PART THREE OF THREE PARTS:
“Whoa! Slow down, Sport.”

I just grabbed him around the waist and bawled. Doug brought me back into the house and we sat on the sofa. He let me cry for a few minutes.

“Okay, Tim. What’s wrong?  Where’s your dad?"

He pushed me away from him and made me sit up.  <sniff> "He’s in the shower.”

“So what’s going on? You weren’t running again were you?”

No, I didn’t think I was. I just need some air.  “No I just wanted some air. I don’t know what's wrong.”

I started to cry again. Man, I’m such a wuss. Doug felt my forehead and gave me a good once over.

“Tim you don’t look so great. Still not sleeping?”

I shook my head no. I told him how Dad was acting weird and that everything felt not right.  “Okay sport. Just relax and take it slow. I bet you shocked your dad pretty good. Just walking in like that.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

He punched my shoulder lightly.  “Hey, show me your house.”

I gave him a small tour. Just the downstairs. Doug brought in some sodas from the Bronco and we were at the kitchen table when dad came back downstairs.

“I thought I heard voices.”

Doug stood up and shook Dad’s hand as I remembered my manners and introduced them. Doug was a good couple of inches taller than dad and had a larger frame. And of course more bulging muscles. I felt dwarfed between the two. I had never seen this side of Doug. He was kind of nervous and said sir a lot.

“I’d offer you something to eat, Doug, but I have been slack in shopping."

“That’s all right, sir. I’m fine.”

“Timothy hadn’t mentioned that you were so *small*.”  We all laughed. It broke the tension.

T-i-m-o-t-h-y?  Doug mouthed silently. I just shrugged back at him.

Dad asked him to sit back down.

“I want to thank you for taking care of Tim.”

Doug actually blushed.  “No need for thanks. He’s a good kid. A little misguided maybe.”

I glanced sideways at him. I felt like kicking him under the table.

Dad just laughed.

“Mr. McKay... "

“Call me Allen.”

“Allen. I came by because, well I wanted to check in on the Sport here and to introduce   myself.”

“Thank you, Doug. I was planning on calling the hotel to do the same. I would like to get to  know the man who took in my little stray here.”

“Daaaad!”

Little stray. He made me sound like a lost kitten or something.

“I was thinking of taking Tim to the barber and then to lunch would you like to join us?”

Before Doug could answer I interrupted.   “I don’t ...uh sorry...could we just have lunch here after the barber.”

“Tim, we don’t have anything to eat son.”

I didn’t want to go out. The barber was fine. My hair was driving me nuts.

“Dad, please. I just don’t feel like going out. Not yet.”

We lived in a small community and everybody knew each other and I just didn’t want to deal with that.  “Allen, if you don’t mind leaving Tim at the barber’s, you and I could do the shopping. I think  Tim is a little self conscious about his appearance right now.”

I gave Doug a grateful look.

“Tim will stay put at the barber’s. *Won’t* you Tim?"

Gone was the nervous Doug. Hello Viking.

“Dad. Please. I’ll stay there. I promise.”

Dad looked from Doug to me and back. For a moment I thought he was going to say no.

“Okay. I’m outnumbered.”

“Tim, go get ready while Doug and I visit.”

I ran upstairs and hopped in the shower. God, it felt good. I kept it short. I got out and brushed my teeth and pulled the bandage off my face and replaced it with a new one. I went into my room and looked myself over in my full-length mirror on my closet door. Standing there in just my BVD’s I looked bad. Shaggy hair, my ribs and hips stood out. I looked more like an 11 year old than 15. My arms and legs were gangly instead of the toned muscular limbs they were at the beginning of this summer. My 6-pack was now a flattened, sunk in, single. I ran my hands over my chest and stomach. Nothing. No tone left.   My bruises were no longer just purple they now had a sickly yellowy-green tinge. The hairs stood out on my neck. I looked back behind me, I expected to find Doug, but Dad was standing in the doorway. He had a sad smile on his face. I looked back at the mirror. I could feel a blush heat my face and neck.

“I look like some kind of refugee.”

Dad came over and put his arms around me. Before I kinda didn’t like him doing that. I felt I was too old. Now it just felt good.

“You’ll get your buff build back. We’ll get some groceries in you and back on a regular   schedule. I’ll make a deal with you, Tiger. We’ll do it together, okay?”

“Okay, dad.”
 
I tried some of my clothes. All of them were too big. I stuck with the ones that looked as good as we were going to get. Dad just hung out in my room, shaking his head.

“What?”

“I just can’t believe my skinny little boy here tried to deck that giant downstairs.”

I could feel the heat return to my face.   “Yeah, it was a wasted effort.”

We laughed and headed downstairs. Doug offered to take us all in the Bronco. He and dad walked me in to Mr. Johnson’s barbershop.

“Well who do we have here? Our long lost hippy. Who’d you hit with your face, Timmy?”

I just rolled my eyes. He was a cool guy. Just real talkative. Dad and Doug took off to the store. I when over and got in the chair. I got to hear all about how my running away affected Dad. How depressed he was. He shut himself off from every one, sold the car and just worked. For a nosy old man, he could sure cut hair. I looked so much better. He gave me a sort of spiky gladiator/Clooney cut. Too bad I didn’t feel as good as I looked.
Dan and Doug were calling me pretty boy and oohing and awing over it. I wasn’t feeling so great. Couldn’t get into it with them.  I was pretty quiet when we got back into the Bronco. I felt sick and Dad said it showed.

“That's it, Tim. I’m taking you over to the clinic. I want you checked out.”

I didn’t want to put up with any poking and prodding.   “NO! I’m fine.”

Dad started to say something but Doug beat him to it   “Don't’ tell your dad no! If he want’s you to go, you go.”

I didn’t argue. I’d loose any way. I just looked out the window.

“Sorry, Allen. I..hu..didn’t mean to step in like that.”

“It’s all right, Doug.  You're an EMT. Do you think I should have him checked out?”

Doug looked at me through the rear view.  “I did look him over that night. And again today, I don’t think there is anything that regular meals won’t fix.  However he has been having problems sleeping. If that keeps up much more, I would recommend you take him in. Wouldn’t hurt to make an appointment with your Doctor for a physical.”

Dad looked back at me. He gave me one of his best *don’t push it* looks.
 
“Okay, Tim. No clinic. But I am making an appointment with Dr. Miller." I nodded. Man I hate Doctors.

After lunch I lay on the couch and watched a movie while they talked in the kitchen. They seemed to really hit it off. I was glad. I’d like to keep in touch with Doug. I tried not to overhear what they said too much. Doug filled Dad in on some of the things I had purposely left out. Like my *tendency* for colorful language and loose temper. I wanted to melt into the couch when he told dad about tossing my ass off the boat and the swats I earned for a bad attitude.

Doug stayed for dinner, too. He left shortly after. I walked him out to the Bronco.

“Something wrong, Sport? You’ve been quiet all night."

I wasn’t sure what was wrong.

 “Is it your Dad.? He’s seems like a cool guy. He loves you. I can see that.”

“I know he does. Yeah, he’s cool. Maybe too cool.”

 “What do you mean, Tim?”

I sat down in the passenger seat. I didn’t really know how to put it into words.

“I don’t know, Doug. He’s just not.... shit, Doug. What am I suppose to do?”

“Tim, I can’t and won’t tell you how to handle this. It’s between the two of you. But what I  think you're feeling is guilt. I think he is, too." Doug held up a hand to shush me.

“Let me finish. I think he’s feeling guilty because as your dad he knows what he should do.   But is afraid you’ll take off again. I think, too, that he feels it’s his fault you ran off in the first place. You and I both know that it’s not . Right?"

I nodded.

“Did he tell you that?”

“We talked some. That is just what I picked up on.”

“Tim, I think deep down you know what you need to do to make it right.” He tapped my chest around the heart area.

“I don’t really know what that is, Tim. Only you two can figure this out.”

I got out and thanked him. I told him I’d see him tomorrow. Dad had invited him to church with us and a BBQ later.

I went back in and told Dad that I wanted to go to bed early. He didn’t argue. Said it was a good idea. Again he came in and tucked me in. I sorta like it. Being tucked in and all.
I drifted off but not for long. A couple hours later I woke up. I looked at my alarm clock. It was 1:30 am. I couldn’t go back to sleep. I remembered that dad had bought an apple pie. My favorite. I didn’t have much appetite at dinner and skipped it. I could go for a slice now. I quietly when down the stairs. I could see the stove light was on in the kitchen. I looked around the corner. Dad was sitting at the table with his head in his hands. He looked like he was crying. I lost all interest in the pie.

I crept back to the stairs and sat down. A fresh wave of guilt washed over me. Guilt over running away, and being a total asshole. Guilt over dad selling his car he loved so much. Over all the hell I put dad through. The trouble Doug has gone through to get me home. Over the guy I tried to rob.

“Timmy?”

I looked up. Dad was standing over me.   “What are you doing up and why are you sitting on the stairs?”

I just sat there and looked at him. He pulled me up and gave me a hug. I couldn’t return it.   “Come into the kitchen, son.”

I sat down. He put a glass of water in front of me and sat down and waited.

“I felt like such a big man when I left. I was way wrong. I wasn’t. I’m not.  I haven’t been able to sleep. I haven’t slept good in so long. I’m so tired, Dad. Everything feels so... so."

“So, what, Tim?

“I don’t know, Dad.  Out of balance or something.”

I took a deep steadying breath.  “I know that they say you can never go home again, I need to come home, Dad. I want to come home.”

He reached out his hand.   “You are home, Timmy. You're home.”

"NO! I’m not. Things are not right! Not the same!”

 Dad looked as confused as I felt. I was being torn apart by quilt and confusion.  “Tim, I’m just so damn happy you're home, safe.”

“I know you're angry with me. You are and you know it!”

“Tim, it’s late and you're just really tired. I think I should have taken.... "

“Goddamnit, Dad. You don’t fucking understand!"

The look on dad’s face would have been funny any other time.  “I wasn’t angry, Timothy, but I can get there in a hurry if you keep that up.”

“See! That!  See, that’s what I mean. Any other time and you would have fucking hauled me over the coals. You would have creamed me!”

I could hear myself. I was almost hysterical. Somewhere between tears and laughing.

“Tim, I’m not sure I understand what your tying to say but you better clean it up, son.”

I wasn't’ so sure I wanted to go down this road. I just knew nothing feels right.

“Dad, I feel so bad. I feel sick.”

“I knew I should have taken you in to the clinic.”

Dad put a hand on my forehead. I pushed it away.  “STOP IT! I don’t mean like that!”
I was afraid. It took several swallows to get it out.

“Guilt, Dad. I’m sick with it.”

Dad just sat there a moment. He got up and brought his chair closer to mine.   “Timmy, I’m sorry, too.”
 
I jerked away. He’s not listening to me.   “No, Dad, don’t!  You're still not getting it.”

“Calm down, Timothy. What do you mean you feel out of balance?”

It took some more deep breaths, my stomach was in knots.  “I don’t really know. Everything is off balance or something. You don’t act like yourself.  You don’t get mad at me. “

Dad still had a confused look on his face. Frustration is building in me. I thought a moment and tried again. I knew what I was tying to say. I just didn’t want to believe I was tying to say it. It wouldn't just come out.

“Dad? What would you have done that night if I hadn’t of run away?”

“I don’t know. I probably would have pun...”

Dad got real quiet and looked at me along time.  “Timothy, are you tying to tell me you *want* to be punished?”

“No!.  I don’t know! I don’t know!”

I buried my face in my hands. I was so frustrated, confused and a little scared.   No McKay, you're a lot scared, I told myself.

He put his hand on my shoulder and gave a squeeze. His voice was low and serious.

“Timothy?”

“Do...do you want..... to punish me, Dad?”

Where did that come from!   <sigh> "No, Timothy, I don’t. I’ll never *want* to, but I’m beginning to see that you may want it or need it, son. To bring things back into
*balance* for both of us. To rid us both of the guilt.”

What did he have to feel guilty about? I said as much.

“I feel like I have failed you, son.”

He put his hand on my mouth as I started to interrupt

“My turn, Tiger. I haven’t been honest with you or myself. After you left I swore when you   came home, or when I found you, I’d flay you alive. But as the weeks turned into months I  just wanted you home." He put my face in between his hands

“Every parental instinct told me to tan your butt, since you first walked in my office. But I   wasn’t sure if it was the right thing to do. I have been terrified by the idea of you running off again.”

I could feel my chest get tight. The idea of my dad being scared because of me or what I would do made me want to puke. Not Dad. Dad was the strongest man I ever knew. Even Doug had respect for him. Dad was afraid of nothing. Most kids probably think that would be cool. It ain’t cool, it really sucks. I feel like such a little shit, I wished he would just flush me down the toilet.

“I’m sorry, Tim, that has been unfair and making the situation unbearable for both of us.   Listening and watching you now, son, I*am* sure that the right thing to do now is to break your tail of the idea of *ever* running away again.  You damn well have it coming too and we both know it. Don’t we?"

I was no longer sure that I just couldn’t live with the guilt. I knew that everything dad just said and all that Doug had said before was right. It really sucks to have to admit to anyone, even yourself that you need your ass whipped.

My stomach had butterflies the size of 747’s. I couldn’t look him in the eye. I just nodded slowly. Dad pulled my chin up to meet his eyes. Dad didn’t have that unsure look right now. What have I got myself into?

“Timothy, answer me, son.”

I had to choke down one of those 747’s.

“Yeah.”

He quirked a warning with an eyebrow.  “Yes, sir”

Dad just patted my shoulder.  “Wait here.”

Dad left the kitchen and went into the garage. I don’t think I could move if I had to. I haven’t been spanked since...well Doug gave me a few painful licks. But dad hasn’t busted my ass in like two years. I thought I was too big, too old, Doug trashed that theory.

He came back in the room with something I haven’t seen, thought about or missed since I was 13. Dad had a small bundle of paint stir sticks. Having a lumberyard kept him in large supply of those damn things. The spit dried in my mouth before I could manage a swallow. I’m sure my heart skipped several beats.

“Oh shit!” Oops did I say that out loud? The storm brewing on dad’s face said that I did and he heard it.

“That, Timothy, will be the first thing we will clean up. Right now. Get your skinny, little ass to that sink!”

He jabbed his finger at the kitchen sink. I tried to apologize but dad grabbed me by the arm before I could get the words out. He stuck me in the corner where the sink counter and the stove met. I was totally trapped. He grabbed my jaw hard and put some dish soap on his finger. I tried to lock my jaw. He may have lost weight but he lost none of his strength. He pried open my mouth and began to scrub my mouth, tongue and teeth with that nasty green shit.  I started to gag. Tears from gagging filled my eyes. My nose ran. I couldn’t help swallow some. Man this is so gross. I just blew a bubble out my nose!
He stopped scrubbing and held my mouth closed.

“Right here, right now we clean up that street mouth of yours. If I hear any more of that   trash coming out of you, you will be dinning on this soap and you will have reservations   for my lap. Do you hear me Timothy?”

I gagged and rapidly nodded yes.  I was feeling a little desperate to get it out of my mouth. My legs stamped involuntarily.

“Okay, you can spit it out and rinse.”

It took forever to clean out that soap. It clung to my gums and teeth. My mouth still burned.  Dad pulled out a kitchen chair and set it in the middle of the floor. I got that weird feeling that I had forgotten all about. Like ridding a roller coaster and your stomach feels like you left it on the last loop.  Dad sat down and waited. Only once have I ever made him come and get me. I paid big time for that. I slowly walked to his side. Unsure
of what to do or if I should try to talk him out of it. I had asked for this or almost anyway. Now that it was time, I was back peddling big time. Dad stole any chance of that away. He held me by my arms and pulled me closer to his side.

“Tim, I’m sure you are regretting bringing this up."

I could only nod. I looked at my feet. Telling myself I’m a loser and readying myself for what was coming.

“I just want you to know, you did the right thing to come home. To let Doug bring you home and to admit you were wrong and to face and accept the consequences. I know you're regretting it now but you won’t later. I’m proud of you.”

That was too weird. To be told that he’s proud of me for getting spanked for earning the punishment in the first place. Adults. I’ll never understand them.

“Okay, Tim. Bend over."

“Dad...<swallow> I’m too big, too old for this.”

It was a last ditch effort. We both knew it.  “No, son. I’m about to prove that you're not."

I really tried to do as he asked.  It’s too hard. I can’t do it, everything in me is screaming that I’m going to regret this. I do already.  Dad takes all chance of bailing from me. He grabs my arm and pulls me over his lap. He scooched me around to where he wanted me. I was nearly upside down. I had to grab the legs of the chair to support myself. I could feel the tears already. I feel like an idiot. Like a little kid. Memories came flooding back. Vivid memories of past punishments.  I can feel my butt cheeks clench. Chills run over me. I’m so close to panicking. I can feel it build. Mass anxiety.  Dad didn’t waist any time.

“Tim. You have made several really big mistakes. You know that don’t you?"

I have to choke down my Adam's apple, it feels like a real apple lodged in my throat.

“Yeah.”

SWAT!
 
“We are not starting out well, son.”

“Yes, sir!”

Man, that was just his hand. The first blow was hard. Harder than I remember. Maybe as hard as Doug’s and dad was planning on giving me more than Doug did.

“Better. I don’t think I need to scold you too much. You know why you're being spanked."

God! Did he have to say “spanked?”. Punished, sounded better. It didn’t tighten my guts so much.

“Yes, sir.”

Dad put his left hand between my shoulder blades, bracing. I can feel his weight shift as he raises his right. SWAT, SWAT, SWAT, SWAT.

I am really sorry I did not just stay in bed. Several more blows and I was feeling some heat back there. My Joe Boxer shorts offered little protection. I am not going to cry, I’m too old to cry over a spanking. I’ll just take my medicine like a man and get it over with.
Dad’s hand picks up some power along with momentum. It’s starting to get  uncomfortable.  I grit my teeth. The temptation to protect my ass with a hand is strong. Gripping tighter on the chair rungs I try to relax my butt and legs.

SWAT, SWAT, SWAT, SWAT.

Man it is really starting to hurt. My eyes are starting to water.  Locking my jaw is all that is keeping me from cussing.

“Ouch!”

Shit! I didn’t want to do that. Ahh. Damn this is hurting. Oooh.. Hold out. Take it like a man, McKay.  His hand is dishing out a major ass warming.

“< hiss > Shit!...ouuuuuuch!”

Oh shit!  Dad stopped. I’m dead!
 
“Timothy, just this once I will let that one slide. Any more slips, and you will get the mouth soaped again. But this time no rinsing until I think your butt has had enough.”

I wanted to tell him that it has already.

“Sorry, Sir.”

He didn’t say any more. Just started over. Harder if that was possible. It’s getting hard to keep still.  I’m breathing hard and starting to sweat. I don’t think I can take much more. Not quietly.  Just as I’m about to panic. Dad stops. I move to get up, but he still had me pinned. I can’t help but reach back and try to rub.

“Dad? Can I get up now?”

“No.”

He pushed my hand away. His chest moved with a deep breath. I had a bad feeling involving those fucking stir sticks.

“Well, Tim. It’s three months late, but I think that covers the joy ride with the car. Now we   will address your running away.”

Dad reached for the waistband of my shorts and pulled them down!

“No! Dad! Don’t! Not bare!”

SWAT, SWAT, SWAT.

“You don’t tell me no, young man!“

Dad wasted no more time on scolding me. He grabbed a stick and busted my ass proper.

CRACK, CRACK, CRACK, CRACK.

There is no taking this like a man. I’m not.  Dad is proving that right now. That stick fucking hurts. I can’t take it. I’m dancing and squirming all over Dads lap. He has to grapple me around the waist to hold me still. I can’t help it.
 

“Ouch, not..not so hard, Dad....OUCH!....Dad....stop......please.......ouch...umph.......ooooooh..    ouuuff...ochie.......damn.”

“..sorry.....stop...fuuuc.”

I nearly blew it big time. I have to jam my fist in my mouth to keep from saying that really bad word.

CRACK, CRACK......SNAP!

The stick broke in half on my butt. He just grabs another.

CRACK, CRACK, CRACK, CRACK.

Jeez!  Man, this really hurts.

“Ouch....Daaaaaaaad....stop....okay...okay.... I’m sorry..... really sorry.

Dad stopped.  “Timothy, you have been gone for months.”

CRACK, CRACK, CRACK.

“Three fucking months!”

CRACK, CRACK, CRACK, CRACK, CRACK, CRACK!

Dad is really pissed. I can count on one hand the times he has said fuck in front of me.
He really lets me have it. It hurts like hell. I’m going to start bawling soon if he keeps at it. I know I have it coming, but it doesn’t make it easy to take. Worst maybe.

“I’m sorry, Dad....stop..enough...stopit......no more!”

The stick stops. “Timothy, you asked for this, both in word and deed, and you will get what you asked for.  I will stop when I feel you have had enough! Are we clear on that?”

CRACK.

“Yes, Sir!”

Dad started again. I was begging again, in no time. I am truly sorry. I apologize for everything I could think of.  It’s getting hard to breath. I can’t take any more. Fuck, this hurts, it stings like crazy. Dad had to pin my right arm back.  I couldn’t help but try to cover my ass. I can’t help kick. Dad’s really going at it with that fucking paint stick.

CRACK, CRACK.  “....do you understand, Timothy?”

I didn’t, because I hadn’t heard a word he was saying. All I know is I want this to stop. But I agreed anyway.

“Yesss..Yes, Sir.”

Dad busted my ass a long time and went through that bundle of sticks. Each one broke in the end on my rear end. I had tears flowing but I have not bawled....Not yet, but any minute.  When the last stick broke and not a moment too soon, Dad let my lay there a while. Broken sticks all around us. I got the chance to get a grip and wipe the tears and snot off my face and calm myself down.

I had just agreed to every and anything he had said. This next week I will go to the Doctor, sign up for school. I even agreed to a tutor or summer school for time missed. I swore to God to never, ever run away again.  I was hoisted up on my feet. Dad kept a hold of my arms. I couldn’t rub the heat out. My ass is on fire I’m sure. It’s so hard to keep still. He stood up and half way drags me as I have to shuffle with my shorts around my ankles to the living room. He steers me to the couch, spins me around to face him. He looks really serious and almost angry, I have a feeling he’s not done yet.

“Timothy, I have thought about what you have done while you were gone. You put yourself in some very dangerous situations. What the hell did he think this was? Son you really crossed the line. Now you pay for that. Dearly. We make sure you never cross that line again, here and now.”

Dad let go of me and reached for his belt.  I’m ready to piss myself. Dad has only ever used his belt on me once. The time I got brought home in a cop car.

“Dad....dad....I’ve learned...honest....please don’t...not with a belt.”

Dad was having none of that and pushed me over the arm of the couch. My ass pointed due north.  I struggled as hard as I could. Dad held me down easy enough. I was hitched over the arm and face down on the cushions, feet off the floor. I can hear him pull his belt through the pant loops. Dad cracked the belt as he folded it over. A chill ran down my spine at the sound. I am so fucked.

“Dad...please...please. Don’t.”

He hadn’t even hit me yet and I’m begging and ready to bawl.

“I’m sorry, son. This is the only way I can think of, to make sure you *NEVER* do anything so dangerous, so stupid, not to mention illegal again.  Timothy, just hitchhiking alone earned you a belting.”

With nothing more said, Dad cracked the belt across my ass. I shoved the couch cushion in my mouth. My ass was sore as hell to begin with. This was going to be bad.
Dad lectured me with each slap of the belt.

“You<THWAP> will<THWAP>never<THWAP>get in a<THWAP>stranger’s<THWAP> car <THWAP>again.  THWAP, THWAP. Ever again!”

I‘m promising the impossible and kicking so hard I wiggled my way off the arm and fell on the floor. Dad grabbed me before I could make a run for it and pushed me to the floor and put his knee in the middle of my back and started over with the belt. He’s telling me how disappointed he was and how wrong it was to try to rob that man, how dangerous it was to again get in a strangers car. How lucky I was to just get a few bruises. How I should have called home. He laid his belt on hard. I can feel a bubble of panic building. I feel like I am totally going to loose it. I’m sure I have no skin left back there.  I can hardly speak any more. I’m bawling like a baby and I could give a flying fuck I’m crying so hard now I’m choking.

“Dad.....I’m <choke> sorreeeeeeeeeeeeee.....sttttoppppppittttt...Nooooooo more. <sob> Never  again... noooo.....it huuuuuts.<sob>....it huuuurts .Daddy stop.....I’ll be good....I’ll be...be.   <choke>good......ouwieeeeeeeeeee..<sob>. Noooo.....more....no      more.....Daddeeeeeeeeeeeeee.!

I can’t remember the last time I called him “daddy.”  Probably the last time he busted my ass with the belt. He kept up the pace.  I’m kicking like a marathon swimmer and nothing phases Dad’s arm. I’m sure I wont survive this, my voice sounds as raw as my ass feels.

“Dad!.....no.....more......puh.....puh....pleeeeeeeease...<Sob> Daddeeeeeeeee. Stop...stopit...stop.  I’ll be gooood..owie....be..goooood....stop.....DADDEEEEEEEEEEE! NO..DADDEEEEEEEE.”

That bubble burst. I’m shoving at the floor and doing everything I can think of to get away. I can’t. I can’t get away, I can’t stop the belt. I’m just screaming now. I can hear myself. I would take pity if I was dad. I sound like he’s killing me.

“You’re not going to run away *EVER* again.”

“Na....Noooo, Sir! I”m so sorreeeee. I’m sorry....I’m sorry!”

“You are never going to steal or try to steal *EVER* Timothy!”

“No, Sir! No, Sir!” <choke>

The belt licked my ass over and over. I have never been punished like this before.
It takes me a long time to realize that he has stopped. I’m just a bawling puddle of goo on the floor.  I feel dad’s hand rubbing my back and neck. I can’t stop kicking. My butt is burning like crazy. My thighs are too. Dad pulled me up and set my back on my feet. I couldn’t stand. I slid back to the floor and grabbed my burning butt. No amount of rubbing helped. So I just lay here holding my ass. I’m shocked that I’m not touching hamburger.

“Tim, come here!”

I got up, still bawling hard and Dad pulled me in a crushing bear hug.

“Okay...okay..... That was a hard lesson huh, son?”

I just nodded my head and cried into his shirt.  “You’ll remember this lesson?“

I almost laughed. Was he crazy?  I just nodded my head and cried into his shirt. Dad wiped my face with his shirtsleeve. His eye’s didn’t look so dry themselves.

“I want you to go upstairs and wash up and get back into bed. I’ll be up in a minute.“
 

He sent me on my way with a firm slap on the ass.  I did just as he told me. I washed my red and puffy face and brushed my teeth. I caught a look at my butt in the mirror. Tomato red. Skin still attached and burning like hell. I climbed back into bed totally exhausted. I had to lay on my stomach. My butt hurt too bad to sit or lay on it just yet. I put my head in my arms and cried some more. The roaring fire in my ass is dying down to just embers. A  constant throb. I can feel my pulse in my butt cheeks!  I’m pissed off at myself. I wanted to take it like a man. That did not happen. I took it like a five-year-old instead.
Dad came in. He sat on the edge of my bed and rubbed my back while I still cried. He didn’t say anything just letting me cry. After a bit I calmed down. His rubbing feels good. He’s rubbing my shoulders and arms taking the tension out of them. He pulled back the covers and starts on my ribs and on my hips. Thankfully avoiding my butt. Rubbing my legs from upper thigh to ankle. God, that feels good.  I’m just sniffling now.  I am totally relaxed now. Butt still hurts. Sitting will not be fun in church tomorrow. I feel myself wanting to drift off.

“Timmy?”

“Hmm?”

“Feel better, son?”

I knew what he meant. He wasn’t talking about the rub.  As bad as that was downstairs, it’s over now. Sort of. I  do feel a little better, clean. That awful weight and guilt was slipping away with each throb in my seat. I feel punished. No doubt about it.   I never want to feel that fucking belt again. I know Dad had reason to use it. I plan on making sure he never has reason again.

“Yeah, Dad....... Is that weird?”

“No, son. It’s not. You really had it coming and you knew that.”

I put my head back down on my pillow. I was too tired to hold it up any longer.

“I’m sorry, Dad. Sorry about the car..I’m...just everything.”

Dad kissed the top of my head and patted my back.  “I know you are, Tim. That tender bottom of yours if proof enough. Things are going to be different from here on out.”

I didn’t know what he meant.

“From now on you and I will keep things balanced. You’re the kid. I’m the Dad.  No more back talk, no more lousy attitude. And you *will* clean up that mouth of yours. Fast. I think I stopped putting you over my knee far too soon. That has just changed.”

I knew right then I was in for a long year. That my last spanking would probably not be the* last* one just yet. Shit! Dad covered me back up and turned off the light. He sat in the chair by my bed and rubbed my back while I drifted off to sleep. I’m so sleepy.
It’s weird. I feel better now than that first night home. Some part of me wishes dad and I would have cleared this up that night.  Dad woke me up around 8 a.m. I think he spent the night in that chair. He was wearing what he had on last night. I slept the whole night too.

“Wake up, Tiger. Get up.”

I sat up and got an immediate reminder of last night. I rubbed my butt. Ooooh so tender still. Man! He let me have it last night.

“Pretty sore, Tiger?”

Dad was standing by my closet pulling out my dress clothes for church. I just nodded yes. I’m always grumpy in the morning and this was no different. I was biting my tongue to keep cussing as it was. Dad laid out my clothes. Told me to shower and meet him downstairs. The shower helped. I checked out last nights damage in the mirror. It was not red anymore just slightly pink. A couple of faint bruises on the crease at the top of my thighs. Right where I sit.  I got dressed. Dad had laid out my cargo slacks and a tan shirt and tie. They were in the baggy style that I liked. Dad never minded my style as long as I was clean and neat as possible. Dad wasn’t much different than me in style
anyway.  Right now I look like a kid playing dress up. Well, no help for it. Dad looked up from his paper as I walked in the kitchen.

“Wow! You look nice, Tim.”

I shrugged my shoulders and leaned against the counter taking the glass of milk dad had out for me.

“No sitting this morning?” Dad teased.

“No. Not just yet.”

I couldn't help the red that warmed my face. Dad just chuckled and went back to his paper. We meet Doug at the church.

“Timm..meee! You clean up good! What a beefcake. If those valley chicks could see you now.”

I felt self-conscious with everyone looking at me. I know it was not the clothes and the haircut. It was because everyone knew that I had been gone.  The service took forever. I usually don’t mind church, but sitting on the wooden pew with a blistered ass isn’t fun. I can sit, but not comfortably. I squirmed a lot. Both men elbowed me to sit still.  After the service we always gather outside to visit with people, talk to the Pastor.  Pastor Dean came out to talk to dad and me. Dad introduced Doug to him.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Wolf. Thank you for bringing home our lost lamb.”

“Well, Master Timothy, glad you’ve returned to the fold. You gave us all a scare son.”

I wish the ground would open. Pastor Dean had that whole God thing working and he knew how to use it. I felt just like a lamb. One that was about to be sacrificed.

“You have been missed, young man.“

“Allen, after watching young Timothy in church today, I gather you didn’t spare the rod?”

All the blood in my body must be in my face. People close by laughed. Dad put an arm around me.  “No, Pastor, I didn’t. Tim did get a good hiding. In a way Tim brought me the rod.”

Dad didn’t go into details. Luckily. Pastor Dean nodded his head.  “You reap what you sow, my boy."
 
He and Dad introduced Doug to the others. Dad was talking to lots of people. I was getting pretty sick of the scene.  All the looks I was getting from most of the adults.

Tsk..tsk. Shit. All the “I’ve prayed so hard for you” I had enough and walked over to the truck. I talked to a couple friends, but not for long. I wasn’t much up for it. I told them I’d call them later. They understood. Most of my friends are pretty cool that way.

“Something wrong, Timothy?”

I looked up and there was the Pastor.  “No.”

His grin told me he wasn’t buying it.

“All right, I don’t like the way everyone is looking at me. Like I kicked a dog or something.”

“Give it a week or so, Tim. Soon they will have something else to frown over. They always do. It doesn’t make then bad or mean. Just human. Well, most of them.”

We both laughed.

“Your dad did have a rough time of it, son, and from what I see, so did you. Growing up is not easy...harder for some than others. Just give it time.“

He had me say a quick prayer with him, and he walked back to the church. I felt a little better now. Dad invited Doug to stay the night with us. He is leaving in the morning. Doug ran back to the hotel to get his stuff. While dad and I started the BBQ.

“Tim, you’ve been pretty quiet. Want to talk?”

“I’m okay. Just tired. That's all.”

Going up to my room to change before dad could say anything else, I answered a few e-mails. Sent one big letter to most everyone. I typed standing up. My wood chair was too hard just now. I don’t know what's wrong now. I got my ass busted last night and should feel better, right? Now I just feel confused.  I decided I had better go downstairs before dad came up to look for me. Just as I got to the kitchen I heard Dad and Doug talking.

“Doug, I don’t know. He’s so withdrawn today.”

“He did seem quiet. I thought maybe it had something to do with last night.”

“No, I don’t think so. He nearly asked me for it.”

Great did he have to tell everyone that? Doug jumped in telling dad about the talks we had. I feel a little betrayed. Oh fine now they are going to think I’m into pain or some freaky shit.

“He was really having trouble admitting it. I think that is why he stayed out there so long.   He was fighting his own sense of right and wrong. That may be the problem now.    Reconciling to himself that he needed his tail whipped. He might be wanting to place   blame. You for spanking him or him for asking for it. Allen, you really have a great kid. I  like him a lot.”

“Thanks. Yeah. He is a great kid. He’s my world. That’s why I’m worried about him now. He doesn’t look good, Doug. Will you take another look at him?”

“Sure, Allen.”

I walked into the living room. Both men looked up at me, a mouse with two cats ready to pounce.

“Hey, Braw! I was wondering if you were ever going to come down.”

Doug got up and walked over to me. I didn’t fuss about his examination.  “Still not sleeping, kiddo? Hmm. You are a bit warm.”

I pulled away from him and sat down on the cushioned chair.

“I slept all night last night.”

“Tim you just seem awfully down today. Is anything wrong?”

“I just.... feel kinda......... cruddy.”

I don’t know what happened. No one was more surprised than me. I just started bawling. I couldn’t stop it. I tried.  The more they tried to find out what the hell was wrong, I just cried harder and shrugged off their hands.

Dad grabbed my arm and pulled me to my feet. Then he put a arm behind my knees and around my shoulders and picked me up like a little kid. Instead of struggling I had to grab him back for support. He took us to the couch and sat down with me on his lap like a baby.  I tried to sit up and pull out of his hold. He smacked my butt once, very hard. I stopped. I wanted no more of that and not in front of Doug.

“Timothy, stop it!”

He just held me tighter. I was crying too hard to fight him and it felt good anyway. I was just embarrassed.  He held me while I cried like a wuss. I have no control over this and it scares me. I just bury my face in his shirt and hide and bawl my head off.

“Tim....Tim...shhh...come on now....what’s wrong?”

I couldn’t answer. I just held on tighter myself.  A cool rag touched the back of my neck. It felt good. I started to calm down a little.

“Thanks, Doug. What could be wrong with him?”

Dad sounded really worried. I pulled my head up to say I’d be fine. He just pushed it back down to his chest again. Shutting me up.

“I’m not real sure, Allen, I think maybe circuit overload. I mean he’s been through a lot. He has not had enough good sleep. He’s underweight. He’s been fighting some tough   mental battles. Last night or this morning really, must have been tough for him. No doubt   for both of you.   I really think he just wrung out. I’d go ahead and make that appointment for him, though. See what the Doc thinks.”

“I think you're right.  Poor baby, it’s been a rough three months.  I’ve made an appointment already."
 
Dad and I stayed that way a long time. It took awhile but I finally stopped the water works. Twice in 24 hours I’m over his lap. At lest this time I was upright. I dosed off and on while the guys talked. Doug left dad with me while he cooked the burgers and made the salad. He and dad would talk. I don’t remember what was said. I could care less.
When dinner was done I wasn’t hungry. Both men said I had to eat. No way I could talk my way around both. I was too tired anyway.  I ate my burger, some salad and two glasses of milk. When they were satisfied that I had eaten enough, Dad sent me to bed. It was only 7:00 but I didn’t argue. I’m beat. Wrung out is right. Dad was back to his old self and I really didn’t want to push any buttons right now. Dad tucked me in like he has done since I came back.

“Timmy, no reading, no computer, no Cd’s. I want you asleep when I check on you later.   You're spending the day in bed tomorrow, too. Hear?”

I just nodded my head. He was in no mood to dicker with. I was ready for some shuteye anyway. Dad kissed my head and hugged me tightly.

“I love you, Tim, I love you, little man.”

I was starting to choke up again.

“Okay. No more of that, son. No more tears. Go to sleep." Dad covered me up and turned off the light and I was out.  I only woke up when Doug came in and laid down on the rollaway dad had put in my room for him.

 “Sorry sport. I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

“It’s okay. You didn’t.”

Doug grinned over at me as he tried to fit his huge frame on the rollaway.

“You suck at lying, kid. Feeling better?”
 

 “Sorta.”

I didn’t really know how I felt. I’m definitely tired.

“Pretty rough last night?”

“Yeah. Dad went from Clark Kent to the Terminator.”

I could hear him chuckle.  “Man, Tim. Boy do I know that feeling.”

“I didn’t take it well, Doug.”

“What do you mean?”

I rolled on my side and braced myself on my elbow.  “I wanted to take it like a man, ya know?.  But I didn’t.  I cried like a fuc...freaking baby. Just like tonight.”

Doug didn’t answer me. Dad did from the doorway.  “You're taking it too literally, Tim.”
He came over and sat on my bed. Pushing me back down and started to tuck me back in.

“'Take it like a man'” I think means accepting responsibility and you did that.  Tim, you got   spanked..I... " I turned my head away. I can feel the blush burning my face. Dad put a hand under my chin and made me look at him.

“You got spanked. I can’t say how a man would 'take it,' Buddy, you got a real butt   burner. I don’t think most would react much different. Regardless, you're not a man. Not  yet. Don’t be in such a hurry to become one, Tim. You're growing too fast as it is now. All too soon you will be gone."

Dad kissed my forehead. Ugh! In front of Doug!  He then turned off the light and said good night to us.  I closed my eyes. I’m really tired.

“Tim, you awake?” Doug’s almost whispered.

“Yeah. You?”

Doug laughed.  “Think about that, Sport”

“ Hey! Give me a break, it’s late.”

“Feel better about being home now?”

I didn’t answer right away. It had been a confusing last few days. “Yeah. I am. Too bad my ass doesn’t agree”.

“Still that sore, Tim?”

It was the worst spanking I had ever had. Ever.  “Na. Just a bit tender.

“He really let you have it, huh?”

“Yeah, he did. I got a total ass whipping...I umm. I got the belt.”

I  didn’t go into detail. I’d rather not go into it just now.

“Ouch!  Listen Tim, I can tell you exactly how a man would have taken a spanking.”

Doug had my full attention.  “Remember when I told you my dad kept my butt warm regularly right up to my 21st  birthday?"

“Yeah.”

“I had been living on my own or well I had been in the Navy for almost three years    already. I was on leave at home for my big 21. Well, my buddies and I went out and got   plowed. I mean snot slinging drunk. That was bad enough, but I drove myself home.”
My skin crawled just imagining what my dad would do. My brain wouldn’t accept the mental picture. Too intense!

 “And?"
 
“For starters I made it all the way home without incident. That is, until I drove into our   swimming pool.”

“Dude! What happened?”

“Kid. My dad pulled me out of the pool, took one whiff of that alcohol stink and right there in the backyard, beat my bare ass black and blue. I’ll tell you right now, I did *not* take it like a man. I yelled my head off. And before you say it was because I was drunk, dad gave a repeat performance the next day and so did I.  So you see, even though I had been in the military for three years, been to several countries, out to sea defending our shores. Dad had no trouble reducing this US Naval personnel to a kid with a very sore butt.  To this day I have never drank like that again.“

I didn’t doubt that he did. I’d quit right then. If I survived.

“Wow. Doug. Damn!”

Couldn’t think what else to say. He just chuckled.

 “Thanks, Doug.”

“No <yawn> prob, Sport.”

I asked him if he would wake me when he got ready to leave. He didn’t want to because I needed my sleep. I talked him into it. I’m going to miss him. He’s been like a big brother or uncle or something.

“Hey! Sport. Tim, wake up buddy.”

I had just closed my eyes.  “What Doug. Dude it's late.”

Laughing.  “No, Tim. It’s 5 a.m. I’m outahere.”

I sat up. Doug was dressed and his duffel by my door. I could smell coffee. Dad must be up too. I pulled back the covers to get up .

“Whoa, Tim!. No you stay in bed. That’s the deal. I wake you up to say C-Ya and you go back  to sleep.”  He pushed me back down.

“Okay. Okay. Mr. Muscle.”

“C-Ya, Stick boy.”

Doug grabbed his duffel and left.

“Doug!”

He poked his head back around the door.   “Yeah?”

“Thanks. Thanks for everything. You're da bomb.”

“Don’t I know it. <laugh> Anytime, Tim. E-mail me soon.”

I could hear him and dad walk outside. I looked out my window. Dad and him talked a while, shook hands and then he was gone. Dad came up soon after.

“Tiger, you're suppose to be back asleep.”

I crawled back under the blankets. Doug had folded up the rollaway and all the blankets. Neat freak. I missed him already. Dad must have picked up on that.

“Hey, don’t look so depressed. You’ll see him in November.”

“What?”

Dad smiled and tucked me in. I think it’s a rule now.

“I invited Doug back for Thanksgiving. His folks will be on vacation and he said he had no plans. I didn’t think you’d mind. And Doug invited us to come out for spring break.”

I gave dad a huge hug. I kinda embarrassed myself. Dad just mummified me with my bedding and told me that I had to stay in bed all day. There was no arguing and I decided not to press the issue. I guess I could handle a day being waited on. It’s going to be a long week. First the doctors, then school registration and classes. Closing my eyes. I started to think of what to plan for Doug’s visit...maybe go to Old Virginia City. Cool! Spring break in California. Disneyland, sailing with Doug and dad. All those chicks in bikinis. Yeah!

                                            Now that’s California Dreamin’
 

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