This story is fiction and deals with parental spanking.  If such a subject is offensive, uninteresting or if you are a minor (i.e., child) please leave now.

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.

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The Price of Messiness

By

YLeeCoyote@juno.com

It was almost a joke the way it happened almost daily.  Usually Mom but sometime Dad would yell at seventeen-year-old Kevin about the mess that seemed to appear where ever he went in the house – shirts, school books, sports gear and even underwear.  Then Mom had to go to her mom to help out when she was sick for a week.  It isn't rocket science to figure out what sort of mess soon developed with just the two males in the house.  Truth be told Roger, Kevin's dad, was not so very neat himself.

After the first week that Mom was away Mrs. MacGillicutty, the cleaning lady, left a note: "Men – you have to learn to pick up after yourselves!"  This got Dad to thinking and to lay down the law to Kevin. 

Both of them were anxious for Mom's return for her two week absence seem like forever.  On the morning of the day before her return when they were off to work and school Dad told Kevin that he had asked Mrs. MacGillicutty to keep count of every item she had to pick up.  You're going to get one cut of the paddle for each one, boy."

Of course, there was nothing Kevin could do about it anymore.  By the time he got back from school, the count would have been made and recorded.  He knew that he was going to have a very sore bottom when Mom returned.  When he returned from school he saw the envelope on the kitchen table.  He wished that he could destroy it but that would not make his problem go away.  It was after dinner that Dad said to open it.  Kevin read it and gulped. 

"Are you sure that this is fair, Dad?"© YLeeCoyote

"Is this the right thing to do?"

"One cut per item?" he asked spacing out the questions.

"Yes, Kevin.  But if it's more than ten, we can spread it out."  He paused and then asked "How many, Son?"

"Twelve, Dad." the lad replied dropping his jeans and boxers and assuming the position.  He had been through this before.

The paddle struck twelve times as Kevin dutifully counted.  "I hope you will remember to put away your things in the future, Son.  You may put away the paddle now."

Kevin took the paddle in exchange for the tally sheet.  As his dad read it he turned white.  In a neat cursive script it read:

"Which shall it be, Dad – ten now and ten tomorrow or twenty now?" asked Kevin very gently tapping his palm with the paddle.  His dad was trapped and they both knew it.

To his credit, Dad just dropped his slacks and boxers and assumed the position.  Kevin gave the first one very hard and followed with the rest more gently for the count of twenty.

The End

© Copyright A.I.L., April 24, 2005

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