It appears that you are NOT on the Coyote’s Den website. If you are using a proxy or an archive this is probably what you want so just continue although some functions and formatting may be inoperative.
To escape porn hijackers COPY the real URL into your browser address bar.
https:yleecoyote.asslr.org/ReiningBeast.html
Sorry, not clickable.
The following story is fiction about domestic discipline with a belt and role reversal. The story contains scenes of strapping. If this 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. Please take a moment to email.
Hank was in dread of the following weekend for he feared what his father might do. The situation was exactly the reverse of normal where a father would worry about what shenanigans his teenaged son would get into. Hank was a very good young citizen who was working hard in hard in highschool both academically and athletically so as to win a scholarship to a good college in order to prepare for a good life in the twenty-first century. Not only was a college degree the ticket but not being over whelmed with debt was the route in light of the world changing at a furious pace.
Normally, his mother kept his father in check but she was away caring for her own mother for a month. Things were fine for the work week for his dad had a low level job with good benefits but had to report early, alert and on time five days a week. One of the things he truly feared was getting fired and the disastrous consequences of being unemployed as he had seen happen to others. As his friends played late far past his bedtime, he had to stay home and stare at the TV drivel work nights.
Weekends were a different issue, however, and he could go out and play and come home late. The only thing that restrained him was his wife. She refused to put up with such nonsense – "You are not a teenager anymore." "You must show responsibly." And even the most chilling "I'm getting a divorce and throwing you out. Then you won't have money to carouse all night" – she would rant and it scared him enough to behave.
* * * * * * * * * *
It was early Saturday morning and Hank went down for breakfast. He quickly saw that his assumption that this dad was in bed was quickly shattered for at the bottom of the stairs was his father sprawled on the floor. Horrified and worried he rushed down and investigated. His dad seemed OK. He must have passed out drunk but fortunately not at the top of the stairs where he could have fallen down and been serverly injured. Suddenly he had a vision of the story he had heard several times from both his dad and his grandfather. It was a déjà vu moment as if he was his own grandfather for he replayed the scene in his mind in a flash that they had both spoken of.© YLeeCoyote
It was way past William's curfew and I was worried, annoyed and so was his mother. This was the third time in just six weeks and it would have to stop. Even though he was fifteen lectures and groundings have not been effective in changing his behavior. I had not used CP for more than a year as he was no longer a little boy. Well, that's what the calendar says but his miserable, irresponsible conduct proves otherwise.
It was after three when he stumbled in making more noise than a barrel full of monkeys. When I got to the top of the stairs, I saw why the noise. My naughty son had fallen and knocked over the small table in the hall. I rushed down to see if he was all right. As I checked him out I could smell that he had been drinking. Fortunately, he was OK except that he had wet his pants. I got him upstairs to the bathroom where I stripped him and rinsed him off in the shower. Then I told him to urinate and then put him to bed.
After I returned to my own bed, I thought about him. Physically, he was growing up nicely. It just seemed that he was lagging in the maturity department. It took me a while before I decided that the solution was the one that worked a couple of years ago – a visit to the woodshed. Of course, we did not have a 'woodshed' but that was the concept.
* * * * * * * * * *
I felt strange when I woke up. I was naked. It was past noon. I thought back but could not remember getting to bed or stripping. I put on some clothes and headed for the kitchen. I was ravenous. I did not get there. Dad was in the family room and called me. It was obvious that he was mad, angry and disappointed. Of course, I got a searing lecture that elaborated for ages about everything I had ever done wrong starting with soiling my first diaper. He would not let up. I expected was that I would be grounded again but that was not all as he pronounced my doom.
It was being told to strip as Dad pulled his heavy belt from his trousers that was the surprise. I reminded him that I wasn't a little boy anymore. That was not a good thing to say because I quickly learnt that it was he who removed my pee soaked jeans and rinsed me off and made me pee before putting me to bed like a little kid.
I stripped and lay on the end of the couch. Then Dad told me not to move and started swinging his heavy, vicious belt at my tender ass. I managed to be macho enough not to yell or anything for the first few cuts. However, he kept swinging that belt – hard! The pain kept building. I broke and began to yell.
It got worse. I couldn't handle the pain after a time. I had been begging for him to stop between my yells but I could not continue that once I began to cry. Yes, cry. It started slowly and then it became a Niagara of tears. Dad must have stopped because I was standing in the naughty corner like when I was a little kid – naked, crying with my red-hot tail on display.
Something had to be done. I was sure that Mom was more than overloaded with dealing with Grandma and her problems. If only my grandparents had been stricter and more effective with instilling proper behavior into their son, my father. He sure needs another session with Gramp's heavy belt. I would have called him if he lived in town but he is hundreds of miles away in his home.
All that has taken just an instant and now I must deal with the current reality. I get Dad up. Yipe, he has pissed his pants as in the episode from his teen past. I get him to the bathroom like Gramps did and strip him. I rinse him off and get him to pee before putting him into bed.
I go back downstairs to have breakfast and think this through. I wonder if Sherlock would have considered this a two or three-pipe problem. I suspect it is a lot more for me. Fortunately, I don't smoke for that surely would not be a heathy way to proceed.
It takes me a long time to work this all out but I do. It won't be easy but it is surely necessary.
* * * * * * * * * *
I wondered was I was naked in my bed when I got up, somewhat hung over in the early afternoon. I could not recall getting into bed much less stripping after getting home. I was ravenous so I headed for the kitchen. I did not get there. Hank was in the family room and yelled: "William Harold Sparrow get in here, now." That was very unusual as he used my full name and issued an order like he was my father. The boy obviously needs a talking to about such insolence. Right now in fact. But what followed was a complete shock.
Hank seemed different for he had a firm serious countenance rather than his usual playful smile.
"William Harold Sparrow your behavior is totally unacceptable. You are not a little kid anymore and have responsibilities. Just because Mother is not here does not give you licence to run amuck like an irresponsible teenager as you used to do."
I could hardly believe my ears. Such strange talk.
"It is clear that you need a reminder of the lessons that your father taught you years ago. It is now time to repeat those lessons for you have once again repeated that terrible behavior." It was obvious that my son was mad, angry and disappointed. He continued delivering a most searing lecture that went on and on. He would not let up any more than my dad did. I was crumbling under his onslaught (as I apparently slipped back feeling like a teen being lectured by my dad) and when he commanded me to strip and get over the end of the couch I could not muster the will to resist.
Once dad was over the end of the couch with his big ass sticking up I started with the belt. I had gotten the heaviest belt in the house and was swinging as hard as I could. I hoped it would make better impression than Grandfather's belt had so long ago. Over and over I raised it up high and brought it down on target. I watched the first red stripe merge with the rest as they all turned his ass into a blazing hot painful point of concentration. Would I be more successful than Grandpa had been years ago? I hoped so with all my heart. Only time would tell.
It was impossible to know when I had delivered the proper punishment. I stopped when some instinct told me that it was enough. I sent Dad, whimpering, to the corner to stand with his hands on his head to think about things.
* * * * * * * * * *
My ass is a red-hot inferno and I'm standing in the corner like I did more than two decades ago when my father was exceptionally angry with me. This time is different for it is my son, my teenage son, who is justifiably angry with me. And as he said, so would his mother. My ass is aflame and my head is spinning. This has deeply affected me as there are tears on my checks. I don't know what to think as I flip back and forth between seeming to be an adult and a teen.
One thing is clear. This is not something that I want to repeat. Slowly the lesson sinks in.
The End
© Copyright A.I.L. July 24, 2019
Your comments are appreciated. YLeeCoyote@juno.com Male Stories (without sex) Main Directory
The URL for this page is: https://yleecoyote.netlify.app/ReiningBeast.html
Last updated: September 15, 2023