. Everything reminded him that he was not only restricted to this small room but also that a paddling was getting nearer and nearer. At least his brother Mark was leaving him alone -- completely alone. His mother came upstairs and gently knocked on the closed door.
"Are you okay, Jeremy," she said softly.
"Yes," was all he said. Then he quickly added, "Does Mark need anything in here?"
"I don't think so, dear. I'll ask him."
"When will Dad be home," Jeremy said.
"Any minute now." There was a pause. "I'll bring you up something to eat....later," she said. "Or maybe your father will let you come down to the kitchen...after."
Jeremy said nothing. Not out of rudeness but because he hadn't really heard what his mother had just said. He was thinking about when he and his brother were much younger -- young boys. He recalled his mother would say, "You just wait 'til your father gets home." This was the same as a sentence to a spanking from Dad and both he and his brother knew it. Mom was the judge, Dad the executioner. Jeremy now realized that things hadn't changed all that much, only now it was a paddling instead of a spanking and pulling ones pants down in front of Dad was immensely more embarrassing now. But, otherwise, here he was again waiting for Dad to get home.
Jeremy knew that he'd yell and probably cry a little -- at least get tears in his eyes. He almost always did. Even when he was younger and was hand spanked across Dad's legs, he yelled at each smack and started crying if not at first then toward the end. Now, with the paddle, he yelled even louder and still cried. Only now his crying was not as loud, more of a sobbing. After his last paddling he decided that he cried not only from the sting of the paddle but from the humiliation his dad's verbal scolding brought and the position he was made to assume. He decided that the yelling that he and his brother couldn't seem to suppress was a result of the paddle's sting but that the tears were from the embarrassment and humiliation. Dad never spanked or paddled without a good reason and Jeremy always knew -- deep down -- that his punishments were deserved. So perhaps he cried because he had disappointed his dad too.
All of these thoughts were racing through Jeremy's head as he heard Dad's car in the driveway. Not much longer now, he thought. In a way he was glad. It would soon be over, the waiting behind him. He listened as he heard his mom and dad talking downstairs. He wondered where Mark was. Would Mark get to listen? He hoped not, although he had heard Mark yell plenty of times and he suspected that Mark also cried although he'd never actually seen him.
It wouldn't be long now, he knew as he straightened the cover on his bed. The next half hour would not be pleasant. Jeremy was not given to prayers, either silent or spoken. Sometimes he would utter one softly before a school exam or swimming meet. He spoke one now. "Please let me not cry," he said softly. "Please let me not yell louder than Mark does. Please let Dad's lecture not be too long. Please let me not be so embarrassed when I pull my pants down and bend over."
Just then, Dad knocked on the door and after a couple of seconds opened it and walked in. It was difficult for Jeremy to look at his dad but he did, slowly, as he stood by his desk in his clean sweat pants and shirt. Dad had taken his jacket and tie off downstairs and was now rolling up his right shirt sleeve. He stood and looked at his son for what seemed to Jeremy a long time. Jeremy realized that his prayer was not doing so well as even now he felt tears in his eyes. Jeremy loved his dad very much and he knew that his dad loved him. But it was time. The waiting part was over.
"Bring me your paddle, son," Dad said.