Despite my immediate relief that I was not going to get spanked right then and there in front of everyone, I knew that my lot had been cast. I was under the microscope now, and there would be no leniency at all about anything for the rest of the week. Part of me wondered if it was all really worth it – maybe it would just be better to cut my losses and get the inevitable over with. There was little doubt in my mind, considering my current restless, agitated state, that I would be spanked, and spanked hard, before the week was over. But somehow I couldn’t submit just yet. I was well aware that I was living on borrowed time, but I was also still holding out some vague hope of reprieve. Foolish boy that I am.
The concert went well that night and I was even well behaved all the next day. But I couldn’t get myself totally back under control. I was looking for trouble in some way. I could feel it. My parents had me practically under house arrest and I was getting nearer and nearer to blowing. I craved some sort of cathartic release from the tension I was feeling.
My mom had taken my phone on Saturday and it was now only Wednesday. Not good. Every time I saw Ike or Zac talking on their cell phones I just wanted to scream. Earlier that day I had seen my mother take my phone out of her purse to look for something, then put it back again. Once I had proof where it was I began to hatch a plan to snatch it when she wasn’t looking. Her purse is more like an oversized carry-all filled with tons of stuff, given there are seven kids and all, and I convinced myself she wouldn’t even notice that it was missing. I’d only keep it for a short while anyway – just long enough to get my fix of phone calls in – then I’d slip it right back. Seemed like a workable scheme at the time.
I didn’t dare let myself consider the ramifications of the actual act of going into my mother’s private personal belongings and taking something from there without asking – especially something I was specifically forbidden to have. That was a transgression that was so completely unacceptable as to be nearly unthinkable, and I knew it. I think a part of me just figured “in for a penny, in for a pound.” I was getting desperately careless by that point.
I started watching her like a hawk to see when she’d leave her bag unattended. I almost got up the nerve several times, but chickened out at the last minute. Now, in addition to my nervous tension, I was getting really pissed off at myself for being such a wuss. I was on a steep, slippery slope to trouble and I was quickly picking up momentum.
By the time I finally got up the nerve I wasn’t thinking very clearly anymore. That’s the only reason I can fathom for being so reckless. The very next time I saw the opportunity arise I just went for it. We were all in a restaurant having lunch. I was sitting next to Mom – she’d made sure of that. That’s how it had been all week. She knew she could keep a better handle on me if I was within arm’s reach.
Well, when she got up to take Zoe to the bathroom I saw my opportunity. I slipped my hand down under the table, felt around in her bag, and found my phone. I also found her hairbrush which she so conveniently kept in there. I shuddered at the potential implication but quickly stopped my mind from going down that path. I palmed the phone, then excused myself to go to the bathroom.
As Zac told me later, he’d been watching me the whole time and new exactly what I was doing. He said that when Mom came back from the restroom with Zoe she immediately asked where I’d gone. Zac said he’d tried to be as casual as he could when he said I’d gone to the bathroom too, but she just tightened her lips and shook her head ominously at him, letting him know he’d better not be trying to cover up for me. Then she’d checked her purse and discovered my theft. She pulled the hairbrush out, gave Zac a knowing look that he said gave him the chills, and then headed back to the bathrooms again.
I was standing in one of the stalls frantically trying to have a conversation with a friend when I heard the door open a crack and my mom’s voice, cold as steel, ask, “Taylor, are you in there?” Talk about chills. I froze. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up and I think my heart may even have stopped for a second.
I was silent for a moment, desperately trying to figure a way out of this mess. But I knew it was hopeless. I was done for. The jig was up. “Yes ma’am,” I answered weakly, my voice anything but calm.
“What are you doing?” she demanded angrily. It was a very pointed question considering where I was, so there was no doubt left in my mind that she already knew the answer.
I told my friend I had to go, then walked resigned and defeated toward the door. “Is there anyone else in there?” she asked next. I knew what that meant and I felt like I’d just been punched in the gut. “No ma’am,” I mumbled shakily, instinctively backing away from the door once again.
She was in there in a flash and had me up against the wall. “You are in serious trouble, young man!” she hissed. The whole scene was so completely reminiscent of the one on the bus a few days back that I was rendered speechless. “Turn around,” she ordered. I meekly complied. She wouldn’t take my pants down in here at least, would she? “Oh god,” I groaned silently, and buried my face in my hands. I hadn’t noticed the hairbrush so to say I was stunned by the first smack would be a huge understatement. She then flailed away at the seat of my jeans a dozen or more times before giving up. Apparently the job wasn’t getting done the way she wanted it. Still, I was taken down more than a few notches by it. I wasn’t immune to any of her ministrations no matter how much worse I knew they could be.
“We’ll continue this on the bus,” she stated furiously. “And I’m sure your father will have more than a little to say about this, don’t you think?”
“Yes, ma’am,” I gulped, trying to regain some composure before having to face anyone again. She turned and left the room and I followed like a frightened puppy with its tail between its legs. I knew I had no choice.
Once back at the table she simply stated that “Taylor is in serious trouble and needs to be dealt with right now, so we need to finish up quickly.” I stood there dumbfounded, my bottom tingling and my face glowing bright red and radiating generous amounts of heat. No one made a sound while the bill was paid and everyone’s stuff was gathered. I was growing increasingly panicky.
When we were all back on the bus a family meeting was called in the back room and I was made to stand front and center and admit to all I’d done. Stealing, lying, deceitfulness, violating my mother’s things, deliberately disobeying, etc. The list seemed endless. I was then made to give a complete account of the severe spanking my dad had given me only five days earlier. And when I skipped any pertinent details – which I tried to do several times out of sheer embarrassment - I was quickly warned, in no uncertain terms, not to do that again. My parents wanted me not only to vividly recount that whole awful experience but to suffer through it all over again too – and this time in front of everyone. Basically I was being held up as the resident family poster boy for bad behavior, and for what could happen to any one of them if they didn’t learn to behave either. I knew I deserved it all, but that didn’t make it any easier. All those pitying looks. Oh god, I would gladly have just disappeared forever at that moment.
I’m not exactly sure what actually came out of my mouth – I was way too overcome with humiliation and fear to think clearly – but apparently it got the point across. My siblings were staring at me with a strange mixture of shock, sympathy, confusion and disgust. How had I strayed so far from the right path, they seemed to be asking – especially after having had such a serious spanking administered to my behind so recently? I wish I knew. I had zero clue - just the old worn-out, limp excuse that “I couldn’t seem to stop myself.”
Finally, the moment had come. As I watched my mother set out a chair, pick up the hairbrush and take a seat, I sucked in a deep breath and held it. Then she ordered me to take down my pants. In my mind I was desperately begging her, “Please Mom, please don’t do this in front of everyone. Please, can’t we do this in private?” But I didn’t say anything. I knew it was futile. I swallowed hard but I don’t think I ever did exhale. At least I don’t remember doing it.
I did as I was told. Anything else would have been nothing short of a death wish at that point. My fingers were trembling so badly I could barely work the button on the waistband, but I forced myself to get through it. As I slid my jeans down my legs I closed my eyes tightly, trying hard to pretend I was invisible. The wave of shame that washed over me took what was left of my breath away.
My mother pointed at her lap and I lowered myself, red-faced, over her knees. She pulled my underwear down in back and the cool air that wafted over my warm skin gave me the chills. I shuddered. It was the last clear thought I had.
Mom spanked me really hard and long. Believe me, I know. I have tons of experience to compare it to. I’m an expert actually. Sad as that is. And I hate that damn hairbrush. I really and truly do. I groaned and gasped and squirmed around frantically the whole time trying to avoid its stinging smacks, but it did no good. It never does. I didn’t fight her at all though. I held onto the legs of the chair with all I had, refusing to let go at all cost. I knew I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands from interfering with her efforts if I did. And I was in enough trouble for two lifetimes already. I didn’t need any more.
I kept my head down and gritted my teeth. I don’t know how many spanks she gave me – Zac told me later that it had to be nearly a hundred. That may be true – or it could have just been Zac exaggerating to make me feel better about the pathetic display I put on. All I know is I just shut my mind down and tried to bare it. And it was absolutely awful. Mom did herself proud. It was maybe the worst spanking she’d ever given me - and if not the worst, it certainly ranked way up there. I was panting and limp with exhaustion when she finally stopped. I didn’t feel the usual sense of relief at that moment either. I had a bad feeling that it wasn’t over for me just yet.
My mother pulled my underpants back over my burning cheeks and told me to stand up. I pushed myself painfully off her lap only to watch, stunned and speechless, as she rose from the chair and my dad took her place. I whimpered. That was about all I could muster. Dad grabbed my left arm and pulled me right back down - over his knees this time. I’d barely had time to get my balance. Now it was starting all over again.
I didn’t seem to be in control of what was coming out of my mouth anymore. I heard my own pitiful voice beg, “Please Daddy, no more,” as I tried to catch my breath to prepare for what was about to happen. But I simply couldn’t do it. Dad yanked my underwear back down, then raised his hand and brought it crashing onto my sizzling bottom with such force it knocked the wind right out of my lungs – along with a plaintive wail as well. That first smack was all it took to break me. I dissolved completely at that point and started sobbing wholeheartedly. I couldn’t take it. Both my hands went back behind me to try and protect my poor flaming backside from his angry assault. Dad didn’t miss a beat though. He just pinned my wrists to my back and kept on spanking me, harder now it seemed, if that were even possible. He was beyond furious and the searing pain of the spanking he was giving me demonstrated that fact loudly and clearly.
I finally found my voice, choked though it was, and began to beg in earnest. “Please (spank) Daddy, (spank) please. (spank) Ohhh! (spank) I’ll do (spank) anything. (spank) Owww! (spank) I (spank) will. (spank) Owww! (spank) I (spank) promise. (spank) Ohhhhh! (spank) I’ll (spank) be good. (spank) I (spank) will. (spank) I’ll do (spank) whatever (spank) you say. (spank) Whatever (spank) you (spank) tell me (spank). Ohhh! (spank) Pleease. (spank) Pleeease. (spank) Pleeease (spank) stop! (spank) No (spank) more. (spank) I (spank) can’t (spank) take it. (spank) Pleease.
By then I had relinquished whatever shred of pride or dignity I had left and completely succumbed. When I could get no lower, I experienced a weird sensation – a sudden and nearly overwhelming wave of relief. It crashed over me like a tsunami. I immediately felt strangely and indescribably empty - released somehow from my guilt. It was liberating and cleansing and, odd as it may seem, I was profoundly grateful. What amazed me even more, however, is that Dad seemed to recognize this shift almost instantly and he, just as quickly, stopped spanking me. Just like that it was over.
I lay there over his knees for several moments trying to slow my breathing and crying. Dad was attempting to get himself calmed as well. Eventually - I really don’t know how much time passed - he released my hands and pulled my underwear back up. Then he helped me to stand. I was lightheaded and dizzy and almost staggered backwards. He grabbed me quickly and turned to the gathered group. “Okay, that’s all for now,” he said. “You can all go about your business. Taylor needs to rest for a bit.” I was shocked. He had never said anything like that after a spanking before.
With remarkable gentleness he helped me pull up my pants and walk to my bunk. I crawled in on my belly and gave him a thankful but confused look. He just said, “You can rest for a little while. You will still need to do your cornertime, but that can wait.” I didn’t know what to say so I just nodded and buried my face in my pillow as Dad pulled the curtains shut.
I stayed there like that for probably about half an hour, until Zac and Ike came over to see how I was doing. A few minutes later my mom appeared and said I had to get up now and go stand in the corner. She wasn’t so angry anymore – just kind of resigned. Rules were rules and she wasn’t about to bend them for me when I had behaved so badly for so many days. She also said that after I finished my cornertime she and Dad were going to have a long talk with me about my behavior. I sighed sadly, but I understood and didn’t balk. Instead I just nodded, then dragged myself out of bed, wincing at every movement, and limped to the corner she indicated.
And here I stand, like I said, feeling like an idiot, my face to the wall and my backside totally on fire, staggering around trying to keep my balance and appear nonchalant at the same time, all under the watchful eyes of my whole family. And for the second time this week! I’m totally dreading the lecture I still have to endure too. I have no doubt it’ll be just about as blistering as the spankings I got. And all over a stupid cell phone. Yeah, my parents sure know how to make me squirm - and regret my behavior. God, I sure hope, I really do, that I don’t find myself in this pathetic position again soon. Maybe never. Now that would be good.