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       Sic Semper Tyrannis ! - Vol. 53, p.1

           William Turner
 
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Sic Semper Tyrannis ! - Vol. 53
Sic Semper Tyrannis !

  Volume 53

  By Spanked Teen

  Copyright 2014 Spanked Teen

  Disclaimer

  The author was reared in the southern United States at a time when corporal punishment was an accepted means of disciplining children, and he experienced such correction both at home and at school. That discipline, however, was less severe than what is depicted here. The author opposes child abuse. This story is a fantasy; all characters and situations are purely imaginary. It is not intended as an endorsement of using corporal punishment to discipline real children. Its sole purpose is to provide entertainment which its intended audience, adult evangelical Christian readers of male-male spanking fiction, will not find offensive.

  Sic Semper Tyrannis !

  Journal of Christian Ericsson

  (continued)

  Chapter 508 - “ . . . spanking this Danish kid, for speaking Koine Greek?”

  The afternoon was fun - the “other side” had caved and were wanting to cut a deal for Doug to do a plea bargain. So Mr. Huber really is that good! Of course, when we had a recording incriminating the D.A., he had a lot of leverage, so it wasn’t that hard.

  Billy thought they might try to kidnap us when they got us down there. I told him, “C’mon, Mr. Grissom was their employee, and Mr. Gray was their boss. They know we’re not lying about Mr. Grissom’s death - Mr. Gray saw it happen - they’ve seen our video. They’re not suicidal.”

  So I dragged my beloved Billy along. When we got there, the judge and the D.A. were both there. They were cared to even fill out the preprinted forms and sign their names. I pulled out the ones I’d already prepared, and handed them to the judge and the prosecutor.

  I made them agree to let us have a prayer meeting across the street from the courthouse all night before Doug’s hearing. Of course, with the deal already cut, there seemed to be no reason to pray. But I insisted it wasn’t really an order until the judge announced it from the bench - and they agreed, even though that’s a highly questionable legal proposition.

  The judge capped the session by asking to purchase a signed set of the tee shirts for his grandson. I explained that we wouldn’t sell them, to him or to anybody, but that he could contribute the cost of producing them, if he chose to. Then I handed him the entire set, in the right size, that Doug and I had already signed. Again, he didn’t miss the point, that I really was clairvoyant. I didn’t tell them what I knew, that by next week, we’d have his grandson in our gang.

  The rest of the afternoon we actually relaxed a little. We’d been going to do the baptisms after the morning service. When it broke up, Fr. Told the folks we’d do it that night, and that Doug would be getting baptized - which pretty much guaranteed we’d have all the crowd back.

  So Dad’s workers put up a couple of more sections of the tent during the afternoon, and dragged in a portable baptistery. I teased Billy by telling him Doug’s baptism would be “real special” (it should have been “really”), and then didn’t tell him what I meant - so he was expecting something, but not sure what.

  The service itself was much more “normal” than the pep rallies we’d had the last five services. We were wearing yet another set of tee shirts, this time with Billy Schmidt’s picture - we’d sent a bunch home with Al’s group - enough that they’d have some to “distribute” - I made Al promise not to “sell” any.

  I announced our “all night prayer vigil,” Doug sang The Lord’s Prayer quite a tour de force for a guy who spent last Sunday night sleeping on the street in a box. Then we sang a bunch of fast songs, with Doug again playing the banjo.

  Fr. read some of the emails we’d gotten, Bro. Adams preached. Then we had the baptismal service - there were more than fifty candidates. Fr. helped with the baptisms, wearing his clerical garb.

  They saved Doug until last (and yes, they did ask me, and I told them to do it that way. With every day that passes, it looks more like I’m running the show - and it drives me nuts - but I can’t figure out how to avoid it.)

  Doug testified first, and said that about this time last week, he was settling into his box at 35th and Pine, with a half pint of gin, and a joint of marijuana. Than, after Bro. Adams had baptized him, Doug walked onto the platform with his wet clothes still on, and sang A Child of the King. On the third verse, about “I once was an outcast stranger on earth” - where he’d broken down when he sang it Friday night, the crowd stood and applauded. He kept singing, this time.

  When he’d done, he picked up the Testament - I’d left it on the lectern for him (unusual - I don’t usually let it out of my hands), held it up, shouted, “I call God to witness!”, and the same lightning bolt I’d been able to call down, enveloped him for more than a minute, while he repeated Apostles’ Creed in Aramaic.

  I’ve done it before for the guys, but the people there hadn’t seen it, and found it impressive, and scary. So I went up and said that’s what they’d see destroy the CPS building Friday afternoon.

  But we did manage to finish the service, and afterward Doug and I stood beside Shane’s table and chatted with folks, posed for pictures, and signed things. I was relieved that it was more like what we think a service should be.

  That night we did something a little different. Before the big fight with CPS blew up, we’d set up this program called “rent-a-kid”. The idea was that we hired ourselves as errand boys to help folks do chores.

  The real attraction, for both them and us, was that you got to spank the kid you rented - several times, if you wanted to. Billy’s explained the set-up fairly well, so I won’t repeat it. What he didn’t describe, of course, was my adventures.

  Unlike the other guys, of course, Doug and I knew who we were getting rented to, and whatever element of danger there had been to spice it up, we were denied by knowing how it would come out, and our absolute certainty that anyone who tried to harm us would simply be committing suicide.

  Anyhow, the guy who’d “rented” me was a college professor - quite a contrast to the farmer who “rented” Billy. Of course, we hadn’t promised the kid would go to the highest bidder - but this guy wanted to be sure he got me, so he bid a thousand dollars. The other guys all went for about a hundred dollars apiece, except Doug (who’s writing his own account of his misadventures.)

  One reason the guy wanted to “rent” me was because he’d heard I claimed to have the “gift of tongues”, and wanted to test my skills. He taught Greek and Latin at the university - the same one Bob attended (but Bob wasn’t taking classical languages).

  But the real reason he wanted to rent me was because he thought I was a cute kid, had watched Bob popping me on our web casts, and wanted a shot at my tail. He’d been teaching Spanish, French and German at a Junior High School, and had gotten to paddle the kids there.

  Then they quit spanking the kids; so he moved on to college teaching, which paid better, and was less taxing, and gave him a chance to do scholarly writing, which he liked.

  Well, he was there to get me when the service ended - he’d actually attended the service (to be sure he didn’t miss me), and so had gotten to hear me sing, albeit only in English. He hadn’t seen me do a miracle, but had gotten to see Doug call down fire, so was pretty sure I’d be able to, as well.

  He was only about thirty years old, was single (and gay), and was driving a European make sports car, with the top laid back. Of course, we’d all worn levis, Nikes, and tee shirts to the service. But as soon as it ended, I slipped out, went to the church, and put on my good stuff.

  By the time I got back, they were hunting me, and were quite surprised when I showed back up wearing a vested suit, tie, leather shoes, white shirt - the works. Anyhow, Bob had the guy and in
troduced me as “my little brother, Chris”), (which gives me a big charge, every time he says it), and introduced his as “Prof. Albertson”). He was wearing a suit and tie - but it was church, so most folks were.

  He was surprised that I was dressed up, but said nothing until we got to the car then he asked me how come. So I spat back, in classical Greek, that I’d wanted to be “properly attired” to go to the University Club.

  His initial reaction was, “Quit showing off - speak English.” So I spat back, in German, “And if I don’t? Wha’cha gonna do about it?”

  I pointed to the “rent-a-kid” paddle we’d given him, and said, in Latin, “You gonna spank me for being a smart-aleck? I figured you would - but not quite this quick.”

  He picked up the paddle like he was going to - and asked, You really gonna let me?” And I retorted, “¡Absolutamente! Azonitas para siempre.

  But he said, “No, Dr. Collins is meeting us at 8:30 - and I wanna take time to tan your tail thoroughly!” So I complimented his alliteration.

  Then we got in the car and sped off, and eh said, “Look, Chris, we can play word games when we get home. Dr. Collins isn’t a linguist - he teaches history.”

  I shrugged and said, “Sure, Prof. - I’m an obedient kid - nobody told me not to speck Attic Greek.”

  And at that point he asked the question I’d set him up for - “So you really are clairvoyant - in several languages?”

  I nodded and said, “Sure - and I know why you shelled out a thousand bucks to rent me - and why Dr. Collins paid a thousand dollars to rent Doug. And we’ll both let you - that’s the deal - and I’m into BDSM, just like you are - I’m a sub with a capital “S” - and so’s Doug. I’ve been “playing” a little longer than he has - bet we’ll both cry, if you do a thorough job.”

  As I’ve said, the papers had called me a “faith healer from Sweden,” so he asked me if I were from Stockholm, and said he’d been there. I told him I’d been to Stockholm several times, but was actually from Copenhagen. But I said Billy and Bob were from Stockholm, and told him where they lived - and he demonstrated his familiarity with Stockholm by accurately describing the neighborhood I’d named.

  Anyhow, by that time we were at the University - Doug and Dr. Collins were waiting for us. Doug’s not as adept as using “the gift” as I am (yet), and so he was quite surprised when we showed up. Dr. Collins had only told him we they were “meeting someone.”

  And he was quite grateful - we’d set up the “rent-a-kid” scheme before he came on board, and he wasn’t real comfortable with it, but thought because the guy had paid a thousand dollars, he ought not back out. (He still hasn’t grasped how much a hundred million dollars id, and doesn’t realize that, to Bob, a thousand dollars is pocket change.)

  When Dr. Collins introduced Doug to Prof. Albertson, Doug did manage to read our of my mind that Prof. A. Was a Greek scholar, and answered him in Koine (not Attic) Greek - and Prof A. caught the difference.

  So I said to Doug, “Look, Prof. A. Doesn’t want us speaking Greek in front of Dr. Collins - he thinks it’s rude to show Dr. Collins up, by speaking a language he can’t understand.”

  And, to their surprise, Doug came back with, “Well, I guess it’s like Dr. Johnson said, “Greek is like lace - everyone gets as much of it as he can.’”

  Dr. Collins was startled; but he did manage to say that Doug had omitted the “sir” in Dr. Johnson’s sentence (a fairly obvious point, since Dr. Johnson customarily inserted the term into every riposte he made).

  But at that point, they abandoned the fancy titles, and told us to call them “Al” and “Cling”. Clint had actually told Doug in advance to wear a suit, so Doug and I were both “properly attired” for the fancy club.

  It was quite snooty - they served dinner in several courses - I’d actually been to a few more formal affairs; Doug hadn’t. But with “the gift”, he managed OK for a kid who’d been sleeping in a box the week before.

  When we got inside, there was another guy waiting for us - he was introduced as “Prof. Jardine”, who was in the music department. It seems they’d gotten onto the fact that we sang, and wanted to see whet her we were really any good.

  So I took a chance on upsetting “Al” and spoke to “J” (as they called him) in French. He looked a little surprised, but responded in French - so then Doug spoke to him in French.

  At that point, “Al” said. “Look, Chris, I told you not to go showing off. Want me to take you outside and spank you?”

  I nodded eagerly, and said, “Sure do! That’s the main reason we set the scheme up in the first place. And I’ll let you - but CPS may not. Don’t get me wrong - they can’t touch me - they’d fall dead if they tried it. But, there’d be an investigation - if they had the nerve. Do you really want to explain to the campus cops why you were spanking this Danish kid for speaking Koine Greek at the University Club?” (Of course, Doug was the one who’d spoken Koine - but he didn’t think about it).

  He grinned and said, “OK, Chris, I guess you’ve got a point - but, wait till we get you guys home!” Doug and I looked at each other and said, “Uh-oh; looks like we’re in trouble!” But because of the pervasive presence of CPS, we dared not t ease the matter beyond that, in the fancy restaurant, since the university’s crawling with social worker types.

  Chapter 509 - “Jesus of Nazareth Passeth By.”

 
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