Brat Gets his Due6

SMACK. “OWWWW!!!” “Do I (SMACK) make (SMACK) myself (SMACK) clear (SMACK)?” “Yes, mom,” the boy stammered out between sobs and howls. SMACK, SMACK, SMACK. The brush beat a steady tatoo of spanks alternating between left and right side. The room was a constant pattern of noise, shifting between the sound of wood striking flesh and the young boy’s blubbering sobs and howls of pain. After what seemed like an eternity, the spanking ended. Mrs. Jones had not missed one spot of her son’s bottom, which now glowed as red as a summer sunset from hip to hip and top to bottom. “If I ever find you’ve taken anything from my room without my permission again, I’ll take the brush to you every day for a week. Understand me?” “Yes, mommy,” the boy blubbered. “Now, you get your nose into that corner. That spanking was for taking money out of the jewelry box. Ms. Ames will deal with your school behavior before you go to bed tonight.”