The following story is fiction about parental discipline with a father tawsing his sons. If this subject is  offensive, uninteresting or if you are a minor (i.e., child) please leave now.

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Lost and Found

By

YLeeCoyote@juno.com

Moving is a great big hassle is definitely in the running for the understatement of the year.  It's true whether one is moving out or moving in.  There is the matter of packing and unpacking, getting everything on the truck and back off again.  Some things get lost and found or forgotten and discovered.  This is a story about a single object which was lost by one family and found by another.

The Hamand Report

Kendrick Hamand was delighted that the move was over.  The packing was harder than expected even though his two sons, Brian almost fifteen and Skylar just past his sixteenth birthday, had helped him and their mother a lot.  It would have been nice to have movers do the job but his new job paid less and they were expensive so it was a do it yourself job with a rental truck.  Unpacking was somewhat easier but still took weeks.  It was just two weeks after school started that Mr. Hamand realized that he could not find something.

It was on a Friday that Brian had brought home a note from school and the prescribed punishment was a spanking.  Actually, the lad had already been promoted to something more grown up than a simple OTK hand spanking.  What Mr. Hamand could not find was his tawse.  It should have been in the 'basement boxes' but it was not.  Neither lad could explain its absence.  "You checked the basement yourself, Father." Skylar said respectfully while managing to control his temper at the implication that he 'forgot' to pack it intentionally.  The upshot was that it would have to be replaced.  It would be some months before Mr. Hamand realized that a batch of stuff was missing from the basement.  Enough stuff that would have filled several cartons that apparently never got on the truck.

On Saturday morning the two lads were dispatched to a shop with instructions to purchase an appropriate replacement.  To add insult to injury, they would have to spend their own funds.  They were warned that if they got an inadequate one, they would regret it and be sent back to up grade it.  Not so happy about this chore, they cycled off to the downtown store.© YLeeCoyote

Since Mr. Hamand had called ahead so they were expected and they found that they were restricted to a small part of the most fascinating store.  Of the five models available, they immediately rejected two as babyish and two as far beyond their combined funds.  Once they were back home their father approved of their choice.

They were less than pleased to learn that the next step was to test the new tawse on each of them.  Their protests of not having done wrong was quickly corrected – they had lost the old one and that was a CP offense.  They knew that there was not any point in arguing the (un)fairness of their father's decision.

Brian had to go first.  He dropped his jeans and boxers and took up the proper position.  As the first stroke connected, he knew that this tawse had a sharper bite than the lost one.  For the first three cuts, he managed to keep quiet and 'take it like a man' as his father frequently admonished.  The fourth and last cut however, caused him to yelp but he still managed to keep his position.  Brian"s tail was quite red and hot from the experience.

"Your turn, Skylar."  The older lad, did as his brother had and lowered his jeans and boxer-briefs and took up his position.  The one bright spot in this was that his dad did not comment on the inappropriateness of 'forgetting' with still another boring lecture.  The eight cuts really hurt.  Like his younger brother he was able to be macho enough to absorb the first six in silence although they turned his tail into a bright red major pain center.  It were the last two that caused the real havoc with his seat. The new tawse cut deeply into the tenderized rump and Skylar could not suppress a yelp and a yell in response to the great pain.

On Sunday, Brian got his due for the school issue.  The six thoroughly applied strokes made a deep impression on the lad.  Even three days later he was still aware of the tawse's bite.

The Parrell Report

Moving into a previously owned (and used) house was a complex task that Mr. Addison Parrell dreaded.  There was ever so much to do.  The problem was exasperated by the stuff the previous owner had abandoned.  He quickly made an executive decision and issued a decree to his sons, Timmy and Reid.  Because there was ever so much to do in the new place eight-year-old Timmy did not feel put upon.  The situation was different with his fourteen-year-old big brother.  When they were alone, he complained.  "Father, I'm not a baby anymore and know how to be careful checking out the basement."

"Son," his father replied, "even if I grant that, I don't want you to go there.  Timmy idolizes you and he will go also.  I'm sure you agree that he is still too young to be careful enough."

It was a week later that Reid asked his dad what something was.  In doing so he let slip that he had been in the basement looking at the abandoned stuff.  When his dad probed a bit, he confessed but insisted that Timmy knew nothing about it.

"That was not what you agreed to, Reid, is it?"  The answer was obvious.

"What you found, Reid is a tawse.  This is a very nice one complete with the maker's name proudly embossed into the fine, supple, heavy leather.  The split tale is designed to increase its bite.  I'm sure that Mr. Hamand and especially his older son, Skylar, could tell you that it is a very effective implement to punish errant boys like you."

Reid immediately decided that there was not any reason to ask for details but, to his dismay, this father kept on the subject.

"As I recall the last time I spanked you said that you were getting too old for such a childish punishment."  Reid nodded.  "And I promised that I would think about it."  Reid got a strange feeling in his gut.  "Well, I've decided that you were right.  It's time that I stop spanking you like you were still a little boy."

"Thank you, Father." he said some what automatically.

"It is time to use a more effective implement than my hand on your rapidly growing behind.  Like this very good tawse that you found."  This was not what Reid had in mind when he had complained about spanking.  "Please drop your jeans and briefs and bend over back of the chair with your butt sticking up."

Reid gulped and bravely got into the position as directed.

His father found the right place and swung the tawse at the proffered rump.

Reid yelled and a bright red stripe formed on his tail.  He jumped up and grabbed his butt.

"I see that this is most effective.  Back into position, young man."  The lad complied.  "It's not considered good form to jump up like that.  If you do it again, the stroke won't count."

Reid gripped the chair tightly not wanting any extras.  Although he yelled for the next three he did keep his position until his father told him to get up.

That night, sleeping prone, Reid contemplated the great changes in the universe.  Babyish OTK spankings were gone but replaced by far more painful tawsings.  He could not decide if this change was an improvement or not.

The End

© Copyright A.I.L. July 2, 2010

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