Bryce and Tristan

"Has anyone seen Bryce and Tristan?"

If you’ve ever had to watch a child for more than brief periods of time, then you’ve probably experienced that moment of gut-wrenching panic when you realize they’re not where they’re supposed to be and you aren’t able to find them quickly. That’s how I felt Tuesday morning, when I went out to call the boys in for lunch. I don’t care how many good explanations there are for where they might be—your first tendency is to believe that something terrible has happened. At least, that’s my first tendency... but my mom and grandma seemed to believe that a little drama, panic, and hysterics added spice to life, so I guess I come by it honestly.

It must have been about 11am. I try to keep us on an early schedule during the summer, because the afternoons are so hot around here. I don’t want my boys to turn into a bunch of couch potatoes, but I also don’t want them to fry during a Texas summer. To that end, we wake up and eat breakfast early, do chores, then go out and play until it starts getting hot (this morning it was 95F at 11am). Then we eat lunch, relax a bit, and spend the afternoon in the pool.

My boys are all more or less into sports, so our morning ‘play sessions’ often start as workouts and practices, but I try to make them fun as well and always give the boys time for free play. That’s usually while I get lunch ready, and must be how I lost track of these two.

When I called the boys to the patio where I’d laid out lunch, I almost didn’t realize that they weren’t all there. We often have friends coming and going, so it was hard to tell for sure how many kids were supposed to be around. Still, it only took a second for me to realize that I was missing two heads: one blond, one brown, both slightly less than chin high.

Everybody looked at each other for a minute before Barry finally spoke up. "Dad? I heard them talking. They wanted Tyler to get here and they were talking about seeing why he hadn’t come over yet. I thought they were going to call him or something."

No one else knew anything, so I went inside to check the playroom, bedrooms, bathrooms… Eventually, I took a quick look into all the rooms before going back to the patio. "They’re still not here?"

Bryce and Van are roommates, and I couldn’t believe that he’d wander off like this—especially not to the Malone’s— after the bun warming I’d given Van and Scooter for doing the same thing. Strike that— it had been months since that happened, so I guess it wasn’t really too surprising. I think that’s why I really grow panicky when a boy disappears. As many times as I’ve spanked somebody for not being where he’s supposed to be, when he’s supposed to be, you’d think they’d remember to ask permission before leaving. Because I expect them to be rational and try to avoid getting spanked, I expect them to remember little things like checking in before they leave, and so panic myself when they don’t. What a vicious cycle!

Even as I was calling Kim Malone, I was thinking that Bryce and Tristan are 10 and 9, not 6 and 5, like Van and Scooter had been, so I was probably making a mountain out of a molehill. It’s not like we were living in a dangerous area or expecting a tornado. It’s just that we have such a regular routine most days that, when someone throws it off, it worries me.

Two minutes after saying hello, Kim told me that my ‘naughty boys were on the way home’. I was waiting by the garage five minutes later when all three boys rode up. Tristan and Bryce were looking rather chagrined at their situation.

In a lot of ways, this past school-year has probably been the best in Bryce’s life. The main two reasons were on either side of him. If you’ve read much of my stuff at all, then you probably remember that Bryce is very small for his age—barely within the normal range. He’s a great kid, and he’s always been friends with the twins, but they’ve been his brothers as far back as he can remember. That brings a certain rivalry with it. He and Paul have been best buddies for a while, but they’re the same age. Tristan and Tyler are both a year younger than Bryce. Neither of them is real big for his age, so they’re all physically on par with each other. However, even though he’s their size, Bryce is still older and has more experience and knowledge because of that. Being with the younger boys who look up to him has really allowed Bryce to develop some of his leadership potential. Of course, he doesn’t always lead in the right direction, but that’s why he has rules and a father (and a paddle).

"We were just going to see why Tyler hadn’t come over yet, Jack," Tristan assured me.

"Tristan, they have this nice invention called a telephone. You don’t get in trouble for using it. Not like you do for leaving the house without permission. Not just without permission, but without even letting anyone know where you were going."

They sheepishly put their bikes into the garage, wilting under my glare as they walked past. Even Tyler was looking nervous, though he’d not done anything wrong. Considering the way his hand absently stole behind him to rub the seat of his pants, I’d say ‘once spanked, twice sore’ might be an appropriate concept!

"Besides," I continued, "the two of you were gone at least 20 minutes after I noticed you were gone. From what Barry said, you were probably gone twice that long. It only took the three of you about five minutes to get here, so what happened with the other thirty minutes?"

"He had to do some chores, so we were helping him…." Bryce started out strong, but faded quickly as he realized that I wasn’t really buying that excuse. With Bryce’s dark skin, he doesn’t blush really deeply, but Tristan is pretty fair, and he went crimson as he saw the look on my face and realized how much trouble they’d gotten themselves into.

As soon as their bikes were in the rack, they turned to look at me. "Come here," I snapped, pointing to the ground right in front of me.

They looked around us; at the open garage, at Tyler standing there, then at the door to the house, obviously wondering if it was worth the risk of trying to get inside the house before their punishment started. Looking back at me, I think they both decided they were already in enough trouble, because they declined to run and hesitantly made their way over to me. As soon as the two of them were standing before me, I put a hand firmly on the outer shoulder of each of them, went down to one knee, pulled them to me, and held them tight for a minute.

"Do you have any idea how worried I was when I couldn’t find you?" I was trying not to sound panicked, but I really had been upset and starting to suspect the worst.

"We’re sorry, Daddy."

"Yeah, Uncle Jack, we didn’t mean to scare you."

"Well you did. You also broke a very important rule; didn’t you?"

I felt both boys flinch in my arms, so I loosened my hold so they could step back.

"Uncle Jack," Tyler said, seeming very hesitant to draw my attention to him, "they really were helping me with my chores."

"I believe that, Tyler; but that’s not the question. I’m in charge of Tristan when his mom and uncle are at work, and I’ve gone over all the rules with him, just like I have with Bryce. They both know that they are not supposed to leave the house without permission. And they both know what happens when they break the rules. Don’t you boys?" I asked, turning back to them.

Tristan and Bryce are near opposites. Bryce is only a little bigger than when I measured him and Paul Richardson. Of course, he still has the same dark brown hair and eyes. The only real differences are that he’s maybe an inch taller, slightly heavier, and his normally tan skin had already darkened to a rich shade of sienna. Tristan was almost his total opposite. His normally yellow blond hair was already sun-bleached to flaxen. His peaches and cream skin tone had barely darkened at all, partially due to the suntan lotion we kept him liberally coated in. His eyes weren’t a pale blue, but weren’t dark either. They were about the same height, though Bryce is over a year older, but Tristan is about 5 pounds heavier, giving him a slightly soft look. Even the length of their hair was different, since Bryce got his cut pretty short for the summer weather, while Tristan’s tickled the top of his collar and was always having to be pushed back from his forehead. The only similarity between them was they were both cute as collie pups, just in different ways. Tristan has a longer, narrower nose and higher cheekbones, and a little rosebud mouth. They weren’t smiling right then, but when they did, you could see that Tristan was missing the same front tooth that Bryce had only recently grown in. I knew Bryce was missing two teeth right now, but they were molars, so it looked like he had a whole set. Of course, the adult teeth in his little mouth did give him a slight look of overbite, but it just added to his cuteness. Tristan’s gap-toothed smile had a charm all it’s own. Of course, light or dark, each of them did a wonderful begging - puppy dog look, and I almost felt bad that it wasn’t going to work.

After a second’s piteous, pleading stare, first Bryce, then Tristan dropped their eyes. Tristan answered first, "Yes, sir," which was quickly followed by Bryce’s, "We get spanked." Then Bryce surprised me by continuing. "Daddy, it was my fault. It was my idea. You shouldn’t spank Tristan, too."

I really was moved that he was thinking about his friend more than his rear, and I was proud of him. It didn’t actually make a difference, though, because his premise was wrong.

"I’m proud of you for admitting that, sweetheart; but it doesn’t matter whose idea it was. Tristan knows the rules, and he knows what happens to him while he’s over here. Isn’t that right, Trist?"

His blue eyes were shiny as he nodded and answered softly, obviously trying to hold in a sob, "Yes, sir."

The garage is on the side of the house, but to the rear. Technically, someone could come along at any minute and have a full view of us; but it wasn’t very likely. Weighing that likelihood against my desire to make a strong impression on the two boys, I finally said, "You two hand me your shorts."

They both gaped at me for a second, and Tristan started to make some plea, but Bryce, knowing me better, touched his friend’s hand, and Tristan fell silent. One of the things I’ve always loved about Tristan is that he shows off his waistband, even though he wears briefs. He was wearing a short sleeved, blue Oxford open over a pair of blue plaid shorts, which were loose enough that you could tell his tank-style undershirt was tucked into his Fruit of the Looms. Bryce, on the other hand, was wearing a very brightly striped t-shirt that was hanging loosely over his jean shorts. Both of them slowly looked around to see if anyone could spy them, then started to undo their flies and slid their baggy shorts down far enough that they could step out of them.

As they did that, I told Tyler to go ahead and get himself a plate if he was hungry, and that his friends would catch up to him in a bit. We watched as Tyler walked into the backyard, then I held out my hands to collect the shorts.

"Your shirt too, Tristan."

He blushed a deeper red as he took that off, leaving him nearly ready for bed. I thought about collecting their undies as well, but felt that might be pushing them a little far. Instead I turned and gestured behind em. "I’ll see you gentlemen in my office now." Even though I’d made my tone gentle, Bryce flinched. He must have known what was going to happen, but I suppose those words removed all doubt.

A few of the older boys were carrying lunch leftovers into the kitchen to put away and stared for a moment at the two little ones who were marching to their execution. The boys weren’t all mine, but I knew them all. Even though there might be a bit of mirth in the punishment of one’s peers, I was pretty sure that these boys had nothing but pity for what they must have known the younger boys were about to endure.

As we entered my office, I had the boys remove their shoes. Tristan just toed his sneakers off, but Bryce had to kneel down to work the straps of his sandals over the back of his heels. While they did that, I walked to my desk, turned the spanking chair to face the room, and removed the Little Deer from the paddle drawer. As soon as they were unshod, the two walked over to me.

When Bryce saw the Little Deer, he began to whine. "Please, Daddy. We’re really sorry, and we’ll never do it again. Just B4. PLEASE!"

"I’m sorry, Bryce, but I told you when we put it up that you were getting too old and big for B4." I felt sorry for the boy because he had very limited experience with the Little Deer, and I knew he was a little scared of it, but that was the point of having the bigger paddle. On the other hand, Tristan, standing there with tears in his eyes, was unused to being paddled at all. Seeing his friend’s level of upset with this paddle was doing nothing for his composure.

"You two were big and brave enough to run off and break the rules, so I hope you’re going to be big and brave enough to accept your punishment. Can you do that?"

Bryce’s eyes were shiny with unshed tears, while I could actually see a few drops running down Tristan’s cheeks, but both boys nodded.

"I know both you boys are really good boys, but that’s not how you acted this morning. You both know you deserve a good spanking; don’t you?"

They both nodded. It was slow and reluctant, but they did nod.

"Okay, then get those shirts up for me."

Tristan’s undershirt was fairly snug, so he just pulled it over his chest, then let his hands drop back behind his back. Bryce had to hold his baggy tee, and it was loose enough that he was able to cross his hands in front of him at the wrists, then he tucked his chin down into the ‘X’. Both boys watched closely as I slid their briefs down until they could step out of them. I’d never spanked them together, but they’d seen each other nude plenty of times and weren’t shy at all. They had their priorities straight and knew they had much more important things to worry about.

I’d learned something after spanking Noah and Ryan Wheeler together and had to sit back and think about these two for a minute. I’m sure they didn’t appreciate the silent pause, and both of them were visibly squirming as it stretched out. However, I was trying to be fair to both of them (and the view was worth a moment’s contemplation as well).

The problem was that Tristan, who’d turned 9 at the first of March, had managed to go the first 8 ½ years of his life with only 3 or 4 hand spankings and nothing harder. It hadn’t been until last summer, when his father had taken off and his uncle had moved in to deal with him and his brother, that he’d fallen under a strict regime. Unlike Roland, Tristan had blossomed under it. However, while his Uncle Dean spanked more than I did— usually for things for which I’d give a strike or a warning— he actually paddled much less than I do, saving the paddle for things he considered very serious. Actually, thought I've spanked Tristan, I'd never paddled him before, so this would probably be extra hard on him.

I had no problem with paddling Tristan for this; I’d already decided both boys deserved and needed a serious paddling. It was just that what would constitute a serious paddling for Tristan wouldn’t be serious for Bryce. It’s my standard policy that if boys get in trouble together, they get spanked together. In this case, I was afraid that if they watched each other, Bryce would feel abused and Tristan would feel guilty. Should I spank them in different rooms? Maybe send one of them to wait in the hall? Talk to them and explain why they were getting spanked differently? And then the answer occurred to me.

I stood, placing the Little Deer behind me and mussed both boys’ hair. They both smiled shyly up at me, obviously relieved by the sign that I still liked them. Then I turned my attention to Bryce and leaned down to softly tell him, "You know that Tristan is younger than you and isn’t as used to being paddled as you are; right?"

He nodded, then added a quiet, "Yes, sir."

"Then you know your spanking is going to have to be harder?"

He was obviously unhappy about this, more, I think from the idea that his spanking was going to be hard, than that it was going to be harder than Tristan's, and I saw a little tear track down his cheek, but he nodded again. "I guess if you gotta spank him, I oughta get it harder." Bryce was being really mature about this, though obviously unhappy at being spanked. His maturity took a sudden dive as he yelped - of course, the fact that I'd suddenly picked him up beneath his arms and carried him over to the sofa, might have had something to do with that. I didn't tell him what I was doing, only "C’mon, honey, let’s get this over with."

The arms of my couch are as high as the back, and Bryce’s little feet were well off the floor as I laid him across it. There was plenty of room, so I turned to Tristan. "Come here, kiddo, and please bring the Little Deer."

It’s almost funny how reluctant boys often are to lift a paddle, but he picked it up gingerly and carried it across to me. While he did that, I took the cushion from the back and tossed it to the other side. Turning around, Tristan was waiting for me, holding out the paddle. I took it and placed it on the back of the couch, then lifted Tristan and laid him next to Bryce, with just enough room between them that I’d be able to give their entire bottoms some attention.

Both boys have wonderful little bottoms; Bryce’s is tight and firm, while Tristan’s is rounder and fuller, but not too jiggly. Bryce’s is a darker shade than Tristan’s, but they’re both much lighter than the rest of their skin, and both of them are young enough that their little rears are still smooth and blemish free. It was a wonderful view and the boys needed a little more lecture, so I had a perfect excuse to enjoy it for a bit. The truth was, however, that both of them were so tense I could practically feel them vibrate, and any lecture I gave wouldn’t make an impression on them, so it would have to wait.

I leaned forward and tapped both of them on a shoulder. "I want you to put those arms around each others backs." I waited while they draped their arms around each other. "Now, I want you to hold your other hands." I saw them shift, and could barely see them gripping hands in the space between their heads.

"You boys both know the rules, and we’ve talked about why you have to obey them. You are not allowed to leave the yard without my permission or PJ’s and you know that; don’t you?"

Even as I was talking, I twisted around to pick up the paddle, then stepped up so that Tristan’s hip was against mine and I could rest my left hand in the small of Bryce’s back, giving me some control over both of them. With their arms intertwined, their feet off the ground, and them jackknifed over the arm of the couch, it wasn’t going to be too hard to control them.

The two soft, slightly tearful ‘yes sirs’ came so close you could barely distinguish them.

"Do you have any excuse for not doing that today?"

This time the ‘no, sirs’ were more hesitant, but no less teary.

"Then you both deserve a very hard paddling. Don’t you?"

If they agreed, I couldn’t make it out through the sobs that escaped them, but took it for agreement anyway and got started.

I began like I always do, popping a swat against the top of Bryce’s bottom, right across the middle. Then I did the same for Tristan before giving Bryce a second swat. Tristan got another then Bryce got a third at the lowest part of his bottom before I gave him a swat at the top of his left cheek. I’d decided the best way to do it was give Bryce a longer pattern than Tristan and spank them both at the same time, so they’d be too busy to really notice it.

I mostly moved back and forth, but would sometimes give two or three in a row, to make it even harder to count. Bryce usually tries to be brave about getting spanked, but both boys were sobbing almost as soon as I started and it didn’t take Tristan long to start softly crying. Hearing his friend seemed to put Bryce over the edge, and I quickly had two crying little boys getting their bottoms reddened.

Though he was getting more swats than Tristan, Bryce was trying to keep control of himself and was still crying fairly quietly as I started the second set. Even a two-down pattern was hard on Tristan’s soft, inexperienced little bottom and his crying kept getting louder and harder, and he finally broke as I placed a second set of smacks on his upper legs.

I’ve talked to Bryce often about spanking over the years, and I know he feels that by keeping control as long as he can, he shows me that he’s really sorry and knows he deserved to be punished - that he’s trying to accept his consequences. He held, even though he couldn’t control his squirming and bucking, as he got swatted on the upper thighs, but then he totally lost it when I went back and placed a third set of swats, tracing right down the middle of his rear, from the top to the bottom of his crack.

"No, Daddy. No more, I’m sorry, I’M SOWWEEEE…" before he broke down into uncontrolled bawling.

I did feel bad for the boy and I knew how horrible it was for a spanking to go on and on; but I also knew that this was the kind of irresponsible behavior that I was totally unwilling to tolerate.

I went back to Tristan, running a third set of two down his crack, then went back to Bryce, letting the swats drift down his right cheek - one, two, three, four - then back to Tristan - one, two, three. Then I changed it up by hitting Tristan’s left cheek, before going back to Bryce. I could hear a small protest from Tristan, but both boys were too sore to do much more than lie there and bawl.

I’d taken both boys way past their limits and knew it was a lesson they were already going to remember for a long time. I’m used to boys having wet faces, but their hair was damp with sweat, because of the unusual intensity of this session; so, when I finished their cheeks, I skipped the rest of the pattern. I did NOT stop the spanking, though.

I let the paddle rest on the sit spot of Tristan’s round, left cheek for a second, then smacked two extra-firm swats down on it. He found enough strength to yelp and wiggle as I did that, then lined up on the right spot before teeing off on it.

I lined up to blaze a few more, rapid fire swats in the same places, then stopped. I wasn’t sure if I was spanking this hard because they’d broken a safety rule, or because I had been so worried by their absence. Either way, he’d had enough.

I untangles their arms and lifted Tristan to his feet. He didn’t have a lot of energy, but managed a soft shoe version of the fire dance before I pulled him into a hug. He clung to me, but I didn’t let him stay there for long, since I still needed to finish up with Bryce. I softly rubbed his bottom for a second, then sent him to the corner.

Bryce was still laying there, crying, when I came back to him. I picked the paddle up again, and patted his back at the same time. He knew what was coming and his little bottom was clenched up like a rock.

"You made a really bad decision today, Bryce, but we’re almost done. You’ve really been brave, so just relax your bottom, and we can get this over with."

I reached down and spread his legs apart a bit, then rubbed his bottom until it began to slowly untense. Then I lined up without quite touching, and while keeping my left hand on the small of his back. One, two, left, right, I placed three smacks, given back and forth, on each sit spot, then two more, one after the other, on the left, then the right, leaving them both brick red, before I placed a final three swats right at the smile of the bottom.

Bryce was wailing from the first swat. His fist were beating against the seat of the couch and his little feet were drumming against the side. As soon as the last swat landed, I dropped the paddle and picked him up by the waist, to set him on his feet. Apparently the fresh-lit fire gave him some extra energy, because the boy was practically doing the Charleston, trying to cool his bottom off. It would have been funny if he hadn’t been crying so hard.

After a minute, he saw me watching him and suddenly threw himself at me, wrapping his arms around my waist and pushed his face into my chest. I held him for a minute, giving him a gentle bottom rub, before sending him to join Tristan in the corner.

I sat down at my computer and logged on to check my e-mail, checking the time as I did - it was 11:54. For some reason, it’s a bit of a kick for me to answer my e-mails and messages when I had a boy crying in the corner. I did keep a close eye on the clock, though. At 12:05, I went back over to the couch and sat down before calling them out of their corner.

As they two of them stiffly made their way over to me, I spread my legs and patted them. Each of them climbed up to claim one of my legs as a perch, and I wrapped my arms around them, pulling them into my chest. We snuggled quietly for a minute, and I could see the two of them leaning into each other, petting each other, and even holding hands - they looked to be trying to share comfort and forgiveness.

As nice as it was, my legs began to give out, so we had a nice talk - probably a little longer than they would have preferred - about the safety reasons why they were not allowed to leave the house without letting someone know, and why they weren’t going to be leaving the house at all for a couple of days. (They weren’t too happy about that, but weren’t willing to complain about it, either. And, let’s face it, my house is not a bad place to be if you’re restricted to the house.) Before I let them up, I also made them tell me their versions of why boys need to follow the rules.

They did finally get up, though. As I massaged feeling back into my legs, I told them one last thing.

"You two pick up your clothes and go get your trunks on. Since you missed lunch, I’ll fix you sandwiches, then you can go swimming."

The left in a hurry. I think getting into that cool water sounded like a great idea for some reason.