His 19 year old stepson could no longer fake it, crying tears in shame and pain, wishing he could disappear. He hated coming home for college breaks. The lad was to only speak when spoken to during a “baring”. He burned with humiliation to be seen in this spectacle. The man spoke only when he heard the boy let out any verbal cry besides his tears—against his stern instruction of silence. The man exhaled in frustration—“That’ll be five more.”
Mrs. Johnson watched in righteous satisfaction with her daughter and friend.
“That will teach you to try to spy on my girls. Didn’t quite turn out like you thought, did it young man?”
The noise summoned his punk stepbrother. Peering around the corner, he let out a laugh, and then a wolf whistle. The Johnson girl smirked. He stood there transfixed, studying the exposed bits.
“His hole just peaked through!”
The girls’ lie had worked beyond their wildest dream. And the best was yet to come—he would be frogmarched over to them and made to give a stammering apology, bare head to toe und unable to cover, before being led to the entryway where he would stand, facing a mirror across the hallway til sundown.
He would have no reprieve of his nakedness.
