Untitled Teen!Chester Drabble (AU)
Title: Untitled Teen!Chester Drabble (AU)
Author: Capricorn86
Characters: Mary Dean (16)
Summary: With John out of town, it`s up to Mary to take their eldest son in hand when he crosses the line
Warning: Contains spanking of a teen (hand, hairbrush)
Author`s Note: This is part of a AU verse where Mary is alive and the boys have a normal childhood. This is a combination of two prompts offered by hlscruggs and renrukiluv. I apologize for taking so long to get this done.
The steps of the stairs creak under the bare feet of Mary Winchester. She ascends slowly, looking to find the reason for the loud, eager barking of the family pet, the Golden Retriever Cara. Mary reaches the bottom of the stairs, and from the living room she can hear the dog bark happily, ignoring the angry, hushed whispers uttered by Dean as he stands by the living room table, his mothers purse in his hand.
Puzzled, Mary stands still for a few seconds, waiting to see what her eldest is up to. She watches him take her wallet from her purse and greedily fish out two bills. As the teenager stuffs them in his pocket, all the while hissing desperately to the dog trying to silence her, Mary steps into the living room, deciding it`s time to make her presence known.
“Dean?”
The sixteen-year-old jumps and spins around sharply to face his mother. He mumbles something, but his words drown in the loud barking coming from the dog.
“Cara, quiet.” Upon Mary`s stern instruction the dog falls silent immediately. It sits down by Dean`s side, looking up at him.
“Thanks for that, I couldn`t get her to shut up,” Dean says with an awkward shrug and a crooked grin. “Doesn`t matter now, I`m busted anyway,” he adds in a low murmur.
Mary folds her arms across her chest, giving her eldest a piercing look. “Stealing money from your own mother, Dean?”
“Stealing`s not the right word. Let`s call it a loan.” Dean gives another grin, broader this time. It does nothing to charm his mother. “I`m broke, and I wanted to go out tonight with my friends.”
“Go out where? It`s the middle of the night.” One seconds silence. Then Mary understands. “Dean, you`re way too young to drink. You`re not going anywhere.”
“But Mom-“
Mary holds up a hand, silencing her sons protest. “You`re grounded. Go to your room and get to bed. We`ll discuss this further in the morning.”
Dean`s shoulders sink in defeat, and his jaw clenches in anger. He lets his hands drop to his sides, and Cara licks his hand.
“Bitch.”
The word is barely audible, but in the stillness of nighttime, sound carries well, and Mary`s keen hearing picks up the offensive word uttered by her teenage son. She can hardly believe she heard correctly.
“What did you say?” Mary speaks slowly. She is astonished, but mostly just pissed off.
Dean has the decency to blush. He`s stepped over the line big time. He bites the inside of his lip, but when his mother continues to stare at him, he finally mumbles: “I was talking to the dog.”
Mary`s hand shoots out, and she takes a firm hold of Dean`s arm. She drags him into the living room, seats herself on the couch and finally pulls the teenager face down across her lap. It all happens too quickly for Dean to speak a word.
The flat of Mary`s right hand connects sharply with the seat of Dean`s jeans, and she continues to bring her hand down in a rapid tempo. She does however quickly find that the sting left in her own hand is worse than the one she leaves in her son`s well protected backside. She puts a little extra strength behind the swats, but the only reaction she gets from Dean is occasional grunts and some muffled ‘owws.’ It`s been many years since Mary has spanked Dean. He`s not a little boy anymore. Mary realizes it will take more than her hand to truly teach the teen a lesson.
Dean, finding himself bent over his mother`s lap, has to admit the slaps ascending on his rear do sting, but it`s certainly bearable, easy to take them silently. The boy would hardly have been so silent if it was John`s lap he was lying across, but he fears he will lose the protection of his jeans soon enough.
Mary suddenly stops spanking and gets off the sofa, dragging Dean to his feet as she does so. She points to the floor, keeping eye contact with her son.
“Stay.”
Dean silently watches his mother exit the living room, Cara following her. A minute later Mary comes back alone, and when the teenager spots the item in her hand, he feels drops of cold sweat appear on his forehead.
Mary taps the back of the wooden hairbrush against the palm of her hand as she catches the eyes of her eldest son. She walks slowly over to the sofa and once again takes a seat.
“Dean, please drop your jeans and underwear.”
It`s not a request, yet Dean hesitates. He`s had a mild taste of the hairbrush before, and he`s not looking forward to receiving it on the bare.
“Don`t keep me waiting,” Mary says, raising her eyebrows at the boy.
With a small sigh of defeat, Dean unbuckles his belt, unzips his jeans and slides them down. He leaves his underwear on, taking a cautious step towards the sofa.
Mary stops him. “Those are going down too.”
Dean blushes. “Mom..”
“Now, Dean.”
Another sigh, and Dean`s boxers join his jeans around his ankles. The teen then proceeds to lower himself across Mary`s lap, and she wastes no time in bringing the hairbrush down upon Dean`s naked rear with a loud smack.
“Ow!” Dean jerks and kicks his right leg. He`s completely forgotten how much that damn hairbrush hurts. It`s completely different from receiving a simple hand spanking. When being on the receiving end of someone`s hand, a certain amount of swats combined with strength is needed to build a sting, but a hairbrush… It comes down with a sharp crack, leaving an intense, lasting sting in its wake. In the words of Dean Winchester, it ‘hurts like a bitch.’
SMACK!
“Oww!”
Although Mary`s not enjoying having to discipline her eldest, regardless of how much he deserves it, she`s satisfied with finally getting a proper reaction from him. She intends to make this spanking a memorable one. Disrespect and disobedience is not something Mary is prepared to tolerate, and she thinks the hairbrush will get that message through loud and clear to Dean.
She continues bringing down the hairbrush upon Dean`s naked rear. It`s not an easy task, listening to the various pained noises coming from her eldest, feeling him squirm on her lap. But Mary knows that with John out of town, it`s her job to step up and take her disrespectful son in hand.
The loud, painful smacks of the hairbrush echo in the room, accompanied by grunts and hisses of pain from Dean. As his backside takes on a deep shade of red, he`s struggling hard to hold back tears. That damn hairbrush hurts so much, and it`s utterly humiliating for the teen to lay bare-assed across his mother’s lap. As the intense sting and heat builds in his rear end, Dean feels as if he`s losing control of his body. He keeps squirming, although he tries to stay still, and his legs keep kicking all on their own. Finally his eyes betray him too, they start to shed tears, despite Dean`s best efforts to hold them back.
“Please, Mom, I`m sorry..” Dean chokes out, silently begging for the onslaught of stinging smacks to come to an end.
“As you should be,” Mary replies curtly, not quite ready yet to forgive her son for his misdeeds. She steels herself as she begins to deliver a last round of harder, faster smacks, making Dean buck and kick even harder, his silent crying intensifying to deep sobs shaking his upper body. When Mary looks down upon the very red, well-spanked bottom on her lap and hears the pained weeping of her beloved first born child, she stops. Dean has had enough, and Mary`s had about all she can take.
“Shhh, there, there... It`s alright, we`re done now. It`s all over.” She puts the hairbrush down on the sofa next to her, running her soft small hand up and down the quivering back of the sixteen-year-old boy.
Dean is crying too hard to speak properly, but once he calms down enough to find his voice, there`s no end to the heartfelt apologies and the promises of good behavior in the future. Mary has no doubt that her son is indeed sorry, but she`s delivered spankings to naughty boys before, and she knows their wild promises of being good forever is not to be believed. She looks forward to John coming back so she won`t be the one in charge of this kind of discipline anymore.
Mary helps Dean get off her lap, discreetly looking away as the boy pulls up his underwear. He winces as he does so, deciding his pants will have to stay where they are; around his ankles. No way he`s sliding the hard, rough denim across his sore ass.
“I really am sorry, Mom,” Dean states honestly.
His mother nods, giving him a kind smile as she touches a hand gently to his face, wiping away the tears. “I know, honey. I forgive you. I trust something like this won`t ever happen again?”
Dean shakes his head hard, sniffing and breathing shakily. “Never ever again.” He turns to exit the room, but stops and faces his mother upon hearing her speak.
“Dean? Aren`t you forgetting something?”
Dean gives his signature crooked grin as he takes a step towards the sofa. He leans down and gives his mother a quick kiss on the cheek. “I love you, Mom.”
Mary chuckles softly. “I love you too, sweetie, but I was talking about certain dollar bills that belong to me. They`re still in your pocket.”
Blushing, Dean pulls up his pants so he can reach into the pocket and give his mother back her money. Mary clutches the bills in her hand, giving her teenage son a fond gaze. “Goodnight, sleep well.”
“Goodnight, Mom.” Dean takes a couple of steps, then turns around, asking his mother: “Hey, Mom? When Dad comes home.. Well, do you think we could keep this.. you know, just between us?”
Mary raises her eyebrows. “Go to bed, Dean.”
Author: Capricorn86
Characters: Mary Dean (16)
Summary: With John out of town, it`s up to Mary to take their eldest son in hand when he crosses the line
Warning: Contains spanking of a teen (hand, hairbrush)
Author`s Note: This is part of a AU verse where Mary is alive and the boys have a normal childhood. This is a combination of two prompts offered by hlscruggs and renrukiluv. I apologize for taking so long to get this done.
The steps of the stairs creak under the bare feet of Mary Winchester. She ascends slowly, looking to find the reason for the loud, eager barking of the family pet, the Golden Retriever Cara. Mary reaches the bottom of the stairs, and from the living room she can hear the dog bark happily, ignoring the angry, hushed whispers uttered by Dean as he stands by the living room table, his mothers purse in his hand.
Puzzled, Mary stands still for a few seconds, waiting to see what her eldest is up to. She watches him take her wallet from her purse and greedily fish out two bills. As the teenager stuffs them in his pocket, all the while hissing desperately to the dog trying to silence her, Mary steps into the living room, deciding it`s time to make her presence known.
“Dean?”
The sixteen-year-old jumps and spins around sharply to face his mother. He mumbles something, but his words drown in the loud barking coming from the dog.
“Cara, quiet.” Upon Mary`s stern instruction the dog falls silent immediately. It sits down by Dean`s side, looking up at him.
“Thanks for that, I couldn`t get her to shut up,” Dean says with an awkward shrug and a crooked grin. “Doesn`t matter now, I`m busted anyway,” he adds in a low murmur.
Mary folds her arms across her chest, giving her eldest a piercing look. “Stealing money from your own mother, Dean?”
“Stealing`s not the right word. Let`s call it a loan.” Dean gives another grin, broader this time. It does nothing to charm his mother. “I`m broke, and I wanted to go out tonight with my friends.”
“Go out where? It`s the middle of the night.” One seconds silence. Then Mary understands. “Dean, you`re way too young to drink. You`re not going anywhere.”
“But Mom-“
Mary holds up a hand, silencing her sons protest. “You`re grounded. Go to your room and get to bed. We`ll discuss this further in the morning.”
Dean`s shoulders sink in defeat, and his jaw clenches in anger. He lets his hands drop to his sides, and Cara licks his hand.
“Bitch.”
The word is barely audible, but in the stillness of nighttime, sound carries well, and Mary`s keen hearing picks up the offensive word uttered by her teenage son. She can hardly believe she heard correctly.
“What did you say?” Mary speaks slowly. She is astonished, but mostly just pissed off.
Dean has the decency to blush. He`s stepped over the line big time. He bites the inside of his lip, but when his mother continues to stare at him, he finally mumbles: “I was talking to the dog.”
Mary`s hand shoots out, and she takes a firm hold of Dean`s arm. She drags him into the living room, seats herself on the couch and finally pulls the teenager face down across her lap. It all happens too quickly for Dean to speak a word.
The flat of Mary`s right hand connects sharply with the seat of Dean`s jeans, and she continues to bring her hand down in a rapid tempo. She does however quickly find that the sting left in her own hand is worse than the one she leaves in her son`s well protected backside. She puts a little extra strength behind the swats, but the only reaction she gets from Dean is occasional grunts and some muffled ‘owws.’ It`s been many years since Mary has spanked Dean. He`s not a little boy anymore. Mary realizes it will take more than her hand to truly teach the teen a lesson.
Dean, finding himself bent over his mother`s lap, has to admit the slaps ascending on his rear do sting, but it`s certainly bearable, easy to take them silently. The boy would hardly have been so silent if it was John`s lap he was lying across, but he fears he will lose the protection of his jeans soon enough.
Mary suddenly stops spanking and gets off the sofa, dragging Dean to his feet as she does so. She points to the floor, keeping eye contact with her son.
“Stay.”
Dean silently watches his mother exit the living room, Cara following her. A minute later Mary comes back alone, and when the teenager spots the item in her hand, he feels drops of cold sweat appear on his forehead.
Mary taps the back of the wooden hairbrush against the palm of her hand as she catches the eyes of her eldest son. She walks slowly over to the sofa and once again takes a seat.
“Dean, please drop your jeans and underwear.”
It`s not a request, yet Dean hesitates. He`s had a mild taste of the hairbrush before, and he`s not looking forward to receiving it on the bare.
“Don`t keep me waiting,” Mary says, raising her eyebrows at the boy.
With a small sigh of defeat, Dean unbuckles his belt, unzips his jeans and slides them down. He leaves his underwear on, taking a cautious step towards the sofa.
Mary stops him. “Those are going down too.”
Dean blushes. “Mom..”
“Now, Dean.”
Another sigh, and Dean`s boxers join his jeans around his ankles. The teen then proceeds to lower himself across Mary`s lap, and she wastes no time in bringing the hairbrush down upon Dean`s naked rear with a loud smack.
“Ow!” Dean jerks and kicks his right leg. He`s completely forgotten how much that damn hairbrush hurts. It`s completely different from receiving a simple hand spanking. When being on the receiving end of someone`s hand, a certain amount of swats combined with strength is needed to build a sting, but a hairbrush… It comes down with a sharp crack, leaving an intense, lasting sting in its wake. In the words of Dean Winchester, it ‘hurts like a bitch.’
SMACK!
“Oww!”
Although Mary`s not enjoying having to discipline her eldest, regardless of how much he deserves it, she`s satisfied with finally getting a proper reaction from him. She intends to make this spanking a memorable one. Disrespect and disobedience is not something Mary is prepared to tolerate, and she thinks the hairbrush will get that message through loud and clear to Dean.
She continues bringing down the hairbrush upon Dean`s naked rear. It`s not an easy task, listening to the various pained noises coming from her eldest, feeling him squirm on her lap. But Mary knows that with John out of town, it`s her job to step up and take her disrespectful son in hand.
The loud, painful smacks of the hairbrush echo in the room, accompanied by grunts and hisses of pain from Dean. As his backside takes on a deep shade of red, he`s struggling hard to hold back tears. That damn hairbrush hurts so much, and it`s utterly humiliating for the teen to lay bare-assed across his mother’s lap. As the intense sting and heat builds in his rear end, Dean feels as if he`s losing control of his body. He keeps squirming, although he tries to stay still, and his legs keep kicking all on their own. Finally his eyes betray him too, they start to shed tears, despite Dean`s best efforts to hold them back.
“Please, Mom, I`m sorry..” Dean chokes out, silently begging for the onslaught of stinging smacks to come to an end.
“As you should be,” Mary replies curtly, not quite ready yet to forgive her son for his misdeeds. She steels herself as she begins to deliver a last round of harder, faster smacks, making Dean buck and kick even harder, his silent crying intensifying to deep sobs shaking his upper body. When Mary looks down upon the very red, well-spanked bottom on her lap and hears the pained weeping of her beloved first born child, she stops. Dean has had enough, and Mary`s had about all she can take.
“Shhh, there, there... It`s alright, we`re done now. It`s all over.” She puts the hairbrush down on the sofa next to her, running her soft small hand up and down the quivering back of the sixteen-year-old boy.
Dean is crying too hard to speak properly, but once he calms down enough to find his voice, there`s no end to the heartfelt apologies and the promises of good behavior in the future. Mary has no doubt that her son is indeed sorry, but she`s delivered spankings to naughty boys before, and she knows their wild promises of being good forever is not to be believed. She looks forward to John coming back so she won`t be the one in charge of this kind of discipline anymore.
Mary helps Dean get off her lap, discreetly looking away as the boy pulls up his underwear. He winces as he does so, deciding his pants will have to stay where they are; around his ankles. No way he`s sliding the hard, rough denim across his sore ass.
“I really am sorry, Mom,” Dean states honestly.
His mother nods, giving him a kind smile as she touches a hand gently to his face, wiping away the tears. “I know, honey. I forgive you. I trust something like this won`t ever happen again?”
Dean shakes his head hard, sniffing and breathing shakily. “Never ever again.” He turns to exit the room, but stops and faces his mother upon hearing her speak.
“Dean? Aren`t you forgetting something?”
Dean gives his signature crooked grin as he takes a step towards the sofa. He leans down and gives his mother a quick kiss on the cheek. “I love you, Mom.”
Mary chuckles softly. “I love you too, sweetie, but I was talking about certain dollar bills that belong to me. They`re still in your pocket.”
Blushing, Dean pulls up his pants so he can reach into the pocket and give his mother back her money. Mary clutches the bills in her hand, giving her teenage son a fond gaze. “Goodnight, sleep well.”
“Goodnight, Mom.” Dean takes a couple of steps, then turns around, asking his mother: “Hey, Mom? When Dad comes home.. Well, do you think we could keep this.. you know, just between us?”
Mary raises her eyebrows. “Go to bed, Dean.”