Sheriff Connelly stared down his long nose at the snivelling rookie deputy quaking before him. “What a fool. A complete idiot. A waste of space,” he thought. His grey eyes blazed, “What kind of people is the City employing these days?”
Connelly held his temper. Deputy Bahr squirmed. Sweat soaked his forehead and his head beneath closely-cropped blond hair itched like crazy. The room was too darned hot. He could hardly breathe. The words of his boss seemed to be coming from a long way away. Bahr feared he might fall to the floor in a faint at any moment.
Connelly gripped a cardboard folder in his left fist. He waved it in Bahr’s face. “Not good. Not good at all.” This he said out loud. “Is there any one of your duties that you can do without screwing up?” It was meant as a rhetorical question but Bahr hadn’t done too well at school and he missed the subtleties of the sheriff’s lecture. He tried his hardest to answer. His mind was a whirl. He thought of all the different things he did during a day’s shift. He was quite good at helping children across the road when the traffic was busy. He was about to relay this information to the sheriff but Connelly had moved on.
They were at the front desk in the reception area. Things were quiet and no members of the public were around to see Bahr’s dressing down. Sheriff Connelly saw three other deputies standing near the main entrance, they were due out on patrol, but sensing there might be some fun to be had they were waiting around.
“You have screwed up your evaluation, Bahr. It is not good enough,” Connelly sensed the three deputies tense. He paused waiting until he had their full attention. “Yes, Bahr,” Connelly let out a deep sigh like wind searing across a dry desert. “Not good enough.” He tut-tutted and shook his head; every inch the older man concerned about the well-being of his young charge. Connelly was the father and Bahr, the son.
“You leave me no choice,” Connelly frowned. “You do know that, don’t you?” His question was rewarded with a blank stare. It was clear Bahr had no clue what was being said to him. Just in the corner of his eyeline Connolly saw Deputy Orlando nudge one of his companions. Orlando meant, Just wait and see what happens next.
“No choice at all.” Connelly left the words hanging in the air. “A belting. It has to be a belting.”
Bahr’s fair, open face flushed red. “Wor …?” He couldn’t find the words to express the disbelief – or, maybe, shock – he felt.
Connelly shook his head from left to right slowly. “You are, of course, fully aware of Regulation one-nine-seven-six, paragraph C, part little two,” he stared directly at the twenty-year-old rookie deputy. The stupid boy didn’t understand a word. Connolly heaved one of his deep sighs. “The code of discipline as it relates to new deputy sheriffs?” He asked it as a question, but he meant it as a statement.
Bahr couldn’t stop his eyes blinking, “Regulation one-nine …?” he faltered, unable to repeat back to the sheriff the full details of the code. Connelly sighed once more. Across the reception area three deputy sheriffs watched on intently. Deputy Orlando wiped perspiration from his brow with a large, not-so-clean kerchief.
Connelly took a deep breath and repeated the regulation, stumbling as he reached the part about paragraph C. “You do know it, Bahr?” he glowered. Bahr remembered there were a lot of rules and regulations to being a deputy sheriff. Pages and pages of them. He had tried to go through them all but they were written in complicated language and he wasn’t much of a reader.
“Yes,” he drawled unconvincingly.
“Good,” Sheriff Connelly perked up, “You know it says a sheriff may administer corporal punishment at his entire discretion in cases where rookie deputies fail to meet required standards.” He watched without passion as Bahr’s face glowed red hot, his eyes blinked continuously and the boy bit down into his bottom lip.
“We should not delay,” Connolly tucked his thumbs under the belt that was wrapped around his muscular waist. “Follow me.” Without looking at Bahr, Sheriff Connelly stepped from behind the reception counter and entered a small room nearby. Sorrowfully, Bahr shuffled behind as instructed. The room had a table and two cheap armless chairs. Usually it was used when members of the public wanted to speak to an officer in confidence. Today, Connolly had found an entirely different use for it.
He pulled a chair into the middle of the room. “Stand there!” he snapped his fingers and indicated a place a few feet from the chair. Miserably, Bahr shuffled into position. The room was even hotter than the reception area. He could scarcely breathe. It all seemed so unreal.
“Leave the door open, we need some air,” Sheriff Connolly spoke as he unbuckled his belt and swished it through the loops that held it onto his pants. Connolly sat down on the chair. Bahr stood and stared. This cannot be happening. This is some kind off nightmare.
“Did your Pappy ever spank you?” Connolly folded the leather belt in half as he spoke. Bahr’s throat was as dry as a camel’s, he could hardly make a rasp when he tried to answer. No, he had never been spanked. Not once. Not even as a very small kid. This was twenty-nineteen, people didn’t get spanked these days.
“OK,” Connolly spread his legs, I want you to bend over my knee.” Bahr’s temples throbbed, his eyes moistened. He looked down at the sheriff’s thick thighs, covered in uniform blues. His big leather boots shone brightly. Bahr hesitated, what if he refused, what would happen then?
Sheriff Connolly read the rookie’s mind, “Don’t forget of Regulation nine-one-three-two, paragraph E, part little two,” he gripped the belt tightly. “Let’s get this over with. We’ve both got duties to attend to. Bend over my knee. Now!” The harshness in the sheriff’s voice startled Bahr. Jesus H. he thought. I’ve got to do this. I’ve got to let Sheriff Connolly spank me. It’s in the regulations.
He shuffled forward until he stood inches from the sheriff’s right thigh. How did you do this exactly? He hesitated. “Bah!” Connolly ejaculated. He gripped Bahr by the left arm and in one continuous tug he guided the twenty-year-old across his knee. Bahr fell with a plop. Before he knew it he was face down with his nose close to the floor. He stretched out his left hand to break his fall and with his other he held tightly to the sheriff’s leg. Behind him his legs dangled in mid-air. He couldn’t see this but his bottom was angled perfectly across the sheriff’s thigh. His pants were so tight they lifted and separated his buttock cheeks. Connolly had a terrific target.
Bahr was facing into the room and did not see the three deputies move closer to the open door, giving themselves ringside seats for the belt-on-britches action that was to follow. Sheriff Connolly was in his mid-forties but he had always kept himself fit with regular trips to the gym. He was as strong as an average civilian half his age. And he demonstrated that when he whipped the leather belt at great speed into Bahr’s rear end. Whip! Whip! Whip! The pain got through, even with thick pants and underwear for protection. Connolly gripped Bahr’s waist with his left arm while his right thrashed the leather belt across the young man’s butt.
Bahr wriggled and writhed. He screwed up his face each time the belt crashed int his tight flesh. Very soon the seat of his pants were shining. Connelly knew the cheeks underneath would be warming up too. He nodded an acknowledgement at the three deputies, telling them through smiles and winks he thought he was doing a splendid job.
Bahr’s legs kicked and his arms flailed. The spanking hurt, but not that much. His reaction was of humiliation and disbelief. Here he was a young rookie deputy across the knee of a much older dominant man getting the first spanking of his life.
Nobody was counting but the sheriff must have hammered home fifty or more lashes before he let up. As soon as the whipping stopped, Bahr wriggled his hips, trying to break free and get back on his feet. Sheriff Connolly let him stand. Once upright, Bahr realised for the first time he had an audience. His sense of humiliation deepened. He stood uncertain what he was supposed to do next. Was he allowed to leave to go back on duty? He made a move toward the door.
“Not so fast buster,” Sheriff Connolly took hold of Bahr’s shirt, turning him so they faced each other. Then, in an expert move, he unbuckled the rookie’s belt and within seconds had his uniform blues in a heap over his boots. Before Bahr could utter his astonishment, his shorts went the same way and the rookie was once more toppled face-down over the sheriff’s knee.
Connolly took a moment to admire the sight before him. Bahr was a fit young man, with a muscular chest and flat stomach. Now that they were presented to him in their nakedness Connolly was able to see what magnificent buttocks Bahr had. It was a butt that cried out to be spanked. Connolly was happy to oblige. Their creamy white surfaces were already criss-crossed with reddish lines where the belt had performed its task. Now, Connolly set about performing his duty with a renewed will.
Bahr’s buttocks clenched. It was a natural reflex as the crack of the leather connecting with naked flesh resounded around the small, airless room. Each crack sounded like a pistol shot, there were no layers of clothing to muffle the noise.
Connolly got into his rhythm whipping at a rate of about one lash every ten seconds. Soon every square inch of bare flesh was coloured sunset red.
Connolly paused but he kept his tight grip on the rookie’s waist. The young man knew it wasn’t over yet. With his own uniform soaked in sweat, the sheriff prepared himself for an almighty onslaught.
Swipe! The leather belt now landed with maximum force. The belt rose and fell in quick succession. Bahr’s pants and shorts were at his ankles and restricted his legs from thrashing about too much. If he had not been wearing huge leather boots he would have kicked his clothes clear across the room.
Still the relentless pounding of his backside continued. He couldn’t help but yelp, just like a little whipped puppy. His arms flapped and his body struggled from side to side. He looked like he was trying to do the doggy paddle in a swimming pool.
Without letting up on the downward strokes, Sheriff Connolly grabbed Bahr’s right arm and roughly shoved it up his back pinning his hand against the shoulder blades. Bahr was going nowhere until the older man said so.
With Bahr restrained in this way the sheriff could do as he wished. Bahr was at his total mercy, not that the sheriff intended showing any of that. Bahr had no choice but to lay face down, bare bottom high to receive a severe spanking.
The belt went up and down; up and down; at considerable speed. The rookie gasped in air, but couldn’t fill his lungs. Every time he tried to suck in oxygen he had to wheeze out breath to counter the intense pain that was running from his buttocks and engaging every nerve in the body.
His tears flowed freely and snot ran from his nose. At that point Sheriff Connolly stopped, he rested the belt on the small of Bahr’s back. He had his own problems breathing. It was time to finish before he suffered a stroke. The sheriff released Bahr and without waiting to pull up his pants and shorts he ran howling from the room. Connolly watched him go and wondered silently how long it would take the idiot rookie to realise there was no such thing as Regulation one-seven-whatever. When would he notice that day’s date?: The First of April.
Picture credit: Unknown
This story was uploaded in April 2019
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Charles Hamilton the Second