Cinders

~69~ Count

I just nod. I'm disappointed in myself too.

"Come on," he says, walking to the couch and sitting down with a blank expression on his face..

This is going to suck

Before I go across his knee, he stops me. "Look at me Liam....I'm still good," he says, confidently.

I guess we will find out soon enough

I lay across his lap, cursing myself for being in this position again. I forgot how humiliating and awful it is. I situate myself as best as I can, and then dad shifts his weight so I'm leaning forward more with my butt in the air.

He tightly wraps his left arm around my waist and puts his right leg on top of mine, pinning me. Before he begins, he starts talking again.

"Do you even feel the least bit sorry for what you did?" He asks, apparently wanting to chit-chat.

Oh lovely. He wants to lecture me while I'm laying here like a fool. Someone just shoot me.

"I feel awful. The words came out before I could stop them."

"Yeah? Well maybe this'll help you to think before you speak," he says, placing his right hand on my thigh.

"Ok, here's how we're gonna do it—It's going to be different. I'm giving you 60, Liam. Yes, I know it's a lot, but what you did sucked ass. You will count every single one of them, out loud. I will pause between each one until you count. If you miscount, I will correct you, but it will earn you an additional smack. Do you understand?"

"Yes sir," I say, already feeling the burn of tears in my eyes. This is awful.

"I promise you I will stop, Liam..."

"Ok," I say, my voice mumbled by the cushion as I clench, bracing for pain.

The first one connects hard and fast—It's just as painful as I remember. The worst part is that I actually have to concentrate on this spanking the whole time. Usually I can think of other things for a while, but not this time. This time I have to remember to talk as well as breathe.. Who unleashed this man?

"One," I say as I grip the couch cushion tight. This is gonna be miserable.

He continues, pausing after each one to make sure I count. By the seventh, I'm starting to grit my teeth.

"Eight"

"Nine"

"Ten"

Suddenly dad hits my thigh on the next one. Oh wonderful! Taylor must've enlightened him on how much I hate the thighs.

"Ow! What is with you people and hitting the damn thighs?" I snap in pain.

Dad stops for a second, surprised. "I've been reigning in my smacks, figuring I was already hitting hard enough. If you can have this much attitude and talk this well during a spanking, I'm obviously not doing it hard enough. Thanks for letting me know son, I'll fix it. You haven't counted this one...."

"Um..." I can't remember if this is ten or eleven.

"Ten?" I ask.

Dad sighs and hits me HARD, right on the thigh.

"Ah!" I hiss, putting my face in the arm that isn't holding me up off the floor.

"It was eleven. The next one will be 12. Make sure you get it right or you get another additional."

He hits me just as hard in the same spot again.

"Twelve!" I yell out. If he's only at 12, and is now hitting even harder, I'm screwed!

He continues along until we get to twenty—That's when the pain is reaching unbearable. I start squirming, and I can feel the muscles in dad's leg tightening as he restrains me.

"Knock it off, kid," he warns as he smacks me again.

"Twenty one" I say as I start to cry. This hurts so bad.

The next one he connects to my right thigh. I immediately clench my butt and bite my lip. I have to think for a moment to remember what number I'm on.

"What number, Liam?" Dad asks, getting impatient.

"Twenty-three," I say quickly.

Dad crashes a penalty smack on my thigh hard, making me wail in pain. "It was twenty-two, this next one is twenty-three. You better start paying attention or we're gonna be here all night."

He hits again, on my butt this time, and I quickly answer him. "Twenty three," I say breathlessly. I'm hurting so bad, I don't know how I'm going to be able to answer him much longer—I'm already crying.

He goes another ten, and I'm able to count those.

"Ouch! Thirty-three"

"Ah! Thirty-four"

"Jeesh! THIRTY-FIVE" I scream. I don't think I can do much more. My butt is burning so badly, I can't remember the count. It hurts so much.

"THIRTY-FOUR" I scream.

Another rogue smack assaults my burning left thigh, and I let out a very unattractive grunt. "That was thirty-five. The next one will be thirty-six."

He continues to smack and I continue to cry. Well, blubbering like a baby is more accurate.

I get six more penalty smacks before it's all said and done. By the time we get to 60, I'm limp. I can barely even get the number out. 

"Si....s....sixt.....sixty!" I yell, hating my life right now.

Dad sits there, rubbing circles on my back and letting me cry. This is nothing compared to the time he just shoved me off and basically threw me at Taylor. This time it's comforting. He was in control completely.

"I'm sorry," I cry, still over his lap.

Dad just silently pats my shoulder. He knows I'm sorry, but he also knows that a spanking doesn't fix it. The spanking was just a punishment...I have to fix it.

I'm over his lap for another minute until I can finally stand up. Once I do, I have snot running down my face and my cheeks are completely tear-soaked.

Dad's pant leg is completely soaked from my tears, but I don't have the energy to be embarrassed. He ignores it though as he comes over to me, pulling me into a hug.

"Go to bed, champ. We'll talk more tomorrow," he says, kissing my head.

I just nod and go to my room. I end up falling asleep quickly...Uncomfortable and on my stomach.

I'm such a jerk.