Good Time Charlie's Got the Sags

I’ve always been involved with the school libraries. I consider it ‘enlightened self-interest’. I often donate first books of series, and sell everything to them at discounts, but I’m also exposing kids to something they might not be introduced to elsewhere, and I’ve gained quite a few clients (and several friends) this way.

I’d had an appointment that morning with the librarian at Crockett Middle School, where several of my kids were attending at the time, and was pretty happy with the sale I’d made. I usually try to avoid being in the halls during migration, but I was caught by the bell about halfway to the door. It’s not as bad at the middle school as it is for elementary, where I have to be careful not to step on anyone, but I was still trying to be cautious. And then destiny came out of the door just down the hall from me. I saw red but knew that doing anything about it now wouldn’t help things at all.



I was already home when the boys got out of school that evening. It had been a nice day for early March, so the boys had made their own way to school and arrived home in clumps. It was the boys from Crockett I was awaiting.

Bobby hadn’t really known Charlie when Charlie moved in with us, but he had known his reputation and wasn’t especially happy about it. Because of that, it didn’t really surprise me that the two of them didn’t come in together. Bobby came in right when I expected him, looking exhilarated from biking home in the warm weather and happy to see me waiting for him. He poured a big glass of milk, then sat down and told me about his day, alternating between the celery with peanut butter and that with pimento and cheese.

Charlie wasn’t really late, just not quite as timely as Bobby. I’m sure he’d come partway home with one of his old friends and had probably found some older kid they could watch ‘thrashing’- doing tricks on his skateboard, that is- while they practiced looking sullen.

Charlie grunted something that might have been hello, got his own milk, then sat down with us.

"Bobby, Charlie and I need to talk for a bit, so why don’t you go do your homework?"

Charlie had looked up nervously. I tried to talk to him on a regular basis, like I did with all the kids, but the talks he and I had often seemed not to go to well for him.

Bobby looked up at me also. "I don’t have any homework today," he said, and didn’t bother to hide his interest in what kind of talk Charlie and I would be having.

"Then you’d better go do your chores now," I replied, my tone stressing that the alternative wouldn’t be one he liked.

"Okay," he said, quickly grasping my point, and pausing only long enough to drain the rest of his milk and grab a couple of more pieces of stuffed celery.

While Bobby was rinsing his glass and putting it in the drainer, Charlie was looking down at the table and munching absently at the food in his hand. He must have been watching, though, because he looked up at me as soon as Bobby left the room.

I let him sit quietly for a minute before finally saying, "I was at the school today."

"You were?" he replied nervously.

"Yup. Had a meeting with the librarian."

"Oh." He thought for a second. "How’d it go?"

"The meeting went just fine." It was my turn to pause. "I saw you in the hall as I was leaving."

"You did?" he said nervously and going a bit pale.

"Sure did. I thought we had a deal."

He looked down at the table and was quiet. I waited while he finished the celery stick and took a drink, but finally spoke up again when he reached for another piece.

"Charlie… Didn’t we have a deal about those baggy clothes you like?"

He finally nodded.

"What was it?"

He sat there a few more seconds and finally looked up at me.

"Are you going to spank me?"

"You answer my question first. What was the deal we had?"

"That I could keep wearing these clothes, but I had to wear a belt so my butt wouldn’t hang out."

"You’re not even supposed to be wearing pants like that at school, are you? I’m surprised I haven’t got a call."

"The teachers don’t make too big a deal, long as you keep ‘em pulled up mostly."

"What have you been doing? Dressing here, then leaving your belt in your locker once you get there?"

He glanced up at me for a second, then looked away before nodding.

"Yes, Charlie, I’m going to spank you."

His head came up now. His eyes were already bright with unshed tears and his mouth came open to protest, but he made no sound.

"Why am I going to spank you?"

He seemed to think about it for a moment. "Because I didn’t keep our deal?"

"No, we had a deal and you ARE going to keep it." I paused for a second, since he was looking confused, but realized it was because he didn’t understand the full impact of our deal, so I went on.

"What I’m going to spank you for is your dishonesty with me. You gave me your word that you were going to do something, and you not only didn’t do it, you pretended to do it as long as I was watching you, then did what you wanted as soon as you thought you were clear."

I started to say something else but realized I was pretty unhappy just then and didn’t want to show it. I was really trying to get Charlie to put aside emotional reactions and actually think about what he was doing. Letting him think I was only acting out of anger didn’t seem like a good way to do that.

"Let’s go to my office," I said instead.

Charlie didn’t argue or try to run, but he did just sit there. I came around the table, put my hand on the back of his neck, and applied a very light pressure. Reluctantly, he started to move.

Since I’d already pronounced sentence, I saw no need for further delay. I went to the straight backed, armless wooden chair that stays in my office, turned it to face the room, then put Charlie right in front of it, before I sat. He was nearly twitching from nerves but stayed where I’d placed him.

I had him remove the big, baggy overshirt he was wearing, then lift his tee. He was certainly dressed like he’d agreed to be when we’d made our deal. There was about two inches of his plaid boxers showing above his jeans, but the jeans were belted around his hips (a little lower than I wear mine, but hardly sagging).

When Charlie had moved in with me, he and I had had a lot of trouble over his wardrobe. His mom had let him have a lot of t-shirts that either I found tasteless or that actually violated school dress code (advertising beer and liquor or with a skeleton on a skateboard flipping the bird). While they apparently didn’t enforce it too well, there was also a rule about sagging. Maybe that’s why his top shirt was so long. In order to keep his huge baggy clothes (the ones that didn’t directly violate school policy, anyway), he’d agreed to wear a belt and keep his jeans at a reasonably normal level. They were there now but weren’t going to be there much longer.

I could feel him slightly trembling as I unfastened his belt. I didn’t even have to touch his fly to yank his jeans down.

"Jack, please. I’m sorry. I won’t do it anymore. Please.…"

He’d started as quickly as I’d started undoing his belt. He kept it up, even as I was pulling his jeans free from his feet. Charlie had been over my lap a number of times in the weeks he’d lived with me, and he wasn’t fighting this time. Even his protests, his pleas, were pro forma. That didn’t stop him from shaking as I reached up and slid my fingers into the waistband of his green and blue boxers.

I took my time lowering Charlie’s boxers. He wasn’t well hung yet but was definitely adolescent. His sac was hanging loose, but not especially low. His dick was thick, but only a couple of inches long (of course, I’d never seen him erect, so there was no telling how long he actually was.) I tried not to be too obvious as I paused to count his six wispy hairs, but it was so cute.

As soon as he was naked, except socks and t-shirt, I turned and dug into the paddle drawer, quickly finding Red, then I stood. Charlie had a dual problem with being spanked: he wasn’t used to being spanked at all, but it took long, thorough paddlings to get through to him. The other was that, even though he kept emotional control and didn’t fight me before the spanking started, he fought like a tiger when that paddle started stinging his rear. That meant I didn’t even try to spank him over the chair. Instead, I put my hand on the back of his neck and we crossed quietly over to the couch.

I sat on the arm of the couch and put my left leg up along the arm, then patted it. Charlie had followed me obediently across the room. He was still holding his shirt up, leaving himself totally exposed. Yet now, with all that obedience, he took a step back, shaking his head.

"Jack, please. I promise I’ll do it right from now on. I don’t wanna spanking.…"

I felt bad because the kid really was in a hard place. Not that he couldn’t have made things a lot easier on himself, but he did have a lot of contributing problems. I honestly did try to take those things into account, but this was a case of deliberate disobedience, and he knew that I always spanked him for those.

"Charlie, you knew you weren’t being honest with me. You knew I wouldn’t have let you go to school that way; and you knew what would happen if I caught you. Am I wrong?"

He looked at me for a minute, and a tear welled up, teetering on the edge of his eyelid before he finally shook his head.

"I am trying very hard to teach you that there are consequences to your actions, and you know what those consequences are. When you grow up, you will have to follow the rules if you want to keep a job and stay out of jail."

He was looking at me closely, knowing there was no appeal from the sentence, knowing I wouldn’t change my mind, but still hoping. I switched the paddle to my left hand, then reached up and rested my right hand across the back of his neck. He started to flinch away but stopped himself when he felt it lying there lightly instead of pulling him towards me.

He was looking down at the floor, so I switched my hand around to rest under his chin, then lifted gently. When he was looking into my eyes, I went on.

"I love you, Charlie; do you know that?"

He looked at me for a second, then looked away and shrugged. I moved his chin so he was looking back at me again.

"Do you know that I love you, Charlie?"

He looked at me for a second, then finally nodded.

"I love you, too," he added.

"I know, and I’m glad. But Charlie, because I love you, I want you to learn to behave. Because I love you, I’m going to make you take the consequences when you can’t. Don’t you understand that?"

He’d looked away, but now looked back at me. Tears were flowing slowly down his face now. He looked into my eyes for a second, then finally his head gave a jerky nod, almost like it was being moved by an outside force.

"All right then," I told him, dropping my hand from his face. Then I reached down and patted my leg again.

Charlie groaned but stepped forward and leaned across my leg. He went up on tiptoe first, but I still had to reach down and take his hips in my hand to give him a boost. When his head was down against the cushions, he put his hands behind his back. I grasped his wrists in my left hand and shifted my right leg around to secure both of his.

With the paddle lying between my stomach and his hips, I was able to rub his back, bottom, and upper legs. I gently rubbed for a few moments, then gave him a couple of pats on each cheek.

"Relax, Charlie. You know I’m not going to start until you relax a bit. Let’s just get this over."

He moaned, and I saw his back rise as he took a deep breath, then his legs spread a bit. I continued rubbing, and, after a moment decided he was about as relaxed as he was going to get. I picked the paddle up, took quick aim without quite touching his rear, and then went to work.

Charlie was the first boy with whom I really had to find a pattern. He took spankings very differently from most boys in my experience; he started crying quickly, as if he wasn’t even trying to be brave, but then it seemed almost impossible to push him over the edge, which is when I felt that boys best learned.

I’d already made Red for him. When my other boys had been his age, the Little Deer seemed to work just fine on them if I used it long and slowly enough (instead of just swinging for the bleachers). It just wasn’t enough for Charlie though, so I’d made something just a little bigger and heavier from which I could get some reaction, even when using lighter swats.

I didn’t have my exact pattern down yet, but started by cracking the paddle down at the top of his rear, centered longwise, so about half the paddle caught each cheek. I traced swats down the length of his crack that way, then went back up and came down again, concentrating on each cheek. A few more in the middle, then I placed a few on each leg.

Like I said, Charlie didn’t like getting spanked and didn’t see the reason to try to be brave about taking them. .He was yelping and ouching almost from the first swat, and was quickly sobbing, then crying. I could feel him struggling against my holds—his legs moving back and forth, but only succeeding in kicking against the side of the couch, his upper body jerking around as he thrashed his head. He was trying to pull his hands free from me, but I held him too tightly. Jackknifed over my lap as he was, he really couldn’t even squirm much.

The crisp, not-too-hard swats I was giving were slowly shading his bottom from cream, to pink, then rosy. His crying was getting louder and harder, but it was a harsh, angry cry—protest, not repentance. Then as his bottom reached a true red color, there was an almost peaceful moment, broken by nothing but the pop of wood on flesh, and then Charlie wailed. This wasn’t a protest; it was the cry of a lost, sad, lonely little boy who just wanted to be comforted and forgiven.

That wail almost broke my heart, but I knew we weren’t done. I did my best to ignore it and slowed the swats, letting them fall almost randomly but a bit more firmly, as I turned his cheeks and upper legs a deep, dark red. As the paddle moved down to his legs again, he broke and began to really bawl, sobbing so hard I could feel his body shaking with them. Knowing we’d reached the point he needed to be, I broke away from the leg swats I’d been giving and landed the last smacks to his sit spots, leaving them even hotter than the rest of his bottom. Back and forth several swats landed on each, and then three more—bam, bam, bam—to each one before I dropped the paddle behind me.

I released my grip on Charlie, freeing his hands and legs, but already knew him well enough to know he didn’t want up yet. Instead, I reached down and began to gently massage his bottom until he realized the spanking was through and he started trying to push himself up. I reached below him and helped him to his feet, then sat back and watched as he did a slow, intense fire dance.

After letting him relieve a bit of the sting, I sent him to his corner time. Charlie just couldn’t do a full thirteen minutes like I’d normally ask of a boy his age; so as soon as his crying was mostly done, I called him over to me for a long hug and a lot of petting.

After a while, when he seemed to be mostly recovered and totally reassured, I let him dress, then led him to my bathroom so he could clean up. It was only as he was drying his face that I dropped the next bombshell on him.

"Did you have a lot of homework today?"

"No, sir. We had that test in math, so I just have to read a few pages in history."

"Good. You and I need to go shopping."

"How come?"

I looked at him for a minute and realized he really didn’t know what I meant.

"Why did I spank you just now, Charlie?"

He blushed a bit before answering, "Because I was dishonest and trying to trick you."

"Right. And do you remember me saying you were still going to keep our deal?"

He nodded, still looking a bit confused.

"Well, our deal was that, as long as you wore a belt and looked reasonably decent, you could keep those clothes. Since you didn’t keep your side, we’re going to keep the ‘or else’ and go get you some stuff that fits."

I’ll spare you the next ten minutes of begging, promising, and cajoling. There was absolutely no way that he was going to get into that car with me right then. I thought about threatening to spank him again, but the truth was, I didn’t think there was any way I could give him even a hand spanking that wouldn’t leave marks. For that matter, I was more worried about the marks to his spirit than his rear end. Charlie was an unstable, needy boy. I think we were really bonding and didn’t want to use force or threats any more than I absolutely had to. I finally thought of the perfect way to compel him.

"Charlie, I gave you this chance to keep the baggy clothes you like because you made me a promise. You broke your word, so you are going to get new clothes and we are going to do it now. If you’d rather not go, that’s fine, but I didn’t think you’d want me to pick everything out for you."

He didn’t, and we were gone as soon as I let everyone know where I’d be.



Charlie wasn’t happy that I made him buy clothes that fit by my definition, which is to say things that would stay up without being tied up. On the other hand, he was ecstatic that I was taking him to the mall instead of Wal-Mart. We did have an occasional problem with attitude, but that ended when I pointed out that I was almost positive he didn’t want another spanking, especially not one in a public restroom. After a quick stop for corn dogs and lemonades, his attitude did get a lot better.

It slipped again when we got home. I came up to his room with a box of trash bags and dumped pretty much all his clothes on the bed (everything except socks, as a matter of fact). I let him keep a few pairs of his old shorts and one pair of huge jeans for him to wear around the house. I think he howled more loudly when I took his boxers than when I’d been spanking him. I pointed out that I’d bought him four packs of briefs (Jockey, Fruit of the Loom, Hanes, and Old Navy) so he could pick which ones were most comfortable for him; but just the idea of tighty whities seemed to be uncomfortable.



I knew we weren’t great, but he unbent enough that night not only to take a hug and kiss when I tucked him in, but to give some back. Of course, that didn’t preclude problems the next morning.

Charlie refused to get out of bed. When I woke him, he got up (looking very cute in his Old Navy low-rise briefs) and went to the bathroom. When he’d not come down for breakfast after a bit, I went to check and he’d climbed back into bed.

"I’m not going."

"Yes, you are."

"I’m sick."

"No, you’re not."

"You can’t make me."

"Charles Fletcher Lohring, if you’re not out of the bed and downstairs for breakfast in ten minutes, I will wear you out. Do you understand me?"

He just glared. I walked over to his dresser, picked up the brush, and started back for him. He grabbed his sheets and held on as I tried to pull them off.

"Yes, yes, I understand," he finally admitted.

I nodded, let go of the sheet, and walked out.

Turning at the door to look back at him, I reminded him, "Ten minutes."



Nine-and-a-half minutes later, I stood up and turned towards the stairs.

"Dad!"

I looked back, surprised that Bobby had said anything.

"Can I talk to him for a minute?"

I looked at my watch, then looked back at the boy. The two of them weren’t friends, but I did trust Bobby, so I nodded.

"It looks like I’m going to have to drop him off, so we have a little time. Go ahead."

It took twelve minutes, but the two of them came down together. Bobby had changed clothes, so he and Charlie were roughly coordinated. They were both wearing Dockers and polo shirts, though in different colors. Both of them looked good, though I had to admit it did look a little unusual on Charlie. Bobby had already had breakfast, so I made a bacon and egg sandwich for Charlie and we went out to the car.

Charlie was very nervous the entire ride; I could tell because he was quiet. Still, he wasn’t giving me the silent treatment and answered when I spoke to him. When we pulled up at the school, he started to reach for his door, then stopped and glanced around. .Then he leaned up, put his arm over my shoulders, and rested his head against mine.

"I’m sorry, Dad. Are you mad at me?"

"A little put out, Charlie, but not mad. Have a good day. Okay?"

He nodded and gave me a weak, sickly smile.

Both boys started to get out of the car, but I stopped Bobby. Charlie got out and shut his door, then took a few steps away before realizing Bobby wasn’t beside him.

When I was sure Charlie couldn’t hear us, I asked Bobby, "How’d you get him up?"

Bobby glanced over his shoulder, then smiled at me and lifted his shirt and flipped the waistband of his pants down a bit, revealing the white waistband of a pair of Fruit of the Looms.

"Solidarity."





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