Chapter 12: Brady Dad and Greg

Peter found it freaking hilarious that his big brother was wearing one of his sister Marcia’s skirts and really got a laugh when Greg had bent over to pick something up and shown off Marcia’s tightly wedged against his football player athletic butt.

Greg got mad and there would be no stopping him on his quest to teach Peter a real lesson. Peter had found Greg’s Halloween initiation outfit a hoot and that’s why he had gone to get his dad in the first place, that exposed that his chores had not been done.

“Greg, when we live in this household it’s important that all assigned chores are done and done in a timely manner. I’m afraid that’s a lesson you’re going to have to learn the hard way.

Dad I can’t be grounded I’ve got the football initiation party tonight. Get a load of this get up.

Well that could be a problem, but I think I may have a solution.

Your mother is tied up with Marcia, at the moment and she spanks all the boys in this house because we rightfully believe it is more humiliating for adult children who require a spanking to be punished by the opposite sex, thus creating an additional deterrence.

“Just what are you saying, dad?”

“I’m saying since you’re wearing panties, I could give you your spanking for failing to take out the trash, sweep the front porch and rake the yard.

“You have a laundry list of offenses to account for, Greg”

Asses and paddles just seemed to go together in the Brady household, regardless of a child or wife’s advanced age.

Garage

Mike ordered him into the back of the sleeper cab and to get on all fours on the bed. Took the wooden paddle and runs his fingers along its length. There’s a fair degree of turmoil on using this in an effective manner and this could only be achieved without last damage if the paddling was taken on the bare bottom. So, before they got started Greg’ teacher approached him on his fours on the sleeper bed and yank down his jeans and then to Greg’s protest his tight white panties were pulled down baring the playing field for action.

“One.” he whispered, flinching, tensing, and waiting for the first swat to fall.

“ONE,” he blurted, much louder.

Greg was in for a serious ass paddling as he barely had time to register the whooshing sound of the paddle travelling through the air when a hard, white hot pain exploded over his ass-cheeks. The loud crack of wood slammed into his flesh ringing in his ears. He gasped as his body slid forward on the truck sleeper bed from the force of the swat, unable on his fours to stop his forward motion with his hands He managed to keep his knees from buckling, and asked for the second swat.

“Two”

Another loud crack and Greg cried out, unable to stop a moan from escaping his tightly closed lips. He slid forward again across the garage bunk.

“Three”

He choked out. It was necessary to keep the swats coming as fast as possible, it hurt less that way, perhaps only because his teacher turned weekend drive master had less time to aim, less time to gather his strength. The paddle slammed into his reddened, bruised bottom cheeks and Greg vocalized his pain letting loose with a high-pitched girlish scream that pleased the trucker. The back of the eighteen-year olds legs trembling while his red ass jiggled in a tremor of new fright knees as his chorus boy knees buckled from the force of the wooden paddle swat Greg now was filled with dread as his bottom went from red to purple.

“Four!”

The former star quarterback wailed, recovering his balance just as the paddle made contact, sending him to his knees, as he slid backward off the desk. Greg shrieked like a girl, unable to stop the flow of tears unleashed by the pain coursing through his ass.

Mr. Brady waited patiently, unblinking, as Greg slowly staggered to his feet. He re-arranged the bedspread and shakily lay back down over the mattress. Mr. Morrison expertly eyed his handiwork. The purple blotches rising on Greg’s ass were a testament to Mike’s years of practice; the holes in the paddle added an extra dimension to the art-form, made drawing blood t the surface more likely. Two more swats like those and he was certain he would be rewarded with the red liquid. Mathew always stopped a swat after he drew the first bit of blood;