I was late. I knew it. Before I even pulled into the driveway I knew he knew it. _d_a_m_n_! I parked the car in the drive way and walked to the front door. I stood there for a second. I knew he wouldn't open it. That was my job. My 'responsibility' he would say. My responsibility to open the door and accept the consequences of my actions. God, I HATED him right then. I knew he was standing there, KNOWING that I was standing out here, KNOWING that I was nervous and scared, KNOWING that I was fighting with myself, making myself walk up those steps and reach for that door handle, when my mind was screaming at me "Get back in the car and drive away! To hell with him! You can live in the car! GO NOW! GO!" But I was smarter than that. Not smart enough to get home on time, maybe, but I wasn't an idiot. I was sixteen, still in high school, I really wanted to go to college, my dream was to be an architect, and I knew it wasn't worth giving up all of that to avoid an ass-warming. I opened the door and didn't look at him while I shut it behind me. He was standing less than four feet from me so I couldn't go anywhere. I just stood there, looking down at the carpet.
"It's past your curfew, son."
"I'm sorry, Dad."
"What happened?"
Of course, I could take that as a chance to lie. Make up some story that would be plausible, but catastrophic enough to explain not only my missing curfew, but my not calling, no limbs broken and no damage to the car. Probably I could pull that off, I was a pretty creative guy. But I wasn't a liar. I had more respect for myself than that, and more respect for him, though I don't think I would have admitted it. "I just lost track of time."
"Party was that good, huh?"
There wasn't really anything for me to say to that. I shrugged.
"We agreed on this curfew, Nick."
I shifted my weight from foot to foot nervously, I could feel tears trying to fill my eyes. God _d_a_m_n_ it! Why does he have to do this? I wish he would just get mad and beat me, so I could hate him for it.
"Nick?"
"I know, Dad."
"You know that it worries me when you should be here and you're not."
"I'm sorry, sir." I looked up at him for the first time, I couldn't help myself. "I really am, Dad."
He put his hand on my shoulder, but he didn't let up. "Do you remember what we said about keeping your word?"
"Yes sir." I swear to God, my ass was already starting to sting.
"Son, when you grow up you are going to HAVE to be punctual, dependable and keep your word EVERY SINGLE TIME, do you understand that?"
I nodded. I didn't dare open my mouth. I hated when he would say things like that, 'when you grow up'. I wanted to yell at him, to tell him 'I'm SIXTEEN YEARS OLD FOR CHRIST'S SAKE! How old do I have to be for you to recognize that I'm a MAN! Sixty? Eighty?!' and MAKE him listen to me! But of course I didn't. Not now, not when I was already in for it. Like I said, I'm not stupid.
He sighed, liked I was such a huge burden to him or something. He gave my shoulder sort of a quick pat, then he reached for his belt and unbuckled it. I stared at it swishing out of his belt loops, it made sound like fwip - wip - wip - wip - wip - wip and I don't know why, but it made me so hard. Immediately, just like that, I was really straining my seam down there. This had been happening ever since I could remember, but I just started to get embarrassed about it around thirteen, when it was really starting to poke out and be obvious. I was glad that Dad never noticed it. It seemed pretty odd that he never did, I mean it isn't like you can really miss something like that, but at least he never looked at it or said anything. Thank God, because I probably would have dropped over dead from humiliation. This is humiliating enough.
Dad doubled up the belt in one hand and took my upper arm in the other. He walked me toward the couch, then he let me go. "Bend over, Dominic."
I had to walk a few more steps and bend myself over the back of the couch. This was really difficult. I wish he would just shove me over there and push me down. But again, this was my 'responsibility'. So I did it. And I was completely concerned with the pain that was coming until I bent over and my tent pole came in contact with the couch. Man, I was hard! So hard that I actually rubbed myself against the back of the couch while I pretended to get a good grip on the cushions, I couldn't help it. I stole a quick glance at Dad. Good, he didn't notice.
I tried to get sort of comfortable, not easy with your ass in the air and your pocket rocket practically punching a hole through your jeans. God, please, just get this over with. He let me hang there for like ten minutes. What was he doing, admiring the view?! My ass was clenching, which was pulling my jeans tight against my chubby buddy and he was not happy about that. I was _f_u_c_k_ing miserable and the _d_a_m_n_ spanking hadn't even started yet! I swore to God I would never, ever, ever miss curfew again, and I really meant it.
Then I heard his footsteps. I clamped my mouth shut tight. I wanted for all the world to plead and beg for him to let me off this one time. To please, please, please not spank me. But I wouldn't allow myself that. It wouldn't do any good anyway, Dad would be disappointed in me, he just give me an even longer lecture about honoring our agreement, keeping my word and all that bull_s_h_i_t_, then I'd STILL get it and I'd be disgusted with myself afterwards for whining. I wasn't a liar and I wasn't a whiner, at least I had that.
Dad patted my ass, taking aim I guess. Then I heard the belt whistle and it slammed into my butt. The pain was so bad. Dad could really pack a wallop. I tightened my throat so not sound would come out. He smacked me with it again. It felt like a stripe of fire where the belt landed. I drew in a deep breath through my nose. WHAM! I was clenching my ass as hard as I could but it wasn't helping the pain any. A muffled yelp escaped from my throat. I knew he heard it, _d_a_m_n_ IT! 'SHUT UP!' I screamed at myself. 'Little boys cry, you want him to keep thinking of you as a little boy? Show him you're too old for this crap!' I braced myself and took the next two like a man. But my ass was actually throbbing with pain. I could feel it swelling against the seat of my jeans. Then he switched sides and started in again. God forbid my butt should hurt worse on one side than the other. I thought I had gotten a good hold of myself during that little break, but when his belt spanked me again I heard myself say "OW!" I couldn't help it, it hurt so bad. And then I really wanted to cry, because I was so embarrassed and disappointed in myself. He smacked me again and I yelped. I clutched the cushions as tight as I could to keep my hands from flying to cover my butt. I was losing it! He whipped the belt across my butt three more times, faster and harder than the rest, and I cried out louder at each one: "Owow!" "OOH!" "OUCH!!!OH!!!!"
He put the belt down. I couldn't prevent a loud moan from escaping my lips. I sniffled a little and really tried to pull myself together. Then he made me stay there for like another ten or fifteen minutes. Please, no more, please.
"Okay, Dominic, you can get up now."
I pushed myself up off of the couch. My erection had abandoned me long ago. My butt was burning so much, but I wiped my eyes and kept my hands at my sides. I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing me rub it like a six year old.
"Give me your keys." He held his hand out.
I almost sobbed then. It wasn't fair! I dug my keys out of my pocket and my hand was actually shaking when I put them in his hand.
He put them in his pocket. "You won't get these back until you earn them back, son, understand?"
I bowed my head fast. If he'd seen the look of anger and outrage on my face, I would have been back over the couch for sure, and this time without the jeans. I clenched my teeth and nodded. When I grew up I would NEVER treat my kid this way!
I felt his hand under my chin, lifting my face. This was different. I looked at him.
"Things are going to change around here, Nicky, and those things are your behavior and your attitude. You've really been pushing the boundaries lately, and I'm getting pretty tired of it, kiddo. It's time that you got put in your place and Dad's gonna do it."
Oh no, this wasn't good. This was REALLY not good. "What Dad? What'd I do?"
"Nicky, you know the rules. We've talked about them, we've negotiated them and you still break them."
"Dad, I'm sorry, really, I promise I'll never break curfew again."
He wasn't listening to me, he was just looking at me and shaking his head.
"REALLY Dad, I SWEAR!" I was starting to sweat. Somehow my hands had gotten back to my bottom and I was rubbing it furiously. I made myself stop.
Dad, looked away from me and tried to stifle a laugh. GOD that PISSED ME OFF! My ass is on fire and HE'S LAUGHING! And he isn't laughing at me, not in an insulting way, which I might actually prefer, he's laughing because he thinks it's CUTE! He thinks it's cute that my ass hurts so bad I can't help but try and rub the pain out. He thinks everything I do is CUTE! He thinks it's CUTE that I was so happy the first time I realized that I was able to reach the top cabinets. He thinks it's CUTE that my voice still breaks sometimes. He thinks it's CUTE that I'm embarrassed when I have wet dreams. He thinks it's CUTE that since he hung a paddle in the back room with my name painted on it, I avoid that room like the plague, and I do anything to keep anyone else from going in there. He thinks the look of total panic I get on my face when he teases me about 'hanging the paddle in MY room instead, or how about the living room, above the TV, maybe' is CUTE! It ISN'T CUTE! I'M NOT CUTE! I'm a GROWN MAN and I'm NOT CUTE!
"Nicky, it's way past your bedtime. Go upstairs, take a shower and go to sleep. We'll talk more in the morning." He kissed my forehead.
"But Dad, what do you mean about-"
He turned me around and swatted my butt.
I jumped. "OUCH! DAD!"
"Upstairs. Shower. Bed." He said firmly.
I felt weird. My stomach was doing flip flops. I started toward the stairs, then I turned back because I had forgotten to kiss him goodnight. I realized that that was a little boy ritual, and I didn't particularly feel like kissing him right now, so I walked back toward the stairs, but I felt wrong. I stood still for a second. Then I turned back and walked to him really really fast and gave him a quick peck on the cheek, then turned and ran up the stairs. I don't know why I did it completely. I just had to do it.
Next Time - Dad's POV