Chapter Text
The sun hadn’t sunk properly down the horizon when I arrived home, a bag of newly stocked paints in hand and a 7-11 donut in my mouth. The house was quiet but not empty, I could feel another presence in the house as I kicked away my shoes, walking down the entryway to the living room.
Hello, son.
I greeted causally, putting down the shopping bag on the table.
There he was, sitting on the living room couch and facing away from me with a laptop in hand, my son Henry. Henry was in last year of high school, seventeen and already 6′ 0′’, exactly one inch taller than his old man. How did he grow so fast? I never really understood. It’s almost eight years now since I and Henry’s mother divorced, and my son had been living alternated between us since then. I had not been in a really relationship after the divorce, for now my son was the only precious of my life. I loved Henry and he’s my everything.
So when he didn’t answer back my greeting, I stopped eating that chocolate sprinkle donut and turned around. Henry?
Dad.
He said, putting away his laptop and lifting those ice blue eyes. Henry had his mother’s eyes, I had to admit. Mines were more leaning to a transparent and grey-blue shade, while he had the eyes of the stormy sea, deep azure of sky, and melting glaciers.
What’s wrong, buddy?
There was a grave weight in his voice that I had to put down the donut. I wiped my hands on the side of my pants and walked towards the couch, seeing his face stern and...angry.
You didn’t come to school today, dad.
He said, My film presentation, you promised to come.
Oh fuck.
Fuck, fuck, fuck!
I recalled now, a promise I made two weeks ago, that I would attend the school’s art festival where Henry would show this little indie film he made.
That was today?!
My jaw dropped, lifting my eyes anxiously and trying to find a way to check the date.
It’s Friday, 6th, art festival, and I reminded you on Wednesday. You said you would come.
The disappointment in Henry’s voice was too strong, in his eyes even more so. I felt like I couldn’t breathe, fuck, my chest was heavy and so did my shoulders.
F—I, I’m sorry, Henry, I truly am.
I said, trying my best not to curse, though mentally cursing myself over and over again. I thought it’s Thursday today, shit, I was doing some art work in the studio. Then I went down to get some supplies and maybe lingered longer than I absolutely needed...But I thought I had no urgent matter and it’s a chilled day, I just...I’m...Fuck,
and there I was, failing at my attempt to get keep my mouth clean as well, There’s no excuse, I know. I’m sorry, buddy, I really am, I should’ve been more mindful...
The immersed guilt washed over me as I stood in front of my teenage son, head low and palms up as a sign of openness and sincerity, hoping that he would forgive my for my huge mistake. Henry was an artist’s son, and he had always have the artistic intuition in him. From a young age he was into drawing and films, books and poetry, just like me, and I knew he was really putting all his effort and spare time in that short film project in school. It was important for him, so it was naturally important for me. And I just had to fuck it up with my careless head and erratic schedule. Fuck.
I was really hoping for you to come and see my project, dad.
Henry sighed, eyes sparkling, and I almost dropped to my keens and prayed that I didn’t make him cry. You promised you would come—and you didn’t.
I bit down on my lower lips, I’m sorry, Henry, I am. Really, really sorry.
Sorry’s not gonna do, dad. You are the one taught me never to break a promise, and yet you failed to keep your words.
His arms crossed, hugging tight to his chest. I could even see the firm muscles of his long eyes under the cotton t-shirt. My son was beautiful and strong, he had an athlete’s body type but a creative artist’s mind. Henry’s a good kid, and I loved him with all my heart, so I would do just anything for him to be forgiven.
You are right, Henry, I’m sorry.
My voice was a little shaken, I’d do anything to make it up for you, son, I would. Please forgive me.
His gaze steady and fierce, burned through my skin as I heard him rasped, Come here, dad. I think you deserve a good spanking.
What?
What did I just hear?
I froze, glaring at him unbelievably, mouth opened from shock.
When I didn’t react for a few more second, Henry stood up from the couch. He’s a bit taller and more well-built than me, this strong presence could not be ignored in any way. He approached me with firm footsteps, grabbing my left wrist with a warm and forceful hand, pulling me towards the leather couch.
My body felt numbed, paralyzed even, following my son’s lead and the next thing I knew, I was sprawled across his lap and the couch, face down the brown leather and feet barely touch the carpet. My head was spinning, the world was spinning. This sense was a bit like when I got high if not for my heart was still wrenching from regrets. But the thing that really made me light-headed was Henry’s firm hands, one settled on my lower back and the other grabbed my waistband, yanked down the loose pants and soft-fit boxer all in one, and I was exposed just like that.
Henry!
I cried out his name, waves of shock and shame stunned me hard. I was lying on my stomach over my own son’s lap, ass bared, clothes only hardly tugged around my mid-thighs. When the realization sunk in, I revoked instantly, pushing my shoulders up and trying to cover my bottom with my hands.
Henry, though, smacked away my hands hard and secured my body down on his lap. Echo of the slap ringing in my burning ears, and my body ran limp just like that.
Dad, Peter, stay down.
When he uttered my name like that, I felt ridiculously small and vulnerable. You know you deserve the punishment, so stop struggling.
And fuck, my teenage son sounded ridiculously mature as well. I knew he was right, I damn right deserved punishment, but I never thought I would be taking a punishment like this.
Even in my wildest imagination it would never happen, me, forty-year-old and getting spanked by my son, no. Though I was no stranger to discipline, I had never taken a hand to my precious son. I grew up in a farm when I was young, being cowboy in heart I had done some stupid mischief, and my dad had educated me with his belt. However, I and my ex-wife had always treated Henry like a pearl and he had always been a good boy, mature and wise beyond his age. Fuck, maybe he was right, that I did deserve a good spanking for being so fucking careless and messed up.
Henry—
I called out again, devastatingly trying to save my stupid pride, though this time dare not to move. Please, I...Let me up, buddy, we can figure this out in another way—
Henry shut my pleading with a loud smack on my butt. I gasped, more of surprise than of pain. My son didn’t pause or give me any time to digest the feeling, he raised his arm and rained down low smacks over and over again.
A few swats later, my bottom was burning already. This particular sensation was something I had not experienced in a long time, and fuck if it’s not humiliating as hell. Fine, maybe I did spend too much time in my art studio and forget to exercise often, but just when did my own son grew so strong?
His left hand pressed on my lower back, keeping me in position; his right hand swung up and down quickly and firmly, bringing powerful blows on my ass. For the first ten or so swats I was trying my best to keep composed, more and more blows and I couldn’t help but squirming a little with my hip and legs.
Take it like a man, a voice in my head screamed, you deserve this. But fuck, why did it hurt so much?
Quickly I lost count, the firm muscle of my ass started to heat up under Henry’s punishing hand. He altered between each sides with every smack, sending a surge of sting and humiliation through the loud echo in our house. My cheekbones were heating up as well, and it definitely didn’t distract me from the sting on my butt.
Mmmhh!
A muffled sound escaped my mouth no matter how hard I tried to bite down my lips, and it was like a switch finally turned on, my pathetic moaning only got louder from now. Oww! H-Henry! Stooop, please, aw-awww!
I knew he was not joking or playing around now, my butt was actually burning from the hard hitting. It must have turned red already, and on my ivory honey skin, it would look as bright as a ripped apple. Ahhhhhh, noooo, s-stop, oww!
No reply. Henry hit me with raging force, from the fullest part of my backside down the rump where cheeks and thighs met. The hard slaps were relentless, covering my bottom perfectly without giving me any chance to take a breath. I began to wriggle my legs, but the fabrics tied around my knees gave my few space to move to avoid the hit.
Stooopp, uhh, ahhhhh, pl-aww! It hurrrts!
It was only his hand, why did it hurt so much? I squirmed and kicked, feeling my eyes wet. It was not tears, I sweared, it’s my messy sandy-gold hair getting into my eyes.
It’s supposed to hurt, dad, it’s your punishment.
Henry finally said, but it’s not something I wanted to hear. His hand didn’t rest for a blink, still pummeling my backside with an evil force. I shuddered, reaching back a weak hand to protect my bottom, but all I managed to do was a light touch to feel my bottom blazing in red before Henry smacked my hands away once again.
As a penalty for my rebellion, Henry hit my even harder a few times over my sit spots. Aaawwwwww!!
I cried out louder, knowing for a fact that I won’t be sitting comfortably now.
He continued to batter my already sore ass for a while, the stung made my head dizzy, and I felt difficult to breathe through cries and sobs. Get up.
The peppering of my bottom suddenly stopped, and I heard my son’s calm voice.
Thank god it’s over! I don’t think I can take any more thrashing without breaking down and crying tears.
I wept quietly, trying to stand up with my weary legs, those sturdy arms didn’t hinder me this time. When I finally stood firmly on the ground, I realized how humiliating I looked: pants down around my knees, bare ass burning with cheery red marks, standing next to my teenage son and he could see my manhood and dark pubic hair just perfectly.
Befuddled, I reach both hands to pull up my pants instantly. However, Henry grasped my wrists again, looking directly at my eyes as he stood up as well. Who told you that your punishment’s over?
He scolded coldly, Drop them, and kneel on the couch, now!
The harshness in his voice nearly made me jump. This was so wrong, fuck, but so right at the same time. My hands shook as they reached them to pulled away the fabric, my throat went dry with all the yelling I did. I stepped out of my pants, kneeling on the couch as placing my palms on the backrest as Henry instructed.
Henry paused a few moments to let me catch my breathe, then he unbuckled the belt around his wash jeans and I just couldn’t believe he’s doing this to me.
Please, Henry, I’m sorry, I’ve lear—Aaahhhhh!
My begging was cut short by a swing of leather belt striking through the air, landed precisely in the richest part of my rump. I bucked and screamed, cared no more about my stupid ego now. Henry’s hands were bad enough, and now the belt...the belt left an inch-wide scarlet welt on my already throbbing bottom every time the leather kissed my skin.
Nooo-uh, oooowww! Ahhh, p-ple-pleaaaase! Awwww I’m sooorrrrry!
My knees nudged around the couch, and my back arched with every hit. I couldn’t help it, god, it hurt too much, to a point I felt like my skin was breaking—but no blood was coming out. I glanced back to see my poor ass through the tears: skin deep red, swollen welts lining over each other, marched from the high rump all the way to the back of my upper thighs. My ass was properly bruised, but no blood.
The belt fell over and over, I cried out each time but knew that I had no place to escape. I had to accept my punishment—and to show that I was truly sorry for it.
Finally, Henry halted his punishing hand. Why are you being spanked, dad?
I—Awww!
It’s hard to think when my bottom hurt like hell, but the belt stroke down again to remind me that I had to answer the question. I uh, I b-broke my pro-promise...
Answer me properly!
Henry hissed, hit me once again on my sensitive sit spots.
Aaaahhh!! I-I...
God, it’s just so embarrassing to say it out loud! I’m being s-spanked for breaking my promise, s-Sir!
My face and ears were blushing so hard, but I tried to keep my eyes down on my own fingers clutching onto the backrest.
Good!
Henry seemed content about my answer, yet the belt fell again, And I take that you’ve learned your lesson?
Aww! Pleaseee! I’m sorry, oo-owwww, I’ve learned, I p-promise I wouldn’t do it again!
Tears ran down my face, the pain and humiliation was too much, I almost couldn’t breathe.
At that, Henry dropped the belt. He stepped closer to my, resting a now-cooler-than-my-skin hand on the worst welts of my bottom. I flinched from the intense pain, yet the touch itself brought me so much comfort that I immediately arched back at his hand.
Dad, c’mon, breathe.
He sounded a lot softer now, without the edge of anger in his voice. He hugged me gently as he guided my to straighten up from the couch, kissed the side of my neck lightly as he rasped, You better not break this promise, dad, or I’d spank your immature ass again, dad.
I felt my face burning up again, but a surge of secure and loving ran over my body. Such a nice sensation I could never taste enough.
I-I know, I’m sorry, Henry, I’m sorry.
I mumbled as I wiped away the tears. I’m not crying any more, but my throbbing bottom surely still hurt like hell.
And you are forgiven.
Henry smiled as those pure blue eyes met mines, and my heart melted just like that. I love you, dad.
I love you, too, Henry.
My raging heartbeat finally calmed down a bit, still ashamed at my own nudity and all. The spanking really got me good, but I knew I deserved no less. Show me your film, please?
Sure, dad, after dinner.
Henry said, patted my bruised backside lightly, but it was hard enough to cause me aww
and fuck
again. Don’t think you’d be sitting down for the movie, though. Oh and dad, one day Imma taking care of that filthy mouth of yours.
I smiled and kissed him back on his cheek, yeah, maybe one day.