The Dangers of Joy Riding

by Foxtail


Richie Ryan MacLeod swallowed around the lump in his throat and headed for his room on rubber legs, with his father close behind. Why, oh, why, had he let himself be talked into taking his mother's car for a little "spin" with the guys. Okay, so turning sixteen and getting his learner's permit had been a heady experience, and, maybe, just maybe, he had been getting a little too big for his britches lately and not thinking things through. Still, he probably would have gotten away with driving without another licensed driver in the car if things had gone as expected and he'd gotten home before his parents had returned from dinner out.

Things had *not* gone as expected.

Major understatement; things couldn't have gone farther south if he had planned it.

Richie was brought back to the present abruptly as his father shut the bedroom door in his wake and turned to regard the teenager, who stood watching him apprehensively.

"Dad, I can--"

"Not one word," the Scot said, cutting him off. "I don't want to hear it, Richie. There isn't anything you could say that would excuse your recklessness tonight."

"Forget about the damage to the car, we'll get to that later," he vowed, pacing a moment before coming to stand directly in front of the teen. "We were lucky tonight," he stated, voice level despite his anger. "You could have been hurt--one of the other boys could have been, all because you wanted to show off for your friends." He shook his head in obvious exasperation and sighed audibly.

"Yeah, I know," he said, looking suitably repentant. "So how long am I grounded for? One week? Two?" he asked, in hopes of bringing a quick end to the lecture.

"Let's go for a solid month," Duncan answered, with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"A month!" Richie moaned.

"Would you like to try for five weeks?"

" a month's good," Richie quickly assured him.

Duncan nodded absently before adding, "And I think I'll just hold onto your learner's permit until after that month is up."

"But Daaad, that's not fair. I'm sixteen now," Richie complained. Unwisely, given his father's current mood.

Duncan gave the boy a tight smile before unfastening his right shirt cuff and rolling up the sleeve. "That reminds me," he said casually. "It's time for your birthday spanking." The smile disappeared completely then. "Take down your pants."

Richie's mouth dropped open at both the words and his father's actions, the meaning clear. "Dad, I'm too big," he whined.

This didn't get the reaction he'd hoped for as the Scot simply raised an eyebrow and folded his arms across his chest.

"Aw, Dad, have a heart," Richie pleaded, trying a different tact.

Duncan's face darkened considerable at that and he narrowed his eyes at the boy.

Richie knew that face too well. No one changed his dad's mind when he looked like that. "Oh, maaan," he mumbled, frowning fiercely as he approached his father and unfastened his jeans, sliding them down to mid-thigh.

Duncan seated himself on the side of the bed and a moment later Richie found himself face down across a pair of strong thighs, contemplating the carpet - a position he'd found himself in a few times over the past four years - but not for some months now. He'd really stepped in it this time.

Richie eyes widened almost comically as he felt his father pull his briefs down to join the jeans at his knees. Memories of his first one bare bottom spanking at the age of thirteen flashed through his mind and he grimaced. He remembered the experience vividly and had sworn, both to them and himself, that it would never have to be repeated.

So much for that.

Richie felt his father raise his hand and tensed in anticipation of the first smack, which did nothing to lessen his surprise when it landed with a sound like a gunshot. He yelped loudly and drew in a quick breath just as the second smack landed. Duncan's hand was large enough to strike both of Richie's round bottom cheeks with each spank, leaving behind a red imprint that faded to white seconds before the hand landed again.

"Ow...Dad...Dad, I'm sorry...really...really, sorry," he cried out between stinging spanks, holding onto his father's right leg for dear life as his bottom reddened rapidly. "Pleeeeeeaaaaasssssseeee, Dad...I won't...I won't do it...again," he promised, and meant it.

"No, Richie. I know you won't," Duncan said ominously, and continued his assault on the boy's bare bottom, moving from the highest point to the tops of his thighs and paying special attention to the 'sit spot.'

Richie squirmed around as much as he could, trying to move his bottom away from the punishing spanks without success. He threw his right hand back to block the target area and it was quickly captured and held at the small of his back. A sob escaped him as his father's hand seemed determined to light the fires of hell in his backside. That sob was followed by another and another until he was crying freely, his bare bottom growing ever redder by the second.

Duncan was determined to make this a lesson his son would never forget and judging by the boy's response, he was succeeding. His reluctance to mete out this particular form of discipline wasn't stopping him from putting his heart, and his hand, into it, though he wasn't immune to his son's pain. Better a sore bottom, than a prolonged hospital stay. He blazed a particularly hard series of spanks across the crown of Richie's bare bottom at the thought.

Richie was wailing now, thinking his father would never stop this relentless spanking. His bottom burned and his legs started kicking of their own volition, which didn't slow the intensity of his blistering at all.

"Daaaaaaaaaaadddd," he cried. "Neeevvvvveeeerrrr...never again."

Duncan blazed another flurry of stinging spanks across his son's crimson bottom, then stopped.

He let Richie cry and sniffle for a few minutes before raising his briefs and jeans back into place and helping him to his feet. He walked into the bathroom and came back with a handful of tissues, handing them to the boy who swiped at his face with them.

"I'm sorry, Dad," Richie repeated between sniffles, eyeing his father apprehensively.

"I know you are, Son. And I'm sorry I had to do that."

Richie looked up at that. "You still mad?" he asked piteously, tears still streaming down his face.

"Yes, I'm still mad," Duncan informed him, scowling. "A car is *not* a toy, Richie. You could have died tonight, do you understand that?" he asked taking the boy by the shoulders and giving him a firm shake.

Richie ducked his head and bit his lower lip. "I know, Dad. I was stupid. Really stupid." He looked up at his father then. "That car was coming right for us, there wasn't time to get out of the way and I thought I'd never see you and Mom again," he admitted, tears welling in his eyes.

Duncan's heart constricted painfully and he reached out and pulled Richie into a fierce hug. The teen buried his face in his father's shirt and took deep breaths as he tried to stop crying. Duncan patted his back and murmured in Gaelic, words Richie didn't understand, but it didn't matter. As soon as the boy's breathing returned to normal, Duncan pulled him back to arm's length. He cupped Richie's chin in his right hand and used his shirt sleeve to wipe away what remained of the tears on the boy's face.

"Think you're ready to see your mother?" Duncan asked gently and gave him a small smile.

"She's mad too, huh?" Richie asked anxiously.

"Mad...yes, worried...yes. Right now I think you can count on being mothered to death. In the morning you'll get an earful from her. And probably again when we get the bill for the repairs to her car."

Richie frowned unhappily at that. "I've seen the last of my allowance for a while, I guess."

"Mmm, hmmm, and then some," Duncan confirmed with eyebrow raised. "But we'll talk about that tomorrow. Let's go see your mom."

He slung an arm across the boy's shoulders and Richie refastened his jeans as he headed off to be mothered to death.

Right now he thought he could definitely handle that.


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