MOVING IN WITH DAD Chapter 1
After thinking about it for sometime, I decided to accept my Dad's offer to move back in with him. I am taking some post-grad classes and consequently, have cut back on my hours at work making it a practical decision to give up my apartment and move back in the family home. My Dad is a generous man as he is financing my studies and he said I didnt have to contribute towards house expenses or anything. I thought all along this was going to be a paid vacation. Mom's been gone a few years and since I'm an only child, I figured I could also take care of my Dad more. Little was I to know it was going to be the other way around.
Everything was the same yet different. It's amazing how Dad has kept things pretty much the way they were. Yes - down to the collection of paddles he collected as souvenirs in his stint in the military. I don't know if visitors ever knew those paddles were taken down plenty a time during my teen years and well into college. Dad was a great believer in corporal punishment and the paddles and other spanking implements had a major role in my upbringing.
Dad noticed me looking at the display and jovially commented, "stir up any memories, son?"
I smile at him wryly. "Quite a few I don't care to revisit anytime soon, Dad. Anyway, don't you think it's time to box them or something? I could help you. I fixed it so that I'd have at least three days free before I have to go back to work. And classes don't start until next week."
Dad looked at me oddly but I didn't think anything of it that time. "Well, as was its purpose, it's there as a reminder, son."
"Whew! Glad it's merely a reminder of old times now, huh?"
I notice he didn't join my laughter.
"Don't be too sure about that, son. You are never going to be too old to be spanked if your behavior warrants it."
"Dad!", I protest immediately.
"Act like a man and you get treated like one. Act like a little boy and...."
In an effort to change the subject, I turn to food. "C'mon Dad, let's eat! I'm starving!"
This first day together is going great – just two buddies drinking beer, watching sports and just plain hanging out. Again, I marvel what a nice change it is to be an adult.
Dad was in the kitchen replenishing our beer when I vaguely hear the phone ring followed shortly by the bang of the medicine cabinet.
Dad comes back to the living room. Gone was the jolly companion of the last few hours. He was all-father now - sporting the "look" that has never bode well for my backside.
"Dad?" I ask in confusion.
"That was your office. They asked if you can manage to drop by to pick up some important papers when your fever has gone down."
It was only then I noticed that he was holding a jar of Vaseline and THE THERMOMETER on his hand. A faked fever in high school resulted in the expected session with his belt, a paddling AND Dad's resolution to ALWAYS and I mean ALWAYS take my temperature rectally.
"Dad?' I ask, refusing to believe what's in front of me.
Dad sits down on the couch and pats his thigh. "So you have a fever, huh? C'mon, let's check"
My mind furiously thinks. I'm an adult now. Surely, I can say what I want. But my butt tingles and I say the safer answer (just in case, that is). "Well, I thought I had a fever but I'm feeling much better now, thanks."
Dad was having none of that, though. "That may be so, but it's best to check."
I go on the defensive. "I SAID I'm feeling better! Besides, even if I DID have a fever, you can't use that THAT _f_u_c_k_ING THING on me ANYMORE! I brought my ear thermometer from the apartment. I KNOW what's best for me! I'm an ADULT now, for GOD'S SAKES - not your LITTLE BOY!
"JASPER COLIN WILLIAMSON! You will not speak to me in that tone of voice and with that kind of language, do you understand? Now drop those pants and underwear and get over my lap. You may be an adult, young man, but you are still my son and right now you are acting like a little boy. Now, do as I say!" Dad commands me.
"_f_u_c_k_ YOU! I'm not doing this I - What the _f_u_c_k_? DAD! I'm too old for this! DAD! OW" I exclaimed as Dad yanked down my jeans and boxers to my ankles, pulled me over his lap and smacked my butt with his hand.
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK
"Stop it, Dad! Please! Stop! Ok!" I was trying to squirm off as he spanked me with his punishing hand.
"Now, We are going to take your temperature, young man." Dad slipped on a glove, dipped it into Vaseline, put some along the thermometer and then on my bottom and inserted the thermometer, causing me to grunt.
I tried to struggle again.
SMACK! "Will you stay still or do you want another spanking first?"
I havent been spanked in the last year I was working and living on my own and the earlier handspanking hurt. So I decided to stay still.
Dad left the thermometer in there for several minutes and then pulled it out. "98.6 young man." SMACK! Stand up and explain why you faked a fever to get out of work. NOW!"
I jumped to my feet and glared at him, "If I want to skip work, it's my _d_a_m_n_ business. I just didn't feel like going today, OK?"
Dad yelled at the top of his voice, "NO! IT'S NOT OK YOUNG MAN! I finance your studies and let you stay with me out of the kindness of my heart and I refuse to let you be lazy and skip work and lie to me and generally have this kind of disrespect and attitude. Go to the corner, NOW!"
"NO!" I yelled back at him, "I'm too old for this bull_s_h_i_t_."
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!
"You DO NOT tell me no and you are NOT too old for this! Not the way you're acting, young man" Dad dragged me over to corner and stuck my nose there, jeans and boxers still pooled at my feet. "Don't move."
I stood there, nose stuck in the corner, and listened to him busy himself in the kitchen. He called my office and informed them I was feeling better and would drop by sometime tomorrow. Then I heard the opening and closing of some drawers behind me. Then he went to the bathroom, I heard water running, and less than a minute later, a washcloth was stuck in my face. "OPEN JASPER."
I hesitated and tried to get away.
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!
The fire re-ignited in my butt. OW! OW! OW!!!
"OPEN NOW!! Or I'll add the hairbrush to what you're already going to get." Dad commanded me, sounding very angry.
Defeated, I opened my mouth.
He pushed the washcloth in, scrubbed my mouth and tongue thoroughly. He took the soap from his other hand and jammed it in, then clamped my mouth shut. "You can stand there, soap in your mouth for 20 minutes, young man. Not a word, not a movement, NOTHING!"
I stood there, a soap bar in my mouth, soap suds dripping from the sides, trying not to gag.
Finally, Dad removed the soap and told me to go rinse. I did so then walked to the front room, and my eyes got big as I saw his big hole-filled frat paddle, the most painful of ALL his paddles lying on the table.
"You are not going to paddle me, Dad. And definitely, not with THAT!" I vehemently stood my ground.
"Son, I told you that you are not to tell me what to do. And I meant what I said. You are going to get paddled, and thats that. But if you want more, just keep pushing and running your mouth, and I'll be glad to add to your punishment. Now, get everything off but that t-shirt and place your hands on your head. MOVE IT!!" Dad bellowed.
I complied, as Dad was already extremely pissed off at me, and soon was standing in front of my Dad, naked below the waist, hands on my head, erection in full bloom. I looked at Dad, embarrassed, and waited for him to say something.
"Son, you are going to get a nice, long, sound spanking from your Dad. Since you want to act like a little boy, you are going to go over my knees and get a hand spanking like a little boy. You know how I feel about lying so thats one belting each for your lie to me AND to your office. Then I will finish off with a paddling you won't forget anytime soon. Now, get over here and lay across my lap, before you get extra swats." Dad told me as I stood there, stunned and in shock, and not about to lay across his lap. Dad grabbed me and pulled me across his lap, raising my shirt out of the way and landing rapid fire smacks all over my butt, sit spot, and thighs.
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!
I was kicking and screaming by time he finally paused, tears running down my face, and my bottom feeling like it was on fire. I began to bed Dad to stop, "Please Dad! I'll be good! Please." But it was to no avail.
SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!
He finally stopped with the hand spanking and by then I was a mess and my bottom burned like there was an inferno raging on it. I began to rub my bottom but then felt it moved and screamed loud as I felt the belt make contact with my tender, sore bottom.
CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!
Dad finally stopped. "that was for lying to your office." I was sobbing, snot coming from my nose, and rubbing my bottom for all it was worth. "Back to the corner for a bit son, and then I remind my boy what happens when he LIES to me," Dad ordered and I immediately complied.
10 minutes later Dad yelled, "Over to the arm chair and bend over the back of it." I complied, bending over as far as I could, bottom raised into the air, and a few minutes later my butt was ablaze, striped with fire as the belt crashed into it again.
CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! I CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! WILL CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! NEVER CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! TOLERATE CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! YOU CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! LYING CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! TO CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! ME CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!
I was screaming at every blow and could barely catch my breath, I was crying and sobbing so hard, and my face was covered in snot.
"Do we have an understanding now, Jasper?"
I nod vigorously, unable to speak.
CRACK "WHAT?"
"YESSSSSSS SIIIIIIRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!" I say loudly but contritely in case I was not making myself clear enough for him to stop.
"Good boy. But I think being on your own gave you a false sense of importance and your britches are several sizes too big. So why dont we trim it down a bit, shall we?"
"Daaaaaadddddddd" I cant help but whine, now reduced to 10 years old, not 23. "Pleaaaaassseeeeeee...."
Dad led me over to the front of the chair and bent me over, placing my palms face down on the seat. He walked over, picked up his paddle, lifted it way back, and slammed it into my bottom.
"This has always been an effective tool to show you whos Daddys little boy and I think you need a reminder just now."
Then the verbal reminder became less verbal and more painful.
POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP! POP!
He set the paddle down and I leapt up, dancing and sobbing and rubbing, snot and tears pouring down my face, and my breath come in gasps and wheezes. I calmed down some, let Dad wipe my nose, then hugged him, "I'm sorry Daddy. I will be a good boy. I love you. I'm sorry I was naughty."
Dad sat down, gathered me in his arms, and rocked me. I was half naked, but didn't care, at that moment I was my Daddy's little boy again and I wanted nothing more than that.
My Dad cuddled me and comforted me, "Shh. Shh. It's okay. Steady, Jas..." That was a nickname from my childhood, "I'm sorry I had to be so harsh, but you were a bit two big for your britches and were acting like a spoiled brat and in ways I didn't raise you to act like. I love you so I had to do that. But it's over now and all is forgiven. Shh. Shh." I laid there, cuddled by Dad, sitting on his lap half naked, and hoped there wouldn't be more of these sessions but sure there would be. At that moment though I didn't really care at all, though. I was my Daddy's little boy again, and that's all that mattered to me, and nothing else.
After awhile, Dad disengaged my hands. "Time for bed now, son.... You go wash up and brush your teeth and Ill meet you in your room."
I wanted to protest its barely after nine. But my butt is too sore and truth be told, I really wanted to go to my room and process what happened to me.
I did wash up as best I could and still naked waist down, go to my old room. Everything was the same as when I left it and I immediately felt better. The room reminded me of old times when I was Dads little boy and everything will be all right because he said so.
In fact, everything is so similar that even the pjs laid out on the bed was familiar. As I came near it, Im surprised that it is indeed my old pjs – a bit faded and two sizes smaller but the same teddy bears in sailor outfits design. I lifted it up and looked at.... – yup, with the dreaded trapdoor at the back. It is what Dad used to make me wear when I am....
"Youre sick. Its going to be a tight fit but I think youre pretty much in shape so it will do." Dad has quietly entered my room.
I give him a tight smile of exasperation. "Dad.... Its ok. I can afford to buy pjs now and I brought my own. I rub my butt discreetly. "In fact, I think anything I wear will feel like sandpaper so Im just gonna do away with it altogether"
Dad just shook his head and gave me a smile of his own. "You know I want my little boy in those teddy bear jammies when hes sick."
"But Im not sick."
"Thats not what you told your office."
"Daaaaaadddd", a spark of rebellion is about to erupt. "You cant be serious!"
"Do you want us to re-establish whos the Dad and whos the little boy in this house?"
The sting of the earlier spanking douses any spark of rebellion there might be. "No, Sir", I answer meekly.
"Good boy. Go on then! Put them on."
It is a tight fit but as usual, hes right. The pjs still fit although I was also right that the pjs felt like sandpaper from the top of my waist to my upper thighs.
Dad was sitting down on the bed by now and he tapped the space beside him.
I lie down beside him and he unbuttons the pjs butt flap. I hiss in thanks as my butt comes free of the fabric somewhat. "Thanks, Dad", I murmur.
"Its ok, son. Daddy is here." He nudges me gently so that I lie face down instead of on my side.
But I hear a bit of shuffling and I turn my head and see Dad rearranging the thermometer stuck in vaseline. "Dad?" I refuse to acknowledge the implication of what I have seen.
"Daddy is just going to make sure his little boy doesnt have a fever anymore."
"Oh come on! Dad!" I find my voice to protest and try to get up.
"We can do this easy or hard, boy. Your choice."
What a choice! I plant my face down on the pillow and grit my teeth on the incoming intimate invasion.
Dad puts on latex gloves and lubricates my hole. He slowly inserts the thermometer, stretching everything out to lengthen my embarrassment. "Well, you knew what would happen when you faked that fever, son."
"But you spanked me already!" I cant help but point out.
"Yes. The spanking was for lying. This is to emphasize to you that not because youve reached a certain age will you be given license to lie or manipulate people. Unless you want me to emphasize this reminder with another spanking?"
"No, Sir. This is fine, Sir." I muttered about big-mouth officemates and Dad gave a light love tap. "Now, now, Jas.... Be thankful I learned about it now so were still doing this in the privacy of your room. Imagine if I decided to check on my boy in his office."
"Dad! NO!" I blush at his implied threat.
"Youre telling me "NO", boy?" he asks softly.
"No, Sir. I mean its ok if you decide to.... you know?" I cant finish the humiliating thought. "I mean, its up to you, Dad, Sir. Really."
"Thats good."
Thankfully, the requisite 3 minutes is finished and Dad takes off the offending thermometer off my butthole.
"Hmmmmmm........ no fever. Just a little bit of heat on the outside", he laughs at his little joke.
He gives my butt a few love taps. "Ok, go to sleep now. I love you. Remember that."
"Good night, Dad. I love you, too" I mutter drowsily. The physical and emotional rollercoaster of the day takes its toll on me.
I feel Dad getting up from my bed but he pauses at the door. "Jasper? Youre absolutely right that it is up to me. It is my duty as your father to check if you have a fever or not. When it comes to your health and safety, there can be no compromise. So if I want to check it here in your room, in the backseat of the car, in the middle of the school canteen or even in the reception area of your office, I can do so. Sleep well."
Who can sleep well after that speech? Geeze! As I lay on my stomach this first night back with my Dad, I recall the countless times I have been on this very same position and I feel a mixture of dread and joy. Dread that once again, I will be under the supervision of my very strict father and joy at how protected and safe that same thought makes me feel.
Did you like the story? Violent objections? We are interested in what you think. Email us: Bradley (b_radleym@yahoo. com. au) or Nathan (scotslilboynate@aol. com)