Brett and Dave Gunter

I wish I'd come up with a neat name for them like 'The Lynch Mob' or 'The J-Team', but they were always just 'those kids'. I first met them not long after I opened the comic store. I think I’ve mentioned that I opened in June of 1989, about a week before Batman opened, and I was able to take advantage of all the sales that generated. That’s when I met these guys.

I’m pretty sure that all of them came in that first time, oohing and aahing, wearing Batman t-shirts and wanting to find some cool new stuff. "All’ would have been six of them. The main four were Ronnie Coulter, Seth Harkins, Dave (Shoe) Schumacher, and Brett Gunter. Carter Dutch looked like the junior member, and little Davie Gunter was the kid sidekick. At first I thought Ronnie and Shoe must be twelve since they were bigger than Seth and Brett, who both looked about eleven. It was only later I learned that they were all eleven, and Ronnie and Shoe were just big for their age. Carter was ten, and David was only six at that time, but he got to hang around with the older kids, so Brett didn’t have to stay home and watch him all the time. (David had to put up with a fair amount of teasing, but it was never harsh or mean. It later turned out that Shoe was the only boy in his family, Seth and Ronnie were only children, and Carter was the youngest in his family; so none of them minded having David around-- not most of the time, not too much).

None of them were ugly boys. Shoe was the best looking of them—tall and lean, with medium blond hair that had just a bit of wave to it. He had strong features and a nose that was maybe just a hint too big, but he grew to be a very handsome young man.

Ronnie was actually an inch or so taller than Shoe—still lean, but he wasn’t into sports, so he was a little softer than his friend. He wasn’t especially good looking, with light brown hair, watery brown eyes, and a crooked nose, he was pretty much average all the way down the line—not bad looking, but not eye candy, either.

Even at eleven, I think you would have had to call Seth handsome. His features were strong enough that he might have seemed ugly or unusual looking when he was younger, just because his features would have overpowered his face, with an aggressive chin, wide mouth, and a nose like an eagle’s beak. Seth was shorter than Ronnie and Dave, even a little shorter than Brett, but he had a stocky build, and he carried himself with a confidence that belied his years.

Brett was the cutest of the main four, but I think part of that was because he wasn’t as tall as some, and had a slight chubbiness about him—not much, but he looked softer than the other boys. His hair was a little blonder than Shoe’s, but almost curly. It wasn’t just his body that was soft; Brett also had delicate, not quite feminine features, and soft blue eyes. He was saved from being too soft and actually effeminate by the simple fact that he was too rough and tumble to ever be mistaken as anything other than a boy (and he actually did grow out of most of the softness by his mid teens).

As for the younger two, Carter was almost as plain as Ronnie, but there was something about Carter that was cute. Not to mention that he was a determined athlete, even at ten. His hair was a slightly darker brown, and he had green eyes, which, along with his firmer build, made him pleasant enough to look at, if not pinup material.

And David? Dave was just cute. He looked a lot like his big brother, but his hair was a very dark brown and he was leaner and loved soccer and baseball. He was also, probably because of the teasing he endured, one of the funniest, best-tempered kids I think I’ve ever met.

The whole group of them followed trends. They never had exactly the same interests, but they always seemed to gravitate towards the same general things. At first it was Batman, then Spider-man, before switching to X-Men, then Superman. They all followed what was ‘hot’, but not at the expense of other things. Seth was more into comics than the other guys were. Ronnie was the first of them to become interested in role-playing games. Carter never did lose his interest in Batman. Eventually they all became Magic players.

It was always fun to see them coming into the store, so I could find out what new thing had caught their interest; especially since it wasn’t restricted to comics. I learned they’d all played baseball and soccer together, and some of them had moved on (Shoe was a basketball player, while Carter was big into football). They really reminded me of the G. I. Joes—the group of friends I’d had when I was ten or twelve years old. The biggest difference was that they’d mostly grown up together (Seth, Brett, and Carter had lived on the same block since they were born, and they’d met Shoe in kindergarten), and that they remained friends even after some of them started developing other interests (like girls).

They were all good kids, and I came to know them well, since they all lived within easy walking distance. As with pretty much every boy I’ve ever known for any length of time, the subject of spanking eventually came up with them, though it was easier with some boys than with others. Ronnie was very reluctant to discuss his spankings, though he admitted to getting them. It was only later that I realized his father was very strict with him, and the boy had trouble going more than a couple of weeks without one. Shoe was also very reluctant, though not for the same reason. Shoe ended up working for me throughout his college career, and it was only then that I learned that the only spankings he got after he met me were for his birthday, and when he made that one stupid bet with me, as he put it.

The other boys were a bit more casual about things. Brett admitted that he and David were spanked. As you’d expect, David got it a bit more, but Brett got it harder. Dave, who was much less shy about spankings, was happy to point out that he’d never had the belt, but that all Brett’s spankings were with it these days. Seth and Carter both admitted to being spanked (and while Carter’s parents weren’t as strict as Ronnie’s, I do know that Carter didn’t receive his last spanking until he was 14, when he was caught skipping a class so he could have a smoke).



Talk was all that happened, though—no matter how much I wished otherwise— until the summer of 1991.

David was only eight then, but I knew they didn’t live too far from the comic store, and it wasn’t across any major streets, so I wasn’t too surprised to see him occasionally. I remember that was the first year that his parents had let him stay home with Brett. I think Brett had been staying by himself as long as I’d known him, but they’d not been sure he was mature enough to keep an eye on David as well.

While Dave loved hanging around with the older guys, and while he did have some friends his own age, he and I had a pretty good relationship, and he enjoyed talking about comic books and stuff. While the books the older boys read were a bit complicated for him at times, and they tried his attention span with their long, drawn-out story arcs, I was always willing to help him find the comics that he really liked. As I recall, he was big into Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, Sonic the Hedgehog, Spider-Ham, and the various comics based on animated cartoons, like Batman Adventures and X-Men Adventures, and I always kept a look out when I bought collections for things he’d missed, like Mighty Mouse and Super Mario Brothers.

I’ll be honest here. Six is about the minimum age at which I enjoy the company of kids. I like them younger than that, and they can be fun, but it’s a bit of a chore, and a relationship with them is different than with other boys. By six, most boys can pretty well express themselves, and they’re starting to have some self-control. While it can get boring and frustrating, their curiosity and excitement about the world can really make you appreciate things in a new way. Even though Dave was only a year or so younger than Stevie, Stevie had been around me and comics for years. To Dave it was all new and exciting, so I didn’t mind at all when he started coming in by himself. I couldn’t talk to him like I would a boy who was even a few years older, and he didn’t have the patience for a lot of the long talks I enjoyed having with twelve and thirteen year olds, but he didn’t come around as often or hang out as long as the older boys either, so it was okay with me.

At least it was okay, until I saw him putting a figurine into his pocket.

It was really almost an accident that I caught him. He’d come up to the store, and I’d been explaining some of the differences between the Justice League of America and the old Super-Friends cartoon, when a customer walked in. I’d excused myself while I took care of the other fellow. I knew someone had been stealing some of the toys, but I’d never suspected Davie. The figurines were PVC plastic and only about two inches tall. They were also very cheap, and most of the best ones were already sold, which is why they weren’t in a place I could watch them more closely and easily. The only reason I did see it was because I’d developed the habit of always checking the security mirrors back when I was working at the convenience store.

While I was ringing up Mr. Towers’ purchase, Dave walked by, put the comics I’d been showing him on the counter, and waved at me.

"Hang on one sec, Buddy. I need to talk to you before you go."

Dave stiffened at that. He clearly wanted to leave but was too used to obeying to just ignore me.

Mr. Towers had never been one for a lot of small talk, and it wasn’t long before he was gone. As soon as the door closed behind him, I turned and looked at Dave. He’d obviously grown in the time I knew him but seemed about average for an eight year old; maybe four foot three or four inches, and had the build of most active boys that age—lean and firm, but with a little extra soft packaging over it. He was wearing fairly loose plaid shorts that hung most of the way to his knees, sneakers with ankle socks, and a baggy t-shirt. He knew something was wrong and squirmed as I looked at him.

"Do you have anything you want to tell me, David?"

He opened his mouth, then closed it and just shook his head.

"You don’t think you should tell me about what you put in your pocket?"

His eyes went wide, then started to get watery.

"I’m sorry."

"Sorry’s not good enough, David. You were stealing something from me."

"Are you gonna tell my daddy?"

"I’m going to have to tell someone, Davie. This is very serious, and you’re going to have to be punished. Is anyone home but Brett?"

The poor kid winced at the word ‘punished’, but slowly shook his head.

"Do you know your mom or dad’s work number?"

He was still quiet, and only shook his head again.

"All right, then. Let’s call Brett and see if he has your dad’s number."

"Please don’t, Jack. I’m really sorry. I’ll never do it again. I promise."

"David, I believe that you’re sorry, but there’s a problem with that. I don’t know if you’re sorry because you were doing something you know was wrong, or if you’re only sorry that you got caught."

I know I wasn’t playing fair with the poor kid, but it seems to me that you have to be a little rough with them sometimes, so they’ll understand what they’ve done.

David opened his mouth to protest, but I stopped him.

"The other problem is, I don’t know if this is the first time you’ve ever done this, and you would have felt guilty later and never done it again, or if you’ve done it a lot. I like you, David, but I just don’t know. I can’t even believe what you tell me right now. I don’t think you’d lie to me, but I never thought you’d steal from me either. Do you see why this is hard for me?"

He wanted to protest, you could see it in his face, but he nodded, admitting he understood me, even as he protested. "But I swear, Jack, I’ll never steal nuthin’, never again."

"I wish I could believe you, Buddy. Maybe you’re telling me the truth. Whether you’ve ever done it before or not, maybe getting caught like this will make you realize how much trouble you can get in." I paused just for a second, but I could see hope light up behind his eyes. "But maybe it won’t. I think you’re going to have to be punished to be sure you learn a lesson from this."

A soft sob escaped him, and his eyes grew shiny with tears. "Please, Jack! Please don’t tell my daddy."

I really did feel bad for him, and I really did like him. The trouble was, I needed to see him punished because I liked him. Maybe if it was a kid I hadn’t liked, I could have just let him go and told him not to come in the store anymore. With David, I really cared about what happened to him. As much as I wanted to hear about him getting spanked for this (or, better yet, do it myself), I wanted to be sure he had learned a lesson, so I could trust him enough to allow him to keep coming into the store.

He protested a bit more, but half-heartedly, apparently realizing my mind was made up. I parked him on a stool, while I went to my customer files and looked up their home number.

Five minutes later, Brett was on his way up to talk to me. I’d been rather surprised that he was nearly as distraught as David was. I didn’t have any customers right then and wasn’t really expecting any on a slow, mid-week afternoon, but I also didn’t want someone walking in to find me sitting there with a softly crying eight year old, so I took David to the break room and sat him down there with a glass of water and some Kleenex. (Hey, he might have been stealing from me, but I still really liked the kid.)

It wasn’t more than a few minutes until I saw Brett fly by the front of the store on his silver BMX. A minute after that, he came in, flushed, sweaty, and out of breath. He obviously hadn’t been fooling around when he said he’d be here as quickly as he could. He started to look confused as soon as he walked in the door.

"Where’s Davie?"

"He’s sitting down back there," I replied, pointing over my shoulder to the door leading to the storerooms, office, and stuff. "He’s pretty upset about being caught."

"I’m really sorry, Jack. You’re sure he…?" the boy asked, letting the question trail away, but it was obvious he hoped I’d admit there was some mistake.

"Yeah, I wouldn’t have said it if I wasn’t sure, Brett." I pointed again, to one of the security mirrors this time. "I saw him put it in his pocket, and he admitted it when I asked him. There’s no question that he did it."

I was confused again. I knew Brett cared for his little brother but didn’t understand why he was so upset about this. There was no question that he was very upset about it, though.

"Brett, both you guys have said that your dad spanks you." I paused, a bit nervous about asking the question. "He doesn’t beat you, does he?"

Brett looked startled a second, then shook his head. "No, I get it pretty hard sometimes, but he never like leaves bruises or nuthin’. Why?"

"I was wondering what you’re so upset about."

"Oh!" he answered, clearly not aware that he’d given that much away. "I just hate him getting in trouble. If you call Dad, Dave’s gonna get it pretty hard, maybe even get the belt—he’s never got it like that before, but Dad’s gonna be really mad—and then he’ll chew me out for letting Dave be up here by himself."

"That’s a real shame, Brett; but it doesn’t change what he’s done. Is he supposed to be up here by himself?"

"Not really. I thought he was just going to the convenience store or to a friend’s house. I didn’t know he was coming all the way up here."

Suddenly the light dawned and I realized what really had Brett so upset.

"Is this the first time he’s misbehaved this summer, since you’ve been in charge?"

"Not really. He’s been pretty good, but I had to spank him a couple of times. He knew I was in charge, but he didn’t want to mind, and he thought I wouldn’t tell Dad because I might get in trouble. That was the first week, though, and he’s been a lot better since then."

The boy didn’t know it, but he’d just handed me the key to the kingdom. The rest was just straightening out the details.

"You’ve spanked David before?"

Brett nodded.

"Pants, undies, or…?"

"His bare butt. Dad lets us keep our shorts on sometimes if we’re not in real bad trouble, but I never did a bunch of spanking, so I figured…."

"Makes sense to me. Did you get him to cry?"

"Yeah. I didn’t stop until after he’d started to cry. Dad always makes us… him cry."

"Well, I hate to get you guys in trouble with your dad, but I think a boy that can’t do what he knows he should deserves to be punished, don’t you?"

He agreed adamantly and it only took another minute or two for us to agree on the details.



Dave was sitting slumped over, his forehead nearly resting on his knees. He looked up when we came into the back room, and his eyes were bloodshot. He flinched a bit when he saw Brett with me.

"All right, David. Your brother and I’ve talked this over, and I think we’ve decided that we don’t have to tell your dad. Is that okay with you?"

The little fellow nodded anxiously.

"That doesn’t change the fact that you still need to be punished; but Brett says he’s responsible for you when your parents are at work, and that he’s spanked you before. Is that right?"

He nodded again, a little embarrassed this time.

"However, he also says that you’re not supposed to be up here by yourself, so you’re in trouble for more than just stealing, aren’t you?"

He looked like he wanted to protest, and I was suddenly sure that Brett hadn’t bothered to set any real boundaries with him. "Would your mom or dad let you come up here by yourself, Davie?"

He shrugged, but then looked away from me and shook his head.

"All right. Since we have that settled, here’s what’s going to happen if you don’t want me to call your parents this evening. First, Brett says you’ve never gotten anything but a hand spanking; is that right?"

The boy nodded his head, then stopped. "I got paddled at school once," he admitted.

"Okay, well that’s not quite the same thing as a spanking. So Brett’s going to give you a spanking for coming up here when you’re not supposed to." Even as I said that, I was stepping over to my desk. "But stealing is very serious, Dave, so you’re going to have to have a bit more than that." I paused for a moment, while I bent over, pulled a drawer open, and removed the Little Deer, which I kept there for Stevie. "After Brett’s spanked you, I’m going to give you a taste of the paddle, so you’ll understand how serious it is to steal something."

The boy started to cry again. Only one sob escaped him, but I could see the tears running down his cheeks and could see his chest shaking with silent sobs. I wasn’t going to let him off, but it would have taken a harder heart than mine to not feel for him.

"Dave, I know it’s scary. Spankings hurt, but you know what you did was wrong, and you’ll feel better afterwards."

He looked up at me, shock and disbelief written in his expression.

"Okay," I admitted, "your bottom won’t feel better, and your face and eyes won’t feel good for a bit, but you don’t feel good right now, do you? Not in here," I added, tapping him on the breadbasket, just above his belly.

Dave shook his head, then added, "No. I feel bad."

"I know you do, Buddy. That’s because you feel guilty. You did some things you know were wrong and you feel bad about it. After you pay for doing those things—after you take your spanking and get it over with—your bottom’ll hurt, but you’ll feel better inside. And your bottom won’t hurt forever. Okay?"

He nodded. It was reluctant and not happy, but it was a nod.

"Good. Then hop up, so Brett can sit down, and you come over here with me."

He stood, and I took his hand. As Brett sat down, I led Dave to the other side of the narrow room, sat, and pulled him in front of me.

"Where are you going to get spanked, Dave?"

He looked confused for a second, then looked around the room, but it was only a second before the light bulb went on, and he said, "You mean on my heinie?"

"That’s right, but are you going to get spanked on your pants?"

"No," he muttered, embarrassedly, "on my bare heinie."

"Then we need to get you ready. Since you’re going to be getting a long spanking, let’s go ahead and get your clothes off, so your shirt doesn’t get in the way. Hands up."

David didn’t fight me as I undressed him. He obviously wasn’t really happy and wasn’t moving as quickly as he could, but he did as he was told. I lifted his shirt off, then picked him up and sat him on my left leg, so I could undo the Velcro straps on his shoes, pulling them off before setting him back on his feet. He flinched and jerked back when I started to undo his pants, but didn’t resist as I pulled him back to me. The baggy shorts fell to his ankles, and he stepped out of them when I told him. He didn’t try to stop me when I reached up and took hold of his briefs, but he moaned, lightly but heart-felt, when they started to slide down his legs.

Naked, except his white ankle socks, the boy was a cutie. There wasn’t anything special about his body, and he looked a lot like Stevie (and probably most other boys that age). His belly was maybe just a little rounder than Stevie’s, but so was his rear end—soft, round, and looking very spankable as I turned him to face his brother.

"You go over there now and tell Brett you’re ready for your spanking."

Nudity obviously didn’t bother Dave, but now we were at the hard part, and he was reluctant to take that next step. He just stood there for a minute. I finally put my hand on the small of his back and gave him a gentle push.

"It’s not going to get any easier, David. Go ahead, and let’s get it over with."

He still wasn’t moving fast, but he did take those few steps across to his brother.

Brett was pretty obviously not an experienced spanker, and I had the feeling he either hadn’t had Dave over his lap before, or had maybe spanked him on a bed or couch. Whatever the problem, I stood and walked to them.

"Hang on a second, Davie."

Brett was wearing a muscle shirt, blue jean shorts, and sandals. I put my hands on his bare knees and spread them a bit. When I was happy with the distance, I picked Dave up and laid him across his big brother’s lap. Looking at him, I had Brett straighten his left leg and prop his right heel against the leg of the chair, dropping Dave’s head and raising his bottom. I stepped back and eyed them critically, then moved Dave to Brett’s left just a bit, and had Brett wrap his left arm around his brother’s waist. I stepped back and looked at them again. If ever I wished harder to have a camera with me, it hadn’t been often.

"All right, Brett. Your brother’s been breaking the rules and he’s done it more than once. You’re supposed to be responsible for him, so I want you to make sure to give him something he’ll remember. Don’t take it easy on him, because the easier you go now, the harder it’s going to be when I get a hold of him. Understand?"

He nodded, so I stepped back and sat down while Brett began to spank. After a moment, I propped my left foot on my right knee, just to keep from distracting Brett and giving him the wrong (or maybe the right) impression.

At first, I wasn’t very impressed by the spanking Brett was giving his little brother. I don’t think his little brother was either. I don’t doubt there was a bit of sting to them, but the spanks were tentative, they lacked authority. After several, which Dave took quietly, if not without a little reaction, he started trying to look behind him, as if wondering what his big brother was actually doing.

"Brett," I interrupted him. He stopped with his hand raised for another smack and looked at me.

"If you think that’s how a spanking’s supposed to be given, maybe I should put you over my lap and remind you how it’s really done."

His eyes went wide as I said that, then his face went, first pale, then a deep, embarrassed red.

"Is that what we need?"

"No, sir."

Before I could say anything else, Brett’s hand went to shoulder height and rocketed down against Dave’s little rear, cracking like a gunshot in the narrow room, and bringing a quick cry from Dave, who’d obviously not been expecting it.

"Brett!" I interrupted again. "It’s a marathon, not a dash." He was looking at me, so I raised my hand and mimed placing a few swats. As Brett lowered his hand to a more reasonable level, I realized that Dave had twisted around so he was looking at me too, and looking very disgusted by the idea that I was giving his brother lessons in spanking.

David didn’t have too much time to worry about it, though. His brother’s hand smacked down on his bottom again, and this time, doing it like I’d just suggested, he used mostly wrist, just a little elbow, and put some snap into it. It didn’t sound like a gunshot, but it was clearly a real smack with some authority to it, and the way Dave’s little body jerked suggested that it felt the same way it sounded.

Dave still managed to take several swats quietly, but the jerks became more pronounced, and it didn’t take long for me to hear him starting to ouch and ow under his breath. As the jerks became kicks and squirming, and as his little heinie reddened, the noises became louder and you could hear the tears in his voice. The ouches and ows lengthened until it was one long, loud ‘owie’ and finally no sound but his crying.

Once Brett stopped playing around and got serious, it was a pretty good spanking. It was made even better by the fact that, except when I’d been younger and involved in them myself, I almost never got to WATCH a boy getting spanked. Of course, Brett spanking his little brother had neither the skill nor intensity that I could find in a good spanking video (and I had a pretty good collection of them by this time); but as cute as some of the models who worked with Man’s Hand, Sundaze, and CTS were, they were grown-ups. Watching Brett punish his naughty little brother had me squirming nearly as much as Dave was, and I only hoped my pants would still be dry when I had to stand.

With David crying hard and loud, Brett stopped and looked up at me. I shook my head and motioned for him to keep going. He seemed a bit hesitant, but continued, and poor Davie’s crying kept getting louder and the only break was when he sobbed for breath.

After one particularly hard yell, Brett stopped again.

"Brett, this isn’t the first time he’s been up here. Don’t you want to make sure he’s staying where he’s supposed to when you’re in charge?"

The older boy laid a few more, half-hearted swats, and I finally got up and went over there. Dave’s bottom was a nice color of red, and I decided it was good enough, since we all knew he’d be getting another, harder dose in just a minute. I shook my head at Brett, who’d promised he’d give his little brother a really good spanking if we did this, then took Dave under the arms and lifted him to his feet.

As soon as he was standing, Dave started trying to rub the sting away, and did a really cute fire dance that looked quite a bit like the Indian Dance from Peter Pan. I think Brett may have enjoyed watching it as much as I did. I’m sure that knowing his part was over made things a lot easier on him.

I waited until had Dave settled down, then called him over to me. He really didn’t want to come and was promising he’d learned his lesson and would never do it again and wouldn’t even come to the store if I didn’t trust him.

"Dave, this isn’t about not trusting you not to steal again. This is about you doing something that you knew was wrong, that you knew you shouldn’t have been doing, and now you have to accept the consequences." I even took a minute to explain to him what could happen if the police were involved, which wasn’t much at eight, but started getting a lot worse when someone was his brother’s age. I think he understood, but he still wasn’t happy with it and definitely wasn’t coming any closer to me.

I would have preferred to let Dave come to me, but it clearly wasn’t going to happen, so I stood and reached for him. He backed up, but ran right into Brett, who held him while I stepped up. He didn’t fight after that. He just looked defeated, and I did feel bad for him, but not bad enough to let him out of the rest of his punishment.

Instead of dragging him, I picked David up and carried him back to the chair. Sitting down, I draped him across my lap. He struggled just a bit as I tried to get him into position, but not hard—more as a protest than a real escape attempt, I think. As soon as I had him in place and a firm grip on him, I reached behind me and picked the paddle up from the desk, but tucked it under my leg. Then I began to gently rub his bottom, enjoying the heat, and wondering how badly it was still stinging.

"Why did Brett spank you, David?"

"’Cause I’m not supposed to come up here by myself."

"That’s right. He’s responsible for you, but you were sneaking off and not telling him where you were really going. Do you understand why that was wrong?"

"Uh huh."

"And why am I about to paddle you?"

"Please don’t, Jack."

"I’m sorry, Davie, but it’s going to happen. Now tell me why."

"Because I tried to take that toy," he answered with a quiet sob.

"Because you tried to steal it, right?"

"Uh huh."

The little guy tensed as my hand left his bottom. I glanced up at Brett, and he was watching intently, almost like a bird captivated by a snake. I think he really wanted the chance to see this, but it seemed to make him nervous as well.

When the first swat of the paddle landed on his tender, already sore little rear, Dave howled and was crying again right away. I wasn’t surprised. Even if he was used to a paddle, getting it on a freshly spanked bottom would have to be a lot worse, and he wasn’t even used to it.

Stealing is very serious, and I was going to make sure that Davie learned a lesson from this, but he was a little guy, only eight, and fresh spanked, so I knew it wasn’t going to take much. I couldn’t even paddle one cheek at a time—his little bottom was just too small. Instead, I placed one smack at the top of his tush, then another at the bottom, one more on each leg, then finished up by angling the paddle just a bit, which still caught both sides, but focused on one side more than the other, and landed four more strokes, two catching each sit spot, leaving his bottom a dark, angry, red that I was sure he’d be feeling for hours, and would probably still be tender that night.

By the time I finished, Dave was just lying limply across my lap, bawling. He’d not even struggled much; he just hadn’t had the time. It hadn’t been the fastest I’d ever swung the paddle, but I’d made it a quick, intense session. He’d been crying from the first swat and was broken down by the fourth.

I dropped the paddle behind me and lifted the boy from my legs. His legs weren’t ready to work really well, and he nearly collapsed when I stood him up. I still held him, and when I saw he wasn’t ready to stand, I pulled him to me, holding him in my arms and rubbing his back. Right then, Dave was a sad, sore, lonely little boy and he was ready for any comfort he could get. He clung to me, and I held him, until he started trying to rub his bottom.

"None of that yet, David. If you’re ready, I want you to put your hands on your head and go stand in the corner, while I talk to your brother."

Brett had been watching the whole scene intensely. I didn’t know it then, but, even though he’d spanked his little brother, Brett had never seen another boy spanked before, and he’d been as fascinated as any other boy would be. His attention was broken by the idea that I still wanted to have a talk with him, and he gaped at me.

"Can I stay here just a little longer?" Dave asked through his still flowing tears.

"Sure," I answered, wrapping my arms around him again. "Just a little longer."

After another minute, Dave reluctantly pulled away, and I let him. He placed his hands on his head, then walked to the corner towards which I pointed, and stuck his nose into it. I walked behind him, hand on the back of his neck. When he was in place, I told him, "Keep your hands there and think about why you’ve had to have such a hard spanking. I want you to remember this and never get in trouble like this again. Okay, buddy?"

"Okay, Jack," he answered, though he was still sniffling and crying a bit.

With Dave out of the way, I walked back to Brett. I stopped, staring down at him, and he stood so I didn’t tower over him.

"I’d say your little brother’s learned a good lesson; what do you think?"

"I think so, too." He was quiet a second, then his head turned jerkily, almost like he was trying to stop it, to look at the paddle. "That thing seems pretty effective," he said, his voice a mix of respect and dread.

"I’d say so. I use it on my son, who’s about a year older than Dave, about the same way I used it on him."

Brett looked a question at me, so I explained.

"I mean a good hand spanking, then a few swats of the paddle to finish it. I don’t even use it that way too much. It’s pretty intense for a boy his age." After a pause and a thoughtful look at him, I added, "I used it on my little brothers when they were ten or eleven, until they were older than you."

The roses in his cheeks went a darker shade of red at the thought of boys his age or older being spanked with it.

"Which brings us to what we’re going to do with you."

Brett’s face paled and he looked suddenly queasy. "With me?"

"Yeah, you. Dave just got spanked for doing things he wasn’t supposed to, but you haven’t been doing what you WERE supposed to. If you’d been watching him like you should have, he wouldn’t have needed this spanking."

"But I didn’t know he was coming up here."

"That’s exactly my point, Brett. You convinced your parents that you were old enough and responsible enough that you could watch him this summer. Didn’t you tell me that they’re paying you to do it?" He reluctantly admitted to it. "But you haven’t been doing it. I could see him sneaking up here once, but he’s been here a lot more than once, and you were doing such a bad job that you never even knew it."

Brett opened his mouth to protest again, but I cut him off this time. "Brett, it’s obvious to me that Davie wasn’t the only one who didn’t want your father to find out about this. You know you haven’t been responsible like you should have been, and you know you’d be in trouble if your dad found out. Am I right?"

I thought the boy was going to sick up right there, but he managed to nod.

"After Dave’s already been through this, I’d hate to have to call your parents now; but as a friend to both of you, I think I have to make sure you’ll take care of him properly from now on. I think we’re going to have to correct your behavior, just like we did his. Do you understand?"

"You mean you’re going to spank me?" he asked, in barely more than a whisper, then his eyes went wide. "With that?" There was no doubt what he meant, since he was looking straight at the paddle.

"I didn’t think we’d use that, Brett." The boy nearly sagged with relief. I’m sure that, for one second, he thought that a spanking might be embarrassing but wouldn’t be that bad. "Didn’t you say your dad uses a belt for you?"

His face went pale and his knees sagged. He looked up at me with wide, damp eyes and begged, "Not the belt, Jack. Please not the belt."

It was almost funny, because he never argued with the idea that I was about to punish him, only that he deserved it, and how I was going to give it.

"Your little brother is used to getting spanked, and he got a spanking. You’re used to the belt, so I’d think you need the belt. I added the paddle for Dave because what he did was not just really serious, but illegal. What you did wasn’t illegal, Brett, but Dave could have been seriously hurt because you were letting him run around with no supervision. Do you understand that?"

"I’m really sorry, Jack. I swear…." His voice trailed away. I think he saw in my eyes that I wasn’t going to bend. More, I think he recognized how much he sounded like Dave, begging and pleading to be let off, and he must have hated sounding like a naughty eight year old.

"I want you to change your behavior and do what you’re supposed to do; but it really doesn’t matter because you’ve already gotten yourself in trouble. Now, do you want me to call your father after all?" I asked harshly. We were both talking quietly. I’m sure he didn’t want Dave to overhear, but I’d raised my voice a bit at this.

Brett just shook his head, sad and scared, but knowing he was beaten—or was about to be.

"Would you rather go over my lap and get spanked with the paddle, Brett? I think the belt’s quicker, and I think it will be less embarrassing for you, but it’s your choice."

He winced, and I could tell he was thinking about it. "How many?"

"As many as I think you need."

He grimaced at that, and it seemed likely he’d heard the same thing from his dad before. He stood there for a minute, looking extremely unhappy, looking at the paddle on my desk, then at his little brother, and finally answered, "The belt."

"Drop your shorts and underwear."

He was trying to make it very clear that he wasn’t happy with me and took his time doing it, but he did start as soon as I told him. Boys didn’t sag back then, but his shorts weren’t exactly snug either. He pushed them down just to mid-thigh, but they started sliding as soon as he let go of them. I watched as he spread his legs, trying to hold them up, but they only snagged when they reached his knees. His tank top had ridden up a bit, held by his hands on the waistband of his Fruit of the Looms. He was looking at me, pleading to be allowed to keep that little bit of thin, white cotton dignity, but I just shook my head. The tank top wasn’t huge, but as he lowered his briefs to his knees, the shirt fell enough so I couldn’t actually see anything. Brett wasn’t especially tall for his age, but he was maybe just a hint over five feet, so I’d expected he was adolescent. While his tank top kept me from seeing any details, there was an obvious bulge there. I love the chance to check out adolescent boys, and I wanted to have him lift that shirt, or even take it off, but Brett was a friend of mine, already unhappy with his situation, and I decided to leave him that much dignity, at least.

I turned the chair where he’d sat to spank his little brother so it faced the wall, then motioned him towards it. As he took the first step, his jean shorts fell, hitting his ankles, and his briefs dropped a little more as well. He looked disgusted, and wiggled a bit, so the briefs joined the shorts, then he kicked them off his feet, before stepping the rest of the way to the chair.

Brett’s eyes were nervous and damp as he watched me remove my belt. His hands stole behind him as it made a small ‘fwip, fwip, fwip’ sound coming out of the loops. By the time I had it loose and doubled over, the boy was chewing his lips and refusing to look at me.

Like I would for a school paddling, I had him spread his legs, so the inner curve of each foot was outside the back leg of the chair. Then I had him bend over and grab the front legs in each hand. With him in that position the tank top was just draping down a bit over his rear, I pushed it up his back, pulled the fabric together, then gave it a twist and tuck to hold it in place, just below his shoulder blades.

Glancing down, I realized that, even though he was clearly adolescent, the boy had a wonderful rear end—still smooth and not quite a bubble-butt—but round and full and firm, with a little extra weight to give it a pleasant shape. After watching for a minute, then reaching down to give each cheek a pat, I moved to the next step.

"Dave, you can come out of the corner now."

"NO!" Brett protested suddenly.

"Yes," I assured him, putting my hand on his back and pushing down a bit. "You not only watched his, you got to help with it, so you should be happy I’m not going to let him give you a few swats."

Dave’s eyes were still red but also wide as he took in the situation. He still had his hands on his head as I explained to him, "I want you to watch your brother take his whipping because it’s your fault he’s getting it."

David looked suddenly upset. I knew he loved the older boy, and the idea that it was his fault his big brother was going to be punished hurt him nearly as much as his spanking had. "If you hadn’t gotten in trouble for trying to steal from me, I wouldn’t have called Brett and he wouldn’t be in trouble now." Brett had been staying in position after the initial protest, but I could feel him try to rise again now, but only pushed back a little. "Just like, Brett, if you’d done your job and really been responsible for David like you were supposed to, he wouldn’t have been spanked, because he wouldn’t have been up here."

"Do you understand what I’m trying to tell you guys?" I went on after a moment for it to sink in. "Your actions don’t just affect yourselves, they affect other people, too. I know you guys love each other," and they were both too sore and/or nervous to protest the word or idea right then, "and I know you don’t like this. I want you to think from now on that what you do might be hurting people besides yourself. That’s why I had Brett help spank you, Dave, and that’s why your little brother’s going to watch you get whipped."

I gave them another long, silent moment to contemplate that, then motioned for Dave to stand where he’d be out of the way but have a great view.

At thirteen, I wasn’t worried about getting Brett’s punishment over too quickly. I landed the first stripe hard, right in the middle part of his bottom. It went white, and Dave and I watched as Brett grunted and his entire body went tense as the stripe turned red. I waited a minute, then told him to loosen up a bit. He did, though slowly and with obvious reluctance. In a way, it didn’t matter. With his legs spread like that, there was only so much he could tense his cheeks. On the other hand, I wanted him to have to submit himself to this, to know that he’d not just deserved it, but accepted it.

Nearly a half-minute had passed before I placed the second stroke, just above the first. He reacted much the same, but the grunt was more of a yelp this time. Knowing what I expected, he relaxed without having to be told, and the third stripe was placed maybe fifteen or twenty seconds later, just above the first. His response this time was clearly a yelp and higher pitched.

The whipping went on like that. The fourth lash was lower again, just above his sit spots. The fifth was higher, catching right below that little hollow that starts the crack. As I lined up for the sixth stroke, his entire bottom was a rich red color. The yelps had been growing obviously wet, and I know I’d heard a soft sob escape after the fifth had landed. The sixth stroke came down across both sit spots, and I could see his back shaking as he began to softly cry. The crying became louder as the seventh stroke cracked down against the top of his thighs.

The swats started to take a second or two longer between each one. His legs were shaking as I stroked the belt across his butt. He firmed them back, but it took just a bit longer each time. After the seventh stroke, his right leg came free from the chair and bent up at the knee, like he was doing some weird curl. It stayed there for a minute while he clenched it, making a fist with his toes, before he slowly let it down and tucked it back around the leg of the chair.

I think Brett must have been expecting one more swat on the legs or something, because when the belt landed in almost the exact spot as the first stroke, he got really upset. He tried to get up, but didn’t try too hard, since I was able to hold him down with one hand, and he did grab hold of the chair legs again, after sneaking one quick rub. He was crying pretty hard, though.

As the strokes continued to fall, his crying got louder and harder, and I was sure he was going to start coughing or bawling any second. His legs were trembling, and, even while I was still spanking him, he started doing a fire dance, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, lifting the off foot and shaking it for a second. I let him do that once or twice, delaying the next stripe, before I snapped at him. "Feet on the ground, Brett. Let’s get this over with."

While waiting for him to plant his feet again, I glanced over at Davie. He was obviously upset to see his big brother this way. I’d hoped that maybe he’d have a little stiffy, but not only did he not have that, but I could see him tearing up again. Still, he seemed mesmerized by the whipping. I think he was busy being very glad that he’d only had the paddle.

Brett kept sneaking a hand back over his rear. With only the last two, lowest strokes left to go, I finally stepped up to his left side, grabbed his right hand, and pinned it behind his back. Then the belt fell twice, fast and hard, and he screamed with the second stroke, and was definitely bawling, if he’d not been before. I have to give him credit, though; except for the once, he didn’t try to get up.

I’d thought about giving David a stroke with the unfolded belt so he’d know what his brother went through, but I think just watching had been hard enough on him. Instead, I ran my belt back through the loops, then stepped back up to Brett, who was still bent across the chair, crying. I placed my left hand on his back, then reached down and gently rubbed his flaming hot cheeks, enjoying the warmth and the leathery feel, imagining how bad it must be aching. I imagined I could almost feel his pulse beating in each stripe.

"Are you ready to get up, Brett?"

I helped the youngster as he slowly climbed to his feet. With my hand on his shoulder, I gently turned him. He was busy watching the floor, so I was able to quickly check his boyhood. The hair on his dick was as blond as the hair on his head, and even more curly, though not yet very thick. His balls were fairly good-sized and had a nice dangle; but while his penis had a good thickness, it wasn’t very long. Then again, he probably wasn’t showing his best right then.

He was still crying pretty hard when I let him up. I didn’t think he’d want a hug, so I just stood by him, rubbing his back, with my arm partially around him. He surprised me by stepping in against me, so I wrapped the other arm around him and held him for a moment. After a few seconds, I felt something else and looked down to see David pressing up against us, so I moved my arm to make room for him.

When Brett’s crying had settled down a bit, I opened my arms and both boys stepped back a little. Brett had apparently enjoyed the cuddling. He wasn’t quite hard, but he wasn’t just hanging down either, and was a fair amount more impressive than he had been. Suddenly embarrassed, he unrolled his tank top and yanked it down to cover himself, though the thin shirt didn’t keep the bulge from showing, and he was full enough now that you could catch glimpses of his circumcised head as he moved.

"Now, you’ve both been punished. I hope you’ve learned your lessons, but I think you both owe each other apologies."

The two boys, one still nude, and the other only in a shirt I was sure he felt wasn’t long enough, looked at each other, and each mumbled something that could have been an apology. At least they didn’t seem to be holding a grudge against each other, and I think Brett was surprised when his little brother hugged him again. Surprised he might have been, but I think he liked it as well, judging by the way he quickly held the younger boy firmly against him.

When they broke away, they just stood there for a second, then both turned to me.

"Can we get dressed now?" Brett asked.

"I think that’d be okay."

"Hey!" Dave protested, "doesn’t he need to stand in the corner first?"

I did think about it for a minute. "Get your shirt up and turn around, Brett."

He was obviously unhappy with me again, but did as I instructed, though he waited until he had his back turned to lift the shirt. There was no mistaking the stripes across his bottom, and he was still a deep shade of red.

"You stand next to him for a minute, David."

David stepped to where I’d told him, and I took a moment to compare the two beautiful rears. Judging by the way Dave’s head was turning, I think I wasn’t the only one checking things out. Neither boy had acted very shy, but I started wondering if this was the first time that Dave had seen his adolescent brother naked.

"No, Davie, I think he’s had enough. Anyway, he had to wait and get ready while you were doing your corner time. Wouldn’t you rather get dressed than have to wait while he stands in the corner?"

I could tell there was a contest there. Seeing his big brother in the corner with his bare, red bottom must have been a real temptation, but he finally agreed that clothes were nice as well.

I had a good time watching the two of them dress, though I was very uncomfortable. Both bottoms were still red, but I got a nice contrast as they carefully bent over to pick up their clothes, exposing the tender and still pale inner skin of each cheek.

Once they were dressed, we went back into the store. Both of them apologized to me and promised that they wouldn’t do those things again. I wanted to assure them that I wouldn’t mind correcting them if they did, but it probably wouldn’t have been a good idea.

Before they left, Davie turned to me. "Jack? My insides really do feel better now. Thanks."

I smiled, waved, and assured him it was no problem. Watching as they left, I couldn’t help but notice that both boys were walking a bit stiffly, and Brett was very pointedly not sitting on his bike as they went around the corner of the building.



I never had to spank Brett again, and it seemed like he didn’t get many after that. As far as my little spy was able to tell, Brett never even got the last freshman spanking that seems so common in spanking families. Still, I stayed friends with all the boys through high school, into college and beyond for some of them, and still see Brett occasionally when he comes home for a holiday.

Oh, what about David? Well, I did have to warm his bottom again, and I think it was even more embarrassing for him; but that’s a story for another day.





Return to Story List

Return to Table of Contents