Yes Daddy

The two biggest mistakes of my life happened when I was a teen. The first mistake was that I stole a pretty expensive jacket from a designer store. The second was that I stole a pretty expensive jacket from a designer store whilst having Glenn Harlow as my father.

Now, you’re probably wondering who Glenn Harlow is. He’s not some famous guy that everyone knows or anything like that, not unless you live in a very small town in Ohio, anyway, but my dad was the proudest, sternest, most ruthless man I had ever known, and when those alarms sounded and a security guard’s hand closed around my shoulder, I knew that my life was about to be ripped apart, right before my very eyes.

As I sat on a cold chair in the back office, the security guard gave me two options. He’d either call the police or call my parents, and when I begged him to call the police, he smirked at me and called my dad.

It was a painfully small town, and with that, comes the unfortunate fact that everybody knows everybody. Perhaps the security guard thought he was doing me some type of favour by keeping the police out of it, but I would have spent a year in prison rather than deal with my dad.

I would have pissed my pants if my bladder had allowed it. The fear that I felt whilst sitting in that chair was up there with the worst I’d ever felt before. Some people might think that the fear was worse than the actual punishment, but those people would be wrong.

He arrived and spoke briefly to the security guard. I could see the fury in his eyes, but my father was a very private man, so I knew that I wouldn’t feel his full wrath until we returned home.

He paid for the item that I stole, which I found quite strange. It was over one hundred bucks, so to simply throw the money away was unnerving, but my father never did anything without reason, so I knew there was method to his madness.

He didn’t say a word to me. My father simply beckoned me out of the chair with a simple bend of his finger, and I followed with my heart in my mouth.

I remember looking back and seeing the sweat marks on the chair from the dread. I shook violently as I uttered a heartfelt apology to the security guard who smiled and said “it’s alright, son. You’ll know the next time”. But it wasn’t alright.

We drove in complete silence, though I’m sure he heard my heart exploding in my chest. When we finally reached the house, I felt like I was going to throw up. I’d never been properly punished by the man before, but something told me that that was about to change, drastically.

I followed him inside, and he didn’t need to tell me to continue following him to his bedroom. We both knew that I hadn’t simply gotten away with my fatal mistake.

“One hundred and twenty nine dollars” he said as he closed the door behind us, locking me in the room. “That is what you owe me”.

I had no money. I had no way to get money, but he knew that.

“You will work it off” he continued, his jaw clenched and his voice, stern, “one dollar a day, and after one hundred and twenty nine days you will have paid off your debt”.

I was shaking too hard to stop it. I simply stood there, staring at the floor and praying that he’d make me get a job in McDonald’s or something, but it wouldn’t be so simple.

“Undress” he said, and although that might sound strange coming from a father to his teenage son, I knew that the man wasn’t above humiliating me to tears.

I did as I was told because to not, would have been horribly foolish, and when I stood before him in my underpants, he leaned forward and pulled them down.

Being naked in front of him was gut wrenching, but it wouldn’t be the worst of it. I knew that, and he knew that.

“Bend over, hold your ankles, and if I hear a single word, we’ll start over”.

I wanted to puke. I was quite sure that if I had have had a full stomach, I would have puked, but instead I obeyed, because I had no other choice.

Holding my own ankles and looking at myself completely naked as my father took off his belt, brought me to tears before the pain did. I sobbed quietly and heard the snap of the leather in his hand before it lashed against my backside.

I hissed air through my teeth as a second one followed quickly. The pain became sharper and more vicious with each lash of his belt until I was sure that the skin had broken.

My father beat me with the belt until he physically couldn’t continue. His face was probably the same colour as my ass, and I had endured so much pain that I fell, face first onto the floor, and woke shortly after.

I’d never passed out before, but trying to keep myself from screaming in agony had taken it out of me. The pain was so intense that even clenching my ass became blindly agonising.

It felt as though somebody was holding a flamethrower against the mottled, brutalised flesh of my bottom. I couldn’t even think, I was hurting so much, and then he reached down, took me by the ear, and dragged me back to my feet.

I was sure my poor ear would be severed from my head, and I bawled as I stood there, no longer worrying about my nudity in front of my father, and then I saw it.

A cruel looking instrument which had only one purpose now. It was a long, thick, wooden paddle that I hadn’t seen since I was younger. He’d never used it on me, but legend says that he hit my older brother with it once, and that’s why my mom divorced him.

“Dad, please” I cried, tears and snot pouring down my red cheeks, “I’ll be good! I promise I’ll be good!”

He pointed to the bed. My pleas did nothing to satisfy his appetite for misery, and I shuffled tenderly toward the edge of it and draped myself down.

“I raised you better than this, Jamie” he said, and with one thunderous blow, I shrieked.

The belt had done a number on me, but the paddle was like nothing I had ever known. I saw stars, my entire body seemed to tremble with the force of it, and when the pain finally hit, I gagged.

“For the next four months, you will be treated in a manner which befits your crime today”.

Another one, making me howl and beg, and do everything I could to make it stop. Naturally, my father had no issue with holding me in place.

“You have acted in a way that brings shame to this family”.

Smack.

“You have embarrassed me in front of others”.

Smack.

“You have disappointed yourself and you have disappointed me”.

Smack.

“And you have acted, not as a young man, but as a boy”.

Smack.

“Jesus, Dad, please!” I screamed, thrashing my legs as the horrors of hell washed over my excruciated body.

“Because of that, you will be treated like a boy”.

Smack.

“You will lose all privileges that I have granted you”.

Smack.

“You will have rules which you will follow to the letter”.

Smack.

“You will do what I say, when I say it and how I say it”.

Smack.

“And after four months, we will reevaluate your behaviour and consider loosening your restrictions”.

Smack.

I had screamed so much that my voice had become hoarse and croaky. Breathing was becoming increasingly difficult, and I was fully convinced that if the assault didn’t end soon, I would certainly die.

“Do I make myself clear, boy?” He asked, adding another. “Or shall I start again?”

“NO!” I sobbed, “it’s clear, it’s clear, oh god, it’s clear!”

“Good, now stand up straight” he ordered, and I wasn’t sure that I would physically be able to.

It felt like the skin on my ass had been peeled off and replaced with tight leather. Standing made me dizzy, but he held me in place between his legs as I wailed.

“When you begin to act like a man, you will be treated like a man” he informed me, “but until such a time, you will lose that privilege. Is that understood?”

“Y… Yes” I whimpered, rubbing my red eyes.

“Yes what?”

“Yes sir”.

“Stand in that corner with your hands on your head and your nose against the wall” he told me, and even though it was arguably more humiliating than being naked, I was in no position to argue.

Each step felt like torture, so I shuffled to my destination instead, and when I got there, I streaked the wall with my tears.

“Bottom up, young man!” He barked, and I wasn’t sure what he wanted me to do, but when I stuck my burning ass out a little, it seemed to suffice and he left the room.

Nothing I could do would stop the tears from falling. I regretted everything. I regretted the moment I woke up that morning. I regretted being stupid enough to think I’d get away with stealing, but most of all, I regretted getting caught.

Dad returned a few minutes later and sat on the bed. I hadn’t moved a single muscle since he’d left.

“Over here” he said sternly, and I sniffled, turned and covered myself as I limped back to him.

“Men have pubic hair” he told me, “you are not a man”.

He wore a pair of plastic gloves now, and I watched in horror as he squirted thick white cream from a bottle onto his palm and swatted my hands out of the way.

“Dad…” I cried, “please”.

“Another word from you” he growled, “and you’ll be back over that bed, is that understood?”

I squeezed my eyes shut as more tears fell, and nodded. “Yes sir”.

With one hand, my father lifted my penis and slathered my entire groin in the foul smelling cream. It hit me in the back of the throat and made me gag, but he added more and more and more of the stuff until I could barely see my skin.

“Turn around and bend over” he demanded, and for a moment I felt as though I’d pass out again, but I somehow managed to obey him.

“When you’ve earned the right to be a man” he said, sliding his gloved, cream coated finger between my damaged butt cheeks, “you will be allowed to grow this back. But until such time, you will remain hairless”.

The embarrassment had gone beyond words. My own father even seeing me like this was bad, but feeling him coating my most private area in cream was devastating.

“Hands on your head” he spat, turning me back around, and I did so whilst he layered more of the stuff on my armpits.

“Back in the corner, same position. I’ll call you when your bath is ready”.

Bath? I hadn’t had a bath since I was six years old, but I was exhausted, physically and emotionally, so I followed his orders and resumed my position in the corner.

Still, the tears flowed, and after at least ten minutes of sobbing gently, my dad called me and I shuffled from his bedroom, completely naked and doused in smelly cream, all the way to the bathroom where he sat on the edge of the toilet bowl.

“Get in” he said, pointing to it, “wash off the cream and clean yourself”.

I wanted to ask him to leave, but he stared at me with a strict coldness in his eyes, so I decided against it, and further added to my humiliation by getting into the warm bath.

“I… I can’t sit down” I wept, as my backside tipped the soapy water and almost made me scream.

“You can and you will” he replied harshly, “and whilst you’re sitting, you will think about what you have done to cause this”.

The entire room began to spin as I forced myself to sit. The pain was indescribable, but after a few agonising minutes, I was able to breathe properly, and I began to wash off the cream, along with every stitch of hair on my body.

After almost forty minutes of crying and scrubbing, dad left and returned a moment later with a towel. He helped me out of the bath, gently dried my exhausted body, and stood me in front of the mirror.

More tears flowed. I looked ridiculous and there was absolutely nothing I could do about it.

“Until I have purchased suitable clothing for a naughty boy, you will stay as you are” he informed me as he led me by my shoulders down the stairs, “you will have no need to dress, because you will not be leaving this house until further notice”.

I cried harder.

“Whilst I am working in the office” he continued, veering me into his office, “you will sit by my side and do your school work”.

“Dad, it’s summer!” I blurted, and immediately regretted opening my stupid mouth as he bent me forcefully over his desk and lashed my bottom three more times with his hand.

“I’M SORRY!” I yelped, “DADDY PLEASE!”

“That’s better!” He snapped, yanking me back up, “sir or daddy. They are the only acceptable terms that I want to hear from you, from now on, understood?”

“Yes daddy” I sniffled, feeling utterly pathetic.

“Your summer will be spent doing what I tell you to do. You will not be going out with your friends. You will not be hanging around the mall. You will be here, behaving yourself like a good boy. Is that understood?!”

“Yes daddy”.

“And when I tell you to do something, you will not question me. You will do it. Is that understood?!” His voice was getting louder.

“Yes daddy”.

“And when I say jump, you will say how high! Is that understood!?”

“Yes daddy”

“Now jump!”

“How high, daddy?”.

I had no idea what was happening to me. The man had destroyed every ounce of self worth that I had. It was almost as though he’d wormed his way into my brain and was controlling even my thoughts.

“Now sit your bottom on that chair and write the following sentence”.

I gingerly sat down, and trembled with the pain.

“I am a naughty little boy and I will be treated as such until I learn to behave”.

I took the pencil with a shaking hand and scrawled the sentence across the page.

“H… How many times, daddy?” I snivelled.

“We’ll start at one thousand” he told me, “and perhaps we’ll add more depending on your attitude by then”.

“Y… Yes daddy”.

“You’ve made a very terrible mistake today, young man” he continued, “but believe me, boy. Your punishment is only just beginning”.