Ryan and the Red-Tailed Bunnies
"You know, guys; I thought we had a deal."
The three kids looked back at me, over their shoulders, guilty expressions on each face. Guilt was a look I was not used to seeing on Ryan’s face. I didn’t love Ryan more than any of my other sons, but he was my best friend among them. The way he had came to me had guaranteed that, since his CPS worker knew me and asked me to take him in, because we shared so many of the same interests. This time, however, the guilty look deserved to be there.
"Well?" I asked, since none of them had volunteered anything. After another second, I coaxed a bit more, "Didn’t you promise me some chores this afternoon?"
The light bulbs appear over their heads couldn‘t have been any more plain if we‘d been in a Looney Tune. The guilt was obviously left over from their earlier fight with the twins and Bryce.
It was the first real day of Christmas vacation. The weather wasn’t very good at that time, so the kids were stuck inside. I was babysitting the Bonet kids because their grandma was recovering from a surgery that had left her with severely diminished mobility for a few weeks (she’d ruptured her Achilles tendon while playing soccer with the kids). I was trying to take it easy on them because I knew how disappointing it must be to spend the first day of the holidays stuck inside.
The problems had started when I’d let them watch a movie. The twins and Bryce had wanted to watch something they’d seen a million times (Star Wars?) and Babs and Ryan had wanted to watch a different something they‘d seen a million times Princess Bride). Buster usually hung with the younger kids, but he’d sided with his sister this time, so the vote was tied. I broke it by asking the younger kids to do their chores first and gave the older kids 2:15 to watch a 108 minute movie. I thought everything was solved--until about two and a half hours later when the twins started complaining that the other kids were still watching the movie. Apparently they’d just been unable resist watching the sword fight a few extra times, so they were running ‘a little’ late. I yanked them out of the home theater and sent them to the playroom to finish it so they twins could have their turn.
Even when I was annoyed with the kids, I had to admit that the three of them made a cute picture--especially since Ryan was book-ended by Barbara and Randall Bonet--Babs and Buster as everyone now called them, thanks to me. Their last name is given a French pronunciation (bo Nay). Well, with the girl named Babs Bonet, I had to call her brother Buster. They didn’t get it at first, so I dug out some Tiny Toons to show them. Voila! We now have Babs and Buster Bonet--the Bunny twins. It’s been over two years now, so I guess it’s stuck. Even his mom calls Randall Buster. The only one who doesn’t use it on a regular basis (not counting when he’s in trouble) is his grandma; but even she slips from time to time.
The two of them are twins, and when I’d first met them, they’d been in second grade and looked almost identical. They both had medium blond hair, light blue eyes, and fine features. Babs prefers her hair short, and Buster has usually worn his long, especially the bangs, and it was often over his ears and collar before his mom could get him to cut it. With his fine cheekbones, delicate nose, and rosebud mouth, he had looked a bit feminine when I first met him. It wasn’t until this year that he has started filling out enough to lose that, but he was still very cute--maybe cuter now, with a little firmness to him.
Since the Bonet kids were staying with me for an entire week, I’d given them a few simple chores around the house--mostly things that they could easily help with so they wouldn’t have free time while my kids had to do stuff. Nothing real hard, they were just supposed to do some laundry and help set and clear the table. No big sweat. However, they were also supposed to do it at certain times. To keep peace between them and the younger kids, I’d already let them delay their chores so they could watch their movie. Now, they’d apparently decided that Dance Dance Revolution was more important--or at least more interesting--than their chores.
"We’re sorry, Jack," Babs explained in her best wheedling tone.
"Yeah, Dad. We just forgot. We’ll do ‘em right now."
"I don’t think so. I already warned you after that stunt with the movie. I told you then to get your chores done as soon as the movie was over. I am not going to put up with this all week, and all three of you already knew that. You know," I said, looking at the twins now, "how I handle my boys, especially when they disobey. Your mom and I also made it clear how the two of you were expected to behave when you’re over here and what would happen if you didn’t. Let’s go in Ryan’s room so we can have a little privacy."
"ALL of us!" Ryan asked in a panicked, somewhat sick voice.
"Yes, all three of you. Now move unless you’d rather deal with this out here."
The (Bonet) twins are slightly more than a year younger than Ryan, but Ryan had known Babs from dance class… so when he saw her on the playground, he felt rescued. When it turned out that the Bonets live just a few blocks from us, over the ridge, he thought he was in paradise. It did make it easier on me and Ms. Bonet-- Carol-- since we had someone to share the pick-up and drop-off chores. While Buster’s friendship with Ryan is not as close as that between Ryan and Babs, they get along okay; and Buster has always been great friends with my twins, and Barry, whom he knew from school. Both of them were regular visitors to our house but had never been in real trouble before. I knew their mom spanked at times, and I’d sent them home for her to deal with before, largely because I was uncomfortable spanking Babs, but I didn’t have that option this time.
In Ryan’s room, I sat at his desk chair after turning it to face the room and had the three of them standing in front of me. They were all three quiet, probably scared of drawing attention to themselves, which allowed me a few moments to gather my thoughts and plan how to handle this.
Normally, I feel that if a kid gets in trouble with someone else, watching the other kid’s punishment should be part of his own. If someone’s shy and that bothers him, then he should stay out of trouble. However, whether it was because of experiences with my own sister or because I was raised a Baptist and still have a knee-jerk opinion that boys and girls should be modest around each other, I wasn’t willing to deal with this in my normal way.
Since I do believe that embarrassment should be part of the punishment, I felt justified in increasing the spanking to balance the decrease in embarrassment. However, I also had to keep in mind that this was more along the lines of an establishing-the-limits spanking, rather than one for a true crime or even major disobedience. It was going to be hard, but not harsh.
By the time I had my choices firmly in mind and felt they were all fair, the three of them were really beginning to squirm. I like to think I’ve perfected the art of giving an intense stare while letting my thoughts wander, and their nervousness seemed to say it had worked. I finally took mercy on them and broke the silence (well, if you call lecturing a mercy).
"I told you from the start that you’d be expected to help out while you were here; that you weren’t just going to sit around and play all day while the other kids did chores. You were still happy to come over. Still, I’ve gone out of my way to let you enjoy yourselves. You should have done your chores first thing, but I let you put it off while you watched your movie. And not only do you keep playing the same scene over and over, but when the movie finally ends, you play video games. That’s not acceptable. Do you all understand that?"
They all slowly nodded, so I asked the loaded question. "Do you all understand why you’re about to get spanked?"
That’s not a question that 10 and 11-year old kids really want to hear, especially not in mixed company. They tried to persuade me that they didn’t really need one (thank you very much for the offer), but couldn’t argue with the fact that they’d had not one, but two warnings. You could see when they finally tired of beating their heads against my determination, as their shoulders slumped, one by one, in defeat. Ryan had quit first, since he knew me best, and Buster had lasted the longest, but I let him continue until his sister finally nudged him and he gave in.
"I’ve never spanked you two, but you’ve been around here long enough that I’m sure you know how I do it. You should also have a pretty good idea that I can’t do it like I normally would if a group of kids got in trouble together."
There’s no way I can describe the relief on their three faces, so I won’t even try. Instead of letting them enjoy it too long, I went on to describe the alternatives I‘d come up with.
"I’m assuming that you don’t want to get your bare bottoms spanked in front of each other."
Buster and Ryan were quick to assure me that they didn’t. Babs did as well, but she took a second longer, and there was something about the way she looked that suggested maybe she did want to see what the guys looked like with no undies. If that’s how she really felt, she hid it quickly. Since they all agreed, I moved on, never mentioning the fact that I’d decided I could spank them in front of each other by only lowering their undies after they were over my lap.
"Now, the other side of that is, I can spank each one of you privately. Two of you will wait in the living room while I take the other one into my office, where we’ll get you ready, and since you’ll be getting spanked privately, I’ll paddle you with the hairbrush."
I think Babs and Buster may have considered this idea for a second, but Ryan’s eyes went wide, his face went pale, and he quickly put paid to it.
"No! No way. You guys do not want the brush. It KILLS!!"
Since I was fairly positive I’d never spanked Ryan with it, I’m guessing his cousin Huck, who’d had more than a couple of encounters with it, had been telling horror stories. Whatever the reason, Ryan’s near panic was enough to convince the other two.
"Okay, if we’re not going to do that, then go ahead and get your jeans off, please. Hand then here."
None of them looked very happy, and they simply stood there for a minute, looking at me and each other. Obviously, none of them wanted to be the first.
"Or I can do it for you, if you’d prefer. Ryan, come…"
Before I could finish the sentence, he and Babs had already begun to undo their jeans. It took Buster a moment longer, but when I offered to do him while the other kids undressed themselves, he got started. They weren’t exactly quick, but they were moving, so I let it go. After all, I had plenty of time. The only ones they were hurting by drawing this out was themselves.
While watching them--mainly Buster, since I wasn’t interested in his sister and had seen Ryan plenty of times before--undress, I looked closely at them for a moment. Even though they’d been inside all day except for the twins’ quick trip from mom’s house to car, then into our house, they were all dressed warmly. Babs was wearing a pink Hello Kitty sweatshirt, while Buster was wearing a loose, blue and green plaid flannel shirt, and Ryan had on a Spider-man hoodie.
"Babs, are you wearing a…" at 10, I didn’t think she’d be wearing a bra, so "…t-shirt under that?" She nodded.
"Okay, get your shirts off as well."
All three of them looked put upon at the additional disrobing, but none wanted to test me again. All the kids were already in their stocking feet, so it was no problem to step out of them when they finally got their jeans off. One at a time, I took the jeans from each kid and folded them, while they went to work on the upper garments. Babs was the first done and stood in a hot pink tank top and matching lacy panties. Ryan had taken only a moment longer, but the hoodie came off quick, and he was revealed in a snowy white, crew neck undershirt and a slightly older pair of Jockey briefs. The t-shirt was long enough to hide the waistband but not the distinctive y-front (or his little bulge). Then we were just waiting on Buster.
The other two had their tops off before he handed me his jeans, and he must have felt all eyes upon him, because he was blushing as he handed them to me and began to undo his shirt. It only took a couple of buttons to reveal that he wasn’t wearing a tee. A moment later, as I took the shirt from him and began to fold it, he was left standing in nothing but a pair of athletic socks and a slightly snug pair of Fruit of the Looms. His blush faded but didn’t go entirely away.
Before I went on, I noticed that Babs was scrumptiously examining the boys, apparently trying to make out details through their briefs.
"Now, you have two choices left, and you’re going to all get the same thing, so it’s a majority rules vote. Do you want to get spanked with Ryan’s regular paddle," and they all looked, almost at once, towards the door, where Heat hung, "on your bare bottoms, one at a time, while the other two wait outside by the door, or do you want a spanking like I normally give, with you watching each other; on your undies, but with the hairbrush?"
None of the kids looked exactly happy with the choices, and the twins both turned to Ryan for more information, but I interrupted them before they got too involved.
"If you wait outside the door, you’ll have your nose to the corner, and, except for when you’re getting your own spanking, you’ll keep it there until all three of you have been spanked and finished your corner time. If you watch each other, you won’t have to go to the corner until everyone’s been spanked."
The three of them looked back and forth for a minute and started to say something, but I cut in one last time.
"I’m going to give you…five minutes," I said, glancing at my watch, "to talk it over. But when I come back, I want an answer, or I’ll decide for you."
"And we don’t want him to decide," Ryan added, before I could. "That always makes it worse."
"That’s exactly right. It’s better if you accept this and get it over so we can all move on."
The three of them were nearly huddled up arguing over which would be best as I left the room. I didn’t hear the question, but heard Ryan’s, "I don’t know…. He’s never let me keep my shorts on before," as I walked out the door. They were all so concerned about the upcoming punishment, that Babs didn’t even seem to be checking out the boys anymore, so they must have been taking it seriously.
Since Bryce had moved in, I’d had more practice spanking three boys at once than even when my brothers were pre-teens. I knew it would take a while to do it right, so I got a drink, then relieved myself. After washing up, I went back to Ryan’s room. Checking my watch, I saw it had been slightly more than five minutes. When I entered the bedroom again, the three of them had moved apart. All of them seemed lost in their own thoughts Buster was staring out the window, probably wishing for snow, or any escape. Babs was examining the movie posters on Ryan’s walls and occasionally glancing around at the boys. Ryan was sitting on his bed, worry evident in his posture and occasionally glancing at Buster, probably thinking that, if it had been just the two of them, they could already have had this over. They all jumped when I knocked on the door.
"Did we reach a decision?" I asked, wondering why parents always seemed to fall into the plural in situations like this.
"Yes, sir," Babs answered, glancing at the boys for support. "We’ll go outside and wait."
"Yeah," Buster added. " We don’t want the brush."
"I know I said it was a majority vote, and that’s already a majority, but are you okay with that, Rye?"
Ryan looked up at me, a smile on his face at the affectionate nickname, but it was a sickly smile, as he nodded his agreement.
"Okay, you boys need to come with me then."
The boys followed me into the playroom and I took them by the back of the neck, placing their noses firmly but gently against the wall. Making sure Babs could hear as well, I explained the rules of corner time and warned Ryan that he was expected to follow the standard rules.
"If either of you needs to use the bathroom, use the one off the kitchen and go now. Otherwise, if I catch you looking around or out of position, I’ll warm you up again in a bit. Understand me?"
They both nodded their agreement, and I went back into the bedroom, shutting the door behind me, then reached to take Heat from its place on the wall. Barbara turned at the sound of the door shutting and winced as I lifted the paddle and began moving back to the desk chair.
"Come here, Barbara Ann."
Her eyes grew shiny with tears as she slowly walked to me, but she did come.
"Does your mom ever spank you over her lap?"
The girl nodded, so I patted my lap, then helped her lay herself in place. I patted her hip and told her to lift up a bit, then slid her panties down. She wiggled a bit, but didn’t seem too concerned about me baring her. She didn’t have a bad bottom, but it just didn’t interest me. It was wider and less long than I was used to, and had a bit more padding and a bit less firmness, but it was pretty well shaped. Just knowing it was a girl’s bottom kept me from being interested. Still, it had to be done. Mrs. Bonet had told me to spank ‘them’, not him, if they didn’t behave. I had to do it to keep up my street cred; being fair doesn’t just mean not spanking a kid when he doesn’t deserve it, but also spanking kids that do deserve it, if under my authority, even when I don’t want to. So, just like with my little sister or a boy who’d gotten too chubby, I put my feelings aside and went to work.
I did take it a little easy on her, giving her only a two-down pattern, though she probably could have taken a little more. Even two down was enough to cover her entire bottom, though it did leave a little bit of white space that I probably wouldn’t have allowed in a boy.
Spanking her was a bit interesting in one way; she was crying almost from the first swat. I don’t know if it was because of the situation, because she wasn’t used to being spanked, if maybe her bottom was more tender than a boy’s, or if she simply didn’t have the investment in false machismo a boy would have had--the need to prove he was tough before he allowed himself to break down. Whatever the reason, just as her bottom started lily white and became as pink as her panties, then rosy, before settling on a deepening red; her soft, slow sobs gradually became louder, harder, and more frequent. Even though I was giving her a 2-down pattern, her legs were a little fuller than Ryan’s so I gave them the same thing I normally gave him, and, as I finished the last smacks to each leg, she was bawling loud and hard; hard enough that I only gave a couple of symbolic swats to the sit spots, before pulling her panties up and helping her to her feet.
Babs was still crying hard and loud when I opened the door and ushered her into the playroom to take her place on the wall. Ryan knew better than to look around, but I saw him flinch when the door opened, letting Babs’ cries escape. Buster jumped and couldn’t help looking at his sister. I understood the reflex and let it slide by, simply beckoning for him to follow me.
As soon as the door was shut, I pointed to the paddle, where I‘d re-hung it in its accustomed place. "Get that, and leave your shorts on the hook."
"Please, Jack. I’m really sorry. I swear I won’t ever disobey you again."
"That’s nice, Randall, and I hope you never do; but you’re not being spanked for something you might do in the future. You’re going to be spanked for what you’ve already done. I want you kids to have a good holiday, but you are going to behave, you are going to mind, and you are going to follow the rules that we all agreed on, or you are going to be spanked. Now, look me in the eyes and tell me that you didn’t understand that before this morning." He looked away from me, until I took his chin in my hand and turned him back to face me. "You did understand it, didn’t you?"
"Yes, sir," he said miserably, then turned away as I let go of his chin.
"You acted up, Buster, now you’re going to receive the consequences of your actions. It’s not going to be fun, and I hope we never have to do this again, but you are going to be spanked. Besides," I added, after a brief pause, "it would hardly be fair to your sister if I spanked her, then let you off."
"Mom always says life isn’t fair…." the boy mumbled, worry filling his voice, but still able to make a small joke.
"No, but it’s usually not unfair that way, is it?" I replied, as I reached out to tousle his hair.
"Now, I think you need to mind me unless you want to find out what the hairbrush is like, after all."
Buster looked perplexed for a minute, then looked at the paddle hanging by the door. His shoulders slumped and his face scrunched up. His eyes had already been shiny with unshed tears, but now they began to trace slowly down his cheeks, and I thought he was going to start crying as he slid his thumbs down his hips and into the waistband of his briefs, pushing them down his smooth, firm legs. He stepped out of the briefs and lifted them, taking the paddle down with his right hand and replacing it with the briefs, then turned back to me.
Buster was still completely a little boy. His little sac was tight up against his belly, the skin looking thick, wrinkled, and white. It looked like he was pretty well-hung though, already carrying closer to three inches than two, if I was any judge. While I looked at him, he looked away for a minute, then looked back at me.
"I’m scared, Jack. Ryan says you spank really hard."
I looked at the cute, naked boy for a minute, then turned a bit and draped my arm around his shoulder. "I think it’s pointless to give a spanking that isn’t hard, Buster; but did Ryan tell you that, as bad as they hurt, I’ve never injured him?"
I had to take a second to explain the difference to the boy. While I did, I casually started to lead him across the room to the spanking chair. Buster never resisted me, but he gathered his thoughts a moment, and as we stood in front of the chair, he looked up at me again. A few tears had left a streak below his eyes, and they were still shiny, but he wasn’t crying right then. "I guess," he finally replied.
"I’ll make you the same promise I made him. I will give you as much spanking as you deserve, but never more." I paused for a minute to stare at his eyes, making sure that he understood and believed me. "You might not think you can stand it at the time, but in an hour or so, you’ll be able to think back on this, and you’ll want to laugh, thinking how much easier it would have been if you hadn’t made a fuss and just got it over with."
"Promise?," he said, like a drowning man who’d just found a log to float on.
"Well, it might be a little more than an hour, and maybe you’ll just smile instead of laugh, but I do promise you that it’s easier to just get it over with."
I’d taken my arm from around his shoulders but kept a hand there so he felt the connection, so I felt him sigh. Knowing I’d made my point, I finally sat in the chair. He looked at me for another moment before I held out my hand. He handed me the paddle, which I tucked beneath my leg, then I took his hips and guided him into place.
Once he was in place, I couldn’t help but admire Buster’s nearly perfect rear. He really had filled out lately and seemed much more boyish. His bottom wasn’t quite as wide as his sister’s in proportion to his height, but it was much fuller in the back, from top to bottom. Anyway, the dimples on the side made it even more alluring to me. Even as I was admiring it, I was softly patting and rubbing it with my hand.
"Buster, you know that what you three did was wrong, and you know you deserve to be punished. I’m sorry you’re scared, but I know you’re really a brave boy, so I want you to hold on tight to my leg and try to stay in place. Okay?"
I could barely hear the murmured ‘yes, sir’, but I was sure he’d understood so I moved my hand and began to rub his little cheeks with the paddle that would soon be my brush to paint this perfect canvas red. I gave him a minute to get used to the feel of the wood against his rear and for him to relax, then I gave him the first pop.
Buster actually took the spanking pretty well, especially for a novice. He was ouching and yelping from almost the first swat, and he squirmed around and kicked a bit, but it wasn’t ridiculous. He kept his hands in front of him and didn’t start really crying until the first swats started to fall upon his upper legs.
His bottom was already several shades of red when I began a second covering. When the paddle hit that already sore territory, I saw his shoulders start to shake, either in harder sobs, which I couldn’t hear, or maybe just as he fought the instinct to cover his rear from my assault. I mostly paid attention to where the paddle was smacking, but I saw his hand come up to rest on my knee, and I paused to see where it would go. The pause gave him a second to collect himself, and he dropped his hand and fell back into position.
Buster broke during the second set on his legs--howling and bawling, he’d been reduced to a naughty little boy who was truly sorry for his misdeeds. All the fight had gone out of him; but before I finished on his sit spots, I had to take him by the hips to adjust him so I could have a good swing again. That didn’t make me any less proud of how the scared little boy had taken his punishment, though; nor did it when I had to finally pin his little hand against his back when he felt the paddle line up on his sit spots.
I did feel he’d had enough, though. The final swats weren’t perfunctory; they were firm and carefully placed, and guaranteed he’d have something to think about for a bit. They might have been a few less than I would have given Barry, though--despite the fact that Buster was older and a little bigger.
The boy was defeated when I rolled him to sit in my lap and was more than ready to be comforted and built back up. I wrapped my left arm around his shoulder, and reached around with the right to rub his lower back.
"Shhhh…." I told him. "It’s over now. I know it hurt, but you made it, and you were very brave. Now you can cry all those bad feelings out, and it’ll all be okay. I’m very proud of you, Buster, and I love you."
He pushed back a bit to look up at me, and whispered, "You do?" I nodded, but his face suddenly crunched up, then he buried it against my chest. His crying had been… not quieting down, but evening out, showing he was beginning to calm down; but as I said that, he took a deep breath and replied, in a voice so harsh with tears it was hard to understand him, "But you’re not my dad. I don’t have a dad."
If he said anything else, I couldn’t make it out through the harsh sobs. Poor kid, I’d been little older than him, before I first met my dad, and I could honestly understand exactly how he was feeling. I moved my right hand to the back of his head and pulled him close to me, holding him, rocking as much as I could, and gently shushing him.
It was obviously useless to try talking to him. I doubted anything I could say would make sense right then, if it even penetrated. Instead, I mostly made soothing sounds and said senseless words until he’d settled back down. When he was calm enough that I thought he could hear me, I tried again.
"I don’t have to be your dad to love you, Buster. You know I’m not Ryan’s father by birth."
"Yeah, but he gets to live here."
A point. I took a minute to collect my thoughts before responding.
"Yes, he does, but there’s a difference. Do you know what the difference is between you and Ryan?"
He thought for a second, guessing that ‘he gets to live here’ wasn’t the answer for which I was looking, and finally shook his head.
"The difference is that you have a mother and grandmother who love you very much and work very hard to take care of you. Ryan didn’t have anybody, so he came to live with me."
"So," he said, his voice not quite as harsh, though he was still sobbing pretty hard, "if I didn’t have anybody, you’d take care of me?"
I wasn’t worried about that, since I knew he had aunts and uncles, even if they didn’t live nearby, but that’s not what he wanted to hear. "Yes, Buster, if you didn’t have anyone else to take care of you, I’d let you stay here in a minute."
He looked up at me with a weak smile, marred a bit by the fact that his chin was quivering so hard.
"And just because I’m not your dad doesn’t mean I don’t love you and can’t help you. If you ever need a dad for something, I’m sure Ryan wouldn’t mind letting you borrow me. And if there’s ever anything you need to talk to an adult about, but you’re too embarrassed to ask your mom or grandma, you can come to me."
"Really?"
"Really and truly. But for now, Ryan’s probably having a nervous breakdown waiting for his turn and wondering why I’m taking so long with you. Let’s go."
The boy reluctantly crawled up from my lap, pausing to give his obviously aching bottom a quick rub, then started towards the door.
"Buster?"
He turned back to me, flinching as I held out the paddle, but then taking it despite his too obvious reluctance to ever touch the thing again.
We crossed back to the door and I paused to watch as he hung the paddle in its accustomed place, then slowly and tenderly pulled his briefs back on, wincing as they covered his mildly swollen cheeks. He reached for the door, then stopped and stepped back to wrap his arms around me one last time. He was still crying a bit, though his sobs were finished, except for an occasional hiccup.
"You’re really good at that. Tell Huck he’s letting you practice too much."
I patted his back, but then opened the door and led him out. I could have spent the entire afternoon with the boy, but it wasn’t fair to Ryan to keep him waiting.
When we stepped back into the playroom, the two of them were still against the wall, though they’d probably been talking, since they were closer together than I’d left them, but I wasn’t going to hold that against them.
After getting Buster settled against the wall, I tapped Ryan on the shoulder and he followed me into his bedroom. As soon as the door was shut, I turned to him.
"Buster was really scared, Ryan."
"So am I," he replied.
"Maybe so, but he was scared because of what you told him about my spankings."
"I didn’t tell him anything, Dad," he answered, but then his face grew slack for a second as he thought. "I mean, I didn’t tell him anything today. I guess we talked about it before. You know, he was telling me how his mom spanks him and I told him about you. I didn’t mean to scare him."
As much as my boys sometimes believe otherwise, I’m not a walking lie detector. Ryan isn’t a natural liar, but I’m sure he can fool me if he really wants to. It wasn’t a habit with him, though, and I believed him on this. I reached out and gave his shoulder a soft squeeze.
"Okay, I guess that’s natural. I just didn’t want to think you were teasing him." Ryan just shook his head ‘no’, so I went on. "I guess we should get this over with." The boy nodded his little redhead, though whether in agreement or just acceptance, I don’t know. Still, he knew the drill and reached over to take his paddle off the wall, then led the way across to his desk.
I followed him, enjoying the view. Ryan had been growing a bit recently, and his bottom wasn’t nearly as nice as Buster’s, but there was still enough back there to give a little sway to his briefs (his t-shirt covered the waistband, but hardly any of his rear).
I took my seat and Ryan looked at me for a second, probably weighing whether it was better to get it over with, or take a minute to beg for clemency. He must have realized that, after his two friends had already been worn out, he wasn’t getting off easy, so he took his undershirt and pulled it up his chest. I slid his briefs down to his knees, and he gave his legs a shake, so the undies fell to the floor, where he could step out of them. Then he stepped around to my side, where he fell forward onto my lap.
I took his hips and adjusted him a little. Once I had him in place, I patted his rear, and he handed the paddle back to me, after just a second’s delay. Then he put both hands against my leg and gave himself a little push. I don’t know why, but Ryan’s always liked to be a little further over my leg than I put him. At first, I was afraid it might be so he could rub his penis against my leg during the spanking. I’d seen him pop an occasional boner before or after a spanking, like many boys do, but he’d never gotten up from my lap with one, so I quit worry about it. It was probably just something about his anatomy that made him feel more comfortable that way.
Once he was satisfied with his position, I felt him slip his hands up inside the leg of my jeans and take a firm grip on the leg hole. Knowing he was ready, I didn’t delay.
Ryan took his spanking better than Buster had; but that’s not to say he took it well. He was still until I’d covered most of his bottom. As the paddle moved back to the center of his cheeks for the third time, he finally began to squirm. As the paddle moved down onto his legs, his yelps and sobs became loud enough for me to hear. Ryan’s never been much of a kicker, but as the paddle began its second journey across his bottom, his legs began to twitch, like a dog chasing a rabbit in dreams. As the paddle moved across his already stinging bottom the second time, going over and over the already hot flesh, his cries became louder and louder. He didn’t break until the final swats on his sit spot sealed the spanking for him. He did get more than Buster had, but he was older and used to my style.
No matter how bravely he’d taken it, it was a red-faced, teary-eyed, hard-crying youngster who I pulled up onto my lap. He was braying and shaking with his last wails and I hugged him tightly to steady him. When his shakes died down, I pulled him up a bit, so I could rub his throbbing bottom for him. With that, he wrapped his arms tight around me and settled his chin on my shoulder.
We clung like that for a minute while I told him I was disappointed in how he’d acted that morning, but was proud of they way he’d accepted his punishment, and that I loved him very much.
"I think you need to finish crying outside, though. C’mon."
He reluctantly pushed himself up from my lap, then picked up his briefs. The look on his face suggested that he was considering going back to the wall bare, but the thought of Barbara Ann being there must have decided him against it (not that I’d have let him), and he pulled the thin cotton over his aching cheeks. I handed him the paddle and we made the trip back to the playroom.
Twelve minutes later, I came back from the kitchen to find all three kids still where they were supposed to be. Ryan wasn’t in the middle this time, but it was still a pretty picture. Buster was in the middle. To his left, Babs was standing, though it looked like she might have changed panties, since they were much closer to a rose than pink anymore. Ryan’s Jockey’s were thin enough that they were glowing a pretty shade of pink, almost like Bab’s panties had been. Buster’s Fruits were thick enough that you couldn’t see how red his cheeks were, but, as I said, they were a bit snug, and the leg bands cut right across the darker than scarlet shade of his sit spots.
I led the three of them back into Ryan’s room and gave them a (very brief) lecture about what I expected the rest of the week, so we wouldn’t have to repeat this. Then I left them to do their chores, which took longer than they should have because none of the kids were anxious to move very quickly.
When they had all their assigned chores done, they reported back to me, and I informed them that there was one thing left I wanted them to do for me.
"It’s strictly on a volunteer basis, though. If you don’t want to clean these batter bowls for me, you don’t have to."
For some reason, chores no longer seemed quite as onerous to them.
A bit after they’d gone off to play, my twins came into the kitchen.
"Dad," Josh asked, "can we lick the bowls?"
"Sorry, guys. Ryan and the Bunny twins already did it."
"How come they got to do it?" Johnny asked tersely.
"Because they just got spanked, and they needed a treat. Anyway, I’m cooking up a marble cake now, so you two can handle these for me, if you wait a bit."
Josh accepted it in good grace, and climbed up on a stool to talk to me. Johnny, who was just a bit more impatient, could be heard to mumble, "That’s not fair. I get a lot more spankings than Ryan does."