As always, feedback (bunzafire@yahoo. com) is appreciated.
Mark closed one eye and nestled his head near to the carpet, a study of concentration. Our relative degree of mastery of the ancient game of "marbles" was a constant sore point between us. Holding his prize shooter in his right hand (his jerk hand as we jokingly referred to it,) he carefully sighted and let it fly. Three others jumped out of the "circle" along with his shooter. "Ha!" he said.
The door to my room slammed open and my dad rushed in, his face red with anger. In one of those terrifying split-seconds that seem to last a lifetime, I knew I was caught - he knew, somehow, what had happened. I noticed in a detached, horrified way that he was carrying a wooden paddle in his right hand.
I stood, rather quickly and backed slowly away.
"Dad...wait....let me tell you what..."
But that was as far as I got; he never slowed down or broke stride as he crossed the room and grabbed my arm, roughly. Spinning me casually, he grabbed me at the bottom of my back by the fabric at the top of my jeans and lifted me bodily off the floor. The quick move startled me, and I sputtered a bit as he carried me over to the bed.
"Dad...what are....NO!"
This last as he sat tossed the paddle to the bed, sat down lightly and positioned me facedown over his knee. To my embarrassment, my face was mere inches away from my friend's. Mark was staring, wide-eyed and obviously frightened, as my face flushed scarlet.
My dad pulled roughly at the fabric as he positioned me and my jeans and underwear slid down my thighs to stop at my knees; suddenly I was bare. My pulse raced as I tensed for the pain that I knew would follow.
WHAP! The first lick landed mostly on my left cheek, white tendrils of pain lancing through my rear. WHAP! A matching stroke on the other cheek. My teeth clenched as I desperately held out against the pain.
Mark's gaze went up and down as he alternately watched my father's handiwork and my face as I reacted to each blow.
WHAP! Dad was in fine form, alternating cheeks with each blow, the pain building in intensity. WHAP! WHAP! At the third lick on my left cheek, I could keep my silence no more, and an involuntary groan escaped me. I was utterly mortified at such weakness in front of my best friend.
WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! At this blow, the water sprang unbidden into my eyes. No! I thought. I will not cry in front of Mark. WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! Now involuntary grunts and moderate exclamations followed each lick. I was crying now, but fairly quietly. I turned my head away, praying that Dad's sense of justice would be satisfied.
WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! At that stroke, I began to cry aloud with each blow, painfully aware that Mark was watching my every move. He continued to snap his gaze back and forth, but lingered more on my blazing rear than on my face.
WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! My eyes closed against the pain and I was screaming continuously now, begging and pleading with every bit of volume that I could muster. WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!
And suddenly he was finished. He stood and tossed my body carelessly onto the bed.
"You'll get the rest of it after dinner, young man."
Then he turned to address Mark.
"Mark, go home. My son won't be playing with you for the next few days. Pray that I don't find out that you had anything to do with this afternoon's shenanigans."
Marks eyes grew wide again as he digested these remarks. I was fumbling with the sheet in a belated and stupid effort to cover my nakedness as I watched Mark stand up and walk across the room. Even in my state, I couldn't help but notice that Mark had some serious wood in his pants and his face was very flushed.