Christopher at the Bowling Alley

It was June. I’d just closed the store and was heading home, but was feeling a little restless. Stevie was gone. He’d spent one week with me after school ended. Now he was at his Mom’s. He was going to be at summer camp for two weeks after that, then another week at his mom’s. He was going to be home with me for a few days, before going on a fishing/hunting trip with his Uncle and cousins. Then, he’d get home again, and we’d have almost a week to just relax before we left for San Diego, where we were going to the Comic Con, as well as spending a few days seeing the sites there, and in Los Angeles, as well as visiting a few of my friends. It should be a great summer for him. The important thing, right then however, was that my home was empty, and I didn’t really feel like rattling around in it just then.

Have you ever had one of those impulses that seem to come from no where? I decided I wanted to play some video games. It would have been just as close to go to the mall, and a bit closer to go to Putt-Putt. What came to my mind was the small arcade at the bowling alley I’d taken Steve a few times.

There was obviously a summer league going on, since all the lanes were full. However, when I walked into the arcade, I thought it was empty at first. On second glance, there was a small boy, about 6 or 7, sitting on a stool in the corner, watching one of the games play itself. He was fairly cute. Blond, with blue eyes, and an average build. He was wearing a t-shirt and shorts. I think his parents were in the league, because he looked bored.

I got change for a $5, then walked over to the Mortal Kombat machine and dropped my quarters. The boy moved over to watch me play. When I’d beaten the first round, he said to me, "I have a quarter. If someone would give me another quarter, I’d play you." He said it so matter-of-factly that I just had to give him the quarter.

We played a game, and I took it pretty easy on him, but still beat him pretty easily. After that game I kept playing, and he leaned back to watch me. After a few rounds I lost, so I dropped in two more quarters. Before I could start my next game, Christopher hit his start button and began to play. I didn’t say anything, but put two more quarters in, then let him play until he was about to lose. Then I hit my start button to keep him from going out. We played that game, and I when I beat him, I continued with my game again. When I lost, I put into more quarters and the whole thing repeated itself.

We played several games that way, before I’d had enough. When I lost, rather than putting more quarters in, I asked Christopher if he knew where the bathroom was. He did, and I asked him to show me where. He led me to the bathroom that was in the corner of the alley away from the crowd. He pushed the door open for me, and started to turn away as I entered. I stopped him and asked him to come in, so we could talk for a few minutes.

I stepped over to the urinal and began to take care of business. Once I was properly lined up, I glanced back over my shoulder at him.

"Christopher," I said, "what’s it called when someone takes something that doesn’t belong to him without asking?"

"I didn’t steal nothing," the boy replied.

"You didn’t," I asked. He shook his head to confirm it.

"Well, do you remember what the first thing you said was, when I walked into the game room?"

Once gain, he shook his head no.

"Didn’t you say that you had a quarter, and if someone would give you a quarter, you’d play me?"

"Yes, sir. I think so."

"How many quarters is a quarter?"

"One," he admitted, looking at me like I must be pretty stupid for not knowing that.

"And, since you already had one quarter, and I gave you one quarter, you had two quarters. What did you do with them?"

"I played the game."

"You put the quarters in the machine, and the machine gave you a game. Right?"

He nodded as he answered me, "Yes, sir."

"Then, you hit your start button and took your game out of the computer. Right?"

"Yes, sir."

"Who won?"

"You did."

"And, after I won, did you watch me play some more?"

He just nodded this time.

"And, when the game beat me, and I put in two more quarters, so I had another game, what did you do?"

I think that’s when he realized where I was going. He just looked at me.

"Christopher? When I put two more quarters in the machine, did you hit your start button and take that game?"

He was starting to look upset, but he nodded again. "Yes, sir."

"Who put the quarters in the machine?"

"You did."

"Whose game was it?"

"Yours."

"Did I tell you that you could have it?"

"No, sir."

"Did you ask if you could have it?"

"No, sir."

"Did it belong to you?"

"No, sir."

"So, you took something that didn’t belong to you, without asking. Didn’t you?"

"Yes, sir."

"What did you say that’s called?"

"Stealing," he admitted in a quiet, very nervous voice.

"Do good little boys steal?"

"No, sir."

"How’s a little boy acting when he steals something?"

"Naughty."

"Do you know what happens to naughty little boys?"

"They get punished?"

"How do the get punished?"

He just shrugged his shoulders.

"You mean you’ve never been naughty before?"

He nodded his head, clearly in a misery of suspense. "You have been naughty before?"

"Yes, sir." His voice was barely more than a whisper.

"Who punished you?"

"My daddy."

"How did he punish you?"

"He spanks me?"

"How does he spank you?"

"He pulls my pants and undies off, and I have to lay on his legs, and he gives me pops with my paddle."

To be honest, that’s what I’d wanted to hear. I’d wanted this cute little fellow to confess to what he’d done and tell me how he got punished at home. It’s always fun to have a chastened little boy tell you that he deserves to be spanked, and how he would get it if his dad found out. I was so excited that my jeans were almost painfully tight, and I felt I could go home and relax this evening and be perfectly happy. Yet, I felt it wouldn’t hurt to ask one more question.

"That sounds a lot like what happens to my boys when they’re naughty. So, what should I do with you, Christopher? You stole from me, so should I give you a spanking?"

The boy looked at his feet, then up at me, then away, before he finally took a deep breath and nodded, before finally saying, "Yes, sir. I deserve it."

"Let’s go in here to take care of it, then," I said, pointing at the handicapped stall. Christopher went into it, and I followed him. I crossed to the stool, which was in the right corner of the stall, and sat down. Without being told, Christopher came to stand in front of me. I lifted the baggy t-shirt he was wearing, exposing a pair of cotton play shorts held by a drawstring. When I reached to untie it, the shirt fell back.

"Hold your shirt up for me," I instructed him. He pulled the front up, in both hands, exposing his little belly. Christopher leaned forward to watch as I untied the bow holding his pants. With that undone, I was able to pull the waistband open a bit, then I slid them down his legs, exposing a pair of little boys’ white briefs. The shorts were loose enough now that, once I had them down to his knees, they feel the rest of the way to his ankles. I put my hands on his belly, then slid them to his hips, letting my thumbs slip inside the waistband of his briefs, then lowering them to his knees, where they stayed.

I had to turn to the side a bit, to make room for the boy. When I did, he stepped over to my right side. I raised my hand and reached behind him, placing it on the small of his back to guide him across my lap. Before going over my lap, he gave each foot a little shake, and I noticed he had kicked off his flip-flops. I took him by the hips and lifted a bit, so he was nicely centered on my lap. As soon as he was in place, I felt him reach down and take a firm grip around my leg.

Christopher’s bottom wasn’t very wide, but it was nicely filled outwards. My hand didn’t quite cover his whole bottom, but could easily cup one whole cheek. You could feel the firmness of an active boy in those cheeks, but they had a little extra cushion over it.

I lifted my hand to give the first smack. When I did, Christopher tensed his cheeks. I reached down, sliding my hands between his legs and spreading them a bit.

"Don’t tense up, Christopher. If you do, I’ll just spank you harder. Understand?"

"Yes, sir," he replied. I could tell from his voice that he was already nearly in tears.

I patted his cheeks again, then moved my left hand to his waist. After one last squeeze to each cheek, I raised my hand again. He flinched, but didn’t tense this time. I brought my hand down in a sharp smack, causing the boy to yelp. I moved back and forth, swatting one cheek, then the other, then placing a swat right in the center. While we were playing, Christopher had told me that he was 7, which made him slightly younger than my brother, Aaron; but, Christopher was a little bigger. His little bottom was far from chubby, but had a bit more padding than Aaron did, and I was spanking a little harder than I would have spanked Aaron, since he looked like he could take it. Even with the extra padding, it didn’t take many firm swats before he was having a good, hard cry. Christopher had the fair complexion that many blonds have, and just as he quickly went from sobbing, to crying, to really bawling, his little bottom went from pink, to rosy, to red. He was squirming, and kicking hard enough that his shorts came off and went up, but he never let go of my leg.

If I counted, I don’t remember now how many I gave him, but it wasn’t a lot. Those small, cute cheeks wouldn’t have needed a whole lot. After maybe 30 swats, I gave each cheek a firm squeeze, then a brisk rub, before sitting him up in my lap. He didn’t resist when I pulled his head against my shoulder, and seemed happy to just sit in my lap and cry himself out. After a couple of minutes, I stood him up. As soon as he was on his feet, he reached for his bottom. I warned him against rubbing, and he grimaced, but moved his hands to his side and lifted his shirt again.

"How long’s it been since your daddy spanked you, Christopher?"

"Last week, I think."

"Why’d he spank you, that time?"

"Because I didn’t clean my room when he told me."

"Well, not minding is naughty. Isn’t it?"

He nodded, seeming eager to agree with me.

"I know I didn’t have a paddle, but how was my spanking compared to your daddy’s?"

"It was GOOD! You spank really hard."

"Was it harder than your daddy gave you last week?"

He looked like he really thought about it for a minute, before answering. "No, I think it was about as hard."

"Do you think that not minding is naughtier than stealing, or are they about the same?"

Suddenly, Christopher looked nervous again. He glanced down at his feet. As he did, I noticed his briefs had worked away from his knees, and were puddled around his ankles. After a minute, he looked back up at me.

"Stealing is worse."

"Well, if stealing is worse, and I spanked you about like your daddy did for not minding, I guess you need a little more spanking. Don’t you?"

His eyes were already shiny before I asked, and tears began to roll down his face again as he nodded. I pushed my hand into my pocket and pulled out one quarter.

"I went into the arcade with twenty quarters, Christopher. I gave you one and put two quarters in for my first game. With this one, that leaves sixteen. For every game I played after that, you stole a game. Didn’t you." I paused for him to nod. "That means you stole four games or eight quarters." I reached behind him and put my hand on his upper leg, right below his cheeks. "Has your daddy ever spanked you here?" He nodded again. "It hurts more there, doesn‘t it."

"Yes, sir."

"Since you stole four games from me, I’m going to give you four swats on each leg. Then your punishment will be over. Does that sound fair?"

He was sniffling now, but still managed to squeak, "Yes, sir."

"Then get back over my lap."

Christopher didn’t resist as I guided him back into place. His little bottom was still very red. I could feel the heat coming off it, as I rubbed it for a minute. As I rubbed, I could feel him relax a bit, and he draped more loosely across my lap. When my hand moved from his glowing, little cheeks to his leg, he tensed up again, then visibly made himself relax; though, not quite as relaxed as he had been. I placed my hand exactly where I wanted it, so the upper edge of my hand would come down just above where the leg band of his briefs should lay.

"What’s it called when you take something that doesn’t belong to you, Christopher?"

"Stealing."

As he answered, my hand lifted and came right back down. SMACK on his left leg. He yelped, and the sniveling he’d been doing turned to soft crying. I moved my hand to his right leg.

"Do good boys steal?"

"No, sir."

Again my hand smacked down on his leg. A pink hand print showed where I’d popped his left leg, and I carefully put my hand directly over it.

"What kind of boy steals?"

"A naughty boy."

He was having trouble forcing the answer passed his sobs, and he tensed as my hand came up again. SMACK! It landed again, turning the handprint from pink to light red. He was starting to squirm, so I pulled him closer to me, holding him by his hip against my belly. Again, I shifted my hand.

"What happens to naughty boys, Christopher?"

"They get spanked."

SMACK!

"Were you a naughty boy, Christopher?"

"Yes, sir."

SMACK!

Do you deserve to get spanked?"

"Ye-ee-ees."

SMACK!

"Do you like getting spanked?"

"Nooooooo!"

SMACK!

"Why not?"

"It hu-uu-uu-uu-rts!"

The handprints were crimson, and I knew he’d be remembering this when he sat down, for a while. He didn’t even realize it was over, until I helped him to his feet. His nose was dripping and his cheeks were soaked with tears. As soon as he was on his feet, he reached for his behind. I snagged his hands.

"Do you think it hurts you as much to be spanked, as it hurts others when someone steals things from them?’

I’m not sure he was capable of really thinking of anything but the sting in his bottom just then. I moved his hands to his t-shirt, and he lifted it up again. As he calmed down a bit, he finally nodded.

"Yes, sir. I’m really sorry I stole from you. I promise I won’t ever steal nothing again."

"I believe you, Christopher. That’s why boys have to get spanked sometimes. So they’ll have a good reason to remember things they shouldn’t do."

As I spoke to him, I reached beside me and got a wad of toilet tissue. I helped him to blow his nose, then wiped his cheeks dry with another piece.

"So, you think you learned your lesson."

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Then why don’t you give me a hug, then you can get dressed."

He hugged me fiercely, clinging tight to my neck. I held him and patted his back for a minute. Then my hands drifted downwards, and I rubbed that scalding hot little bottom. He sighed as I did.

"Thank you. That feels good."

"Well, if you’ve learned your lesson, and your punishment is over, then it’s okay to rub now."

I patted his back again, then let go, and told him to get dressed. He looked at me for a minute, before he worked up the nerve to ask.

"Is it okay if I rub it a little, before I get dressed?"