The following story is fiction about a youth disciplining adults and contains scenes of strapping and spanking.  If this subject is offensive, uninteresting or if you are a minor (i.e., child) please leave now.

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My Son Learns About the Strap

By

YLeeCoyote@juno.com

I never should have been driving so fast.  It was a terrible example to set for Scot, my thirteen-year-old son, who was with me.  The Highway Patrol officer was quite right when he pulled me over and issued the citation.  Being anxious to get my father's house for this weekend of male bonding was not a good excuse in the least.  The few minutes saved weren't worth the risks and certainly not the fine and points on my licence.  Scot behaved extraordinarily well not making any comments before, during nor after the stop.  I did not know what to say after the cop sent me on my way.  I talked of other stuff, but the conversation was very flat.  I could tell that Scot was very pensive for the rest of the trip.

Scot was most happy to see his grandfather again as was I.  Dad was, naturally, most delighted that we had come for the long weekend.  He was pretty lonely since Mother had died but still lived in the old house.  "I'll move to the city when I get old and my friends die." he had promised.  He was doing OK by himself so there wasn't much to say.  His housekeeper came in three times a week to deal with the chores and to cook.

Dad had decided that Scot should get my room and that I should be in the guest room.  "Your room is still a boy's room and you'll be more comfortable in the guest room, son." he explained.  That was true for my room had a small bed and with my high school decor while the guest room had a big bed.

"That would be cool, Dad." said Scot, "I'll see exactly how it was for you first hand."  Scot had not seen the old house for more than five years because I had been working across the country.

Dad was happy that Scot wanted to see the whole place – six acres seemed immense to him after living in an apartment which was much less than even one percent of that.  I really enjoyed going over my old playing fields and was able to tell stories of various mischief I got into.  Dad even reminded me of the spankings I got afterwards for breaking the rules.  Both Dad and Scot would kid me about that.  Even before dinner I was glad that we had come for we all had grown closer.  Dad's housekeeper had prepared a nice dinner which we just needed to cook in the oven for an hour.© YLeeCoyote

My son was surprised that my room was just like I was still in high school.  "Well", I explained, "after I graduated from high school, I went away to college and then to work.  I was back briefly for a few visits and since your Grands did not need the space it stayed the same."

"I saw your signed rules sheets, too.  Just like you make me do, Dad." said my son.  I had followed my father's practice about that with my son.  My dad required me to type up my rules each Labor Day for the year, sign it and put it in the frame inside my closet.  I realized that they were all there because each year I just added the new one.  "You've made my rules pretty much the same so far so I guess you lost the arguments to Gramps just like I have to you."  We all had a good laugh at that.  Dad said that I must have changed my mind about a lot of things now that I was the father rather than the son.

"I noticed that you stopped getting spanked OTK when you were fourteen." Scot said.

"Your dad and I agreed that was for little boys and he got promoted to the strap that you surely saw hanging there next to the rules.  I can still recall how he howled the first time he felt it kiss his naughty, bare butt.  Just like you are sure to do.  I guess you should pack it when you're getting ready to go, Scot."  Dad explained and I nodded my agreement.

"That was not what I was thinking when I said I was too old for spanking." explained Scot unhappily.

"I doubt that you are ever too old for spanking, Scot.  I strapped your dad even when he was in college and my father strapped me even when I was in my twenties."  Scot was unsure what to make of all of this.  I was sure I knew what he was thinking because I had gone through the same conundrums at his age.  One thing for sure was that he knew it was our family's way and both his Grandpa and I had endured it.  I figured that it would be easier for him to accept since he knew that I was not being arbitrary about such things.  Just like in the car, Scot seemed very contemplative about this.  He was, but in a way that I had not anticipated.

Dad allowed Scot to have half a glass of (watered) wine with us just like he had allowed me some at that age on special occasions.  It definitely had effects on him for he got more talkative and needed to empty his bladder.  When he returned he brought the strap and handed it to Dad and asked me to read aloud from a piece of paper.  The paper was the last set of my rules and #12 was: "I shall drive in a sensible way at all times.  I shall get six cuts for any moving violations."

Since he had brought the strap down, it was clear that he expected that I should be strapped.  I protested that the rules had long expired.  Scot pointed out that they never expired, only updated, so they still were in effect.

"I'm afraid that the boy…" Scot coughed and Dad corrected himself, "…er, young man, has you there son."  said my dad with a big grin.  "You're lucky that my bursitis makes it impossible to swing that strap."  Dad had a very painful right shoulder and left elbow.  I thought that I was home free with that, but the wine had definitely gone to Scot's head.

"I'll do it." he said very seriously.  "Grandpa's pain should not let you get off.  You would never let me get away with stuff because you were sick or away.  Fair is fair, Pop."

Both my son and my dad were staring at me.  It was definitely a test of character and would affect my son's respect for me.  Although it was very hard to do, I agreed.  Both of them praised me and Scot asked Dad to show him how to use the strap.  An innocent seat cushion accepted a dozen cuts for the cause without complaint.  Then it was my turn.  I wished that I could take the cuts as well as the cushion had.

I positioned a simple chair and lowered my pants and underpants.  Then it was the moment of truth and I bent over.  Dad helped Scot get into proper position and kept count.  I had forgotten how much that strap hurt and yelped on the first cut.  I gripped the chair tightly as Dad had required me to more than two decades before and braced myself for the second cut.  It certainly hurt but I wanted to show my son that I was a real man.  The other four cuts were just as hard as they should have been.  Dad immediately told me to get up after he counted "Six." and I did.

Scot and I hugged.  I noticed that there was a twinkle in his eye.  "I'm proud of you Dad." he said during the embrace.  It really feels good when your teen son tells you something like that.

The subject was not brought up again.  Dad's policy, which I had continued with my son, was that once a spanking was given, the subject was not discussed.  Obviously Scot was following that practice and I was really too embarrassed to bring it up even on the long trip home on the plane.

* * * * * * * * * *

It was not unexpected that the next time Scot's rules were to be revised, that he was most adamant that he was too old to be spanked like a little boy and said that he would bend over for the strap.  I really could not argue so that became the new protocol.  Anyway, it would have happened within a couple of years and in my inner heart I agreed with him.  He declined my offer of a couple of test cuts saying that he had a good idea that it hurt more than a hand spanking.  I will confess that I was very interested in how he would take it but I never sunk so low as to hope that he would something to earn it soon but trusted that it would happen in the fullness of time.

I was, however, most surprised the next time the strap was used.  It was a Saturday afternoon and when I came home after some errands my wife was still out.  Scot had sorted the mail and asked me about the electric bill.  The envelope was emblazoned "PAST DUE – FINAL NOTICE" in bright red letters.  After opening it, I explained that I had missed a couple of payments because I had been busy and would deal with it immediately before anything could interfere.  With Scot watching, I wrote that check and we walked to the corner to put it into the mailbox even though the next pickup was not until Monday morning.  Soon after we got back, I was in the family room after writing several other checks to catch up thinking this was all over when Scot walked in wanting to speak to me.

After we talked a bit about responsibility including debt, he pulled out my rules and reminded me of #17 – not owing money.  I was able to explain that the power company is paid for actual use after they bill for it and that new customers must make a security deposit.  Scot understood but saw that I had written several other checks for late bills.  Scot said that was good and looked over the stack with interest.  He was growing up and wanted to know how the world operated.  Unfortunately, a couple (well, three actually) had late charges.  That upset Scot because he saw it, correctly, as a waste of money.  I couldn't deny it for I can not lie to my son.  He was satisfied on that point.  Unfortunately, I was caught by rule #8 – responsibility!  It was abundantly clear that I had broken that rule and there was not any way out.

A cold chill ran up my spine when Scot asked: "What do you think should happen, Dad?" exactly as I asked him (except for the final noun) after he had broken his rules and my dad had asked me decades earlier.  Scot knew what the right answer to that just as well as I did when I or Dad had asked the question.  It was time for the naughty lad to own up to his failure and get his tail roasted.  I hesitated afraid of where this was leading to.  Scot waited a while and repeated the question.  I knew what he would say next – for I had said it to him a few times.  I knew I had to own up.  This was, of course, even worse than when we were visiting Dad when I expected that Scot would just watch.  I'm sure that Scot could see the cold sweat on my forehead.  I had to act like the man I wanted Scot to become or he would see me for a hypocrite, become rebellious and not obey me in the future.

"I need to get spanked, er, strapped, Scot." I said with great difficulty.

"Quite so, Dad.  Please get the strap.  It's hanging in my closet."  I went to fetch it.  When I got it, I saw that my rules were now posted next to Scot's own.  I returned to the family room.  Scot had decided how this should be done so he immediately proceeded to direct me to drop my pants and bend over the wooden-backed chair.  I did so, even lowering my underpants before he could remind me to do so.

Scot got into his position raised the strap and delivered the first blow.  It really stung but I managed not to yell although I did make some noise.  I just gripped the chair tighter and waited for the rest of my most justified, but carelessly earned, punishment.  Scot continued with the strap pausing just as my Dad had between cuts.  These were harder cuts than the first time and I knew that I was being properly punished.  Again, after the strapping was complete, we hugged.  The hug was also a family tradition that indicated love.

Scot left me to think about stuff.  I realized that I was very proud of how mature my son was while being ashamed that I had failed to do the right thing.  But I was greatly conflicted about being disciplined by my own son.  This was significantly different than when my father had been in charge and Scot was just a "tool", so to speak, which wielded the strap.

* * * * * * * * * *

It has been half a year since Scot and I visited Dad and my son swung the strap for my dad.  That was pretty embarrassing but I was able to rationalize it was he was acting for Dad and was just a tool.  I'm having a lot of trouble doing that now for in these last six months the strap has been used on a eight occasions.  Certainly my son Scot has felt it and I was wielding it.  Most regrettably, it was I who had to bend over six of those times while my son roasted my tail for my transgressions.

Scot has consistently maintained that he is only acting for his grandpa rather than actually being in charge of me.  I doubt that he believes that and is just saying so out of consideration of my feelings so he can continue to spank me.  What I'm sure of is that he has matured a great deal for he rarely gets into trouble anymore.

Ever since Scot was eight, my wife (his mother) would tell him "You need to have a man-to-man discussion with your father about that."  when he required discipline.  She did not like the well-known expression "Just wait until your father gets home." because she felt it diminished her.  Now she tells me: "You need to have a man-to-man discussion with Scot." when I have strayed over the line.  It is good, in one way, for it prevents us from arguing, however, it is encouraging Scot to take charge.  It is a well-known fact that adolescent boys struggle against their fathers because of primeval instincts.  I'm dreading that I'm might turn out to be the beta-male and Scot the alpha before he finishes school and moves out.  Of course, I would be very proud of him for doing that but it would significantly reduce my own self-esteem even more that his spanking me.

* * * * * * * * * *

It now been a year since our visit to my father and Scot first used the strap.  Regrettably, I must report that the strap was used some fifteen times but only thrice on Scot.  For the other dozen times, it was I who had to drop my pants and underwear and bend over the chair.  There is a strange feeling in the house for Scot is very well behaved and respectful yet manages to insist that I keep to the rules and that I get strapped (by him) when I fail to maintain standards.

That he does this is known only to the four of us and I'm certainly that nobody else has any inkling that it is happening.  I know that Scot talks to my dad about this and has gotten encouragement to continue.  Scot is very fair, but all too often it is I who bent over to get strapped after admitting my errors.

Dad has also decided to move in with us since he found that getting about is now harder, his house required a lot of work and most of his friends have moved on in one way or another.  When Scot learnt this, he smiled and said: "It will be nice having another man in the house."  I not really sure exactly what he meant by that.

Within the month, our cleaning lady was complaining and so was my wife about how Dad was making extra work by not cooperating.  I spoke to him but it did not really help for he did not, as they say, shape up.  I heard Scot talking to him trying to explain that some minor changes would make it a lot easier for others.  Dad made some promises but things did not change.

It was a week later, that Scot took action.  I wasn't home at the time, but Dad told me afterwards.  Here is his story.

All this made my head spin.  It was exactly how Scot had gotten me to submit to the strap he would wield.  It took great self control to keep quiet.

* * * * * * * * * *

It is a few months later and the relationships have become clear.  I no longer worry about if Scot will become that alpha male in the house. Both Dad and I have signed new rules of conduct and Scot is the enforcer.  He was even cleaver enough to establish a termination date for his own rules so that he is truly his own man.  Recently, he managed to get his mother over his lap for a sound discussion of some extravagance at the department store so that he is unquestionably the head of the house.

I didn't say that lightly but am now fully convinced that it is true because of an event just a few days ago.  My wife and I had gone to a friends party last Sunday and we did a couple of very stupid things.  Scot had reminded us that one of us had better not drink because of the drive home and that since it was a work-night our curfew was still in effect.  Unfortunately, we did not agree on who was the designated driver and we both drank.  That, of course, led to us staying much later than we should have.  Scot was waiting for us and you can imagine that he was most upset.  Perhaps if it had also been a school-night, we might have gotten away with things but that would not have made it right.

Anyway, Scot immediately confronted us when we staggered in.  He did not need a breath alcohol tester to tell that we both had been drinking and he certainly knew the time.  He was like a whirlwind and in just moments we were in our bedroom stripping.  Very quickly our nice party outfits were on the bed and we were each just in our underwear.  Since my wife's dress featured a built-in bra, that left each of us in just one item.  Scot even made us remove that so that we were in our birthdays suits.  It was extra embarrassing to be naked together than separately.

I was first and I assumed the position leaning on the wall with my butt sticking up.  Scot was really extra mad and not only did he hit harder than usual but I got a dozen.  I was actually in tears by the end and knew that I was well punished.  Then Scot sat down and snapped: "Mother, get over here."

She was keeping her hands in front of her crotch, but Scot said: "That not the part you need to worry about, Mother.  Besides, it was literally the very first thing that I saw when I was born."  Seconds later, she was over his lap.  Scot was mad and really swung the flip-flop that he used very hard so that it gave a loud report each time it landed on her bottom.  She yelled for each hard spank pleading between each one until she was crying.  We he had finished, we were ordered to get to bed immediately.  As he left us, he mumbled something about how difficult it is to raise parents.

* * * * * * * * * *

We three adults are, of course, extremely proud of our Scot.  Unfortunately, we can't share the full reasons with others for we are also ashamed that we have proven to be so childish and still require parental-like discipline.

The End

© Copyright A.I.L. January 5, 2010

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