This story is fiction and deals with pre-teen obtaining control of his parents including CP.  If such subjects are offensive, uninteresting or if you are a minor (i.e., child) please leave now.  Thanks go to Steven for his request which inspired me.

This work is copyright by the author and commercial use is prohibited without permission.  Personal/private copies are permitted only if complete including the copyright notice.

The author would appreciate your comments – pro and con, including constructive criticism, and suggestions.  Please take a moment to email.

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New Rules of the House

By

YLeeCoyote@juno.com

I was very pissed!  Sorry about the language but that is the word.  It was already 4:45 that day and Dad was supposed to have picked me up a half hour before.  Everyone else had left and the center was locked up so I couldn't get to a phone.  All I could do now was to walk home.  If I had known that Dad was not going to come as he had promised, I could have gotten a ride or just walked and been home by now.  Or I could have taken my bike in the first place.  What this meant was that I was going to miss "Space Rangers" that night because I would have to be doing my homework then rather than now..

As I walked, I thought about how I get yelled at and worse for being only five minutes late even when I don't have control of the bus I have to use.  It's simply not fair!  Why should the rules be different for an eleven-year-old than for a thirty-five-year-old?  I'm not talking about drinking, driving and other adult stuff but simpler stuff like keeping one's word, being polite and getting things done.  It was good that I was walking in the park where there isn't any traffic to worry about for this what I was daydreaming.

I'm home trying to read but I'm worrying.  Father should have been home an hour ago and he has not even called.  This has happened three times in the past two weeks and he has promised several times to call if he is going to be late.  Could he have been in an accident?  If the phone rings, will it be the hospital calling or he?  I cannot concentrate.  Then he comes in.  "Hi, Son, sorry I'm late.  I lost track of the time." he says with a laugh.

"Sorry, Father?  This is the FOURTH time in three weeks that you have forgotten." I say getting up and facing him.  "Is this how you keep your promises?"  He does not have anything to say but just looks at the floor – ashamed and embarrassed.  (A position that I know all too well.)  "If I had done such a thing, I would get spanked.  I get spanked for much less." I continue.  He is overwhelmed and continues to study the floor.  "Grandfather has told me how well you responded to his spanking you…"  Father blushes very deeply.  "…even when you were in college."  There is a long silence.

I pull the chair out from the kitchen table and sit.  I grab his wrist and pull him close.  He does not resist.  Father stands frozen as I open his belt and pants which fall to the floor.  I yank down his underpants.  Even when I pull him over my lap there isn't any resistance.  As I hold him in place, I realize that even though he is bigger than I, he does not slide off and I can support him.  I raise my hand and give him the first spank ever from me.  I see my hand print form on his bottom and it is very exciting.  I continue to spank him in earnest until his entire butt turns bright red and he is even crying.  I then park him in the corner to finish crying and to contemplate his misdeeds.© YLeeCoyote

I laugh as I snap back to reality.  How very silly of me, at only eleven years old, to imagine doing such a thing and that it would work.  Dad has already told me that he is going to switch to using some things other than his hand as I get bigger and also change positions.  Next year I'm going to start junior high school and the idea of been taken over Dad's lap makes me feel like a little boy.  Just bending over and getting whacked sounds much more dignified.  At least I'll be able to take it like a man as they say in the old stories rather than like a little boy held over Daddy's lap.

That night I had what surely is a very strange dream.

I'm busy doing my homework (see, I'm a good and responsible lad even in my dreams) when the door bell rings.  It is a police officer with my father.  I can't help thinking – «What has he done wrong, this time?»  Even if I invite the cop in, the neighbors would still see the police car in front of the house.  After confirming that I'm the responsible kid, the officer tells me that Father has been driving, er, 'recklessly'.  I respond that I will deal with my irresponsible father and thank him for bringing him home safely.  As the officer leaves, I see some curtains shift across the street.  I order Father to wait in the corner of the family room.

We've been through this before so he knows what position to wait in.  He drops his trousers and underwear to his ankles, puts his nose into the corner and his hands on his [empty] head.  He knows that I'm very displeased because I haven't said anything yet and that means I have to cool down a bit before dealing with him.  It is very important not to act in anger for one can easily go too far.  It is also good for it lets him consider his misdeeds.  I go get a drink to help calm down; a frosty chocolate milk from the blender is ever so soothing.  I review the punishment record to be sure that I'm absolutely fair.  Past history and the schedule call for six with the strap along with another four held on probation for a month.  I have found that the razor strap is very effective.  I was most lucky to have found it in a garage sale last year.

I finish up my assignment before I summon Dad from the corner.  I can see in his face that he knows he is in big trouble as he hobbles over to me.  My own face is most grim.  I give him the lecture he needs about responsibilities and the consequences of neglecting them.  All he can say is a pitiful "Sorry, Son."

"'Sorry' does not cut it, Dad.  Assume the position."

"Yes, sir." he responds as he turns and bends over with his hands on the hassock and his bare butt held high.

I also take my position and begin.  The strap makes a frightful WHACK as it connects with his bare ass.  Father yells in pain.  He is such a baby not to be able to keep control.  Perhaps the punishment is more effective this way.  I watch the first red stripe develop as I get ready for the next cut.  I have found it best not to give him an explicit warning when each cut is coming.  That prevents his tensing to try to reduce the pain.  The second cut is just as effective as the first and has the same results.  He is crying by the fifth cut and his behind is solid crimson when I am finished.  "Go to bed, Father." I direct and then lock up the house for the night and also go to bed.

The next day I had a lot of trouble concentrating in school for I kept thinking about the dream and being in charge.  I have no idea how such a situation could come about nor how it would work but it is very exciting to envision.  I don't even know whom I can tell about it for I'm sure my friends would laugh at me.

Then I get an idea.  My folks had promised that we would work out new rules for me when I start junior high next term.  This would be the opportunity to make rules for all of us – so that they have rules and punishments the same way that I do.  This whole thing came about because I thought things were unfair because I got punished because of stuff beyond my control and they got away with everything.  I had several months to generate things.  I spent a lot of time at the library and got a lot of strange looks from the librarian but I read about contracts for living together and sharing apartments.  Up until now my rules were always written one-sided – I had to obey and they could punish me.  The trick would be to make the contract more symmetrical.  I found examples of those although they were never with kids and adults but just adults.

I worked out language that made each signer responsible and with authority.  I was able to do this, in part, by putting some age-keyed tables that ran into adult.  My parents and I, after some bickering, worked out "Rules of the House" including a punishment schedule.  I actually got do more freedom than most of my friends by agreeing to punishments for noncompliance.  Of course, I made sure that they made all the same promises as I did.  Then all I had to was wait for them to slip up.  In the first month I made a couple of minor infractions so that I could submit to their corporal punishment.  I made sure not to argue but to accept it according to the Rules and this impressed them.  This would make it harder for them to weasel out of the deal.

It was three weeks later when Mom was visiting Grandma that Dad messed up.  He was supposed to pick me up to go to dinner and he did not show.  I had to walk home like I told you at the beginning of this although fortunately I was able to make a dinner from leftovers.  Dad showed up late three hours later.  I reminded him of the Rules and put him into the impossible situation – he had to either accept punishment or break his word outright.  I did not make it easy for him by pointing out how I accepted my punishment like a man without any fuss.  I went off to my room after telling him that I was certain that he would do the right thing.

Dad took an hour before he came knocking on my door ready to accept his fully earned and totally fair punishment rather than destroy my faith in him.  I was very gentle and said: "Please wait in your room and I'll be there in a few minutes."  I only kept him waiting five minutes.  I would have made it longer (like I had to often wait) but I did not want him to have time to change his mind.  I knew what I was going to do, having thought about the real problem, since he was bigger than I and my hand would not be sufficient at all.

"I'm sure that we both know why this is happening, Dad."  I said, entering his room and sitting beside him on the bed.

"Yes, Son." he responded.

I told him to strip to his undies and stand by my side.  When he was in position, I slid down his underpants and pulled him across my lap.  Since I was on the bed, most of his weight was supported by the bed and I could hold him in place with one arm (as long as he did not fight it).  I picked up the short strap I had made from an old garrison belt and started to spank my father for the first time for real rather than just in my imagination.  The rush I got was fantastic from the start of the swing, the SLAP of the contact and the formation of the pale red stripe.  It was enhanced by the grunt/yelp from him.  The schedule called for ten strokes and I made them as hard as I could.  There was not any point to this if I gave baby cuts.  I was most pleased that Dad was showing signs of real discomfort.  From my own experience I knew that when I did that, I was learning that my behavior had to change.  I must give Dad credit where it is due, for he took it without trying to get away and then really apologized for not keeping his word.

At breakfast, Dad asked me not to tell Mom and I agreed provided that they both stayed out of trouble and that he would tell her within two weeks.

I sensed that this was the beginning of the new way in my family.

* * * * * * * * * *

My parents and I went out for dinner the day Mother returned from visiting Grandma.  Dad asked her a lot about how things were.  Then it was Mother's turn.  After the general stuff, she got around to behavior, spanking and such.  Since I had promised Dad that I would not tell, I was surprised that he did immediately.  "Well, dear, there was one spanking."  Mom immediately looked at me with her what a great disappointment you are, Son face.  "No, dear," said Dad, "It was I who got spanked."  Mom was flabbergasted.  Dad went on to explain everything – how he had done wrong and that the contract was actually two-way.  I knew that he would eventually get to do this but I was very surprised at how soon.  Far more important, was that he confided that he had, indeed, deserved to be spanked and that he was a better man for it.  He finished up with telling Mom that should he slip again that she should support my spanking him again.  "I certainly should be able to live up to the standards that we expect of our son."

I was never as proud of Father as I was at that moment and was not even embarrassed by his hug right there in the restaurant.

Mom, instinctively, wanted to hear all the details and we told her.  I don't know why Dad wanted to say so much but I thought that the more she knew of Father's acquiescence the more likely she would accept being spanked.  I did not press the issue at this time.

* * * * * * * * * *

It was the third week of the term.  I had PE on Tuesdays and Thursdays for which I had to wear a clean gym outfit.  Since Mother did the laundry on Wednesdays, it was agreed that I would put my outfit into the laundry to be fresh for Thursday mornings.  Well, I went to get my stuff after breakfast and discovered that it was not ready nor even usable having been mixed with some items that were wet.  The penalties for not having it were sufficient demerits to get a detention and a couple of pops from the coach.  Mother had gone out all day Wednesday and forgotten to do it in the evening.  I had not noticed as I was with the drama club that evening.  Mother was terribly upset and promised to do it and to bring it to school in time for class.  She did manage to accomplish that.

We discussed this at great length on Thursday evening.  Mother tried to make light of everything because I had gotten my outfit in time but I did not accept that argument.  That was a hasty coverup of a real failure.  If she had done the laundry on Wednesday evening because she decided to play all day with her friends, that would have been fine.  Unfortunately, she was not diligent that evening so she failed to fulfill her obligations (no different than my not doing my homework).  Like I had with Father, I challenged her to do the right thing.

When she came to admit she earned punishment (after talking with Father) we went into her bedroom.  Like with Father, I sat on the bed and she got across my lap with most of her weight on the bed.  I lifted up her skirt and held it in place with my forearm.  Then quickly, I took hold of the waistband of her underpants and slipped them below her butt checks.  I had decided that I should use my hand this first time in the most traditional way for I hadn't any idea of how Mother's bottom was.  (I assumed, correctly, that Dad's was tougher than mine.)  As I spanked her, I could feel how much softer she was than Dad and even saw my hand prints form and then blur into an overall red.  Mom was reacting as well – she did not like being spanked and was quite vocal about it.  After I had finished, I stood her up and put her in the corner.  I made her put her hands on her head while I pinned her skirt up.  Her red bottom was quite incandescent.  I made her stay this way for a half hour which is half a detention period.  I made sure to give her a hug and remind her that I loved her at the end.

* * * * * * * * * *

I guess that it would not be surprising to learn that we went visiting my fraternal grandparents for Thanksgiving.  Unfortunately, Father was overly anxious and I had to tell him to ease up on the gas several times and otherwise to take it easy.  This was certainly a spankable offense.  We were the first to arrive and Mom and Grandma went off to the kitchen leaving us 'men' alone.  After some more pleasantries Dad asked (as I had told him to) that we be excused as we had some private business to deal with in the woodshed.  Yes, it was an old country house and there really was a woodshed.  Grandpa laughed, said he understood and suggested that Dad teach me the fine art of selecting and cutting a proper switch.  He said we surely had at least an hour, and probably twice that, before the others would arrive to complete our business in private.

I reacted with surprise to that suggestion and Grandpa explained that Dad really hated the switch more than the strap.  He also said that I was definitely old enough to learn about it.  With that he handed me his pocket knife and said not to open it until Dad said to. We went out and I insisted that we take Grandpa's advice and cut a switch.  Dad was not happy about that but he was trapped for I pointed out that Grandpa would ask me about it.  We got a switch and trimmed it carefully and went to the woodshed.  I took a few practice cuts and even tapped it against my hand to get an idea of how it would feel.  Dad dropped his slacks and underpants and bent over.  He knew exactly where to stand from his past experience.  Of course, this was all new to me since I came from the city (well, the inner suburbs anyway but now we were definitely in a rural area.).  I swung and Dad jumped and yelped as a thin red line appeared on his bottom.  He quickly resumed his position and I gave him the second cut.  I stopped at six for it seemed to be a very effective implement.  When we returned, Grandpa asked for my reaction.  "Unforgettable, Grandpa."  I let him think what he wanted while being strictly honest.

Soon after, Dad's siblings arrived with my cousins.  We quickly abandoned the grown ups to explore the 'estate' until dinner.  Everyone stayed over and nothing was said about the woodshed until the others had left early on Saturday for their long drives home.  Then Grandpa corralled Dad and me.  He insisted on knowing what was going on for he had noticed that Dad had trouble sitting rather than me.  I did not know that Dad could blush that red.  He was also tongue-tied and could not speak.  I finally answered when I realized that Dad couldn't.  I explained about the contract for my rules and how it – in all fairness – also applied to Mom and Dad.  They could not back out of getting discipline from me without losing the right to discipline me.  Grandpa was most amused and recalled that Dad had needed regular spankings – even when he was in college to maintain proper behavior.  Grandpa told (did not just ask) Dad to show him his stripes from Thursday.  Dad was not happy about it but he obeyed his father and did so.  Grandpa approved and I was surprised at the nice marks.  He then decided that he wanted to talk to me alone so Dad left us.  (I imagined that he had been banished to his room like he probably had been as a kid while his parents discussed his misbehavior.)

Grandpa questioned me about the whole shebang.  He found it most amusing although he was not certain it was a good thing, he wanted to see how it worked out.  He then started talking about spanking technique for he said if I was going to spank his son he wanted me to do it properly, safely and effectively.  Then without any additional comment he told me to strip and get across his lap as he pulled a chair out and sat down.  Experience had taught me that I had best listen to him, so I did.  He had spanked me but only when I deserved it and I did not think he was going to now.  As I lay across his lap, he started to demonstrate and explain various positions and grips along with the pros and cons of each.  I had not realized that this could be so complex; it was fascinating.  Then he discussed various ways of holding one's hand and how that changed both the impact (and thus the pain) and sound of each spank.  This entailed some actual spanks although I could tell that he was holding back.  He finished up with specifically indicating what Dad's most sensitive areas were to obtain maximum effect with minimum effort.  I was certainly glad that he did not hit me very hard.

After I was dressed, he gave me two items that he said Dad was most familiar with.  The first was a wooden paddle and the second was a leather tawse.  The paddle was very effective but could easily bruise and the tawse was more precise than a strap.  He had planned to give them to Dad (to use on ME!) when I was older but considering the circumstances, he was giving them to me now.  He then had me assume the position as he showed how they should be used.  I thanked him for the lesson and the items.  I just slipped them into my bag and planned to surprise Father with them in the future.

When I did not have to participate in conversations on the way home, I mused about Grandpa giving me instructions with Dad as the demonstratee.  If only I had known to have asked before we went to the woodshed.  But, I now had someone that I could call on for advice and even just to talk to about this most unusual relationship.

* * * * * * * * * *

The next few months were very peaceful.  My parents were very well behaved for apparently they did not like to be punished by me and certainly not with bare bottom spankings.  This is not to say that they were perfect but not every little infraction needed to be dealt with more than a few words for a reminder.  But such a good situation could not continue forever and then one night in April was the big fall.  They had gone out to a party and I was reading in bed.  (It was a weekend and not a school or work night.)  I heard the crash and looked out the window.  They had driven the car right into the garage door.  Note that I did not say 'into the garage'.  They both staggered out – obviously drunk but apparently not hurt.  (The car and garage were a different matter, however.)  They noisily made their way to bed shedding their clothes on the way.

In the morning, I looked about and knew that something needed to be done.  Not only had they been DWI but they actually had an accident.  This was off the list in our Agreement so I called Grandpa for advice and help on dealing with this terrible behavior.  I knew from seeing movies that I would have some time to think out the issues before they could get up.

Grandpa was not happy about this for he had to deal with Dad doing such a thing when he was in college.  It turned out to be fortunate that the party they had attended was only a half mile away.  If it had been several miles, they surely would have had an accident on the road and been in the hospital or, even worse, the morgue.  Back then, Grandpa took away his driving privileges but that was not really practical now for Dad had to get to work and Mom had lots of stuff to do also.  Of course, if they had been pulled over that was what would have happened.  Grandpa and I worked out an appropriate punishment and it was stuff that I never thought of doing.  I was, however, just at the time of my life when I could understand it.

It was early afternoon when they both got up with major hangovers and evening before they could properly function.  They were properly ashamed about their behavior, and owned up that they should be punished – severely.  I explained that I had discussed things with Grandpa and we had worked out a four-part punishment that was appropriate.

1:  A heavy duty spanking.

2:  No driving to parties for a year unless they both abstained from drinking alcohol.

3:  Losing driving rights except for work and shopping for a week.

4:  Losing their pubes for a year.

They complained and argued about this.  I pointed out that the second was to get a taste of what the state would do if they had been caught by a cop and the third was to prevent a reoccurrence – I did not want to be an orphan.  I did not have to explain about the spanking but the fourth was to remind them how childishly irresponsibly they had behaved for a year like a license suspension would have been.  Also, I noted, that they were still acting like little children rather than just accepting their well-justified punishment.  The clincher was that Grandpa had offered to come help me.  It was clear that they thought as bad as getting it from me would be, it would be even worse from Grandpa.

I left them to consider (as if they had any other real choices) and took a break.  I had already prepared everything I would need.  I told them that when I returned in ten minutes I expected them to be kneeling on the couch with their butts in the air wearing only their birthday suits.  If not, I would call Grandpa.

When I returned, I found them naked and in position like little children owning up to the consequences of their misdeeds.  I fetched the tawse and let them see it so that they would know what to expect.  I had been practicing with it, so I could use it effectively (well, at least accurately).  I told then that I had decided to give Dad five groups of four and Mom four groups of three, alternating between the two of them.

As they were in the prescribed proper position, I could begin immediately.  The impact on flesh sounded quite different from that on the pillow I had been practicing on.  The target reacted a lot more also.  I placed the first four cuts progressively down Dad's butt to cover the whole thing.  It was turning pink as I moved to Mother.  Although her bottom was as broad as Dad's, she is not as high so the three cuts got her butt completely red.  She yelled and I had to caution her to stay still.  Then back to Dad.  I did my best to maximize the effectiveness by putting them in the same place.  Dad was definitely feeling this as indicated by his struggling to stay in position.  Mom was sobbing by the end of this (second) round.  It was half way through her tawsing.

Again back to Dad.  I placed the cuts all in the same place although lower than the previous round.  Dad was nearing the breaking point.  The third set got Mom crying in earnest as the tawse did its job well.  I was having some trouble myself keeping this up but I knew I had to be strong and not yield to a short term impulse.  They had really done wrong and needed to learn a lesson.  I was almost an orphan.  I applied Dad's fourth round below the third and again all on top of each other.  This drove him over and he was crying like Mother.  I gave Mother the last of hers and she was bawling.  I thought that was good.  This was nothing compared to the pain of being in the hospital.  The last round for Dad I spread out evenly like the first.  He continued to cry like a little boy.  Grandpa said he tended to do that and I should not be surprised if he did.

The tawsing finished, I placed them in different corners with their hands on their heads for a half hour.  I used the time to setup for my barbering task and to explain (to you) a bit about sex.  My parents were not over joyed that they had to be naked in front of me, especially when I was fully dressed.  It was not so terrible for Dad because we had changed together at the beach so we had been nude together.  There was not any of this mitigating background for Mother.  It was fortunate that we did not see each other in a sexual way.

Again I started with Dad.  I summoned him from the corner and had him stand with his hands behind his back while I took the clippers to his pubes.  He was extremely tense and was even biting his lip not to speak out.  It only took a few minutes to reduce everything to just stubble.  It certainly was weird handling his equipment like this.  I sent him back to the corner and then clipped Mom in the same way.  I do confess that it was my first look at a full mature female but I managed just to touch her to ease the way for the clipper although I did get an anatomy lesson.  Once done, it was back to the corner and I vacuumed up the mess.

This time Mom was first.  I had her lay on the coffee table with her butt at the end.  Then with her legs spread I could get to her pubic area.  She begged me to let her do this herself but I refused noting that my doing it was part of the punishment.  I used a hot, wet washcloth and then some shaving gel before starting.  It did not take long to make her baby smooth.  I rinsed and dried her gently.  I gave her a hug and had her sit on the couch.

After changing the water I proceed to shave Dad.  This took a lot longer as male bits protrude and make for lots of hills and valleys.  But, I worked diligently to finish the task.  I had to handle Dad quite a bit and he found that a bit stimulating but there was not any way to avoid doing so.  When the job was over, he joined Mom on the couch.  They looked just like a couple of well-disciplined kids.  I gave them a short lecture before sending them to their room to console each other and get dressed.

Because Mother was so uncomfortable with me shaving her sex, I granted both of them the privilege to take care of themselves.  It was not for a couple of months that I had occasion to observe how well they did it.  Well, more precisely how Dad was doing it.  He forgot to take out the garbage one night and so the next night he had to pay.  Mother was watching as I stripped him completely.  I discretely took note that he was properly shaved as he bent over for his punishment.  I had decided to use the paddle just to see how it worked.  Since this was not a major offense, only three pops were required so I could learn how effective it was without a major risk of injury.  It was certainly an effective tool for Dad's bottom turned red immediately after the first pop.  He was clear that he did not like it at all.  I swung it twice again with the same results each time.  Dad immediately set to rubbing his hot tail.  I decided that I did not like the paddle.

I must report that Grandpa was quite right about the punishments we worked out.  They were really effective.  Both my parents got a lot more serious about their responsibilities.  But there was another change that I liked even more – they seemed a lot less bossy and much more inclined to listen to me.  The anniversary of the agreement came around and my parents wanted it to continue.  They were happy that they did not have to watch over me all the time and were anxious to not only continue but to give me more; 'more' in this case being my own autonomy and authority over them.  I accepted figuring the extra effort was worth it.  My friends would have been extremely jealous had they any idea of the arrangement.

The End

© Copyright A.I.L., October 26, 2007

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