Dogs Don't Roll Over
Written by: Alex Sandell
And I Thought My Dad Was Tough
The man in the black slaps the belt across his hand, over and over again, as he has me tied down to the chair. I try to escape as four security guards grab me, and put me over the chair, in a degrading position, tying my wrists and ankles to its legs, exposing my buttocks for the world to see. The man in the black smiles as he requests the removal of my two-times-too-tight slacks. One of the security guards pulls down my borrowed pants, ripping the zipper in the process. The man in the black swats the belt across his hand, once again, causing Goosebumps to pop out all over my sweaty butt. "His underwear," the ski-masked man commands. Another guard removes my yellow-stained undergarment. I cant help but blush when I realize over half-a-dozen people are staring at my bare-naked buttocks. Its days like these where a person wishes he worked out a little bit more.
I feel sweat trickle down my face as I await my "lesson." The man in the black walks over to where Im tied down, lifts up his belt, and proceeds to give me a spanking. Swat! Slap! Whack! The belt snaps across my butt fourteen times before the man in the black finally feels that Ive had enough. The welts already start to develop and I begin crying like a baby.
"How many times did I spank you, Mr. Ziekel?" I'm crying so hard that I forget to answer. The man in the black swats me across the buttocks once more, harder than ever. "I ask again, how many times did I spank you, Mr. Ziekel?" "Fourteen, not counting that nasty-ass one you just gave me," I answer between desperate sobs. "Fourteen, Mr. Ziekel, do you know what 'fourteen' means?" I don't forget to answer this time, "no sir, I'm sorry, I don't know sir, at all." Boy, talk about your shitty dialogue. If somebody ever put my adventures into book-form, I sure hope they clear some things up and make me sound a bit more intelligent. "Fourteen means, SHUT UP. Fourteen means Shut THE FUCK up." I hear some of the guards laughing. "Do you understand that, Mr. Ziekel?" "Yes," I reply, "fourteen means shut the fuck up." After my comment the man in the black ski mask gives me one final swat. "Watch your language," he says, giggling ostensibly.
The man in the black finally seems satisfied. "Untie him," he says, while security guards quickly untie the ropes to accommodate his request. "Now, Wayne, if you ever, and I mean ever bring up Elvis again - that means singing his songs, saying he lives, or even wiggling your hips in a conspicuous manner, I'll give you a spanking that you'll never forget. The spanking you just received will look like a kiss from your prom date compared to the whipping I'd do if you ever mention Elvis again. Comprende?" "Yes Sir, comprende, Sir, I understand. But I could never find a date to prom, sir. So I wouldnt know what her kiss would feel like." Doh! Even after my stupid comment, I decide to make a request of my own. "May I go home now, Sir?"
The security guards begin laughing once again, only three times louder than before. The man in the black pats me on the shoulder. "Mr. Ziekel, didn't they already tell you? Youre never going home again."
Go to: Chapter 37
©1997 Alex Sandell but, if you're a book publisher and, you wanna get this puppy out, please get in touch with me, hand me a nice, big contract and, of course, a 12 pack of Grape Soda and maybe we can do lunch.
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