Quillon's Covert by Joseph Lance Tonlet, Louis Stevens Read Free Book Online

himself. When he opened them again, he stood close enough that Martin could see the gray flecks that gave his son’s eyes their extraordinary color.
    “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. I never meant to be disrespectful,” he said quietly against Martin’s finger.
    There wasn’t a single question in Martin’s mind about his son’s sincerity. That, combined with what Marty had done with his finger, left Martin’s throat tight and his eyes tingling with emotion.
    Marty released Martin’s hand, stepped around him, and, with some effort, managed to unhook the paddle from the wall.
    Handing it to his dad, he said firmly, “Seventeen. If it’s okay with you, I’d like to get this over with, unless making me wait is part of the punishment. And, if it is, I accept that too.”
    Martin never looked forward to delivering punishment. But what had just passed between them made this time even worse. No, he had no desire to prolong this. It was best to get it over with and enjoy the rest of their time together.
    He nodded briefly. “Now is fine.”
    Considering his son’s condition, his casts, he doubted Marty would be able to brace himself against the counter.
    With a tilt of his head toward Marty’s arms, he asked, “Over my knee, or can you support yourself standing?”
    Marty scrunched his eyebrows in thought. “Knee.”
    Martin moved to the sofa and set the paddle down on the coffee table. As he took a seat on the edge, he felt a hesitance regarding the pending punishment—a hesitance he’d never felt before. Glancing up, he couldn’t help but notice again how his boy had grown into a young man. The once lanky teen had developed into a strong athlete, and he couldn’t help but think Marty had gotten his wish; though he was smaller framed, like his mother, he looked more like the man he longed to be each day.
    “Son,” Martin started, but had to stop and take a breath. He needed to be strong, to get his head on right. It had been three years since they’d shared this punishment space, and Marty had been a boy then. Now a nearly grown man was preparing to bend over his knee. Martin had been two years younger than Marty was now the last time he’d felt this same paddle at his father’s hand. After a few moments, he continued. “Let this be the last time, okay.” He’d meant it to be a statement, but it came out sounding much more like a question.
    Marty nodded and his rich, confident, “I’ll do my best, Dad,” gave Martin some solace that this would in fact be the last time.
    Marty stepped up, started to bend at the waist, but with the casts, it was obvious he wouldn’t be able to put his body over Martin’s knees and control his descent without the use of his arms. Martin watched as he started to kneel, but then decided he couldn’t achieve the correct angle to get himself into position that way either. Jesus, talk about awkward, Martin thought.
    “Um, cuh-cuh-could you…s-s-sit all the way back, Dad?”
    Martin nodded, pulled his knees together, and pushed his back up against the sofa. Once in place, Marty knelt next to him, his knees pushing the cushions down with his weight as he prepared to lie across his dad’s lap.
    “Cuh-cuh-can you help me lie down?”
    Martin was no longer sure who was more embarrassed. Without answering, he leaned forward and wrapped one arm around his son’s back while holding the palm of his other hand to Marty’s chest, easing his son onto his lap.
    Marty stretched his casted arms above his head, where they nearly hung off the end of the sofa, and gave an unmanly ow-ow-ow !
    “Dad?” he panted. “Can you spread your legs a bit…my nuts…are getting squished between…”
    He sighed in obvious relief when Martin spread his knees and Marty’s junk fell between his parted thighs.
    “Fuc…” Marty started, but caught himself. “I mean, jeez , that hurt!”
    Martin felt it coming, even brought his hand up to cover his mouth and quiet the noise, but the