We have your boy down here, Jim, and I have to tell you this is a little more than boys will be boys Im afraid. Seems J. V. and a couple of his friends got into your liquor cabinet, went out looking for some fun, and took liberties with the Hollybird girl.
Ah. I see. Well, I have to say that boy has been cruising toward trouble all summer, Bill. Any permanent damage to the girl, you think?
Probably not. We got the call she was squealing for help and by the time we got there they had all run off. The way she talked they didnt get too far with her but far enough they need a good lesson, Id say.
You get the other boys?
Not yet but we will. Got my patrolman out looking now. It was the Massey boy and Billy Sheffield the girl says. The three of them conned her into having a couple of drinks and took her to the levee. Thats when it got out of hand.
Well, what do you think would be the best way to handle it?
Dunno, but I think they all need a good lesson. And they dont need a criminal record for it I dont think. I can likely persuade ol man Hollybird into keeping this off the record.
Id appreciate that, Frank. I think maybe you ought to lock J. V. up for the night and let him cool his heels in jail before I come get him in the morning. Might do him some good to spend a night in a cell.
Well, I can do that. But I think he may need more than a night in jail for this one.
Oh, hell be getting more than a night in the jail. Hell be making a visit out behind the shed for a lickin with the razor strop when I get him home. And Id be much obliged if you might just take him over your desk and wallop him good before locking him up for the night. He might remember a good double dose of the lickin stick.
After seeing the terror on the Hollyfield girls face it would be my pleasure. You come by tomorrow around breakfast and get him.
See you then. And thanks! I owe you one.
J. V. sat there in his chair, the nausea from his earlier foray into his fathers white lightning supply rising in his belly. He had heard only half the conversation but it wasnt too difficult to figure what was coming his way.
I think Im about to puke, sir! J. V. said as he rose from his chair and ran for the station house bathroom.
You better not be messin the floor in there, son, Sgt. Frank Baird shouted. He heard J. V. retching and heaving, then the flush of the toilet. You make a mess of my floor and youll be cleaning it up on your hands and knees.
Several minutes of silence followed, then a second flush, and finally J. V. reappeared, a bit yellow around the gills. The buzz of the white lightning had worn off but the aftereffects were still roiling his insides.
Well, son, I think you know youre going to be punished for what you did tonight.
Yes, sir, J. V. replied, his eyes down to the floor. Pretty stupid of us, Id say. And I am sorry about Pattie.
I bet you are. And after talking with your dad youre going to be even sorrier, J. V. You get to spend the night here, son. And before I put you in the cell youre going to get a lesson with my belt.
Yes, sir, J. V. replied softly. From the phone conversation he had figured this was coming. As bad as he felt getting the liquor out of his belly he knew hed feel a lot worse: this guy batted cleanup on the local baseball team for a reason. He watched as Sgt. Baird took off his service belt, and then removed the holster, gun, and handcuffs hanging from it. He took the wide leather strap in his big hands and doubled it up.
Over the desk, son. And take your pants down. Youre gonna get a whippin you wont soon forget.
Yes, sir, J. V. stammered as he slowly stood up, turned his back, let his pants down and bent over the big oak desk. He hadnt been in this position in a couple of years and, at sixteen, thought he was too old for it. Right now was not the time to say so, however.
Take your boxers down, too, boy. You earned a bare assed strappin and I mean to see you get it.
J. V. kept his back turned to the good sergeant as he peeled his boxers down to bare his backside. He was embarrassed by his aroused dick and could not imagine what brought a hard-on given the circumstances. Once more he bent full across the desk and waited for his lickin to start.
Id tell you that old thing about how This is going to hurt me more than it will hurt you but that's a lie. Just a couple of ground rules I have, boy. One, you stay right where you are and take your punishment. Two, the only things I want to hear out of you is Yes, sir and 'No, sir. You got that?
Yes, sir, J. V. replied. And he was thankful his two buddies were not there to see this. Talk about embarrassing. Well, they would likely be getting it, too, and soon. J. V. took hold of the far edge of the desk and decided that, no matter what came, he was not going to let go. He would show the sergeant he could take his thrashing like a man.
The first crack of the doubled belt broke the silence and J. V. felt the fire. Taking plenty of time between licks to lecture the boy, Sergeant Frank Baird laid that belt on over and over. He worked from the very top of J. V.s bared backside down to the tops of his thighs and back up again. After fifteen or twenty hard licks he moved to the other side and laid the leather on backhand, the loop of the wide belt turning J. V.s hips purple as a plum.
For his part, J. V. kept his promise to himself and hung on for all he was worth. His legs flailed up, his hips writhed side-to-side, he groaned and yelped, and he pleaded for an end to the licking he was getting. His erection had begun to shrink with that first hard lick. As J. V.s hard-on shriveled, Sergeant Bairds rose and had J. V. looked around he would have seen a very large lump in the sergeants uniform pants. The sight of the boys scarlet, dancing backside had aroused some strange feelings in the cop. He continued to take careful aim and cracked the belt down hard.
Then, mercifully, it was suddenly over.
Get up, boy. And pull your pants up.
J. V.s butt was on fire, scalded, striped, and dark purple from the sergeants belt. Even his fathers razor strop had not been worse than this. But he was proud of himself for taking his punishment and once again puzzled by the hard-on he found rising again in his pants as Sergeant Baird locked him in a cell for the night.
Just two bunks, a toilet, a sink, and the steel grates. When the clank of the lock came J. V. had another wave of nausea roll through his belly. He lay down and it passed. So did some of the fire in his backside. When the lights went out J. V. could not help but reach down inside his jeans and begin to stroke himself. He had just begun to jack himself off when he heard voices in the office outside the cellblock. One voice, he knew, was Billy Sheffield, and he sounded like he was still drunk.
After several minutes the muffled voices in the office went silent. Then J. V. heard the loud crack and he knew. He knew. Billy was over the desk getting the belt good and hard. In another five minutes Billy would be in the cell taking the other bunk and his ass, too, would be on fire. J. V. stroked himself faster and faster to the rhythm of the belt cracking down on Billies naked ass in the next room. Then J. V. thought of his father coming for him in the morning. And he smiled a wry, enigmatic bittersweet smile as he filled his hand with the warm, pulsing cream. Quickly he rose from the bunk and went to the sink in the dark to wash away the evidence. J. V. was still at the sink with his pants down when the lights flashed on and he looked, startled, over to the door to see Billy hobbling toward the cell door.