This story is fiction and deals with M/M spanking. If such a subject is offensive, uninteresting or if you are a minor (i.e., child) please leave now. For those not familiar with USA holidays, please note that Labor Day is the first Monday in September and marks the end of summer and the start of the school year.
This work is copyright by the author and commercial use is prohibited without permission. Personal/private copies are permitted only if complete including the copyright notice.
The author would appreciate your comments – pro and con, including constructive criticism, and suggestions.
Orlando Fedora was thirty-nine that very Labor Day. His family had done all the right things – presents, cards, singing Happy Birthday all in the privacy of their home. Even his parents called with birthday good wishes. It was just what a happy suburban family should do for the head of the house. It was just like the year before and the years before that except that the boys' gifts and cards were more mature now that they were both in high school. But, of course, they weren't that happy family but they all put on the necessary happy faces and did what was expected. Over the last few years the boys had grown to hate their father because of his harsh discipline.
Everything was quite normal; everything was as dull as ever. Everything except the birthday card with the plastic card inside that came in the mail with the local postmark. The birthday card was unsigned and the envelope did not have a return address. The gift membership card was for a heath spa and was good for one private session with a personal trainer. Orlando did not know what to make of it as everyone denied any knowledge of it.
Orlando put it aside. Later his greedy mind decided he would take the card to the spa and see what free pleasures it was worth. It would be sinful to let it go to waste.
* * * * * * * * * *
The receptionist at the spa was most courteous. She quickly scanned the card and after checking the results addressed him by name. "Mr. Fedora, we can serve you now or make an appointment for the future." Orlando was quickly shown to the locker room, provided with T-shirt, gym shorts, sneakers and a towel. The personal trainer, Mr. Duncan Marzan, made him work hard on an array of exercises carefully taking notes throughout the session. Orlando was pretty limp at the end of the workout and was looking forward to the wrap up – a massage and a shower.© YLeeCoyote
In the private room, Orlando quickly stripped as Duncan keyed his results into the computer terminal and received the printout. Orlando was quite surprised. The printout looked very much like a report card and his grades were terrible.
"This is a very disappointing result, young man." stated Duncan in a commanding voice causing Orlando's ears to perk up. "Such disgraceful results have earned you a spanking for not achieving your potential. COME HERE YOUNG MAN." Duncan commanded, sitting down on the chair and patting his lap. Orlando was frozen for he had not heard such words since he was a youth and had displeased his own father. He had, however, said them to his own sons many times in recent years as he prepared to spank them.
Orlando could not understand why he had not immediately called a halt to such strange behavior and had not just left. But he could not even speak; he could only obey like he did when his father commanded him.
"Quickly now, boy!" snapped Duncan "or there will be extras."
Just like he had the last time, some twenty-two years earlier, he let himself be pulled across a masterful man's lap. Duncan grabbed him by the waist and Orlando held on to Duncan's leg and the chair. It was a long hard spanking as befits a naughty man; far harder than for a boy. Orlando could not believe how much it hurt. He though that Duncan was using a paddle but he was not.
Initially Orlando thought it was some sort of joke for things hardly hurt. Gradually he realized that his butt was hurting. It began like when he was almost eighteen and being spanked for the last time by his father. Just like then, the initial feeling were «I don't care about this. I'm a man now and this ain't going to hurt.» But, just like then, Orlando was wrong for it was starting to hurt. As the discomfort gradually changed to pain, Orlando started to feel like he had when he was a teen in high school. He started to struggle like he had back then. Just like then it did not do him any good. Sure he was stronger now then he had been, but Duncan was much stronger than his father had been.
Orlando was feeling just as he had when he was younger. He held back the tears – after all only girls and little boys– little sissy crybaby boys – cry. He was not a crybaby! He was a MAN and would not cry. But he had cried when he was fourteen and now he was starting to feel his cheeks getting wet. And he started to hear his own cries for mercy and to be good. But the torrent of spanks continued and even seemed to get harder.
Orlando suddenly was crying like he had when he was eleven and had broken the big front window playing ball in the front yard. Then he had felt so helpless in the world of large, strong adults who constantly gave him orders.
Then, just as suddenly as it started, the barrage of spanks stopped. Orlando was still bawling as Duncan lifted him up, dragged him to the corner and forced his hands to the top of his head. He knew that he must stay there. That was exactly what he did with his sons. As he stood there, with his nose in the corner, his bawling subsided to mere crying. He was remembering how things were when he was a boy, a boy like his sons. How his father had spanked him but always showing reluctance; showing loving care and comforting him afterwards. He remembered how it mattered to him And then the awful realization that now he no longer treated his sons with compassion and love.
It seemed like an eternity before Duncan told him: "OK, boy. You may get dressed now," Orlando went to the showers and washed off. The tear stains washed away but not the red eyes. The cool water reduced the surface heat in his butt but not the deep fire inside. That fire that would persist for a week in his butt and for decades in his mind.
He accepted the literature from the receptionist when he left even though he never planned to return. He did examine the report card more carefully. This time he noticed the personality items. The high rating for arbitrariness and inflexible and the low ones in compassion and respect for the feelings of others were in bright red.
* * * * * * * * * *
His sons noticed the difference in their father in the coming months. He was as strict as ever but he spanked less often and differently. They never understood why until they visited their grandparents during the winter holidays. The two boys had a very special relationship with their granddad. Whenever they visited, be it for a few hours or a couple of weeks, he always managed to make time for just man-to-man talk with them, usually on a walk in the woods always away from the rest of the family. Over the years they had shared many things for grandpa had a way of getting them to talk and he was good at keeping secrets.
Grandpa asked them about how their father was treating them. "Were things better than when they talked in the summer?" he asked.
"Well we still get spanked a lot, granddad." said the younger following up on the previous summer's discussions.
"Yes, far too much but not like before. Dad is, er, gentler in someway." added the older having trouble finding the right words.
"I'm pleased to hear that, lads." said grandda. But he was thinking that the Spa thing worked. "Let me know if things get bad again."
"We sure will, gramps."
© Copyright A.I.L., March 3, 2005
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Last updated: September 15, 2023