A Bad Day for Bryce
The Thanksgiving holiday had just started. School had let out at 2pm and the kids had been enjoying themselves. Several of the boys had guests, largely since their parents weren’t set up for them to get out of school over an hour early, so they’d come to our house. Bryce, on the other hand, had gone over to visit Tyler and Riley. I glanced at the clock and saw that it was now 6:00 pm.
Normally that’s not a problem. Lately, however, Bryce had been having a little trouble with timeliness and we’d had a couple of talks about it. We’d also had a talk about it that afternoon, right before Bryce had left, and the young gentleman was in a world of trouble as the clock ticked over from 6:00 pm, Bryce’s curfew, to 6:01, making him officially late.
Apparently, I wasn’t the only one to have noticed it. I was in the kitchen starting dinner. Several of the boys were in the living room, and I could hear when they’d started talking.
Johnny: "Oh, man! Bryce is late again. Dad’s gonna kill him!"
Noah: "Is it that bad. I was late and he only told me to watch the time."
Daniel: "Yeah, but that was once. He don’t care if you’re late once in a while, but Bryce has been late like… three times in two weeks or something."
Ryan: "Yeah, he’s gonna get it."
Johnny: "It’s worse than that. I heard Dad talking to Uncle Matt last night. I guess Uncle Matt sent Dad some article he read about some new way to give spankings. He’s really gonna tear Bryce up."
Noah: "I don’t think Dad needs a new way to spank. I’d say he does a pretty good job already."
Daniel: "You got that straight. Did you hear what they were talkin’ about?"
Johnny: "Not really. Just something was supposed to make it hurt worse without really spanking harder."
About that time, I heard a collective groan. I knew what they were talking about. Matt had sent me an article suggesting that giving spanks in a slow, arrhythmic manner made a spanking more effective. It could be done without spanking any harder or longer. Since I already spanked in a similar method, it didn’t really matter. As a matter of fact, the reason he sent it to me was because he knew that and thought I’d find it funny.
Noah: "Can’t someone think of a way to get him to take it easy on Bry?"
Ryan: "Sure, I’ve got a good idea of how to do it. Just go tell Dad that you just did something and you need a spanking."
Noah: "No way! You do it."
Ryan: "Let Daniel. He’s the oldest."
Daniel: "No way, I get in enough trouble without making something up."
That’s when I added my two-cents worth. "Besides, that just means you’d get a spanking before Bryce. You wouldn’t be helping him."
"Shit, he can hear us?"
‘Daniel Quincy, get in here."
Noah: "Yeah, Brainiac, he can hear us."
A few seconds later, Daniel came around the corner, trying to give me a ‘I’m so innocent, you must have imagined it’-look, but mostly succeeding in looking abashed. He didn’t look any better when he saw that I already had the Palmolive in my hands.
"Maybe I missed something. Were you at school talking to your friends?"
"No, sir," Daniel answered, managing to sound fairly humble and apologetic.
"Were you outside with the older guys?"
He just shook his head this time.
"Where were you?"
"I was in the living room, talking to my little brothers."
"And what do you know about setting an example for your little bros?"
"I can set a good example for them, or you’ll make me a good example."
"You got it, kiddo. Open."
I popped the top of the dishwashing liquid, and Daniel, not wanting to risk disobedience and a trip to the office, opened his mouth. I gave a good-sized squirt into his mouth, looked inside, then added a bit more.
"Rinse."
Daniel stood before me, swishing the soap around. He knew better than to try to fake it. The look on his face was enough to let me know that he wanted to. As bad as having your mouth soaped is, I think it’s worse to have to stand there and basically do it to yourself.
I watched for a bit, then turned back to the stove. I realized that the kids in the living room were very quiet. Either they’d moved elsewhere, or were trying to hear if I was going to spank their older brother. I glanced back at Daniel, who was starting to get a little green around the gills.
"Spit, but no rinsing. You can rinse right before dinner - which also means stay out of the bathroom, unless you want to do this again with a sore bottom."
"Yes, sir."
He turned to go back to the living room, when we heard the front door open. I stepped to the dining room door and saw Bryce enter the play room.
"Bryce Radley. Get yourself in here, youngster."
To say that the boy looked sheepish would have been an understatement. At that moment, Bryce made the most easy-going sheep look positively wolfish. I’m really not too strict on exact timing, but he obviously knew what was wrong.
"I’m sorry I’m late, Daddy."
"Sorry’s good, Bryce, but it’s not worth a lot, is it?"
"No, sir."
"If you have a good reason, I’ll listen; but, it’d better be something like, you stopped to save someone’s life."
He looked at me for a minute. He was really trying to think of the best thing to say, but finally settled on the truth.
"I just forgot to watch the clock."
"We’ve spoken about that, haven’t we?"
I knew we had. As a matter of fact, I could remember the conversations, since I’ve played each of them out many times over the years, all the way back to when my eldest was younger than Bryce. I had trouble being on time when I was a kid, so I always start by just reminding them that they need to watch the time, when they’re supposed to be somewhere at a certain time. The next time I point out to them the reasons why they should try hard to be on time. That it’s disrespectful to the person awaiting them. That, in our case, I worry because they’re not where they’re supposed to be, and I don’t know if they’re just late or if something happened. And finally, because, when they reach adulthood, they can loose a job over repeated tardies (and can be paddled in school for the same reason). If a third time follows too closely, it results in a restriction. Depending on the age of the boy and the exact situation, that might be a full grounding for a day, or a tightening of their curfew, or maybe they’re not allowed to go elsewhere for a few days. Sometimes I’ll give a more forceful version of that if there’s another repeat, but sometimes I’ll spank. Bryce had already been warned that he was at the spanking stage.
I glanced at the clock, which now read 6:16.
"I’m very disappointed right now, Bryce. You were about 15 minutes late, and didn’t you stay home all weekend because you couldn’t get home on time?"
"Yes, sir," he answered in a very subdued voice, which I had to strain to hear.
"Do you remember what I said would happen if you were late again this month, little one?"
"You said I’d get a spanking," he replied, even more quietly than before.
I put my hand on his shoulder, then called out in a louder voice.
"Daniel, Ryan. Could you come in here, please?"
To make sure he didn’t try to sneak away and rinse, I had him sit at the breakfast nook, with Ryan to watch him and dinner. Then I turned my attention back to Bryce. He didn’t resist as I used the hand on his shoulder to turn him towards his room, even though I could feel him trembling as we got closer.
Van was in the play room, in the ‘building area’, constructing something out of K’nex. He looked up and saw us going into the room. He grimaced in mild sympathy for his beloved, but sometimes irritating, older brother. Having seen us, I knew he’d stay out of the room until the door opened again.
As we stepped into the bedroom, I shut the door behind us, then guided Bryce across to the far wall, where I pulled the spanking chair into the room a bit, giving me a little extra space. Unlike the older boy’s rooms, I kept a special chair in this bedroom, simply because the desk chairs Bryce and Van used were just not quite built for me.
Without having to be told, Bryce stepped in front of me. I put my hands on his shoulders and looked directly into his eyes. I reached up and gently took his ears in my hand.
Bryce is a very good-looking youngster. The only thing that keeps him from being really handsome is that his ears stick out from his head. I know he gets teased about them sometimes and isn’t real fond of them, but I think they make him cute.
"I’ve told you when you need to be home, and you just can’t seem to do it. I’ve told you why it’s important to be places on time, and I even helped you think of some ways to make sure you get home on time, but you’re still not coming home when you’re supposed to. I guess since I’m not getting through up here," I said, softly waggling his ears, "I’ll have to try something else. Where did I say I’d try to make an impression next time you came in late, Bryce?"
"Please, Daddy, I promise I won't be late anymore."
"Bryce, this isn't the first time you've been late. I've given you plenty of chances. Haven't I?"
He reluctantly nodded.
"Okay. You've had your chances, now where are we going to make an impression that you have to follow the rules?"
"On my bottom."
"Then I don’t think there’s anything else for me to say, is there?"
He shook his head no and I let go of his ears. As soon as he felt my hands move, he lifted his t-shirt to expose his belly and chest - but mostly to give me access to his fly. He winced and looked away as he felt me unfastening his pants. Most of my boys aren’t the least bit shy around me. As a matter of fact, I still helped Bryce, Van, and the twins with their baths on a fairly regular basis, since that seemed to be the easiest place to wash their hair, and Josh was the only one of them who would do a halfway decent job of it by himself. However, there was a big difference in sitting bare while someone washed your hair, and having someone take your clothes off so they could punish your bared bottom.
Bryce held the shirt in place though, until he felt his jeans reach his ankles. Then he let the shirt drop, as he moved his hands to my shoulders to steady himself as he stepped out of his pants. His hands left my shoulders as soon as the pants were off, and by the time I’d folded them and dropped them behind me, the shirt was back up, exposing his Spider-man briefs.
It was when I tried to slide them down that I realized how tight they really were. They did come down though, and he stepped out of them much easier than he had the jeans. As I sat back up from removing his undies, he was looking at me for instruction. I nodded towards the door and, with tears standing in his eyes, he went to fetch his paddle. As he turned, I saw that his briefs had left lines across his bottom and were riding higher than they should have been.
He carried B4 back and handed it to me, then hiked his shirt up to it’s proper place, just below his armpits. Sliding the paddle under my right leg for a moment, I turned him with a light pressure on his hips, so he was facing away from me. Then I ran my hands gently up his sides, being careful not to tickle him (Bryce does love to be tickled a bit, but this wasn’t the time for it). When my hands took the slack from his shirt, he moved his out of the way, and I lifted him from the floor and laid him carefully across my lap, with his little bottom centered and awaiting my attentions.
I adjusted my legs to lift his bottom a bit, then slipped the paddle free from under my leg. I switched it to my left hand for a minute and massaged his bottom with my free hand.
"Bryce, I want you to know that I love you very much, but I’m disappointed that you can’t follow instructions. I would really rather talk to you, or wrestle with you, or just tickle you, but you know what happens when you can’t follow the rules, don’t you?"
I heard a small grunt of agreement, then he finished it, "You spank me." His response was very nervous, because he knew this was when the spanking started. And I didn’t disappoint him.
The paddle started it’s path, up and down, smacking against his bottom over and over, slowly reddening it. The paddle traced it’s way down the center of his bottom, then back and forth down the center of each cheek. Bryce wasn’t the bravest boy when it came to taking a spanking, but he tried hard. He was squirming and his legs pumping up and down and he was yelping and starting to sob, but it wasn’t until I moved down to his legs that he started to really cry. His legs weren’t big enough for many swats, and I quickly moved back to his bottom. On his already sore rear, the new swats pushed him over the edge, and he went from sobbing hard to a full-voiced bawl. By the time I went to work on his sit spots, moving the paddle back and forth from one to another, he was passed his limits and couldn’t do anything but lay there, sagging limply across my legs, and cry. I felt bad for him, but this was a time when he’d had plenty of chances to correct his behavior and hadn’t done it. Now he was going to have a darned good reason not to forget for a while.
One, two, three swats right on the smile of his rear and I was finished. I dropped the paddle on the floor behind me, and lightly rubbed his bottom until he started to settle down. Then I lifted him to sit in my lap. He was still crying, not as loud now, but sobbing very hard. I pulled him to my shoulder. He wanted comforting, even needed it. As soon as he was up, he clutched me hard, almost chocking off my air. I gave him my shoulder and held him until he settled down a bit.
"You going to be okay, sport?"
He was still sniffling and sobbing a bit, but was able to talk, though he wasn’t totally coherent yet.
"Ye-ye-yeah."
"Are you going to be on time now?"
"Ye-yes, si, sir. I p-pr- promise."
"Now listen to me closely, little man…"
He knew this wasn’t a great thing to hear and he tensed up, as well as leaning back a bit to look into my face.
"I’ve told you why you should be on time - three reasons. If you can tell me all three reasons, then you won’t have to do corner time, you won’t have to go to bed early tonight, and you won’t be grounded all weekend. If you can't tell me all three…" I left the rest up to his imagination, which more than filled in the blanks.
"Ummm…. Be- because it’s despectful to you."
"Disrespectful, but that’s right, and to anyone that’s waiting on you."
"’Kay," sniff, "and cause, ummm.. ‘Cause I gotta be on time causa work and school and stuff."
"Right," I replied, noticing that he was getting his sobbing under control. "And what’s the last one?"
"Cause you worry about me?"
"You got it. It’s almost dinner time. Do you want to go stand in the corner, or would you rather get washed up, dressed, and ready for dinner?"
"The second one?"
"Okay, hop up and get going."
I headed back to the kitchen to finish dinner. As I opened the door, Van jumped up and headed towards their room. I've never been sure whether he and Bryce commiserate and comfort each other after their spankings, or if he just wanted to check the damage. Either way, he seemed to be in a hurry.
As we finished up dinner, I made sure who was going to be doing the dishes that night, then asked Bryce to stay and talk with me.
"Bryce, let’s go down stairs, honey."
"How come?"
"We need to take a look in the clothes closet."
"How come?" he repeated in a confused voice.
"Because your undies are too small for you, and we need to get some that fit, before those cut off your circulation."
"What kind of cartoon undies do you have down there?"
"Kiddo, they don’t make cartoon undies in bigger than 8s, and you need 10s."
"Daddy! I don’t wanna wear white ones. I want my cartoon undies."
"Bryce, I’m sorry, but they don’t make those in your size. You always complain about not being very big, but this shows you’re growing up."
"But Dad…"
"Bryce, I don’t want to hear anymore, unless you’re ready for another spanking."
That hushed him pretty quickly. I hate resorting to that, but sometimes you just can't reason with a kid and it's the only way to stop the endlessly repetitive arguments.
"Now, you can’t even see the cartoons when you’re wearing them. It won’t kill you to not get to wear cartoons on your bottom. If you want, we can see about getting you some boxers…?"
"I don’t like those…" he whined. I was trying to be patient with him, but I really hate when kids whine like that. It’s one of my biggest shortfalls as a parent.
"Get your clothes off."
I realized my mistake as soon as I’d said it. "To try on some undies, nothing else."
He relaxed as soon as he realized I wasn’t going to spank him again. He did strip down though, even though he was complaining the entire time about losing his favorite piece of wardrobe. As soon as he got his Spidey unies off, I could see that his little rear was more than a touch pink and understood why he'd quit aruging so quickly.
I dug into the clothes closet and started to pull a few pair that should fit him. I always kept an assortment around for cases like this (and Noah’s, and any friends who happened to need a pair). I dug out a pair of old school Fruit of the Loom (double blue bands), the slightly newer ones (gold and blue band with the words under it), the newest ones, a pair of Jockeys, a pair of white Calvin Klein, a pair of old Tiger, double seat briefs (blue dashed bands), new ones (red bands), and a pair of Haynes. He was really cute in all of them. The stark white looks great against his slightly olive skin.
True to my promise, I did check the internet, but they just don’t seem to make cartoon briefs larger than size 8. I did get him to try a couple of pairs of boxers - they had his favorite characters and, Barry and Johnny had both switched to them a few months before (though Johnny can’t seem to make up his mind which he want to wear). He just didn’t want them and desultorily accepted the plain white ones. I did make it up to him a bit by letting him have some new posters for his room, even though he didn’t quite understand why Van got to get some as well, since he was still wearing the undies he liked..
The poor kid really had a rough day, considering that it was the first day of a 5-day weekend, but he did settle down. The funniest thing to me was, he seemed more upset about having to get undies that fit and give up his beloved cartoons, than he did about the spanking. Go figure!