The Eighth Step

Charlie was sitting at the breakfast nook. When he’d first moved in with us nearly two years before, getting him out of bed in the morning had been like getting a dog into the vet’s office. Now he was one of the first up every morning.

I liked Charlie getting up early in the morning. Most of those mornings, he’d come down still tousle-haired and looking half asleep, have a glass of water or juice, then step into the living room and go through a basic stretching and calisthenics routine. Since he was usually doing this in nothing more than briefs and a tee, it was a fairly entertaining sight.

Charlie’s not one of my taller adult sons. This week after Christmas of 2005, he was still a month shy of fourteen and only stood about 5’3", just slightly less than average, and had a lean build; he probably weighed a solid 102, and had the defined chest and flat belly to show for it. He still had the same dark brown hair and eyes as when he’d moved in with me, though the dark hair was MUCH shorter now, but the short, well-padded boy was gone.

Usually when Charlie was doing his exercises, I had my other early riser, Bryce, tucked in against me while we were reading the comics. Bryce always seemed to get irritated when Charlie stretched and did squat thrusts and push-ups. That probably had something to do with the way my attention slipped. By the time Charlie was finishing his morning routine, Bryce and I had usually finished the cartoons, and I’d plopped him on a kitchen stool while I started some breakfast. Charlie tended to alternate between coming in to join us and going back upstairs to clean up first.



"You guys okay?" Charlie asked the twins as they walked into the kitchen.

They nodded, a bit embarrassed by the attention. Bryce looked up, a bit confused, since he’d slept through the spankings the twins had received the night before. (See Just Desserts)

"Can I ask y’all a question?" Bobby inquired.

The twins looked at each other. Josh shrugged, so Johnny said, "Yeah," though he sounded a bit hesitant.

"Did y’all button your flaps when Dad was through with you? I thought I saw something hanging between your legs, but the backsides were so red, I thought the flap must have been up."

"Oh, ha," Josh said, getting it just a second before Johnny did.

"You know the really nice thing about those pajamas?" Ryan asked.

Everyone looked at him.

"Built-in air conditioning when only part of you’s too hot."

That brought a giggle from everyone, including the twins. It also broke the slightly uncomfortable air that often surrounds the receivers of recent spankings, and the twins joined the rest of us for breakfast.

Charlie lingered over his meal. As the other kids finished, I made my own to sit down and eat. He made a bit of small talk, but mostly sat quietly. As I was finishing, he finally asked what must have been on his mind the entire time.

"Are you going to work today?"

"I’m going to go in for a while; not all day, though."

"Can I go with you?"

"I’m not going to be doing anything interesting, Charlie. It’s the end of the year, and I have reports to print and review, and I have to reconcile the year end…"

As I went on, his eyes started to glaze over, so I took a different approach.

"I have a lot of paperwork to do, and I’m not sure how long I’ll be there."

"I can get a book, can’t I?"

"It’s okay with me," I said, shrugging as I popped a last bite of toast into my mouth.



The Christmas vacation was proving hard on Charlie in some ways. He’d been at The Academy for over eighteen months now. He’d hated it at first, and I think he’d hated me for sending him there and his mother for letting me do it. Over time, I guess as he responded to the discipline and routine and found himself fitting in, settling down, and growing comfortable, that attitude changed.

Because of the nature of the place, The Academy doesn’t have a normal school schedule. Charlie hadn’t been allowed to come home at all over that first summer. By the time he did come home for a visit, he’d changed a lot, knew he’d changed a lot, and wanted to avoid his old friends—the ones with whom he’d gotten into trouble. The problem with that was, he didn’t have much time to make new friends of his own. Bobby seemed happy to take his brother along, but Charlie seemed uncomfortable with that.

This Christmas was only his seventh visit home in eighteen months. His mom and I knew from talking with Charlie’s doctor and the director of The Academy that there was a good chance that Charlie would be coming home for good after this school year if that’s what we decided, but we’d felt it best not to tell Charlie.

In other words, I thought this was just his way of killing some time because he didn’t have anything better to do.



On the way to the store, Charlie sat quietly in the passenger’s seat. Every once in a while, I’d see him casting glances at me from the corner of my eye. Once, as we came up to a traffic light, I saw he’d even opened his mouth, but then shut it again and looked away. That’s when I realized this was all just an excuse to get me alone because he needed or wanted to talk about something.

We’d already had all three sex talks, and he’d been reasonably comfortable with those, so I figured this must be something else. I thought about bringing it up myself, but decided we had time for him to get comfortable before I pushed anything.



When we got to the store, I spent a few minutes showing Charlie around some of my favorite novels that were appropriate for a boy who was still a couple of weeks away from his fourteenth birthday, then left him alone to browse.

I’d been up in my office, checking my list to make sure I’d printed all the reports I needed, then organizing what needed to go where. Charlie had stayed downstairs for a while, then joined me, but not saying much. While I waded through the stacks of paper, Charlie slouched across the coach and started reading.

That, in itself, was amazing to me and proof of how much The Academy had really done for him. When I’d first started helping with Charlie, homework was incredibly difficult for him, and the idea of reading for pleasure… Well, I think he found it about as appealing as a day in the stocks—the entire idea was tortuous to him. We’d made improvements on that when he was living with me, but his seeking out books for entertainment was still marvelous.

At first Charlie was fidgeting and restless, but as he got into the book, he slowly stilled until I nearly forgot he was there. As a matter of fact, I looked up a couple of times to make sure he’d not fallen asleep.



Finally, I had everything sorted. The papers I needed to fill out were matched with those I needed to reconcile, keeping me from forgetting anything. All my receipts were neatly stuck into a bag, along with a DVD holding scans of them all, and two copies of that DVD were neatly labeled and waiting to be filed. I rubber banded the file folders holding the papers meant for different destinations shut, shoved them all into my briefcase, sighed and wished I could just throw the whole thing into the fireplace, then told Charlie we were ready to go.

Charlie jumped when I finally spoke, but marked his place in the book, stood and stretched like a cat; then he picked up his stuff and was ready to go.

I never really hate kids, but sometimes I’m extremely jealous of them.



"I need you to give me a spanking."

The voice that said those wonderful words was too nervous, too choked with emotion to be joking, so instead of saying the first thing that came to my head— which probably would have been, ‘my pleasure’—I made myself wait for a second.

We’d not gone a block from the store before he’d said them, so I waited until we came up to a stop sign, and then looked at him.

Deep breath. No joking.

"Is this for something particular, Charlie?"

He looked at me for a minute, then nodded and looked away.

I had no idea what the nod was, but waited while I saw his shoulders and chest rise in a deep breath. And then he started to speak.

After a few seconds, I interrupted him.

"Charlie, you’re obviously not comfortable, but you’re going to have to either look at me or speak up, because I can’t understand a thing you’re saying."

He did both.

"I never really did any drugs or even drank much, Jack. I swear."

"I believe you, kiddo. Why bring it up, though?"

"First, just so I’m totally honest, I smoked a little grass before I ever moved in with you. I tried some beer a couple a times too. Grass is okay, I guess, but beer’s yucky. I also…"

His cheeks turned red, and he looked away from me again, but wasn’t mumbling this time, so I could still understand him.

"I also drank some of your scotch one time after I moved in with you." He suddenly turned back to me; his eyes were wide, and he looked panicked. "It was just once, though. I swear."

I started to reply sarcastically, but stopped. He’d said that it was after he moved in with me, not while he was at The Academy, which he always differentiated. That meant this was probably a year and a half or more in the past, and he was confessing, so I just nodded.

When Charlie saw me nod, tension almost ran out of him, and he slumped back against his seat for a second.

"Anyway, do you know what twelve steps are?"

I shrugged.

"Both of my parents are alcoholics, Charlie. Believe me, I know."

He looked even more relieved at being able to cut the explanation a bit shorter.

"Well, one of the things they teach us in therapy is that people with problems like mine…"

He paused for a second, obviously embarrassed to be talking about this stuff. Charlie had had a lot of problems through the years, but a lot of them had come from the medicines he was prescribed. During his time with me, then at the Academy, he’d been weaned off all the medicines he was on, dried out, then carefully evaluated and started on a new regimen that focused on holistic and cognitive methods, and used drugs only sparingly. The improvements he’d made were fantastic, but one of the things that The Academy did in therapy was help the kids understand that these things were diseases, not their fault and nothing about which they should be embarrassed. That obviously took a while to work.

"They teach us that we’re more likely to be addictive personalities and how to watch for it. Also, because some of the kids there did use drugs… I mean illegal drugs and alcohol, they teach us the twelve step program. Mr. Hatcher says a lot of it is good ideas for anyone, whether they’re an addict or not."

We pulled up to a traffic light, so I looked at him. He was watching me, so I nodded to show I understood what he meant.

"Do you know what the eighth step is?" Charlie asked me.

"No, I know about the twelve steps, but I don’t know any of them specifically," I replied.

"The eighth step says you have to make amends to anyone you’ve hurt."

"Charlie, I don’t care if you stole a little liquor from me. That was…"

"No," he interrupted me. "I mean… Geez, Jack, I know that was wrong, and I’m sorry about it, but I can only think of one thing I’ve done that was really bad and I need you to spank me in front of the twins."

"In front of…"

I let my voice trail off. I glanced around for a second, then signaled a left turn, took a spin around the block, and pulled into the Sonic Drive-In.

"What d’ya want?"

"Can I have a Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough Blaster?"

I thought about arguing, but the kid was pretty good about controlling his sugar intake these days, and I felt the need for something unusual myself.

After ordering his ice cream and a Cherry Coke for myself, I leaned back. The silence that filled the car was deafening for its tension.

I wanted to say something, just to shatter the silence, but felt it was more important to get my thoughts together, to know what I was going to say, instead of just filling the air with noise.

Finally, the carhop brought our drinks. I paid and handed Charlie his ice cream. With the window rolled back up, I took a deep drink, letting the soda burn down, then fill me with a caffeinated glow before I leaned back again, turning to look at Charlie this time.

"You know ‘amends’ doesn’t mean you have to be punished," I threw out to start the conversation.

"I know that," he told me, sounding a bit exasperated. "It means righting a wrong or making restitution, but I can’t pay him back for busting his nose. You took care of that. I probably couldn’t afford to pay you back his doctor’s bill, even if anybody but you gave me money. I really thought about this, Jack."

"I’m sure you did, Charlie, but…"

I stopped for a second, trying to decide if I wanted to tell him the next part or not. After a few seconds, I decided it might be good for him to hear.

"Johnny was really upset when you had to go to the Academy, son. Oh, he was mad at you for hitting him, and I think Josh was about ready to kill you in your sleep… right up until they found out you were being sent to military school. Then Johnny was irreconcilable. He was bawling, and I mean really hard. He swore it wasn’t your fault, because he’d been pestering you. He promised he wouldn’t do it anymore if we’d let you come back."

"But, Jack…" Charlie started, sounding really upset.

"I know, Charlie. We both know. But he was barely six years old. He didn’t really understand what was happening. He didn’t know about all the problems you’d had. He didn’t understand what you needed. He just knew that you hit him, then the police and CPS talked to him, and then you were sent away. He thought it was his fault and that people would be mad at him for it."

Maybe I shouldn’t have mentioned it, because he looked worse now than when we’d started.

"Charlie, the point isn’t that Johnny felt guilty. The point is that you were wrong to hit him, but he was wrong to be bugging you. I don’t think you need to make amends to Johnny—or Josh either, for that matter—because this was over a year and a half ago, and neither one of you were in the right. Have you seen anything in the way the twins have treated you when you’ve been home that suggests they hold anything against you?"

"Ja-aa-ack," Charlie said, non-responsively, in a miserable tone of voice.

Jack was all he said aloud, but I heard much more than that. I heard, ‘Please, Jack. You don’t know how hard it was for me to ask you this. Your spankings are the most painful things I’ve ever felt, and I hate them, and they’re embarrassing, but now I’m asking you to do it in front of a couple of little kids. I’m really trying to do the right thing, and I don’t know what else to do, and I want to do the right thing because I want you to be proud of me, and I want to come home. It’s so hard for me to do this, and I’ve been trying to get the courage to do it since you picked me up at the airport, and if you keep arguing with me, I won’t be able to go through with it, but I think I really need to. Please.’

I looked at him as his eyes watered up, then he slumped down and turned away from me, his ice cream sitting, forgotten, in his lap.

"I think the twins are home now. We’ll take care of it as soon as we get there."

He turned back to look at me. His nerves and tension were gone and for one second he looked happy. Then he remembered what he’d just talked himself into, and the nervousness rushed back in. It was different this time, though. Where before, it’d been a sick, dreadful tension, like the pain of an infected sore, now it was a purer, healthier tension, like the clean, sharp pain when that sore is finally lanced. He wasn’t happy, but as I backed out, he grabbed his spoon and set to the ice cream with a gusto that surprised me. I guess he was in the ‘eye of the storm’ between asking for it and getting it.



On the way home, Charlie and I talked over exactly what was going to happen, and how to do this in a way that wouldn’t have the freshly spanked twins panicking with the wrong idea.

When we arrived, Charlie sat there for a second, then took a deep breath, picked up his new books, and headed inside. It took me a bit longer than that since I had to deal with a whole pile of paperwork.

In my office, I spread the piles out, taking a minute to be sure everything was still in the proper pile. I turned to go just as Charlie was coming in. I looked at him for a minute, then walked over to him.

"It’ll be too late to change your mind once I get the twins. Are you sure?"

He didn’t look sure, but still nodded decisively.

I reached up and put my hand on his shoulder.

"I want you to understand that I don’t think this is something that you have to do; but I understand it’s something you think you have to do, and I respect that. I’m doing this because it seems really important to you, and because you’re trying so hard to do the right thing."

He’d been looking away when I started, but now he was looking up at me, his eyes just a bit wide with surprise.

"Whether I agree with you or not, Charlie, I want you to know that I’m proud of you, and proud of how much progress you’ve made, but I’ve always loved you."

His wide eyes suddenly grew shiny, and a tear spilled down his cheek. He turned away and brushed the back of his hand across his cheek, but then suddenly threw himself forward and wrapped his arms around me.

"I love you too, Jack."

I held him tight for a minute, then bent down and kissed his forehead.

"I know you do, Kiddo. I’ve always known that, even when you couldn’t show it very well."

Even if I’d not been looking right at him, I think I would have noticed the glow and had to fight to cover my grin.

"You’d better get ready now. I’ll go get the twins."

Charlie nodded, suddenly looking nervous, but his hands were already at the front of his pants as I turned away.



It was a cold and windy day, and the twins and Bryce were in their bedroom, putting one of their new Lego play sets together.

"Guys?"

All three looked up curiously.

"Johnny, Josh, you two aren’t in trouble," I said, trying to reassure them from the start, "but I need to talk to you for a minute. Can you come out here?"

Both of them still looked nervous, but they shrugged, then stood and came towards me. As the twins walked across the room, Bryce watched them until they stepped past me through the door, and then he went back to the wall he was constructing.

Once we were in the playroom, I knelt down next to the two boys, and gave them a quick précis of the situation—just reminding them of why Charlie had had to go to the Academy and letting them know that he still remembered it, felt really bad about it, and was trying to set everything right. I also let them know that Charlie had worked hard to come to this point and that we were doing this apology the way he wanted, but that it was very important to him and needed to remain private. When they assured me they understood, I led them to my office.



When the twins followed me into the office, I saw that Charlie had done as I’d instructed him and a little more. His jeans and shirt were lying over the arm of the couch, and he was standing in the corner, nose firmly in place. His t-shirt was held up so that it and his white crew socks were nicely framing his firm bottom, covered only by his white Fruit of the Looms. However, he’d also turned my desk chair so it was facing into the room, and Red sat in the seat of the chair. Charlie and I had discussed which paddle to use, but I’d decided against a brush for the simple reason that Charlie was accustomed to the school-style CP they used at The Academy, and had only received a couple of hand spankings from me since starting there.

The twins were obviously wondering where Charlie was when we first stepped into my office. I’d told them we were going to talk with him, but he was standing so still, I think both of them looked right past him. When I called his name, they were both surprised to find him already there.

The twins took a seat on the couch. I’m not sure if they looked more or less nervous to see Charlie already undressed. Maybe just differently nervous. Whatever their reaction, Charlie somehow managed to look both sick and relieved as he stood in front of them, making his apology.

"I know it’s been a long time," Charlie explained to them, "and Dad says you guys probably don’t even remember it. I kinda don’t even wanna bring it up. The thing is, I’m really trying to get my life straight… I’m trying to do the right thing. When I was living here and you guys moved in, I wasn’t a very good person. I was doing what I wanted to do, and I was mad at Jack for not letting me do it. I know he loved me… loves me, and I know he was only trying to help me and only spanking me and stuff when I couldn’t behave, but it felt like I was mad almost all the time. I was wrong to hit you. You were just being a little kid. I never meant to hit you in the nose, Johnny. I’m really, really sorry. Jack shoulda given me the worst spanking a’ my life when I did that, but he felt too bad ‘cause he knew he couldn’t let me live here anymore. And that’s not your fault; it was right. I mean, I was twelve and you were just little guys, and he had to protect you, and it was my fault anyway, but I always felt like he shoulda spanked me anyway, and…"

He finally paused and took a deep breath. All of us were crying at least a little bit. I don’t think you could have been in that room and not have been moved to tears by the raw emotion that had been in Charlie’s voice. After a few long seconds, he finally finished.

"And I’m really sorry, and Dad’s gonna spank me now so you guys know that I’m really sorry and that I know it was wrong and I deserved to be punished."

Johnny started to say something, but I interrupted him, before he had more than ‘but’ out of his mouth.

"Guys," I said, stepping over to Charlie and draping my arm around his shoulders. His arm went around my waist, and he rested his head in the hollow of my shoulder. "Charlie and I have already talked this out. He knows you feel bad about him getting sent off, Johnny, but he feels like the school is something he needs, and not a punishment. He’s right, too. He did deserve a spanking for hitting you, and the Academy was meant to help him, not as a punishment. He feels like he needs to apologize to you, that he needs to get the spanking he earned for doing that, and he wants you guys to watch so that you know how bad he feels about the whole thing. We’re going to respect his feelings, and we’re also going to respect his privacy and keep this just between us, right?"

"Yes, sir," they both agreed, maybe not quite understanding what I was saying, and almost definitely not understanding the why, but respecting the solemnity.

With their agreement, I dropped my arm and turned Charlie to face my desk.

"Get the chair and bring it over here," I instructed him.

Silently, he obeyed, also carrying the paddle with him.

I took the paddle, sat down so I was facing the twins, and tucked the paddle beneath my leg. Charlie stepped up and lifted his t-shirt without being told.

Charlie had been catching up with a lot of the growth he’d lacked when I first met him. As I slid his briefs down, I saw that he had a thick, but not especially widespread patch of pubic hair, and his privates were about average size for a mid-adolescent boy. I’m sure he wasn’t showing his best right then, but he wasn’t tiny either. His balls were a bit tight to his legs, but that could have been just nervousness. He was hanging about three reasonably chubby inches, with the head arching out just a bit to hang just below the end of his sack.

Charlie stepped out of his briefs without having to be told, and I tossed them on the coffee table. I gestured to my lap, and he stepped around, moving his hands a bit to cover his privates from the twins, then leaned forward and let me guide him across my lap.

Charlie had probably been the most willful child I’d ever cared for, and I’d developed the pattern I used as a way to break him down without abusing him. It was meant to be sure I covered as much of his rear end as I could, without bruising him. It had been developed for him, but had been perfected with his brothers, only after he’d gone to the Academy. Though he’d grown in the time that had passed, he’d not tasted my paddle since then; and now that he had what he wanted, what he thought he needed, you could tell how scared he was from his body language.

When Charlie had lived with me, I’d had to put him over one knee so I could lock his legs with mine, and then had to pin his hand behind his back with mine. He’d been very bad about controlling himself. I’d mentioned that in the car, and he’d turned a deep red—more embarrassed at being reminded of his lack of control than at the idea of being spanked in front of his brothers, who were only half his age. After some thought, he’d asked to be spanked like I did Bobby and Cal. I generally avoid letting people run things from over my lap, but this was his scene, and I think he had something he wanted to prove to both of us, so I agreed.

Charlie was stiff as I got him into place and made a few small adjustments. He must have felt me shifting to lift the paddle, because his entire body went stiff. I held the paddle away from him for a moment while gently rubbing his back and bottom, and he slowly began to relax. Then he moaned when he felt the paddle touch his bottom.

I paused a second to check my spacing, lifted the paddle and gave it a couple of swings to be sure my arc was correct, and smacked it down across his rear.

Charlie wanted this paddling, felt he needed it, and he wanted to take it bravely. When the first swat cracked across the center of his bottom, leaving a light reddish mark towards the upper part of his cheeks, divided in half by his crack, he jerked a bit, but stayed silent. The paddle cracked down again, just a bit lower, then a third time, at the lowest part of where his cheeks met. Then I started at the top again, this time focusing on just his left cheek.

The boy jerked slightly as each swat of the paddle landed, as if it carried a small current. At first he swiftly settled back into place, but as more of his bottom pinkened and parts of it reached a darker color, the intermittent jerks became steady squirming. Another trip down the crack left the middle of his rear a rosy pink, while the far edges of each cheek were still a lighter pink. Then I placed a couple of swats to each side, deepening that so his whole bottom was almost a uniform color.

With every swat, you could see the sting building… and see Charlie’s determination to take the spanking well and his teenage pride fading away. His squirming slowly grew to thrashing as I moved back to the center for a third trip down the center cleft. And then I moved down to his legs.

Sting on the bottom and sting on the legs seem to be rated on totally different scales. Though I didn’t smack any harder, as the paddle painted each leg red, one, two, three splotches on his left leg before moving to the other side, he was yelping with each smack.

Charlie was breathing hard and heavy, and maybe just a bit wetly, when I finished with each leg. His bottom shaded from a medium rose where his cheeks met to a light pink on the sides and legs, and was flexing just a bit as his legs jerked around.

When I paused to move back to the beginning, Charlie took a deep breath and sagged a bit across my lap. Then he felt the paddle touch down as I lined up the next swat.

"No, no, no, no, no! I’m sorry, I’m…"

The paddle cracking down interrupted him, and this time it was clear he was really sobbing as I started the pattern again. Three down the center, then four down each cheek, moving back and forth, from left to right this time, and he was really crying. As the paddle spread fresh sting across the already burning ache in his bottom, I had to pause and take a firmer grip. Charlie was thrashing as he cried harder, but he never tried to reach behind and cover himself. I did feel him take a hard grip around my leg, but I figured that, if he could ask for and accept the spanking, I could stand a squeezed ankle.

Charlie had said he wanted to make amends to the twins, and I think that might have been true; but what he hadn’t said, yet I believed to be at least as valid, was that he needed a catharsis—he hadn’t been able to forgive himself, so he needed to feel that he’d really atoned.

While I’d not paddled Charlie in a long time, I had done so a number of times, and had paddled and spanked a number of boys over the years, and felt pretty experienced. I was listening closely to Charlie’s reaction. He was crying hard and loud, but he wasn’t quite at his limit yet, so instead of moving down to his legs, I made another trip down each cheek, back and forth again.

As the fresh smacks assaulted his tender, flaming cheeks, he howled his protest and was thrashing so hard I could barely keep hold of him. I didn’t stop at his cheeks, though. When I came to the bottom of each cheek, I just kept going, down onto his legs. He was nearing the edge, teetering at the loss of control, by the time three more swats on each leg left them both a light red.

Without a pause, I went from his legs to his sit spots. The paddle flew back and forth, smacking the left spot, then the right, again, and a third time. The fourth pushed Charlie out of control, and he was howling and bawling. After one long howl, as I smacked the paddle down twice more on the left spot, then twice more on the right, he collapsed across my legs like a limp rag. He barely twitched as the last three swats fell on the center of the smile.

Charlie was bawling so hard, he was shaking with the sobs. I gently rubbed his back while I dropped the paddle behind me; then, even more carefully, rubbed his flaming, throbbing cheeks. After a minute, I helped him to sit up in my lap.

As soon as he was aright, Charlie threw his arms around my neck, holding tight and soaking my shirt with his tears. I help him firmly, rubbing his back and cuddling his head. The entire time, he was saying something, but I couldn’t understand it until he started to calm down.

"I’m sorry, Jack. I’m so sorry. I try."

Just that, over and again, only broken by sobs to change the order. In return, I said the only thing I could think of.

"It’s okay, Charlie. I love you."



When he’d settled down a bit, I motioned at the twins. They came over, both very hesitant and nervous. When they got close enough, I shook my arms a bit and nodded. They both stepped forward and wrapped Charlie and me in their little arms. Charlie jumped a bit, apparently having forgotten that they were there. After just a second, he settled down, then let loose my shoulders so he could turn and hug them.

After a few minutes, Charlie started getting control of himself. I gently moved the twins back a bit, and Charlie stood. He was obviously shy of the two younger boys and pulled his tee down a bit to cover his genitals, which happened to give me a great view of his smooth, enflamed, crimson bottom.

"I really am sorry, you guys. I should have said it a long time ago. I’m sorry for scaring you, Josh, but especially for hitting you, Johnny. I hope you don’t mind Dad still letting me come here."

Johnny threw himself forward, wrapping his arms around the older boy’s waist.

"I’m glad you can still come. I was afraid everyone would be mad at me. I’m sorry too, Charlie."

Josh looked uncomfortable, so I nodded to him that he could leave. A minute later, Johnny finally broke off, both boys sure the other forgave him, and I sent Johnny after his brother.

"Do you feel like you’ve made amends now?" I asked him.

"I sure do," he said, almost laughing as he reached behind him to rub his rear, apparently unconcerned that he was now flashing me.

"Need to do a little corner time, or do you think you could get dressed?"

"Do I HAVE to go to the corner?"

"Nope," I assured him.

"I don’t think I could get dressed yet. Could you…Could I… Ummm…" he was looking at my lap and suddenly his tear-stained face turned much redder.

"C’mere, kiddo," I replied, patting my leg.

Charlie carefully eased himself on my lap, and then rested his head on my shoulder again. I reached around and began to rub his back. He sighed.

"I’m glad they don’t spank like this at school, but I sure could use more back rubs."

I didn’t want to raise his hopes about coming home after the spring semester, but I promised myself I’d make sure he got plenty of back rubs when he did.





Good Time Charlie's Got the Sags

The Walk starring Charlie

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