Christopher Allen Part 2

"Christopher Allen!" I cried, trying not to sound too harsh.

The boy looked up at me. He had such an innocent, ‘what-did-I-do’ look. I think it’s partially because a lot of the time, he didn’t really realize what he’d actually done. It’s like I told him when we first started our arrangement; he might be a bit hyper, but his real problem was that he lived totally in the minute and didn’t think about whether what he was doing was a good idea or not.

He just stared at me for a minute, so I crooked my finger at him. It was barely 11am, but he’d been here since we opened at 10:00. He’d talked to me for a while, but I had work to do before the Pokemon tournament started, so he’d been glad when some other kids arrived. I think they were trading cards. However, instead of carrying all his cards over to where they were, he was running back and forth to get stuff. The key word there was running.

"Chris, what am I going to do with you?"

He knew what I meant and was looking very sheepish. "I’m sorry."

"Sorry’s not good enough, kiddo. We haven’t even started the tournament and…." I paused because something had just occurred to me. CRAP!

"How many times have I already called you down this morning, Chris?"

"Twice," he replied glumly, probably thinking there was no way he’d make it through the entire day without another. I hated to break the bad news to him.

"What was the second time for?"

"Running in the store?"

I nodded. "And what was the first time for?"

"Running in the store."

"And what happens if I have to call you down twice in one day for the same thing?"

His face paled, and his eyes went wide, and I saw them dampen a bit before he looked down at his feet and mumbled, "I gotta get spanked."

I reached out, put my hand on his shoulder, and gave him a light squeeze, but didn’t speak to him. "Ryan," I called out to Ryan Hunter, the sixteen-year-old boy whom I paid to help out with the tournaments, "Can you keep an eye on things for a couple of minutes and watch Chris’s stuff?"

Ryan looked at me, looked at the younger boy, then nodded. If Chris had looked up right then, he’d have seen a lot of sympathy and support in Ryan’s eyes, since he had a pretty good guess why Chris and I were going to be out of the room for a bit and had been there himself more than a time or two [see Ryan and Derek Hunter ].

With my arm still around his shoulders, I lead Chris around the corner to my office. With my free hand, I dug out my keys. Both of Chris’s hands were busily rubbing the seat of his pants as I opened the door and led him in. I shut and locked the door again, then turned around to find that he’d pulled the spanking chair away from the wall and was busy looking worried.

Chris knew the procedure now. It had been a couple of months since we’d started it and this wasn’t going to be his first time to get spanked since we’d reached our agreement. It was the first time he’d gotten called on the repeat offenses, and it was the first time he’d been spanked this early in the day, but I’d probably spanked him three times since I’d given him that first demonstration.

Chris really was a pretty good kid. I’ve never seen evidence that he has a mean bone in his body, though you don’t want to push him too hard or threaten a friend of his. He did try hard to behave. I had to call him down almost every week, but it was usually only once. He’d had a few spankings, but he’d also gotten a couple of prizes and was exuberantly proud when he achieved one.

I looked at him standing forlornly next to the spanking chair and crossed over to the couch instead, calling him to me, "C’mere, kiddo."

Seeming grateful for the even momentary reprieve, Chris came over and sat down, leaning against my side and pushing at my arm, so I draped it back around him, hugging him to me.

"I want you to understand something, Chris. Running in the store is not something I should be having to call you down for. At your age, you know better than to do that. Don’t you?"

"Yes, sir," he admitted. "I’m really sorry."

"I know you are, honey, but you know there are rules, and they‘re there for a reason. The floors are tile and slick and there’s not a lot of room. Most of the time you’re okay, but it only takes one slip for you to fall."

"I wouldn’t get hurt, Jack," he answered, confident in his own invulnerability.

"You probably wouldn’t, and the room is pretty empty right now, but what if you run into someone. Look at how big some of the kids are that play Pokemon. You might not get hurt, but they could. Or, what if no one gets hurt? What if you just bump into a table and knock some people’s cards on the floor. You think they’ll be very happy about that?"

"No, sir," he admitted, finally realizing that running really was a bad idea. "Can’t you please let me off, Jack? I’ll behave the rest of the day. I promise!"

I think both of us knew that was a promise he wouldn’t be able to keep. I had so many thoughts going through my mind right then. I shouldn’t let him off because he needed to learn to associate the spanking with the misbehavior. I didn’t want to let him off, because I enjoyed undressing him and spanking his cute, little bottom. On the other hand, I loved him a lot. While I didn’t worry about him being mad at me (if anything, he was more affectionate after a spanking), and I did enjoy spanking him, I also felt bad for him, even when he deserved it. And, let’s face it—chances were good that, with two strikes against him already, we’d be back in here pretty soon.

"You think I should let you off, Chris?"

I was surprised that he didn’t answer right away. Instead, I felt him turn and snuggle even closer to me. I had to shift forward a bit, so he could snake an arm behind me, where it could meet it’s partner and hug me tight. I didn’t know what was wrong with him, or why he wanted so much contact, so I just held him a little tighter and stayed quiet for a minute.

After several moments had passed, I finally said, "Chris…?"

"No."

"No, what, kiddo?"

He sighed deeply enough I could hear and feel it. "No, you shouldn’t let me off."

"Chris, I think you understand why you shouldn’t run in the store now. I think you’ll be okay."

"That don’t matter. You had to call me down twice, and those were the rules." He paused for a second. "Really that should have been three anyway. Remember? You tapped me on the shoulder and told me to settle down. That was acting up, and you should have said ‘Christopher Allen’." He broke away from me as he said that and stood up, untucking his blue and green striped polo from his khaki shorts and lifting it up to bare his chest and belly. "I can’t behave today and I need it."

"Are you sure, Chris? Is there some reason you’re acting up today?"

I’d thought about that, but if anything unusual was going on, I couldn’t think of it. He was a little early at the store, and he would be spending the night at my place—just me, him, and Bobby (who would be going to bed early, since he was only 7), but it wasn’t anything that hadn’t happened before.

He did think for a minute before he answered. "I don’t think so. I guess I’m just rambleish."

I had to think about that one for a minute. "Rambunctious?"

"Yeah, that."

He let go of one side of the shirt and reached down to grab my arm and pull. "C’mon, Jack. If I gotta get a spanking, can we please get it over with?"

I let him pull me to my feet, turning to glance away so he wouldn’t see the grin on my face. I don’t want to look like I’m happy when I’m about to spank a kid, but sometimes they do confound me. We stepped back over to the spanking chair, where I took my place and looked up at him, having managed to take a serious mien again.

"All right, Christopher Allen. You know you shouldn’t be running inside, you know what happens when I have to call you down twice for the same thing, and you were right; You know you shouldn’t be acting so unruly inside around the customers, so this should really be three strikes. You know what’s going to happen now, so I don’t think we need to say anything more; do we?"

He shook his head, worried and impatient to get it done, now that he’d said it needed to be. With no further delay, I reached up and undid his belt, then drew the zipper down and undid the snap. Chris never wore his clothes really baggy; so, while the fly fell open on its own, I still had to give the shorts a little help down his smooth legs. A moment later, his briefs joined the shorts around his ankles. I didn’t have to glance up to know his fists were clenched and his eyes were closed. He’d learned the proper way to take a spanking and that embarrassment was a part of it, but he was still very shy about having his ‘dingus’ exposed.

Chris’s skin is very interesting. It’s fairly pale, but there’s just a hint of brown to it, as though you’d poured just a bit of coffee into a lot of milk. Since warm weather had arrived to stay, his face, legs, and arms were a much deeper, richer brown; but not where his briefs always covered. It wasn’t quite white, though, but his penis was still the same shade as the rest of the skin, except where it was a medium pink, instead. The only place that showed any adult coloring was his sac. I think his testicles might have been a little bigger and his penis a little longer, but it was hard to say for sure. Whether it was or not, I had to pause for just a second—really just slowing down a bit as I moved my hands from his briefs and ankles to his waist—to appreciate the view and wonder fleetingly how shy he was around my brother and what games they might play besides Pokemon when spending the night together.

When he felt my hands on his hips, Chris allowed me to pull him to my side, where he collapsed over my lap with minimum help. I began to rub his bottom, enjoying the velvety feel of the skin, the softness of the first layer, and the firmness of the underlying muscle, even as it relaxed him. Without prompting, he began the procedure, having been in this position often enough to know what I expected from him.

"I’m getting spanked because you had to call me down twice for the same thing— running inside. It really should have been three strikes, though, ‘cause you should have called me down for being… ram-bunk-shush," he pronounced carefully. "Jack?"

"Yeah, sweetheart?"

"Do you think you should paddle me this time?"

"No," I replied, not having to think about it, though I’d never paddled him and would have enjoyed the chance to see how he took it. "I’ve told you that the paddle is for when you do something really naughty, not when we just need to correct your behavior.

"But I got three strikes, and two were for the same thing. Shouldn’t that be two spankings?" He sounded very worried and didn’t like the idea, but I think it was important to him that I know he was sorry and understood that he’d messed up.

"Paddles aren’t for this, Chris, and I think one spanking will be more than enough, whether it’s for three strikes or two of the same thing." I paused for a second, then went on, having an idea of what to say to ease his conscience. "You have to trust me on this, honey. Just like you trust me not to spank you when you don’t need it, you have to trust me to spank you as much as you need. Okay?"

"Okay," he answered, relief evident in his voice.

Like I said, I’d spanked Chris a few times since that first demonstration. It wasn’t like he was over my lap every day, or even every week, but he’d learned a few things about how I spanked. As soon as he was across my legs, he made himself relax and get into position. He was tall enough that his chest was past my leg, but he took hold of my leg and a chair leg, rather than supporting himself against the floor, and his legs were bent a bit at the knees and spread, so he couldn’t tense them. I can’t say he was relaxed, but at least he wasn’t tensed.

Just like I’d made Chris accept the embarrassment of being bared for his spanking, I’d adjusted my spanking method for him. Over the years, I’ve learned a lot of tricks about how to give a spanking. I could increase the sting or make it linger longer. Some of it was stuff I did on a regular basis, like keeping or breaking patterns, which was mostly psychological. Other tricks, everything from using the fingertips for more sting to using more of the arm to get more force, were pure physical. Chris had claimed he wouldn’t cry unless I drew blood. I’d wondered several times if that was just a boast or if he really somehow knew, but I hadn’t been able to get him to talk about it beyond the simple fact that some of his mom’s old boyfriends had been harsh with him. Still, even while I was tempted to try some tricks to see if I could push him over the edge (without drawing blood), it seemed important to the boy for some reason to take his spankings stoically. After the first couple of spankings, I realized that had something to do with his not crying, and it wasn’t just that I wasn’t spanking hard enough, so I decided to respect it. Anyway, as good a boy as he was, I had little doubt that one day he’d give me an excuse to use a paddle or brush, and we’d see what he could really take.

I may have only spanked him three times since the first, but I think I’d found a method that worked for both of us—leaving him feeling punished but proud of himself for how he took it, and leaving me satisfied with having given a good spanking to a good boy. I started off very firmly, but slowly, even putting a little shoulder into it. As each swat landed, I’d give a little rub, then lift and watch as that spot reddened before placing the next one. I continued that way, taking my time and placing each swat carefully, until his entire bottom and down onto the legs was rosy. He took those pretty well, jerking a bit when each smack connected, but staying still otherwise.

When his spank area was a pretty uniform shade of medium rose, I suddenly changed. I was still landing swats fairly randomly, but they were now much quicker and sharper; all wrist and elbow and meant to sting. Now he began to really react, his head coming up and shaking around, and shifting his weight back and forth across my lap, as one leg, then the other, came up for a quick shake. It was almost like he was trying to dance the sting away during the spanking, trying to keep it from building up too much.

When he was reaching crimson almost all across his bottom, I picked up the pace and placed seven more, extremely rapid fire, back and forth onto each sit spot, then stopped and rested my hand on the lowest part of his left cheek. His jumping and squirming stopped, and his body went rigid. I made the first vocal noise either of us had said since the spanking began, speaking only his name. He ignored me for a moment, but then I saw his chest expand in a deep breath. After another second, his legs bent and spread again, and his head went back down towards the floor. He even took his hands from the legs and put them behind his head. Satisfied with his willing compliance and acceptance, I switched back to the slow, hard swats I’d started with, but these were all right on his sit spots again. He’d proven he was willing to accept them by relaxing for them, but staying still was beyond him. I normally use a boys age as a goal for those last spanks-- about half his age to each spot. Since Chris was nearly 14, that meant seven to each side; but I’d never given him a full seven to each spot this last time and didn’t now; counting out four to each leg and four more right over his little hole before I decided his jerking said he’d had enough.

I switched to my left hand, so I could enjoy the feel of his rough, blazing bottom and rubbed it for a moment before helping him to sit up. "Still think you needed the paddle this time, Chris?"

He shook his head, then paused a second before stuttering out ‘N-n-no. Th-that was p-p-pretty good." Considering that his face was soaked with tears, his nose was a little runny, and he was trying to hold back little sobs, I’d say it was more than pretty good; I think it was exactly where I wanted him to be.

Cuddling him against me wasn’t as easy as it would have been on the couch, but he managed to fit by keeping his rear end a bit further down on my leg and leaning in. If he’d been a few inches shorter, he would have fit just fine.

At first, I just held him quietly, only moving to kiss away a few tears. When I could feel that he had firm control of the sobs that had threatened to break free, I took a firm grip on his waist and leaned forward, lifting the box of Kleenex from the coffee table and holding it out for him. It would have been better for him to go wash up, but I wasn’t ready for him to get up yet. I don’t think he was, either.

We sat there in a trackless time; our arms around each other, his on my shoulder, my hand rubbing slow circles on his lower back. His free hand rested on his left leg, and mine rested on his right, rubbing gently up and down, just above the knee. His head was against my left shoulder, and I let my head droop that direction, so my cheek was resting against the top of his head. I knew it was coming, so I just waited, enjoying the sting in my palm, his warmth against my body, and a general sense of completeness. Then it came. I felt him shift against me, more than heard it. A sigh of total contentment. He’d misbehaved, accepted the consequences, and knew I still loved him. I’d imagine that the sting and burn in his bottom had turned the corner to a warm afterglow as well. I let him have just another moment of that, before I broke it.

"Chris, I still don’t think you needed the paddle or that you deserved two spankings, but we do have a little problem."

"We do?" he said in a lazy voice that just couldn’t work up too much worry yet.

"Yeah. The problem is, it’s only," I shifted a bit to glance at the clock, "11:40. The tournament hasn’t even started yet, and you’ve already had a spanking."

"I’m sorry," he mumbled against my chest, sounding closer to tears now than he had right after the spanking.v "Don’t be sorry, sweetheart. That’s not the problem; you’ve been spanked, it’s over with, and you’re forgiven. The problem is, what do we do about the rest of the day?"

He disturbed himself enough to lean back and look up at me. "Huh?"

"You’ve already been spanked, Chris. What do I do if you act up any more?"

"Oh." I’d expected some thought or soul searching. Instead, he just shrugged his shoulders. "Spank me again, I guess."

Well, that’s easy enough. "You mean we should just start fresh and you have no strikes now?"

"I dunno." Now he did pause to think a moment. "Maybe you should make it harder if I have to get spanked again. Or, maybe I should only get two strikes this time…." his voice trailed away, as he started thinking again.

I was thinking as well. Since it didn’t take me long, I guess I wasn’t the insensitive spanko-sex maniac I’d once been, or maybe I never had been. Either way, when offered a chance to spank this cute kid more often or harder, I passed it by. "I don’t think we need to do either one, Chris. We’ll start fresh and you still get three strikes. Anyway, even if I spank you exactly the same way, it’ll seem harder, because your bottom’s going to be tender for a while. Right?"

"Oh, yeah," he assured me with a mix of pain and pride in his voice.

"The only problem we have is that you’ve already been spanked today, so there’s no way you can be real good." I thought about it for a second, but the answer was easy enough. If I wanted him to remain positive about the situation, he had to have a chance of reward, not just more punishment. "You can’t be real good, but you can still be good for the rest of the day. That means, if you stay out of trouble the rest of the day, you’ll still get some kind of treat. Fair?"

"Real fair!" he assured me.



When Chris was cleaned up and dressed, we went back to the game room. Ryan had picked up Chris’s stuff and moved it to the registration table, where he was taking care of a line of incoming players. I took the seat beside him and began to sign up the next boy in line. Chris grabbed his stuff and sashayed off to join a group of his friends. Ryan looked up at him, knew what he was expecting, and I think he saw the boy’s bloodshot eyes; but the eyes and expectations were totally belied by the boy’s attitude. Ryan had always been a serious boy. At eleven, he’d been more mature in a lot of ways than Chris was at thirteen. To Ryan, a spanking had been a serious punishment that deserved a little brooding (I say brooding because Ryan would never have admitted to pouting). To Chris, it was part of life, to be endured, accepted, and then put behind you. I think Ryan was a little shocked by that. When I saw him studying Chris, then me, I smiled at him, then we both went back to work.



The tournament was nearly over, and Chris had been pretty well-behaved the rest of the day. We were having to play off a couple of ties before prizes could be announced, but some of the parents had already shown up. I was talking with one of them who was asking questions so she could teach her younger kids how to play, when Chris came up to me, standing with ill-concealed impatience (he was shaking like a terrier would, if I’d been hiding his favorite ball). I finally asked the mom to wait a minute so I could deal with him.

"Can I spend the night at Zack’s house?"

I had to think about that one for a minute. For one thing, Zack’s dad lived close to the store. His mom lived on the other side of town. While I knew and respected his father, I thought his mom was a bit of a flake and didn’t know his step-dad at all, and I couldn’t remember where he was that weekend. For the other thing, I wasn’t really sure if I had the authority to allow Chris to sleepover elsewhere. I was sure I could take it and no one would say a word, but that didn’t make it a good idea. I didn’t get much of a chance to think about the issues, though.

"Please, Jack. Please. I really wanna. I swear I’ll be good. Please, please, please…."

"Christopher Allen!"

The boy’s eyes went wide and his face went pale, and I knew I’d made a mistake.

I reached out to take his shoulder and give it a light squeeze. "I’m not mad at you, Chris, and that wasn’t a strike. You just need to give me a minute to think. Okay?"

I could tell he didn’t really believe me and he looked like a kicked puppy , so I moved my hand from his shoulder to his neck and pulled him in for a brief, one-armed hug. I could feel him relax against me after a minute and let him go. Then I explained my problems to him, but came up with the perfect solution. Aaron was at his mom’s for the weekend, so Chris would have the bedroom to himself.

"Why don’t you see if Zack can stay with us tonight, then we can ask your mom about me letting you spend the night somewhere else before next weekend. Sound good?"

I guess it sounded great, because he wasn’t standing there to hear the last word.



The tournament was over for the day, Zack was waiting out front for his mom to drop off an overnight bag, and Chris and I were back in my office. We were on the couch this time. I was sitting in the middle and Chris was right up against my side; he was turned so his leg was up over mine and his head was against my chest.

"I’m sorry the morning started out rough for you, Chris; but you did pretty good the rest of the day."

"I’m sorry I bugged you so much about me spending the night with.…"

"That wasn’t bugging, Squirtle. You just need to remember that some of us are old and slow and give us a minute to think."

He snorted, but politely made no age jokes. We sat quietly for a minute, just enjoying each other’s warmth and comfort.

"A lot of kids pout and sulk after they’ve been spanked, Chris. One of the things I really respect about you is that you admit you deserve it, and you try to learn from it, but you don’t let it get you down. It’s good that you can do that. Why don’t you check my front pocket?"

He straightened up a bit and looked at me, then smiled and eagerly stuck his fingers inside my shirt, coming up with a pair of sleeved cards.

"Mankey and Prime-ape?" I knew they were his favorite Pokemon, but he sounded a little confused, probably because he already had four of them.

"Look closer," I suggested.

He did, and after a second he saw it. "First edition! You rock!" He started to throw his arms around my neck, then stopped and sat the cards down. As soon as they were safely on the table, he turned back to me, nearly jumped onto my lap, and squeezed me hard enough I started worrying about oxygen deprivation. He let loose after a minute and leaned back a second, before leaning forward again and planting a kiss on the corner of my mouth.

"Thanks, Jack." A short, slightly embarrassed pause, then he took a deep breath. "I love you."

"You’re welcome, Chris, and I love you, too. Now let’s go see if Zack’s ready to go home."