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Cinderfella, pt. 4
It was the year 2030 when the repeal of the 13th Amendment to the U.S. Constitution changed my life. Diminishing incomes meant my mother was no longer able to pay the bills, and I had willingly signed a contract indenturing myself to my new stepfather, a man named Jake Head.
My stepfather came down the staircase, wearing a pair of blue boxers. He was shirtless, and my jaw dropped as I saw him barechested for the first time. It was hard not to ogle him. He was built like a Greek god, with powerful shoulders, huge, muscular arms, and thick, rounded pecs. His washboard abs looked like they were sculpted from stone. His thighs, only partially covered by the blue boxers, were thick and muscular. They looked like they could crack walnuts.
I nearly dropped the mug that I had been putting away when I saw my hunky, hateful stepfather amble into the kitchen. Luckily, I managed to not drop the cup.
"Alright, Dick," he said. "By my count, you've received eight demerits today. Go get the paddle so we can start working those demerits off."
"Sir, I said as respectfully as possible, "I don't want to be paddled. Please don't paddle me."
He approached me, that awful look of holier-than-thou benevolence on his face. "Dick, we have to work off those demerits. A little paddling won't hurt you. It will only build your character. Proverbs, chapter 23, says: 'He who spareth the rod hateth his son: but he that loveth him, correcteth him. Withhold not correction from your son, for if thou strike him with the rod, he shall not die. Thou shalt beat him with the rod, and deliver his soul from hell.'"
He lifted my chin so I was looking him in the eyes.
"Dick, I refuse to see you burn in hell for your mistakes. Your mother and I care about you too much to let that happen. Now, I know you don't want to be paddled. But that's only because your mother has coddled and spoiled you your whole life. That's Satan talking inside you."
In a patient, yet condescending tone, he lectured me on how, after years of having everything handed to me, it was now my burden to serve, a burden that Jesus had called me to do. By serving half-heartedly, I was rejecting Jesus and eternal life, he said. By failing to complete my tasks without incident, I was "listening to Satan", who was trapping me in selfishness.
"You must learn to embrace your new life, Dick," he said, his handsome, rugged face just inches from mine. "Cherish your new position, even. And accept your punishments so that they can improve your character. Now let's go get that paddle so we can work off those demerits together, boy."
I followed him to the living room and reluctantly walked over to the fireplace, where there was a wooden paddle about the size and shape of a ping pong paddle hanging from a hook above the mantlepiece. Mr. Guernsey, the Overseer, had shown me where it was kept during my first day at my stepfather's home.
I took the paddle down and slowly walked over to the couch, where my nearly naked stepfather sat, his blue boxers riding high on his legs as I approached. His thighs were huge.
As I handed him the paddle, he said, "Now lay down across my lap and we'll get started working off your demerits, boy. Five paddles per demerit."
Slowly, awkwardly, I did as he had ordered, embarrassed by having to lay across this man's lap like this. It was humiliating, but it only got worse when he pulled the back of my undershorts down below my butt. I had thought he might do so, because my friend Jimmy's father had done the same thing to their servant when their servant had set the dining room table incorrectly. But knowing it was coming didn't make it any better.
"Here, let's get this shirt out of the way," my stepfather said, as he pulled my shirt up around my midsection. "Actually, let's get it of the way altogether." He pulled it up and over my head, then pulled it over my arms and set it down on the couch.
I felt weird laying nearly naked on my stepfather's lap, only my crotch still covered by my underwear, but I realized there wasn't much I could do. I felt so exposed. My face was beet red as I lay there, waiting to take my punishment.
Mr. Head brought the paddle down and swatted my ass. It stung like a motherfucker! He had powerful, muscular arms, and he obviously wasn't afraid to use those muscles in order to discipline me for my sins.
"Count, boy," he commanded.
"One, sir," I said, my face grimacing.
SMACK!
"Two, sir," I said.
SMACK!
"Three, sir," I gasped, tears already trickling down my cheeks.
At ten swats, I was squirming, trying to get off his lap, but he firmly held me in place with his left hand while still delivering blows with the paddle.
At twenty swats, I was crying, tears streaming down my cheeks. At thirty, I was screaming for Mommy. At forty, snot was running from my nose. The paddling finally stopped.
"There, now," my stepfather said. "That wasn't so bad, now, was it? Alright, boy, get up."
Still crying, I awkwardly started getting up from his lap. Humiliatingly, I was sporting a huge boner, which was now sticking up and partially out of my briefs. Hoping he wouldn't notice, I tried to adjust myself discretely as I pulled the back of my briefs back up, then tugged the string T-shirt down over my head. With the low-cut t-shirt hanging down around my midsection, it helped cover up my hard-on.
"Seems like you liked that paddling a bit too much, Dick," my stepfather commented, after I had dressed. "Now go on downstairs, read your Bible verses, and then go to bed. You've got a busy day tomorrow."
I went downstairs to my cot, where a Bible was sitting on the bed. I tossed it off the bed, crawled under the covers, lay down on my front side, and cried myself to sleep.
In the morning, I rose early from bed. I was still sore from last night's paddling, my butt-cheeks feeling stiff from the paddle. I grabbed my Tuesday clothes from the linen closet, and then headed upstairs to hose off in the greenhouse, feeling exposed as I washed up in a corner of the red-brick, glass-walled building. My butt-cheeks were still pink, I noticed.
I completed my grooming, shaving my head, face, pits, and pubes using the dirty looking-glass that was hanging inside the door of the potting shed as a mirror. In previous days, Mr. Guernsey had made me use the looking glass there, explaining that servants weren't supposed to use mirrors, as that was considered "vanity". And yet, I needed to make sure that my head was without stubble. Mr. Head, he said, had insisted that I needed to keep my head clean-shaven.
I walked quietly to the kitchen, where I donned an apron and began preparing breakfast, somewhat sullenly.
I was still cooking the bacon when Mom came down the front staircase for breakfast.
"Good morning, sweetie," she said.
I turned off the stove and ran over to her.
"Mom, we've got to get out of here," I said. "I can't stand this place. I can't stand THAT MAN!"
Mom nodded sympathetically. "I understand, Richard," she said, she said, patting my hand. "Yesterday was really hard. But today will be better. It's Christmas Eve Day!"
"Mom, you don't understand," I said. "Jake hates me. He slapped me in the face. He paddled my ass last night. He treats me like dirt. I can't stand it anymore, Mom. Let's just get out of here!"
"Oh, Richard, don't do this now," Mom said. "Tonight's Christmas Eve. Look, I know Jake was a little harsh with you yesterday, but it's only because he cares about you, honey. He wants what's best for you. He told me himself. His way of showing affection is just old-fashioned, that's all. He believes in 'Tough Love'."
"Mom, I can't stand it here. We've gotta leave," I said, insistently.
"Richard, I know it hasn't been easy for you so far. But we just got here. It would be a mistake to leave now before things have even settled down. I know you're unhappy; I'm not pleased with the way you've been disiplined, either. But I'll talk with Jake privately, tonight. I'm sure I can get him to relax the rules a bit."
We argued for a while; I was still insistent that we leave right away, while Mom wanted us to wait a while and see if things would get better.
"I'm sure things will get better, Richard," she said. "Tell you what: Let's give it two weeks. If, in two weeks, you still want to leave, we'll figure out a different way to pay Jake back all that money. Okay?"
"Mom..." I began.
"Do it for me, honey," she said. "I don't want to go to Debtor's Prison."
What could I say to that?
"Alright," I said, reluctantly. "But things really better get better."
"It will," Mom promised. "You'll see, Richard. You just have to give it some time. Now let's finish getting breakfast ready."
I walked back to the stove and started cooking breakfast again. A short while later, Jake came into the kitchen.
"Morning, sweetie. Morning, Dick," he said, kissing his new wife. "Happy Christmas Eve Day!"
"You're in a good mood," Mom said.
"Well, I just had my morning workout," Jake said. "Nothing like a brisk, invigorating workout to make a man feel rejuvinated."
He flexed his bicep in front of Mom, who felt his arm, then traced her hand across his sculpted arm, then down his muscular pecs and washboard abs. They kissed again, whispering and giggling to each other about "last night".
I finished making breakfast for them as they flirted with one another. Then I served breakfast to them on the breakfast china.
"We'll have a little Christmas Eve party tonight," my new stepfather said to Mom. "My sons, Christopher and Daniel, are coming up from Milwaukee. I can't wait for you to meet them."
"Oh, but I have nothing to wear," Mom said. "I'd hate to meet your sons in the ratty old things I have in my wardrobe!"
"I'll give you my Gold Card," Jake said. "You can do some shopping, pick up a few new dresses, and get some presents for everyone while Dick and I get the house ready for company."
"Oh that sounds wonderful!" Mom said, elated.
After breakfast, Mom took Jake's Gold Card and headed out to do some shopping. I did the washing up while Jake got dressed.
When he came back downstairs, he asked, "Dick, did you read your Bible verses last night?"
"Uh, yeah," I lied. To tell the truth, I was so upset about being spanked that I had completely forgotten about that hateful reading assignment until now.
"Do you feel like you understand the Bible's message better now?" he probed. "What did you learn, boy?"
Shit! I couldn't even remember which passage it was that he had ordered me to read.
"I learned..." I began lamely. I learned nothing, asshole. "I learned..."
He grasped me by my shoulder and turned me around from the sink.
"Dick, I gave you that reading assignment because I wanted you to learn something," he said. "The Bible is the word of the Lord. Through Him you can be reborn a better person. One who serves with joy instead of reluctance. Now, since you didn't learn anything from reading that verse, I want you to repeat your reading assignment tonight. Read the words 100 times. This time, think about what the words mean. They are a gift from God."
"Yes, Sir," I said obediently, hating this asshole.
As I turned back to finish washing the dishes, my stepfather lectured me for a while.
Then he said, "Dick, I want you to scrub the dining room floor this morning. Really make it shine. My sons are coming over, and we'll have a nice little Christmas Eve party in there tonight, the five of us."
"Yes, Sir," I said.
"Make sure you get under the table legs, and under the chairs," he said. "I don't want to see a speck of dirt, understood?"
"Yes, Sir," I said.
"And when you're done with that, you can polish the dining room table, then vacuum the carpets in the main rooms, and clean the upstairs guest bedrooms so the boys will have a place to sleep."
"Yes, Sir," I said, feeling like a broken record.
I spent the rest of the day cleaning the house: after finishing the dining room, I cleaned the guest bedrooms, then scrubbed the rest of the house from top to bottom.
By the time Mom got home, it was almost 5 PM. She went upstairs to wrap presents as Jake berated me about not dusting the mantlepiece well enough.
As I cleaned and polished the mantle, the doorbell rang.
"Well, are you just going to stand there?" Jake demanded. "Go answer the door, Dick."
I obediently walked over and answered the door. Two guys who were about my age walked in. They had their father's golden, wavy hair and handsome model looks. They were finely dressed, and their hair was gelled up in the latest fashion. I was quite embarrassed to be standing there next to them in just my underclothes with my bald head.
"Daniel, Christian, it's so good to see you," Jake said, rushing up to the door to give them each a big hug. "You look great. There's someone I'd like you to meet."
"Marsha! Come down here please, sweetie," He called up the stairs. "My sons are here."
"I'm coming," Mom said, as she came down the staircase. She was wearing a beautiful party dress with a nice Christmas pin at the lapel. She'd done her golden hair, and looked truly beautiful.
Jake whistled appreciatively when he saw her. She walked to his side, kissed him, and then she hugged both of my new stepbrothers.
"So nice to finally meet you," she said as she hugged them. "I've heard so many good things about both of you."
"Wow, Dad," one of the guys said. "She's smokin'. You did good!"
Everyone laughed.
There was something about that laugh that reminded me of something. I couldn't quite place it, but something about those guys seemed so familiar.
"Oh, and before I forget," Jake said. "This is Dick, your new step-servant."
STEP-SERVANT?! I blushed as they looked at me. I couldn't believe he called me that; that term felt so humiliating. Completely degrading.
"Don't I know you?" one of them said, looking at me closer. "Wait a minute. Of course I do. I'd recognize that ugly face anywhere. You're 'Icky Ricky'!"
"Dude, no way!" the other one said. "That kid was a fuckin' faggot!"
"No, it's him," the first one said. "Look at those big jughead ears. Even without the hair, I can tell it's him."
The words 'Icky Ricky' had suddenly flashed me back to my freshman year of high school, when I had been continually bullied by several upperclassmen. Every day, they had made my school life a living hell. It was only when they graduated that high school had become bearable for me.
Now, as I looked at them, I recognized them. And my heart sank as I realized these two assholes were now my stepbrothers. Shit!
"Dude, it IS Icky Ricky!" the other guy said.
To be continued...