Avon's Hanson Fiction

~This story contains corporal punishment including spanking. This is purely a work of FICTION. It is not true. Read at your own risk.~

“Taylor and Zachary!” my father’s voice echoed throughout the sanctuary of the church as Zac, my friend Parker, and I ducked behind a pew in the balcony, holding our breath in an effort to hide from him.

“I saw you run in here! If I have to come look for you both then you will have two very sorry bottoms…” he threatened, his voice growing closer as he stepped towards the stairs.

Zac and I glanced at each other nervously. We weren’t embarrassed really, as we knew Parker still got spanked too. But we knew we had to make a quick decision. Zac nudged me as if to tell me as the older brother, it was my job to acknowledge my father first.

“Yes sir…” I muttered, hesitantly standing up from being the pew and looking down over the balcony railing at my fuming father below. Zac silently rose to his feet and stood at my side, and finally after a big heavy sigh, Parker joined us.

“Get down here!” he shouted.

We all looked to each other to start walking, none of us wanting to be the first one in my father’s reach. He looked irate standing there with his hands balled up at his sides and his expression bitter. The coldness of his voice was enough to send shivers down all of our backs. When both Zac and Parker looked at me, I sighed and started for the stairs, taking each step slowly to procrastinate having to stand before my father.

“Come over here,” he said with a pointed finger when we reached the bottom of the stair. We all dragged our feet to stand before him.

“Why do you think I’m absolutely furious with all of you?” he shouted, standing close to us and looking down at our guilty selves.

I knew exactly what I had done wrong, and it was far worse than what Zac and Parker had done.

My family attends church every Wednesday night for dinner. We have a big kitchen at the church and a volunteer cooking staff, and with such a big, active church, there’s usually about 300 people in attendance every Wednesday. Since I was seven years old when we first moved back to Tulsa and joined the church we had attended Wednesday night dinner. We ate with the same people each week and like many of the “regulars”, were expected to do our share of dishes, vacuuming, and cleaning after meals. There was an expected code of ethics for the members of the church, and it was just considered rude if we didn’t all do at least some work after dinner.

We’d been taught this since we were little, and usually we busied ourselves putting silverware through the enormous dishwasher or spraying down the two dozen tables in the fellowship hall. My parents felt we were especially responsible for helping clean since the church fed all 9 members of our family. They always sent us angry glares after dinner if they noticed we were fooling around with friends instead of doing our share of cleaning. We could usually get away with absentmindedly spraying down tables while we joked around with our friends though. Our theory was as long as we looked busy, then my parents seemed satisfied.

Around three weeks ago I was sitting at a table with some of my friends laughing as we took stupid pictures on one of their disposable cameras. I had seen my parents walking by carrying armfuls of salt and pepper bottles back to the kitchen to be put away, but I couldn’t seem to force myself to get up and do some work myself.

Isaac came by one point and hit me in the side with a dirty towel, reprimanding me with, “Taylor get your lazy butt up and help out or you’re going to get a really bad chore, you know it.”

He was right. Whenever any of us teenagers weren’t helping, one of the adults in the kitchen usually came out and asked us to vacuum the entire fellowship hall or fold up all the tables and put them in the storage room. Both tasks were time consuming and boring. But despite Isaac’s warnings, I just sat there laughing with friends not wanting to be left out from their fun. One by one, they rose from the table and carried a few dishes to the kitchen. Some of them went and put away some clean dishes and others even went around to the tables to pick up remaining trash and dirty dishes.

Finally, only I and Emily Wilkins remained. My growing crush on the beautiful Emily Wilkins made it nearly impossible to get up from the table and do my share, so I just continued to sit there and take goofy pictures of her with the disposable. I was enjoying every minute of it, until Terry Allen came over and leaned over the table, putting his hands on it and looking at the two of us.

“What’s up Terry?” Emily asked innocently, also aware she should have been helping and not flirting with me. “Sorry… we were just about to get up.”

Terry nodded, “Can you vacuum Emily?”

She had been sentenced the punishment for not willingly helping out in the first place, and I sighed knowing my sentence was coming next.

“Sure, no problem.” She didn’t even look at me before she obediently got up to drag the old vacuum out of a closet next to the kitchen.

“Taylor, I need you to collect all the garbage for me and put it out in the dumpsters outside. Don’t forget the garbage in the kitchen. There are like three out here and three in there.”

I groaned inwardly. That would take forever, and not to mention, it was disgusting to have to tie up gross sticky bags loaded to the top with food and drag them outside. The sentence was far worse than I’d even been given, but I nodded submissively.

“Can do,” I nodded, and got up from the table.

Terry nodded affirmatively and then wandered back into the kitchen probably to inform the other annoyed adults that the lazy teenagers had been given tasks to complete.

I had every intention of doing it at that point. I was ten steps away from getting new garbage bags from the supply cabinet and beginning the mission of taking the filled bags outside. But I became distracted by the voices of my friends behind me. They had spent the last 15 minutes doing their parts to clean up and they were now released to enjoy themselves.

“We’re going to go play fireball in the gym,” my friend Tony said referring to the massive gym our church had just added on in the previous year. It was used for summer camps at the church most of the time. “Are you coming?”

“Uhhh…”

He laughed, “You and I need to kick David’s butt again. He knows how badly he was schooled last week, and he claims we’re dead this week. I’d like to see him try.”

I grinned and shrugged off the chore I had been given. Someone else would take out the garbage. I had a fireball game to win. I knew how reckless it was of me to walk out of the fellowship hall and follow my friends to the gym, but I didn’t look back as soon as I nodded at Tony. I didn’t even consider the consequences.

After twenty minutes of an exhausting fireball championship, which Tony and I dominated as usual, I collapsed on the floor on my back, pulling my discarded sweatshirt over my eyes and trying to catch my breath. I laid there for a few moments before I was ready to speak again.

“Ass kicking is hard work,” I said loudly enough so my friends could all hear, and David could resent my gloating.

I frowned when I heard no laughs or pathetic whines by David.

“Ummm… Taylor…” one of the guys said, “Your… ummm… Dad…”

I panicked and pulled the sweatshirt off my head, sat up, and looked at my father standing in front of me.

“Dad,” I squeaked out nervously. I must have sounded ridiculous and looked terrified, but I knew just how much trouble I was in by the angry gleam in his eyes.

“Why don’t you get up and follow me.”

It was a demand, not a request. I scrambled to my feet and followed my father, my chin naturally falling to my chest in fear and guilt. I had been caught. I must have looked pathetic following my dad like that- looking like a guilty puppy with my tail between my legs. I tried my best to raise my chin confidently to maintain my cool status with me friends, but they knew my parents well enough to know that as I followed my father out of the room I was walking right into a severe spanking.

As we left the gym, he pulled me into a nearby men’s bathroom and locked the door. I backed into the sink and looked nervously at him, shoving my hands into my pockets. If I didn’t, I would haven’t been able to keep them still. I was beyond nervous. I had blatantly disobeyed an authority figure. My parents hated when I made their parenting look bad.

“Why didn’t you do what was asked of you?” he challenged.

“I… don’t know.” I knew quite well my parents hated that kind of answer, as it showed no remorse and as just a lame attempt to escape having to explain ourselves. But I was frozen with fear and it was all I could offer at the moment.

My father stepped closer and literally breathed down my neck to add to the intimidation, I assume.

“You were asked by an adult to do something because you spent the entire evening slacking off, and then you just walked off and played ball with your friends! I have honestly never been so shocked by your behavior. Are you suddenly too good for helping out at church?”

“No!” I gasped.

“Then what was the problem!” The problem was I didn’t want to be left out. For so many months of the year we were gone, traveling around the country and playing music for strangers. I was left out of so many birthday parties and get-togethers that I craved spending time with my friends. I was so sick of being left out, seeing them walk to the gym and knowing I couldn’t go was just too much for me to handle. I couldn’t control myself. In my mind, I saw what I did as excusable. So maybe it was a little bit wrong, but as I saw it, it was justified because of how badly I needed to spend quality time with my friends. I wasn’t too good to spend my time taking out trash, I was just too busy. That was how I saw it at least, but I knew better than to tell my father that.

“I guess I just got lazy…” I mumbled, trying to take another step back from him but backing into the counter behind me.

“Well that laziness is going to cost you. Do you know how embarrassing, and just startling it was, to hear Terry tell the entire kitchen that my son had just ignored his request? Do you know how disrespectful that was?” His eyes narrowed when I didn’t respond, “I want an answer young man!”

“Yes sir. I’m sorry.”

“And then the fact that you didn’t tell me where you were so I walked around the church looking for you for ten minutes!”

“I’m almost 15 years old!” I squeaked, regretting it as soon as it came out my mouth. I searched for a way to rephrase my statement. “I didn’t think I still need to tell you where I’m going…”

“Of course I want to know where you’re going. The same rule applies to home as it does to on the road. You never know what kind of people are dangerous to you. There may not be security guards following you around church, but that doesn’t mean it’s perfectly safe. You know how many people come in and out of the building everyday.”

I actually stood there praying that perhaps the tangent about safety would distract my father from the spanked I had earned.

“Do you really think someone dangerous would come into our church?” I said, trying to keep his focused on the wrong-doings of others rather than the wrong-doing’s of myself.

“You can’t be too safe, and you know better than to just wander off like that. But the fact I’m really shocked about is your blatant disrespect.”

I nodded sadly.

“Come here,” he roared, reaching out and pulling me by my belt to him. I closed my eyes as he started to undo my belt and pants. I didn’t even let myself wonder how sound proof the walls in that particular bathroom were. I’d been spanked in church bathrooms before in my life, but this one seemed so much closer to all of my friends who were probably still playing in the gym. He shoved my pants down to my ankles and gently pushed me towards the counter.

“Lean over. Let’s go. You have garbage to take out so let’s get this over and done with.

My eyes pricked with tears as I realized I was not only going to be spanked, but I still had the chore waiting for me. I leaned over to the counter like I was told, bracing myself with my elbows and resting my head in my forearms as I allowed him to pull my boxers down in the back.

I gasped in pain at the first smack of his hand. It seemed harder than I anticipated, and the tears began to pour over my eyes and fall down my cheeks. The entire situation was just terrible. Between the humiliation of knowing my friends were probably all silently hypothesizing my punishment and the sheer pain of the spanking, I was in tears.

“I’m sorry Dad, I’m so sorry,” I cried into my arms as he laid twenty hard smacks on my behind. “Please stop… Dad… it hurts… please…”

But like always, my begging did nothing. Spankings weren’t supposed to be enjoyable, I’d been told since I was young. It was supposed to hurt. End of story.

My father paused after twenty spanks and I looked up tentatively into the mirror. It was hard to look at myself, standing there like a child with tears streaming down my face. I glanced at my father who stood behind me.

“I am so embarrassed of your behavior,” he said, shaking his head and continuing spanking me.

I had thought he was done, so the additional smacks caused the tears to fall faster. I buried my head back in my arms which helped me feel less pathetic about crying and eliminated the temptation of reaching behind and protecting my scorching bottom. After another twenty or so spanks, my father stepped away and nodded at me.

“Get your pants pulled up and stand back up. I’m not done with you yet.”

I had wondered briefly as I walked to the bathroom if I was going to have my mouth washed out for my foul language in the gym, but I had hoped he wasn’t focusing on it or wouldn’t remember it. As I pulled my pants over my burning backside and carefully redid my belt, I noticed my father took the bottle of soap next to the sink into his hands. My heart sunk as I realized I was not getting off the hook after all.

“Turn to me,” my father instructed.

I turned and wiped at my wet cheeks, trying to compose myself before the next part of my punishment. I’ve noticed getting your mouth washed out is far easier when you take it like a man and do it calmly. It’s easy to get yourself worked up and upset, but if you’re calm it seems to be a lot easier.

“You know better than to use bad language, and especially inside the house of God. That is something you should be very ashamed of.”

He was right. It was one thing to be a dick face in my own home, but in God’s house? When he put it like that, it all seemed so wrong and sinful. I knew I deserved the mouth washing I was going to get, but I hated it all the same as he squirted the soap into my mouth and told me to swish it around.

I continued to try and stay calm, refusing to choke on any tears. I kept the tears from falling from my watery eyes the whole time, obediently moving the soap all around my mouth. After a minute or so, my father nodded at the sink and gave me permission to spit. I spit and rinsed for as long as I could until he cleared his throat, an unspoken command that my rinsing was finished and I was expected to turn around and face him.

When I turned around, he took my shoulders. “Taylor… I really thought you had better morals than that. I thought you had more respect for this church and more respect for authority. I really hope this is a one-time mess up. We all mess up, and I understand in a moment of selfishness you made the wrong decision. I understand that, but I hope this defiance doesn’t become a bigger issue.”

I nodded appreciatively at his sympathetic words. I knew a hug was coming, and I wanted it so badly so I could know I was forgiven. But he continued to hold me away at an arms length as he spoke.

“I am very ashamed of you, and embarrassed that out of all of your friends my son was the one who had little regard for authority and no motivation to help out. I hope that this won’t happen again.”

Tears sprung to my eyes as he said that. It killed me to know that I embarrassed my father and he had to stand before the other parents and adults as they all wondered how successful his parenting had been. My father’s life was his children, essentially, and I knew how it must have broken his heart to see he had raised someone who easily disrespected authority. He must have seen my remorse and shame, because he pulled me close to him and wrapped me into a tight hug. I hugged me back and instantly the tears ceased falling.

“I’m so sorry, Dad…” I whimpered, “I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“You weren’t thinking at all, were you?”

I shook my head, “I just got selfish. I’m really sorry…”

He nodded and rubbed my back before he stepped away from me. “I want you on dishes duty for the next month until we leave for tour again, do you understand? That means bringing your own plates to the kitchen and wiping down a few tables after supper isn’t going to cut it. You will be in the kitchen for an hour after every meal helping all of us put dishes into the washer and put them away. You will help until every last dish is cleaned. Do you understand?”

I understood, but I didn’t like it. I had made one stupid mistake by ignoring a chore that could have taken me 15 minutes, and had ended up with a humiliating confrontation with my father, a painful spanking, and a far worse and far more time consuming chore in its place. It didn’t make sense. My decisions didn’t make sense at all. I nodded submissively at my father.

“Let’s go back to the kitchen and you can take out the trash and tell Mike that you’ll take his spot at the dishwasher this month. And I believe an apology is owed to Terry, yes?”

“Yes sir…” I nodded solemnly and with my head hung, followed my father out of the bathroom. As I walked through the fellowship hall full of people folding up tables and into the kitchen, I felt like everyone could tell by my slight wincing as I walked and crimson cheeks that I had just been spanked. Isaac looked knowingly in my direction and sighed. He seemed to always feel sad for me when I was spanked, as he knew how bad it was but how many times I could prevent my own punishments.

“Terry, Taylor has something he’d like to say to you,” my father instructed as we walked over to where Terry was standing with a bunch of other church guys by the sinks. I was positive by their disappointed expressions that my father had announced to the entire kitchen before he went off to find me that I would be getting a sound spanking. The idea made my stomach churn in disgust with myself and utter embarrassment.

“I feel… horrible that I didn’t do what you asked of me. I was just too caught up in hanging out with my friends and I got lazy. I’m really sorry. I’m not usually like that,” I sighed, shoving my hands back into my pockets. I looked to the ground but looked back up when my father cleared his throat. I looked right into Terry’s face and added, “I hope you can forgive me.”

“And I promise you,” my father said, “Taylor has been punished good and hard for it. He has paid for his disrespect in full and I think he really is remorseful now.”

I blushed more as he spoke as the adults exchanged understanding expressions. It was not a secret between the families at my church that Walker Hanson, like some of the other parents, still spanked his children.

“I’m sure he has been, and I forgive you, Taylor. I just hope that from now on you show more of a will to help not because you are being told to, but because you want to pitch in. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

I nodded and studied my tennis shoes, “I understand, sir.”

My father forced me to tell Mike I’d do the dishes and he was more than happy to give up his job so I could have a proper punishment. I submissively took out the horrible overflowing bags of trashed when I was done being dragged around by my father, but actually found myself thankful to have a task at hand. It was a relief to concentrate on something other than how I had disgraced my family and been punished, and I was thankful to have the time alone to do it.

That evening, my friends didn’t say anything as I said goodbye and piled into the van. They were completely cool about it all, and my parents seemed to have completely forgiven me since I had paid the price for my poor decision. I completely forgot about it all until the following week when I did the dishes as I was told. And the week after that I obediently washed them as well. The third week, and second to last week of my chore, I wasn’t quite so compliant.

During dinner a small food fight broke out between Zac, Parker and I. It wasn’t anything major, but we ended up shoving cake in each other’s faces and getting smashed cake all over the table. A cup of chocolate milk was accidentally spilled on the table and our half-way finished tacos had been knocked onto the floor. In essence, our table was a mess and we were not exactly motivated to clean it up. The room was loud and busy though so we just picked up our drinks and moved to another open table, joining another group of friends at their mess-free table. We thought we had gotten away with our mess when a woman we had never recognized tapped me on the shoulder.

“Excuse me, did you boys leave that mess there?”

I looked over at the table that she was pointed at to see it was still covered in our crap.

“No, that wasn’t us,” I lied. Stupid, I know, but it seemed like the obvious and easiest answer at the time.

“I saw you three boys get up and leave that table a pig sty. I suggest the three of you get some rags and throw that garbage out.”

I had no clue who the woman was, so naturally, I didn’t take her very seriously. I knew she couldn’t have known my parents as she didn’t seem to know my name and I had never seen her before in my life. I looked at Zac and Parker who were then listening in on the conversation but they looked just as confused as me.

“We will in a bit,” I sighed. Again, laziness. That and I resented the fact that this stranger was butting into our lives and telling us what to do. We had parents to do that.

“You will now. There is no reason you cannot clean that up now,” she demanded.

Zac, Parker, and I were shocked by her audacity to tell us what to do! Perhaps if we had known her it would have been a different story, but we were only used to our parents and friends’ parents telling us what to do, not strange elderly women!

“If you want it clean so badly,” Parker mumbled, “Clean it yourself.”

Zac and I were shocked by his statement, but nonetheless impressed by his cleverness.

“There are rags underneath the sink in the kitchen,” I smirked at her.

She narrowed her eyes at the three of us, debating exactly what to say. Finally, all she could come up with was, “Where are your parents?”

“None of your business,” Parker replied, widening his eyes as he saw my father watching the woman scold us from across the room. It was obvious from her actions that she was angry, and it was clear by our smirks that we were being disrespectful. He was in the middle of a conversation with another father, otherwise he probably would have rushed to the scene quicker.

Parker nudged me and the three of us stood up. Then, without even discussing it, we fled from the room. Although at first we were just speed walking, as we turned the cover to exit the fellowship hall our walking turned into running, and before we knew it we were sprinting for the sanctuary. Zac pulled the door open and we all raced in, looking for a safe place to hide from my probably furious father.

“Dad is going to kill us for running away!” Zac gasped as we ran for the stairs to the balcony.

“Maybe he’ll at least have time to blow off some steam!” Parker said.

That was when my father burst into the sanctuary looking for us, we ducked, and then finally had to make our presence known and stand before him. As I stood there and reflected on my punishment two weeks earlier, and my disobedience that evening, I realized just how testy I had become.

A year before I would have never thought about running away from my father. Just a single warning look from him could have caused me to fall to my knees and beg for mercy. But here I was disrespecting adults left and right and then running from my furious parents! My parents were always blaming our trouble and disobedience on the changes that had happened in our lives- the fame we had found and traveling that consumed our lives. ‘You boys are developing egos too large for your own good!’ they’d lecture. ‘Who do you think you are these days?’ they’d cry. As I examined my behavior, the more and more I began to wonder if my parents were right.

“Why am I so angry?!” My father snapped, snapping me out of my recollecting and forcing me to look at him and focus on the situation, “One of you better answer now!”

“How much did that lady tell you…” Zac squeaked. As soon as he said it, I wanted to shove the words back into his mouth and go back in time. My father wasn’t going to be happy.

“Oh are you asking how much you can get away with not telling me!?” My father shouted.

Zac shrunk and dropped his shoulders, “I… no sir.”

“What happened back there exactly! Taylor!”

I sighed, looking down at my fidgeting hands and rocking back and forth in my tennis shoes, “Well… we made a mess of a table and then moved so we wouldn’t have to clean it up… and… ummm…”

“Keep going young man…”

“And… then this woman who we’ve never seen before came over and asked us to clean it up and we talked back and gave her attitude. Then we saw you… and ran.”

“Why did you run!”

I swallowed and looked up at him nervously, “Scared, I guess.”

He shook his head in disappointment, “You should be scared. You and Zac can expect a severe spanking when we get home. Parker, I intend to tell your father exactly what happened and if I know him as well as I think I do, I think you can expect the same from him.”

It was comforting at least to be with someone who understood the pain and embarrassment of spankings, and to not have to stand next to him humiliated. Even though he was spanked, and I was still spanked, it was still a bit embarrassing to have my father talk about it so openly. It was so easy usually to pretend neither of us was still punished like five-year-olds.

“I’m sorry, sir,” Parker sighed. He knew the drill just as well as we did.

My father led us from the sanctuary back to the fellowship hall that was loud and seemed oblivious to the trio of guilty looking boys towing behind the furious father. As we walked, I asked myself how I had gotten myself into the situation. Hadn’t I learned this same lesson two weeks earlier? Two weeks earlier I had been punished for disrespecting authority and not helping out after dinner. How had I committed the same offense so quickly? Not only as it completely shameful, but I reminded me just how painful my spanking would be because of the fact that I had done the same thing so recently.

“Peter,” my father said glumly as the three of us approached Parker’s father. “Parker has something to explain to you.”

We all stood there as Parker explained to his father what we had done and my father made sure to add in every possible offense.

“Who was the woman that reprimanded you?” Parker’s father asked.

We all pointed to the older woman who was then sitting at a table with other adults, talking and seeming to have forgotten the entire ordeal.

His father cleared his throat, “That is Pastor Joel’s mother from out of state.”

My father widened his eyes in shock and then turned and narrowed them at us. It was amazing how quickly the emotions could pass across his face.

Pastor Joel’s mother must have seen we were talking about her and now standing with our father, because she looked at us across the room and then rose to her feet. My heart jumped into my throat as he approached the sorry group of us- the three of us sorry for our doomed bottoms and our fathers sorry that they hadn’t raised more respectful sons.

“I see you found your boys,” she said as she approached the group.

“You said they were disrespectful and rude when you asked them to pick up the mess,” my father reiterated, “I’m sorry I ran off after them before you could expand, but I didn’t want to lose them. What exactly did they say to you ma’am?”

The three of us hung our heads and stared at the floor, preparing ourselves to have to experience our rude comments all over again.

“That one told me if I wanted it clean so bad, I should do it,” she said, pointing to Parker who’s father’s eyes flashed like my father’s often did. My dad even looked relieved his son was not the one who said that until she pointed to me and uttered, “And that one told me to go get a rag.”

I wanted the ground to open up and swallow me hole at that moment. My father’s eyes pierced into my skin and his jaw tightened in fury. I was in so much trouble.

“What do you have to say!” my father barked.

“I’m sorry!” I peeped, looking up at her, “I’m not usually like that… although lately I sort of have been… but I’m not usually, really. I’m so sorry.” v “Parker!” his father roared as well.

“We are so sorry for being so disrespectful. We are so, completely sorry…”

Zac just stood there hanging his head in shame, hoping he wouldn’t be asked to speak to, but my father cleared his throat and stared at him so Zac had no choice but to look up at her.

“I’m sorry, ma’am. I shouldn’t have ran from you or…”

“Parker and I instigated it, Dad,” I said, not wanting Zac to be in as much trouble as both Parker and I. We were the main culprits and while Zac hadn’t been an angel, he had done far less wrong than the two of us and I wanted to make sure my father knew that. “Zac just followed us but he didn’t say anything, I swear.”

Parker looked at me resentfully, not appreciative that I had turned he and I in as the bigger trouble makers, but as he only had sisters who were young, I supposed he didn’t exactly know what it was like to feel the responsibility to protect your siblings.

“These three are not usually like this,” Parker’s dad explained to the woman, “I don’t know what got into them, but I am very sorry for what happened.”

“I already told these two,” my father nodded at Zac and I, “That they will be spanked soundly for this. They will definitely be punished for their disrespect.”

“All three of them,” Parker’s father added, and Parker sighed.

“Well I’m glad to see they’re at least being brought up correctly!” the old woman said.

“We’re trying our best,” my father said, clearly distraught by my consistent trouble.

“I’m glad to hear you three will all be punished for this,” she said, turning to all of us but speaking to me as I was the one who had said the most to her. “I hope you straighten up from here on out.”

We all mumbled identical “yes ma’am”s and I didn’t think it could get any worse until she turned to my father and added, “Oh and this one tried to lie to me about it! He said the mess wasn’t theirs.”

My father looked exhausted from having to deal with me so much. He just sighed and nodded, “I’m so sorry ma’am. It will be dealt with, I promise.”

When she left the three of us just stood there fear-stricken running the possibilities of our punishment through our heads. Would we be spanked at home or at church? Would we get the belt? I think I must have been the most nervous as I knew how much more trouble I was in.

Parker’s father walked over to a table of empty chairs and lined three chairs up along the wall about five yards away from each other. Thank goodness he didn’t face them towards the wall, for that would have been humiliating, but the fact that we’d have to sit in the chairs so obviously being punished in front of the entire fellowship hall of people was embarrassing enough.

“Go sit down!” he barked at us, “No talking, no doing anything but sitting there.”

The three of us walked over to the chairs and fell into them, trying not to look at the people watching us but having no choice but to. Zac tried closing his eyes, but my father looked over at him and reprimanded, “Zachary, eyes open.”

I must have sat there for twenty minutes while my other friends would occasionally walk by and send us questioning looks. They knew better than to talk to us as it was clear we were being punished, but they sent us arched eyebrows and mouthed questions that we just couldn’t respond to. I directed my eyes at my angry father who was talking to some adults and my friends nodded understandably, but just went off to have fun without us. I almost died when Emily walked by and frowned in my direction. This was the second time that month she had seen me in trouble, and I was beginning to think I was looking quite pathetic in her eyes.

Finally my father came over and told me to go and start the dishes. I was actually relieved to be released from my spot in my chair, and felt bad for Zac and Parker who would probably have to sit there for another hour or so. The water was hot as I placed each dirty dish into the washer, and my hands hurt almost as much as I knew my bottom would when I eventually got spanked for the whole ordeal.

At one point Isaac walked by and stood close to me as I loaded a pot into the dishwasher. He whispered, “What in the world did you and Zac do?”

I sighed and slammed the dishwasher door closed, looking around nervously to make sure no adults saw the bang as a sign of defiance. The last thing I needed was more trouble.

“Talked back to some woman, made a mess, ran from Dad.”

“Ran from Dad?!”

“It was stupid. I know.”

“You ran from Dad, Taylor!?”

I sighed. Running away from punishment was one of the worst things you could do in my house. It was refusing to admit you’d done something wrong and my father considered it cowardly.

My father cleared his throat from the doorway and we both jumped.

“Isaac, Taylor is working silently right now. Go finish clearing tables.”

Isaac sent me a pitying look and nodded at our dad, slipping out of the kitchen before he could get himself into trouble as well.

“When you finish up the dishes, go sit back out there next to Zac and Parker,” he instructed.

I prolonged the final dishes, but finally had no choice but to join them again in the line of humiliation. They were still there. Parker was fiddling with the zipper on his jacket and Zac was staring off at a group of younger children running in circles around the room. They both looked bored to no end.

“Parker, Dad said to come and get you,” one of his younger sisters said as she walked over to him. “He said to come out to the car cause we’re leaving.”

He looked relieved to finally be able to get up. Before he followed his sister out of the room, he turned to us and mumbled, “Good luck. I’ll talk to you guys when I can, I guess.”

We nodded, knowing better than to reply. After a few more minutes our own family began to pack up. My mother dressed the little ones in scarves and mittens since the February air was freezing, and my father attempted to collect all our loose toys and jackets that had been scattered around the fellowship hall throughout the night. We always left so much at church.

“Boys, get your coats on!” My father finally yelled over to us. We both jumped up obediently and found our jackets, joining the massive group of people that consisted of our family. My mother handed the baby off to Isaac and walked closely next to my father as we all trailed out to the car. Zac and I looked at each other nervously, both aware that they were talking about us and our punishment. The mood of the family was quiet and somber like it always is when someone is in a lot of trouble. It’s out of respect, I suppose. Only tonight both Zac and I were going home to be spanked, so everyone was especially nervous.

When we arrived home, my brothers and sisters were sent to their bedrooms to get dressed for bed and brush their teeth. Usually Zac and I would have been told to join them, but my father told us to stay in the living room after we’d taken our jackets off. I prayed my father would at least punish us in his bedroom like usual. My parents were usually quite private about spankings, unless they were really furious. When my father brought the hairbrush into the living room and set it down on the coffee table, I knew we were not going to be that lucky.

He nodded at the couch and we both sat down immediately. We knew exactly what behavior was expected.

“I’m going to punish you both for leaving a mess at that table, refusing to clean it up, and running from me. It makes me sick to my stomach to think that the church has all of us for dinner every week, and my children show their gratitude, or apparently lack there of, by trashing the place! How could you? How could you show such little respect for the church you’ve been raised in? And how immature!” He gasped, “You’re 12 and 14 years old! Taylor, you’re almost 15! Don’t you think it’s about time you start taking responsibility for your actions?”

“Yes,” I croaked.

“It’s not even the fact that you immaturely caused a little food fight! That’s not even the issue! I probably wouldn’t have so much as reprimanded if you if you had immediately gotten rags and brooms and cleaned it all up. It’s the fact that you tried to be sneaky and leave the mess for someone else to clean up! That’s LAZY! That’s absolutely spoiled and lazy! If this is what your career is going to turn you into…”

“Dad, why is it always about our career?” I said. I knew I shouldn’t have, but I was so tired of putting my career on the line any time I did something wrong. My parents were constantly threatening to take it away that it just became physically exhausting.

“Because that is exactly what is causing all of this!”

“Couldn’t...” I began to speak, but shook my head knowing I shouldn’t argue.

“What is it?”

“Nothing.”

“You can say it. I won’t be angry unless it’s rude.”

I wet my lips and took a deep breath, “Couldn’t it just be that we ARE 12 and 14? We are teenagers. Teenagers are rebellious and that doesn’t justify it but… Parker did the same thing and Parker isn’t famous! Maybe it’s just how the age goes…”

“Isaac wasn’t this disrespectful at this age.”

I sighed, “Well Isaac never seems to mess up.”

Zac nodded agreeably. Isaac always seemed to be the model child. I suppose he felt he had to be because of his role as the oldest.

“Maybe I’m wrong then! You’re probably right that your age has something to do with it, but I don’t think the attitude would be this bad if you weren’t letting all of your success go to your heads. In the past year I’ve seen your behavior go from good to embarrassing.”

Zac and I both sunk down in the couch. We hated when our parents told us how embarrassing our behavior was. It was a big slap in the face for the both of us.

“The point is, what you did is inexcusable. Show a little respect for the ideals you were raised with and practice what we taught you for once!”

Zac and I both nodded. He was right. They’d spent over a decade teaching us right from wrong, and it seemed in the past year alone we had thrown so much of it out the window. Whether it was from the fame or just the testy age in our lives, it didn’t matter. We DID know better.

“Taylor, after your spanking for this you’ll come with me into the bedroom because you and I have a lot more to deal with.”

It took all the courage and self-control to nod at him instead of protesting. I was scared. I didn’t think I could handle what he had planned for me. It was going to be bad- very bad. I knew that much.

He sat down in one of the leather chairs in our living room and cleared his throat, “Taylor, come over here.”

It was rare that I went before Zac, as Zac was the youngest and usually punished first and the least severely. Somehow I had a feeling just because I was going first it would have nothing to do with the severity of my spanking. I walked with trembling legs over to my father and stood in front of him as he reached out and undid my pants. I closed my eyes to escape it all. As he pulled me down over his knees, picked up the brush, and bared my bottom, I could see the legs of my siblings walking in and out of the room. I hated the fact that they would be able to see parts of my spanking, and that Zac would have to watch it all. It didn’t matter that he’d be spanked too; it was just as embarrassing.

The first spank wasn’t so bad, to be honest. It’s always bad, but I could tell as my father spanked me more his force increased and each time the brush hit my bottom it hurt more and more. After ten hard spanks I was in tears, thrashing in his lap and trying to find a place to escape to in my mind. My bottom heated up with each additional spank. After he’d hit me 50 times, my bottom felt redder than a fire hydrant. He released me and told me to get up, to which I scrambled to my feet thankfully.

“Pull your pants up and calm down,” he instructed, “You’re going to need to save some of those tears for your next punishment.”

I felt so angry at him for saying that! As if I wasn’t humiliated and upset enough! I wouldn’t let myself show my anger though. I just pulled up my pants, wiped my face with my sleeve, and tried to muffle my sobs.

“Zac, come over here. Taylor, go splash water on your face and wait in my bedroom.”

As I walked to the bathroom, I could see tears beginning to fall down Zac’s face too as he stood in front of my father and submitted to his spanking just like I had. I hid in the bathroom for a good two minutes rinsing my face and trying to calm down. When I left I caught an eye of the end of Zac’s spanking. He was flailing and crying, holding onto my father’s legs and pleading miserably.

“I don’t do it again, Daddy, I promise,” he said between sobs, “Please stop, please stop…”

I knew I was part of the reason he was getting spanked. Sure, Zac’s 12 and responsible for his own decisions, but I knew he was trying to keep up with Parker and I, and surely wouldn’t have been so disobedient if we hadn’t set that example for him. I felt a tinge of guilt flow through my body as I went into my parents’ room and closed the door, hoping to block out the sounds of my brother’s spanking. It was impossible, and it made me painfully aware of just how much my siblings had heard my own punishment just minutes earlier.

When I heard the spanking cease, I could even hear Zac’s apologetic babbling. “I’m sorry I embarrassed you Dad… I really am… I love you too…” He said through tears. A chill ran through my body just knowing that when my father came in to deal with me, everyone else would be able to hear the same thing.

The door opened and my father stepped in a few moments later. He walked in holding his belt at his side and I sunk down in the chair I was sitting in. He could see the fear in my eyes.

“Stand up.”

I couldn’t do it. My bottom hurt too much and I was too scared! I just couldn’t do it! I wanted to stand up, but my feet wouldn’t move and my brain wouldn’t work. I was paralyzed.

“You got yourself into this mess, and now you’re going to get the punishment you earned! Stand up right now, Jordan Taylor!”

I still couldn’t do it! I could cry. I did cry. But stand up? My feet were frozen to the ground and my bottom glued to the chair.

My father stomped over to me with wide angry steps and grabbed my ear, yanking me so I was standing. I yelped and swatted at his hand naturally, but he reached around and gave me angry swat on the seat of my pants that shut me up. When I stopped fighting, he let go of my ear.

“When I tell you to do something, you do it!” he yelled. I didn’t know if I had ever seen him so angry. Usually he was quite calm when he punished us, but I supposed I had pushed enough of his buttons. I couldn’t acknowledge him. I just stood there and continued to weep. I was making such a fool of myself, but I couldn’t seem to stop.

“I’m so mad at what you did today! Everything! The lying, the disrespect, the running away, the fact that you could not even own up to what you did! And you still can’t!”

“Yes I can,” I managed to squeak.

“If you were owning up to your wrong doings you would have rose to your feet when I walked in here!”

“I’m scared,” I replied as a sob shuddered through my body.

“I don’t care how scared you are, Taylor! I do not mean to sound callous, but you should be scared! You have earned yourself a harsh punishment and you should be scared, but the fact that you just ignored me when I walked in tells me that you don’t care!”

“I do care! But you don’t understand…” I fought. Ignoring him hadn’t gone over well, so I tried to explain myself.

“What don’t I understand?”

“That it’s hard to be perfect! And we get in trouble for anything wrong that we do and it’s so hard to not do bad things because there’s so many temptations everyday and…”

“You should be punished for all the wrong things you do! In fact, your mother and I often let way too much slide.”

I let out a sob and looked at him, desperate for some pity, “Didn’t you ever mess up when you were a kid? Don’t you remember how easy it is to mess up?”

“Of course I messed up. And I was spanked accordingly every time!”

“Probably not as bad as you’re going to spank me,” I groaned, wiping at the tears and rubbing my eyes.

My father laughed a laugh that scared me. It was an angry laugh- nothing like his usual laugh, “I was spanked far worse than you are.”

I shook my head and uttered through tears, “Somehow I doubt that…”

I shouldn’t have said it, but I just wanted him to be easy on me! I wanted to lessen the punishment! I wanted to relieve myself of SOME of the spanking. I thought maybe, just maybe, if he could remember how hard it can be sometimes to be a kid he would be a bit more forgiving. But my statements had clearly backfired, and he looked even more furious if that was even possible.

He grabbed my arm and yanked me closer to him which caused me to drop my hands from my face and look right at him. “Do you want to know how I was spanked as a child?”

“Okay…” I said stupidly. I could have never anticipated the events to come, otherwise I would have told him absolutely not.

He held the belt under his arm and dug his fingers into my bicep, dragging me from his bedroom. I panicked hoping he wasn’t about to bring me into the living room in front of everyone for yet another spanking. What happened was far worse. He dragged me through the living room and over to the front door, pushing it open angrily and pulling me outside. The air was so cold it felt like the tears on my cheeks froze as soon as we stepped outside.

“Where are we going?” I gasped as he dragged me down the front steps.

I looked around frantically, at least relieved to see no one out walking their dog or working in their yard. Fortunately, the houses on our street have a lot of woods in between and a lot of privacy. He dragged me around to the back of the house and marched me over to the wood shed where we kept our new dirt bikes. Only that day they weren’t in the shed. They were all lined up outside since we had used them after class that afternoon. I gasped in horror as he pulled open the door to the shed and pulled me inside with him.

He put his hands on my shoulders and glared at me. He was enraged. I could tell. He took a big breath and said, “You stand here and wait for me to come back. I am so furious with you right now… I’ve always promised myself I wouldn’t spank you when I was furious. I’ll be back in three minutes and you can be assured you will be spanked soundly for all the nonsense I’ve put up with today.”

He tossed the belt on the ground and let go of me, storming out of the shed. I stood there in the dark completely confused by the entire situation. My father was really going to punish me the old fashioned way. As if spanking wasn’t dated enough, he was actually going to give me a real trip to the woodshed like I’d heard adults remember about their childhoods. I broke down in tears, sobbing and pitying my poor tender bottom that was already throbbing from the spanking inside. I debated running, but I knew I was in the situation I was in because of running in the first place. There was absolutely nothing to do but stand there and sob. I did my best to calm myself down, and by the time my father came back I was merely whimpering as I tried my best to keep myself under control.

“I’m sorry daddy, I’m sorry. Please don’t do this. Can Mom spank me? Please take me inside. I don’t want to know. I understand now, I do. I’m sorry Dad, I’m so sorry,” I began rambling at a fast pace as he picked the belt up off the floor.

“Perhaps after this you will see that your mother and I could be a lot more strict, and that you ought to feel fortunate that we give you some room to falter every now and then,” he said, clearing his throat and nodding at me. “Take your pants down, Taylor.”

I couldn’t control myself. I let out a sob again and I meant to take down my pants, but I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t concentrate on anything except for how scared I was and what a horrible experience it at all. How far did I have to go back in time to have eliminated this situation? Was the food fight the straw that broke the camel’s back, or was it talking back? Perhaps I could have avoided it all if I hadn’t ran away from him. He must ahve understand my paralyzing fear because he reached out and undid my pants himself. He didn’t scold me for not listening to him.

“Turn and put your hands on the wall,” he said quietly.

I looked him in the face and begged him for mercy with my miserable eyes, “I’m scared….”

He nodded, “I know you are, but you need to do it anyway even if you’re scared. You earned this.”

Somehow the understanding in his voice and the fact that he had been here too many many years before comforted me and coaxed me to turn around and do as I was told. I squeezed my eyes closed and put my hands up onto the wall as I felt him bare my backside.

I heard the whip of the belt before it even hit me, and gasped in fear as it came down against my already flaming bottom. It hurt more than I could have imagined. The entire situation was just so horrible. I actually contemplated what I would have preferred at that moment. If given the opportunity to die rather than finish off my punishment, I might have actually chosen death I was so miserable. I saw no light at the end of the tunnel. As the belt came down on me over and over and stung my backside time and time again, I thought it might not ever end. I wanted so badly to reach around and protect my bottom with my hands, but I knew better. I just wanted it to end, and that would just prolong it all so I stood there and took each smack. After about 15 spanks with the belt, I finally heard it drop to the floor. By this time I was hysterical- crying and squeezing my eyes closed. I hardly even noticed it was over, but my father took me gently by the shoulders and turned me around to face him. I couldn’t look at his face. I was too ashamed.

“When I was your age, it would have been far worse. Until I was 18 years old in fact! I was expected to take it more calmly and crying hysterically did not go over well with my father. There were no hugs, and I must have gotten twice the spanking you got. I hated it just as much as you did, Taylor, but eventually I began to learn my lesson and I usually behaved myself. That was only half as bad as what I got when I Was a kid, but I think you get the point,” he said, trying to look at my face to figure out my emotions.

I finally looked up at him and nodded through sobs, “I’ll never do any of that again. I promise, Dad. I’m done with being disrespectful.”

He smiled at my words and pulled me close to him, wrapping me into a tight hug and rubbing my back in comforting circles. “I can tell you are.”

We stood that way for awhile until my crying had started to cease. When I was only whimpering, he patted my back gently and said, “Get yourself composed and let’s go inside and get ready for bed.”

I did as I was told immediately, just thankful to have his forgiveness and love again. As we walked out of the shed together I looked up at it and said, “I never want to go in there like that again.”

“If your promise keeps, I don’t think you ever will have to. It’s the disrespect that gets me, Taylor. You know that. It’s the way you handle what you do wrong, not the actual wrong-doing most of the time.”

I nodded and wiped my face, walking around the front of the house wincing with every step. As we stepped into the house, my siblings sitting in the living room looked at me shocked. I could only imagine what they were thinking. I saw my mother in the kitchen and hurried right over to her, wrapping my arms around her body and hugging her tightly. She could tell I was still pretty upset from it all. I wondered if she approved of what my father did. She didn’t hesitate to let me know.

“Have you learned your lesson?” She said, running her fingers through my hair. I nodded. “Your father was hoping you would. I hope this is the end of a long bad streak for you Taylor. This winter your behavior has just been out of control. I really hope this sets you straight.”

I nodded again and let her rock me back and forth as we stood there in the kitchen. I didn’t care that I was 14 years old and looked ridiculous standing there being comforted by my mother. I needed it.

“Why don’t you get into pajamas and crawl into bed? I’m sure you’re exhausted.”

“I’m sorry Mom…” I sighed.

“What for?”

I stepped back and looked at her in the eye, “For always thinking your punishments unfair. I’m sorry.”

She nodded and stepped close to me again, kissing my forehead, “Go get ready for bed.”

After I’d stripped down to boxers and crawled under the covers, I heard quiet crying from Zac who was laying in the bed next to me.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

He cleared his throat and replied, “I just hate when we get into that much trouble. It’s not fair. I don’t understand why we’re still spanked. Why can’t we just be grounded like most other kids in the world.”

I bite my lip and laid on my stomach, considering his question, “Because Mom and Dad care more than most parents. And we’re really not that old Zac. Did you know Dad was spanked until he was 18?”

“How do you know?”

“He told me. He told me a lot. He knows how much we hate spankings, trust me. But he knows sometimes it’s the only thing we’ll respond to, I think at least.”

Isaac wandered into the room in the middle of the conversation and stood in the middle of the room looking at us in the dark.

“Taylor, what happened with Dad? Why did he take you outside?”

I sighed and pulled the covers over my head. I didn’t want to recount the terrible experience, but I knew I had no choice. I needed to get it off my chest even.

“He was just going to give me an additional spanking in his room for… well I did a lot more that Zac didn’t do. I lied and talked back to that lady and everything…”

“But…?”

I sighed, “But I challenged him some more. I told him his punishments aren’t fair. I told him he couldn’t understand.”

Isaac sat down on the foot of my bed.

“And he took me outside….”

Zac had stopped crying and was sitting up in his bed listening to every word I said. I hoped he would be thankful that all he got was a shorter spanking with the brush.

“And took me into the shed, and gave me the belt. He said that’s how he was punished when he was my age, only far worse.”

Isaac and Zac both gasped as I told the story. Nothing had ever happened like that to them before.

“I guess we know better than to question Dad’s punishments…” Isaac muttered, “Was it bad?”

“It was the worst time of my entire life. It was horrible. I hated every second of it. But you know what? I told Dad I’m done disrespecting, and he believes me. And I mean it too. I mean it this time. You can hold me to it I really want to be better now, Isaac,” I sighed.

“You always say that…”

“This time I really, really mean it. I never want to make Dad that angry ever again that I find myself out there again.”

Isaac widened his eyes in fear, “But if he sees that it worked on you… what is he going to start doing to Zac and I?”

I smiled into my pillow, “I wouldn’t worry about that for you at least. You never do anything half as bad as me. Zac on the other hand….”

“No way!” Zac yelped in fear, “I wouldn’t have gone! I wouldn’t have gone outside at all! I would have said no way that’s not fair!”

I sighed, “That’s just the thing. No punishment is unwarranted. All of Mom and Dad’s punishments are fair, and you know, they could be a lot harder on us. Grandpa was on Dad.”

Isaac shook his head- utterly shocked, “I cannot believe Dad actually gave you your first trip to the wood shed…”

“My last,” I nodded.

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