This is based on a what should have happened in the pilot of the Outsiders tv show, Season 1, Episode 1. It is about squatters who live in KY on a mountain that a coal company wants to develop.
Contains M/m and M/M spanking, hair brush and switch. Spoilers: in the episode Tyler kills his father and Hasin gets two fingers chopped off. I like my way better.
Hasil Farrell did not mean to fall in love with the beautiful Black clerk at the store they robbed. His kin had driven in on their muddy quads and taken what they needed. He gave her one of the birds he carved out of wood and asked her what her name was. He saw the name tag, but he couldn't read it. Sally-Ann. What a pretty name for a pretty girl. He saw her again, but he had no money to take her out. Yes, he had to get him some money. Ain't nobody could stop love.
Hasil met the drug dealer, Butch, at the bar after Butch bought him a whiskey. Nice fella. They made a deal for the Farrell wine, also known as moonshine. Hasil didn't think two bottles would be noticed. He got the $40 cash money and thought of the ways that he could woo the girl of his dreams. Big Foster wouldn't like it, hell, none of them would but he had to see her again. A part of him felt like Sally-Ann liked him a little, too.
May the gods bless this valley and our land. It was his land, too, so it wasn't really like he was stealing the moonshine. You couldn't steal from yourself.
Butch sold the boys the weed and then thought he would try.
"Hey, do guys like to get shit-faced? Farrel wine?" he called to the two brown-haired rich boys.
"Moonshine? No shit," the taller one said, named Tyler.
"Yeah, I'm close personal friends with Hasil Farrell and he put some some snake venom in it for me," Butch bragged.
The other tried to dissuade his friend arguing that moonshine was not what they needed. He was also nervous that the cop that had almost busted them before would arrest them, rather than give them a warning this time.
But Tyler was already pulling out his daddy's money, $150. He had more of it than he could spent. Why not buy some of this Farrell wine? He heard it made the girls go crazy. He needed some luck to get in Angel Standford's pants. This old looking jar would be the key.
Tyler barely heard Butch when he said to cut the moonshine with water or even their own piss. It was much more potent than the cheap liquor the boys usually got drunk off of in Tyler's red vintage BMW. Colin didn't even have a car, but with a rich best friend, he didn't need one.
Tyler chugged as everyone chanted. Colin tried to stop him and he smacked him in the face. Colin stalked off thinking that Tyler was on his own.
Tyler staggered home on foot. He thought he had driven, but wasn't sure. He was going to puke. Tyler made it to the large, stone house that his father's coal business had paid for.
"Where the hell have you been? You weren't answering your phone? Your mother has been worried sick!" his dad ripped into him the second he came in.
"Are you drunk?" his dad asked incredulously, as if this had never happened before.
Tyler staggered to the sink and vomited violently.
His dad roared, "What did I tell you the last time you came home intoxicated? What's the car? HUH?"
Tyler picked up a butcher knife on the drying rack. He heard his dad say his name again.
"Tyler?"
In Tyler's mind's eye, he saw himself stabbing his father in the gut. Then, the world turned black.
The next morning Tyler groaned and clutched his head. Ugh, that moonshine. What had he been thinking?
"He's awake. Good morning, young man. Though I don't know how good it will be for when your father is through with you," Mom said loudly, causing stabs of pain to shoot through his head.
"Mom, what time is it?" Tyler moaned.
"It's 11 am. We let you sleep in. Here's some orange juice and something for your head. It should help. Honey, why do you do this?" Mom said smoothing back his hair from his head.
"I don't have a fever. Stop treating me like a baby," Tyler whined, hating when she babied him.
"Oh, you're going to be burning up in a certain place. I wanted to call the doctor and have you go to rehab. But your father has other plans for you. He warned you the last night you came home drunk last time that you were not too old for a spanking. I protected you for far too long, mister," Mom said sternly.
"No, Mom, please. Don't let him. I'm too old. I'm fucking 16 for Christ's sake!" Tyler said his head spinning. Was he still drunk?
"What did you say?" Mom screeched about to slap his face, but unable to bring herself to do it.
"Sorry, sorry. Just don't let him beat me, Mommy, please," Tyler cried.
"It's funny that you don't like it when I baby you, but then you act like a baby. You're going to get it this time and no amount of whining is going to spare you. Things are going to change around here. I'm going to grandma's for the day. I love you," Mom kissed him and walked out.
Tyler wiped his eyes and tried to finish the orange juice, he took a shower and finally started to feel a little better when his dad walked in.
"Hi Dad," Tyler whimpered.
"Don't 'hi dad' me, I was just over at the Smith's getting the car. I guess you're not the only one in trouble today. The one good thing I can say is that you didn't drink home last night. But then you have the nerve to insult the mother who has begged me not to put you over my knee time after time," Dad started.
"Dad, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say that to Mom. I'm just scared," Tyler sobbed.
"Boy, I will give you something to cry about. And you will apologize to your mother later, but for now I want you to remind me what I told you would have again if you came home intoxicated," Dad thundered still standing over Tyler slumped on the bed.
"That you would do to me what your dad did to you when you came home drunk," Tyler whispered, his face coloring.
"What did my daddy do, boy? Hmm, did he take me for mental therapy or buy me an ice cream cone?"
"No, he spanked you real hard," Tyler said in a small voice.
"Yes, he did, son. Truth be told, a lot harder than I'm going to do to you," Dad said in a softer voice seeing Tyler's fear.
"Please, Dad. I'm too old to start getting spanked. Just ground me," Tyler begged as his dad sat down on his bed.
"Oh, you are grounded until we can trust you. And forget about the car, you're not responsible enough to drive apparently," Dad went on.
"No, damn it. I might as well just kill myself," Tyler shouted.
Dad reached over and pulled Tyler up to stand in front of him.
"It hurts me to do this and I blame myself for letting you go so long without real boundaries," Dad said as he yanked down Tyler's boxers.
"No, god, this is fucking abuse," Tyler screamed as he was bent over his father's right knee. His upper body was on the bed and his feet were still on the floor. Dad held him down with his left arm and brought his hand down hard across both cheeks. Crack!
Tyler heard the smack and then his bottom was ablaze with a fiery sting. He tried to move but just got two more spanks for his trouble.
"Stop! I'm sorry," Tyler yelled frantically in shock that this was actually happening to him.
Whack! Whack! Whack!
Dad brought down his hand on each sit spot and then on the center of his bottom hard. Hand prints bloomed and Tyler's yells turned into sobs.
Tyler threw back his hands and Dad pinned them in place.
Spank! Spank! Spank! Spank! Spank!
Dad whacked the tops of his thighs firmly and then begin to swat in a circular pattern until the whole area of Tyler's behind were pink.
Whap! Whap! Whap! Whap! Whap!
"The next time you drink before you are 21, this spanking is going to look like a picnic!" Dad lectured as he continued to bring the flat of his head down methodically.
"You are NOT to be cursing at your mother who has devoted her life to you," Dad went on punctuating not with a hard spank in the center of Tyler's now sore seat. His dad was pushing down on his lower back as Tyler tried to stand up.
"You will start treating us with a little respect or you will find yourself in this position again," Dad said slowing the smacks and lightening them.
"Please, D-daddy, I-I'm s-s-sorrry,"Tyler wailed.
"That was just the warm up. You're lucky, I don't give you the strap, but I think your mother's hairbrush will do for your first licking," Dad suggested. It was a flat square plastic brush that was wide and light weight.
"No!" Tyler shouted as his dad stood him up. His shorts were around his ankles and Dad pulled him directly over both knees roughly as he moved back on the bed.
"Keep still. This is going to hurt," Dad warned as he cracked the hairbrush down on Tyler's right cheek. Then, the left.
Swat! Swat!
Tyler was screaming, "S-stop, please." This was the worst thing that had ever happened to him. Although his dad was pinning him down with his left arm, he was now able to kick. He shifted and tried to twist off his dad's lap and onto the floor.
"Tyler, I'm barely tapping you. Now behave or I'm going to have no choice but to stop until you settle down and continue your spankin' later tonight," Dad warning pausing a second and rubbing the hairbrush over Tyler's red mounds.
"I-I can't take i-it," the boy wailed.
"You can and you will. You earned this paddling with your willful disobedience. I told you what would happen if you got drunk again," Dad repeated as he spanked Tyler's sit spots twice each slowly.
"I'm s-sorry," Tyler swore.
Dad heard the changed in his son's tone and thought maybe he finally got through to him. He didn't want to have to repeat this lesson, but knew the boy's behind had to be stinging like crazy. He decided on eight more hard smacks right in the center and on both cheeks.
Swat! Swat! Swat! Swat!
"What's going to happen if you underage drink again?"
"I'll get s-spanked a-again worse," Tyler said tearfully.
"Almost done, son," Dad said bringing the brush down hard for the last night.
Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop!
He was tempted to drop the brush but instead rubbed it over Tyler's hot behind. He lightly tapped his thighs as a warning that the spanking could continue.
"We love you so much, Tyler. But we can't let you act like this anymore. You are going to be restricted to the house except for school until further notice. No back talk, no lying, no disrespect, or I will smack your behind again no matter who is around. You misbehave in front of people, you get punished in front of people. Do you understand?"
"Yes! I d-do. I-I'll be good," Tyler promised.
"Okay, come here," Dad said pulling Tyler up and into his arms.
Tyler's hands shot down to protect his backside as his father sat him on his knee to hug him. Tyler was angry and wanted to fight for a second, but his behind was too sore. Even one more smack would seem too much to bear. He let his father hug him and then put his head on the bigger man's shoulder until he finished crying.
"S-sorry, Dad," Tyler said meaning it.
"It's okay. I know you're not going to do that again. I never did," Dad smiled.
And Tyler never did.
Big Foster was going to teach that boy a lesson. No one stole Farrell wine, Hasil was a damn fool. Li'l Foster, his son followed behind him as they dragged Hasil from his shed. Li'l Foster found the paper money and burned it in front of Hasil.
Big Foster dragged Hasil out to the tree stump, in the old days they would have chopped off the whole hand. He picked up the ax and was going to be lenient. Two or three fingers should do it. Hasil screamed for mercy, but Big Foster was ready to bring down the ax.
Li'l Foster grabbed it and stopped his father.
"Fa, please, this isn't the way. Remember when you caught me stealing. Let me teach Hasil that way. Please. If he doesn't learn, I will chop off his whole hand next time myself," Li'l Foster promised.
Big Foster was suddenly exhausted, his youngest son was dead, and he didn't feel like fighting the only one he had left.
"You do that, Son. Don't make me regret this," Big Foster glared and stalked off to have a taste of their famous wine.
"You have my regards, Li'l Foster, I owe you," Hasil promised thinking he was going to escape punishment for his theft.
"Hasin, you're not going anywhere until you get whupped for what you done. You know better and yet you did it anyway," Li'l Foster lectured.
"I am sorry, just tell your Fa that you whipped me soundly. I will not steal again. I swear," Hasin begged.
"Nah, come here. Bare yourself and get over the stump. I'm going to go cut a thick switch. You might wish you got the ax after I'm down with you," Li'l Foster promised. Hasin pulled down his trousers to his ankles and stumped over.
A few minutes later, Hasin howled as Li'l Foster brought down the pinkie sized switch down on his bared white backside. Hasin heard the whistling sound before he felt the burning pain. Hasin's resolve to take his whipping like a man had failed after one lick. A red stripe instantly appeared. Foster had to use all his strength to hold Hasin down and striped him down to the area right about his knees. After he welted that area, he brought the switch up and gave him four or five hard licks right across his cheeks.
Hasin was crying hard and pounding his fists into the ground. His long brown hair was covering his face. His stomach rested on the stump and Foster had access to his whole backside and thighs.
"S-stop, please!" Hasin begged.
Foster threw the switch into the brush and brought his bare palm down across the welted backside. Smack.
Hasin raised his head to wail and beg for him to stop.
"You act like a babe, I'll treat you like one. You know this could have been much worse," Foster chastised him. He spanked him with his large heavy hand all over his red behind as Hasin bucked and thrashed over the stump. After there were no white spots left on Hasin's backside, Foster stopped the spanking.
"Okay, now. You gonna do it again?" Foster asked firmly.
"No, I swear. I learned. Ya hit harder than my fa did. Never again," Hasin promised, wiping the tears and mucus off his face with his sleeve.
"Good. Now pull up your pants. I think we're going to have another talk with you setting on that here stump I whupped you over," Foster smiled.
"No, Li'l, p-please, it hurts," Hasin whined as he tried not to rub and then failed. He slowly pulled up his trousers over his welted behind.
"Sit," Foster demanded.
Hasin knew Foster could easily add a few hard swats to fuel the fire burning on his ass and thighs. He gingerly sat, hissing as the hard wood made contact.
"Hurts, don't it," Foster prodded.
"Yes, sir. Bad," Hasin admitted.
"Probably not as bas as losing a hand. Next time, my Fa won't get you a chance. So you best behave and do right by our people or I won't be able to to just light your behind on fire to save you. Got it?" Foster asked sternly.
Hasin squirmed on the stump unable to find a comfortable position and would have agreed to anything at that point. He nodded.
"Okay, go on now," Foster prompted as Hasin popped up and rubbed his behind vigorously. Foster smiled and patted Hasin on the shoulder and gave him a reminder smack to behave in the future.
Hasin thought of Sally-Ann and knew he had to keep trying for that paper money to take her out, even if it meant another switching or worse.