joel bath

Joel Gives His Son A Bath

I loved my dad Joel.   He was much better to me than my biological father.   He was interested in everything I did, he read with me, played sports with me and he made sure that I took my responsibilities seriously. It didn¹t matter that I was fourteen and Joel was sixteen. I was small and emotionally immature and Joel was big and could take charge when necessary.   Most people that we knew, believed that Joel was my legal guardian because of Joel¹s maturity, no one we came in contact with questioned it at all.

Joel was very loving as a dad, but he was also very strict. During the time that these events took place, corporal punishment was a term I never thought of.... if I knew it at all. Children who misbehaved, males in particular, were often punished physically - usually by spanking.   Joel spanked me when he was really angry and he didn't do it because he believed in spanking it was much more fundamental than that.   He did it because spanking was what a man did when his son was out of line. It was a dad's way of putting a boy in his place....and that place was over the dad's knee. Joel had become the man/father in my life and he took his role completely seriously.

One evening, one of dozens that I spent sleeping at Joel's (dad's)house while his own mysterious family was away, dad and I were watching T.V.   Dad looked at his watch and said, "Hey big boy, it's time you were getting ready for bed. You've got sports club tormorrow and you better get some sleep."

It was nine thirty, and I didn't feel sleepy, so I pushed the envelope a little. "Oh, dad, come on it isn't late. Let¹s watch Deep Space Nine and then I'll go up." Dad Joel took his favorite pipe, a straight brown one, out of his pipe rack and started filling it from his tobacco pouch.

"I told you to get upstairs," Dad said calmly, but his voice had a threatening edge to it that I knew very well. "And I know one little boy who won't be able to sit down if he doesn't do what his father told him to do."

I got up right away. My dad had introduced me to the flat of his hand, his hairbrush, and - more recently - to a fanny paddle.   I wasn't anxious to bring any of them down on my backside.

"Take a bath," Dad said, "and...." he added as I scooted upstairs, "wash yourself good you've got a sweat color around your neck."

I went upstairs and got undressed. I took my pajamas, the doctor denton's that dad made me wear, into the bathroom and turned on the water. While the water was running, I went into the bedroom that I shared with dad and got the science fiction book I was reading and brought it into the bathroom with me. There was nothing I liked more than to read in the tub. Sometimes dad read to me while I took my bath.

When the water was ready, I climbed in and leaned back to soak. I opened my book and started reading.

I don't know how much time went by, but I was jolted out of my book by the bathroom door being shoved open by Dad.

"What the blazes are you doing, son?" he bellowed. His pipe was clenched in his teeth and I saw, to my horror, that he had the hairbrush in his fist.

"Did I, or didn't I, tell you to get your little tail upstairs, take a bath and get ready for bed?!"

"Y-yes, daddy," I stammered.

Dad put down the hairbrush on the back of the toilet tank and pulled a chair up to the tub.   He took up a bar of soap and the bathbrush.

"What are you doing?" I said, knowing what he was doing, "I'll wash myself real quick, dad."

"You didn't do it yourself, so now I'm going to do it for you," dad said.   He dipped the scrub brush in the water and then rubbed the soap back and forth across the bristles till they were frothy with foam.   Then he took hold of my hair and made me bend forward.

"Ow, dad, stop!" I cried.

Dad didn't pay any attention.   He scrubbed my back with the brush.   His anger made him rough and the bristles of the brush, hardly ever used, were stiff despite all the soap. After a thorough back scrubbing, with me gritting my teeth. Dad let go of my hair (what a relief) and lifted first one arm and then the other.   He scrubbed each arm rigorously and then lifted my chin, so he could lather my chest.

Dad scrubbed my chest and belly back and forth up and down, until my skin was sore.

"Hey," I said, without even thinking, "cut it out, that hur....."

I hadn't even gotten the word out of my mouth before my mouth was filled with a bar of soap. Dad held the back of my head with one hand and worked the soap in my mouth and across my lips with the other. My dad was a firm believer in mouth-washing and he never stopped until my mouth was filled with foam and bubbles floated around my lips.

Usually, after a mouth-washing, dad rinsed my mouth, but this time, he left me with a mouth filled with soap foam and pulled me to a standing position.

He dipped and soaped the bath brush and started working on my thighs and legs. Up and down he scrubbed as diligently as before.   I started to cry, but the only sounds I could make were glugging sounds because of the soap in my mouth.

Dad did not use the scrub brush on my front, because he knew it would really hurt. He soaped up his hands and scrubbed my penis and groin area in a business-like way.   Then he took up the scrub brush again and resoaped it.

When the brush was nice a frothy, dad started on my backside.   He scrubbed one bare cheek after the other and I jerked forward although dad¹s grip on my arm, kept me in place. Dad puffed his briar and scrubbed away and I wondered how dirty my backside could be.

When my bottom was as red and sore as the rest of me, dad stopped and thought for a moment.

"No need to use the hairbrush on you, when I have this in hand," he said, waving the scrub brush.

Without worrying about my wet condition, or putting a towel on his lap to keep from getting soaked, dad lifted me from the bathtub and drapped me over his lap. Soap, from my mouth scrubbing, bubbled from my lips when I tried to protest, but it wouldn't have mattered if I had been clear. When my dad decided I deserved a spanking, he put me in his lap and did his duty, and he wouldn¹t stop until he felt it had been done in such a way that I would never repeat my mistake.

WHAM! The scrub brush flew down in a long arc and left a red oval on my right cheek.

"WoW!" I hollered and a lot of the soap blew out of my mouth with the yell.

WHAM! the brush fell on the other cheek and I knew that I had two bright circles burning on my bare bottom.

WHAM! WHAM! WHAM!   The brush fell in three rapid spanks, and I started whaling and kicking.

"You can cry all you want, son," dad said, as he spanked away, "you can cry and kick, but daddy is going to teach you to do what your told.   What am I going to do, Sandy?!"

"Waaaaaah!" I bawled. "T-t-teach me to do what I'm told."

WHAM! WHAM! WHAM!

"Are you going to mind me, when I tell you to do something?" dad asked, never pausing in his spanking.

"Yes daddddeeeee, yeeeeess.   Waaaaaah!"

WHAM! WHAM! WHAM!

"You can bet your little be-hind that you will," dad said angrily. He puffed his pipe and spanked me soundly.

Once he stopped, to readjust my slippery body on his lap, but he soon had me under control and continued with his spanking.   Dad was always very thorough about his discipline.

WHAM!   WHAM! WHAM! WHAM! WHAM!

"Oooh, shit, it hurts, daddeeeee!" I cried.

"What did you say?!" dad said. "What!!"   He jerked me off of his lap and held me in front of him, right between his knees.   I clutched my burning bottom, tears and snot running down my face.

"You need another mouth wash!" dad said.

"Noooooooooo!" I hollered and really tried to pull away.   But dad had me under control.

He sat me on his knee and pushed the soap into my mouth again. He held it there with his right hand and bent my body over his right knee, locking me in place with his left leg. Then, still holding the soap in my mouth, dad used his left hand to continue with my spanking.

Simultaneously, he scrubbed my mouth and paddled my rump until I was in a frenzy of crying. I couldn't kick my legs, so I flailed my arms impotently until I just gave up and let it happen. Dad eventually decided that my mouth was clean and my bottom spanked throughly enough and lifted me up.

He sat me on his lap and used a wet washrug to clean the soap from my mouth and wipe all the mess from my face.   He even put cold water on the rag and held it to my sore bottom for a moment.

Then dad carried me into the bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed with me on his lap.   I had my arms around dad¹s neck and I cried into his collar. He held the back of my head and rocked me gently.

I got tired and dad helped me into my p.j.'s and buttoned them up. Then he slid me under the covers and read to me until I fell asleep.

My dad Joel was the best father in the world.