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Midnight Movie Marathon 2/3

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Jan. 29th, 2008 | 01:45 pm
location: Still under the table, peeking out.
mood: anxiousPart 2 anxiety
music: Springsteen

 

 

Title:  Midnight Movie Marathon

Author:  Lady M

Beta:  Minx999 the Fabulous!  Thank you! 

Characters: John, Dean (8), Sam (4), an appearance by Bobby

Rating:  PG-13 for spanking.

Warning: Parental spanking of minors. Please don't read if it offends you.

Disclaimer:  Eric Kripke and the CW own all.  I own nothing.  I play in their yard because I like their toys.  It’s for fun and entertainment only.  Thank you, Eric and the CW for sharing your toys.

Dean turns and slowly walks to the kitchen, feet dragging, to his doom.

 

“Step it up, Dean.  We don’t have all day,” John states as he passes Dean into the kitchen area.  Pulling out a chair from under the table, John sits down and waits for Dean to stand in front of him, head held down, shoulders slumped. “Do you have anything else you want to say?” John asks.

 

Still looking at his feet, Dean softly asks, “Dad, are you mad?”

 

John gently takes his son’s chin in his hand and raises his eyes to meet his gaze.  Calmly, he replies, “No Dean, I’m not mad.  Just disappointed.  I set rules in place to keep you and your brother safe.  Today is an example of what happens when a rule, which you think isn’t important, is not followed.  It leads to other rules being broken and unpleasant consequences for all involved.”

 

John releases Dean’s chin but holds his gaze.

 

“You mean Sammy biting you?”

 

“Yes, Dean.  That’s one consequence that may have been avoided if the two of you weren’t so tired and irritable.”

 

“Dad, please, don’t be too hard on Sammy.  It’s like you said.  He’s tired and cranky, and he’s only a little guy.”

 

“A little guy who knows the rules and what happens when rules aren’t followed.  You need to trust that I will deal with Sammy appropriately.  And son?  Sammy made his own choices last night and today.  Suffering the consequences for his actions will help teach him to make better choices in the future.  You aren’t responsible for Sammy’s choices.  Understand?”

 

“Yes, sir.”  Dean says softly. “Dad, I’m sorry.”

 

“I know you are, kiddo, but I’m afraid you’re going to be even sorrier very soon.” 

 

With that, John pats his thighs twice, motioning for Dean to step around and take the familiar position.  He looks down at his dad’s thighs and groans as he moves a step forward.  John reaches out and puts his hand behind Dean’s shoulder to guide him in place.  Dean stands on the right side of John’s lap and shuts his eyes tight taking in a deep breath. 

 

John remembers that Dean is tired and could be slightly out of sorts.  He doesn’t need another of his sons going rabbit on him. 

 

“Dean, do you want me to help you?” John gently asks as he places his left hand under Dean’s chest to help lift and guide him across his lap. 

 

Dean cooperates and is quickly laid over his father’s thighs, with his pajama-clad butt raised in the air, waiting for the first swat.  John pulls Dean in close, holding him securely by placing his left hand on his son’s right hip.  He feels the tension in his son’s body.  He rests his right hand on Dean’s backside.

 

 “Are you ready for your spanking?” John asks.

 

Dean turns his head towards his father and, without making eye contact, nods slightly twice, turning back quickly to face the floor.

 

According to John’s spanking rules, the first swat should always make an impression.  He raises his arm and lands a swat in the center of Dean’s bottom with a resounding smack.  Dean arches his back slightly, groans, but doesn’t fight.  John continues the swats, alternating from one butt cheek to the other.  Dean is lying tense, but remains still over his father’s lap.  John varies the speed and intensity of each spank.  He can feel warmth starting to radiate through Dean’s pajama pants.   

 

Dean is breathing a little heavier but is silent and almost motionless.  At eight years old, the kid is already a tough nut to crack.  John lands eight hard smacks to the crease where Dean’s butt meets his thighs. This gets a reaction from Dean.  The boy braces his hands against John’s left thigh and tries to push himself forward across his Dad’s lap, but John is holding him too securely. 

 

John keeps the swats coming.  Dean is really starting to wiggle and squirm, even though he is still silent.

 

John anticipates the end is nearing. “Dean,” he asks, “Are you going to follow the rules? All the rules?” 

 

No answer but warm tears are falling from Dean’s clenched eyes to the floor below.

 

John raises his right leg slightly, raising Dean’s behind, and lays down ten overlapping swats to the sensitive sit spot, five on each side.  This finally loosens Dean’s tongue.

 

“Oww!  Yes sir.  Follow rules.  Oww!  Dad, please, stop.  I’m sorry.  I’m sorry!  I’ll follow all the rules!”

 

Following that release, Dean takes in two deep, cleansing gasps of air as the tears continue to flow. 

 

John is relieved that Dean’s finally accepting his punishment.

 

“We’re almost done here, son,” he states.

 

With that, John pulls the boy’s pajama pants down to the middle of Dean’s thighs, and lands ten hard swats across each butt cheek, bringing additional warmth and a rosy red color to his entire bottom. 

 

Dean yelps loudly!  John feels Dean go limp across his lap, his shoulders shaking and he can hear gentle sobs.  The tears are flowing freely.  John carefully repositions the pajama pants over Dean’s stinging behind and leans over so he can be heard over the loud sobs.

 

“We’re done.  Your punishment is over and you’re forgiven,” he says gently.

 

John rubs and pats Dean’s back soothingly.  Dean’s sobs are more controlled but the deep, heavy breaths continue.  Dean tries to be stoic, but he’s only eight years old.  John knows Dean will resist, but he makes the move anyway to lift him off his lap.  Dean grabs at his father’s ankles to remain face down over his knees until he is in complete control of his emotions. 

 

John manages to flip Dean over to get him in a seated position on his lap, mindful of the boy’s sore bottom.  He wraps his arms around his son in a secure hug, and Dean rests his head on his Dad’s chest, giving in to the comfort and security of his father’s warmth.  John rocks Dean gently as his breathing calms. 

 

After a few quiet minutes Dean draws in a deep breath and lets out a heavy sigh. “Dad, I’m sorry.”

 

“I know, Dean.  You’re forgiven.  You’ve been punished, and it’s behind us now.”

 

Dean lifts his head off his father’s chest and asks sarcastically, “Dad, behind us?”

 

“Sorry Dean.  The pun was accidental.”  John is relieved to see Dean’s sense of humor resurfacing. 

 

Dean lets out a big yawn, and John pushes his head back against his chest.  “Dean, exactly how much sleep did you get last night?”

 

“You don’t want to know.”

 

John thinks first the sense of humor, and now the smart ass attitude is back.  “I asked you a question, young man.  Do I need to flip you back over my knees already?”

 

“NO, sir.  I had about three hours.”

 

“How about Sammy? How many did he get?”

 

“Four or five,” Dean replies.

 

“I think an early bedtime tonight for both of you is appropriate and a nap before lunch.”

 

Dean pops his head off his father’s chest.  “A NAP?!  I’m eight.  I.  Don’t.  Nap.”

 

“Excuse me, but you need to watch your tone.  And I would think your stinging bottom would be sending a message to your brain right now, telling you now is not the time to argue with me and disobey an order.”

 

Defeated, Dean lays his head back against his father’s chest, trying to conceal another yawn.  John holds him tight, knowing that the time would soon come when Dean would not accept these shows of affection.  Father and son sit together quietly for a few minutes.  Dean’s head flops forward a little, and John notices his determined eight year old is indeed starting to nap.

 

John lifts Dean in his arms and carries him towards the beds.  When he gets close, he hears slow, soft snoring coming from under the boys’ bed.  He pulls the covers back on his own bed and places Dean on his stomach, tucking the covers up around his neck, gently kissing his temple. 

 

Dean mumbles, “No nap,” and goes instantly back to sleep. 

 

John stands in place for a brief second with a grin on his face, watching the angelic expression on his oldest son as he naps restfully.  

 

With his eldest’s punishment complete, John needs to focus his attention on his youngest son.  He bends down to look under the other bed.  Sammy’s sleeping peacefully with one arm positioned under his resting head and the other curled up close to his chest, allowing a thumb to reside in his mouth.  JohnJohnJJ John gently grabs Sam by the ankles and slowly pulls him out hoping not to wake him, mindful of the above bed springs and the possibility of rug burns.  His butt will be on fire soon enough, but first the nap.

 

John lifts Sam and places him in the boys’ bed, resulting in a quick stir, but Sam never wakes up.  John removes the thumb from his son’s mouth, pulls the covers up around his neck, and plants a kiss on his forehead, admiring the sweet, innocent looking face of his youngest offspring.  He returns to the kitchen to finish getting the supplies ready for the hunt, knowing that his fatherly duties are only half over.

 

After about half an hour, John looks in on his bundles of trouble.  They are both sound asleep.  He grabs his car keys and leaves his sons to their dreams.

 

           --------------------------------------------------------------------



End of part 2.

 

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