Christopher Allen 03

"Do you have anything to say for yourself, Christopher Allen?"

"We just got drinks," he replied, his voice almost whiny.

As I spoke to him, I was watching Scott and Zack. Scott had his soda pop in one hand and his box of cards in the other, leaving him defenseless when his mom had reached out to use his ear as a guidance device. Zack, sensing the weather, had jumped on his bike and was already nearly to the corner.

"First of all, Chris, when you’re playing games, you might have to dissect the rules to be sure exactly what they say, but if I tell you ‘no’ when you ask to go to Jack-in-the-Box and get a burger, that doesn’t mean you can go there to get a drink, it doesn’t mean you can go to Wendy’s to get a burger, and it doesn’t even mean you can go to Sonic to get a coney. It means no. Do you understand that?"

I was trying to keep my voice low, so as not to embarrass him, and calm, so as not to upset him. He’d disobeyed me, and I’m sure we both already knew he was going to be spanked; but I was more worried about his understanding why he was in trouble than in scoring points on him. Chris knew I loved him but was still very insecure about a lot of things.

"Second of all, I didn’t tell you that you couldn’t go to Jack-in-the-Box to get a burger. Do you remember what I did say?"

I did. It had only been about twenty minutes ago when the three boys had asked if they could go over there, and I remembered my reply word for word: "No. Scott’s mom will be here in a few minutes, and we already have dinner plans for tonight, so you boys just stick around here."

After a second he nodded. It was a reluctant nod, but a nod nonetheless.

"I only had one strike today, Jack."

"I know you did, kiddo, and I’m really proud of how well you’ve been doing lately, but this isn’t about strikes. You flat out disobeyed me today, and that deserves a spanking. You understand?"

He winced, but nodded again. One thing I’ll say for Chris is he has always been honest. Maybe that’s because he very rarely got into real trouble. I don’t remember the exact date, but it was the middle of summer, so I’d known Chris over six months by that time. I don’t know how many times he’d been over my lap for ‘three strike’ spankings, but it had been more than a few, and the number had gone up as we got into the summer.

When summer had started, Chris had practically moved in with us. I don’t want to say his mom was glad to get rid of him, but she was obviously glad for him to have attention, supervision, and things to do without her having to pay someone to babysit a thirteen-year old. The problem was, when he’d started being with me every day and having to use different ways of behaving (at home and at the store), he’d been over my lap a good deal for a week or so. It had been hard on him, but he bore up under it with his usual cheery attitude. The fact that he wasn’t having to take his Ritalin at all sometimes drove me (and Aaron) to distraction, but he was as happy as I’d ever seen him. He also (and maybe for the same reason) was suddenly eating like a horse and had visibly grown in just a couple of months.

"Jack, am I in real trouble this time?"

"How d’ya mean?"

"Are you going to paddle me?"

I didn’t have to think much about that. He knew I paddled Aaron, and this was real misbehavior, so…. "Yeah, I’m going to paddle you."

I was about to say something else but saw Brenda coming back towards me, though Scott was still in the car. When she arrived, I explained the situation and she asked what I was planning to do.

"Well, Chris is going to get a spanking. He directly disobeyed me, which is unacceptable."

"What do you think about the other boys?"

"Well, as for Zack… he rode his bike up here, so there’s really no difference between what he did, and him leaving and stopping for a soda on the way home. I have no reason to believe he did anything against his parents’ rules, and he had no reason not to leave when he did, so I can’t say he did anything wrong. I’ll probably talk to him, but that’s it."

"What about Scott?"

"Well, Scott’s an interesting case right now. I’m pretty sure I told them—not just Chris—not to go over there, and I know one of the reasons I gave was that you should be here soon. On the other hand, it’s not like he did anything really wrong; I wouldn’t have spanked him for going to get a soda. I guess it depends on how much authority you think I should have over him when he’s up here, and whether he thought I just told Chris no, or all of them."

Brenda thought about it for a minute, then waved at the car. The door opened, and Scott walked up to the front door to join us. Chris was still standing silently to the side. Scott took his time, walking like a man on his way to hear the verdict (which I guess he was), but he finally reached us.

"Scott," his mom addressed him, "did Jack tell you guys to stay at the store?"

"Yes, ma’am," he admitted, apparently not wanting, or maybe knowing it was a waste of time, to split hairs.

"Have I told you that Jack’s in charge while you’re up here?"

"Yes, ma’am" he admitted again, even more reluctantly.

"Well, Jack says Chris is about to get a spanking for disobeying." Chris hadn’t complained about my telling another parent, but as his younger friend was informed, I saw him wince. "Which sounds about right to me. As soon as we get home, I’ll ask your father to take you to your room."

Scott not only winced but also moaned at this announcement, but he didn’t try to argue. I don’t know if he knew it wouldn’t do any good or just wanted to save a little dignity by doing his begging and pleading in private. Either way, his mom had him apologize to me and promise to mind in the future, and then we all said goodbye and they took off.

As soon as Scott and Brenda were in the car, I turned to Chris. Chris looked at me for just a second, then looked away. I did want to spank him, to paddle him, but at the same time didn’t want to, as well. On the other hand, while I was torn, I knew that, after it was over, I’d enjoy playing the mental rewind. We stood there quietly a moment before I finally spoke.

"Let’s get it over with, Chris. My office."

Chris preceded me inside and upstairs. As we went, I was running through a few ideas in my mind. There was no way I could spank Chris with a paddle the same way I did with my hand. It would have left him black and blue. This was in a time when I didn’t customize a lot of items. I had a lot, but very few of them would have been appropriate for a boy of Chris’s age, size, and toughness. He was a month younger than Aaron but a little bigger. Aaron was only about as big as Stevie had been at twelve, so I still spanked him the way I had his nephew— occasionally with hand, occasionally with brush, mostly with the Little Deer (which was store bought, and about as big as the paddle I now call Heat for the Seat). By the time Chris stood aside so I could unlock my office, I’d made a decision.

Chris knew where I kept the spanking implements and watched with trepidation as I bent down to that drawer. When I turned around, he’d already moved the spanking chair into position, but he flinched when he saw me stand with the hairbrush in my hand.

"I’ve never been paddled before," he told me, then added honestly, "except at school."

"We’re going to do this just like I was using my hand, Chris. Except the actual spanking, nothing’s going to change."

"Is it going to hurt a lot?"

"Yeah, but it won’t be as long."

He nodded, though I don’t think he was grateful for my honesty.

I stepped over and sat, tucking the handle of the brush under my leg, then reached up to unfasten his jeans.

As I said, Chris was growing like a weed that summer. Though I’d spanked him a number of times when he’d first (practically) moved in with me about two weeks into the summer, including one day when he’d earned himself two trips across my lap, he’d settled in quickly, and I’d not had a reason to spank him in a couple of inches or so. I was looking forward to it.

I have to admit that spanking Chris was fun—for me, at least. While he didn’t cry, he also didn’t complain or sulk, and was cheerful and affectionate afterwards. That didn’t make me want to abuse him or spank him for no reason, but it did eliminate a lot of the negative when he actually earned one.

We’d been through this many times before, and Chris lifted his blue and green striped t-shirt without being told, exposing his smooth, flat, firm belly, as well as the fly of his jeans shorts, which quickly came undone. The shorts weren’t baggy on him but were loose enough that they hit his ankles as soon as I helped them past his nearly nonexistent hips. His briefs didn’t slide down so far or so quickly, but I did enjoy the feeling of my hands against his smooth legs as I slid them to his knees.

Chris was still a bit shy about nudity but no longer protested even a bit when I exposed his ‘dingus’. Height wasn’t the only place Chris had been growing. Though the little guy was still pink and white and hairless, his balls had definitely filled out a bit, and the shaft, which had already been thicker than a little boy’s, now hung long enough to nestle along his sac, and the tip actually dangled just past the end. It might have only been just over three inches, but he wasn’t very excited at the time, so he probably had some growing he could do right away.

Though I took careful note (and enjoyment) of the growing he’d been doing, I was guiding him across my lap at the same time. His growth meant we had to adjust things just a bit, but he was quickly in position and ready to go (at least I was ready; he may have preferred to wait a bit).

Though his recent growth spurt seemed to have taken some of the shape from his rear, it still wasn’t bad, though no longer the A+ bottom it once was. Still, I enjoyed taking a moment to pat and rub the soft skin while I started a lecture that I should probably already have given.

"You know you’re getting spanked for disobeying me, so I’m not going to draw this out; but I do want you to understand a couple of things."

I paused, but he had nothing to say, so I went on. "I try not to make a bunch of pointless rules. I try not to tell you to do, or not to do, things just because I feel like it. I try to explain when I’m telling you to do something. If you don’t understand, and it’s not obviously important, then you can feel free to ask me why or talk to me about it. What you can’t feel free to do is disobey me. With me so far?"

"Yes, sir."

The boy was relaxed right then. He knew he had a spanking coming and knew it was going to be pretty bad, but I’m sure he was enjoying the comfort of my hand on his bare skin and the intimacy of the moment.

"The other thing is, you have to learn to mind. You’re going to have to mind someone all your life, whether it’s your wife, or your boss, or the government. However, there is one alternative. I wouldn’t tell this to some boys, especially not younger boys, but I think you’re mature enough to understand it."

I paused again and could feel him beaming with pride, but he didn’t say anything, so I continued. "You can disobey whenever you want to, Chris; but you have to be ready to accept the consequences. If you disobey your wife, it might mean a divorce. If you disobey your boss, you might get fired. If you disobey the government, you might get arrested."

"And if you disobey your dad, you get spanked," Chris added when I stopped.

I have to admit I was moved, not just by the way he seemed to imply that I was his dad, but at the matter-of-fact way he did it.

"That’s right. Are you ready to accept the consequences?"

Even as I asked, my hand rose from his bottom, and he probably felt my weight shift as I slid the brush free. He sighed deeply and answered in a much less contented voice, "Yes, sir."

I didn’t make him wait any longer. The brush smacked down with a resounding little crack. I lifted it and watched the white oval fill in with red, before cracking it down on the other side.

Chris jerked when the brush smacked down the first time, like he’d been hit with a small jolt of electricity and did again with each subsequent smack. His legs were quickly jerking, and I could see his shoulders moving around as if he was having to fight to keep his hands in front of him.

Chris was usually pretty good about taking his spankings calmly, especially at first, but it was obvious the brush was much more intense than he’d expected. He was normally so stoical it was a bit of a surprise when the first yelp escaped his lips. I was used to hearing an occasional gasp or hiss, but that yelp may have been the most noise I’d ever heard him make during a spanking. That record didn’t last long.

Chris was obviously impressed with how well the brush worked for spanking. In much less than half the time I normally devoted to a hand spanking for him, he was reacting more than he ever did for a hand spanking; squirming around my lap, kicking, and I’d had to pause to pin his hands. His muted groans and muffled sobs let me know he was clenching his jaws to hold the noise in.

Hands, paddles, and brushes all require different techniques. With the brush, I’d started by landing a few swats in the middle of each cheek, then circling around those spots, working back and forth between each cheek, and landing an occasional swat at random on his upper legs, before going back to filling in the circle again. Only when the entire area was a pretty uniform dark rose did I think about planting more.

I stopped to examine his bottom, which was already very red, but not as red as I normally left it. His upper legs were still on the line between rosy and red, so I moved down to place a few more swats there, which was his undoing.

Back and forth, I placed a couple of swats on each upper thigh, and he howled. As soon as his mouth was open, he couldn’t hold it in, and he started crying. Then, as soon as the first cries escaped his mouth, he went crazy. He went from squirming to thrashing. He got one foot on the floor and spun around enough to pop me in the shoulder with his left elbow. I lost my grip, and he went on the floor.

He was saying something, but I couldn’t understand it. I couldn’t even guess why he was so upset. He hadn’t been crying hard, and his rear hadn’t been as red as I usually left it. I got up to move over to him and find out what was wrong with him, but when I stepped towards him, he started pushing himself away from me, and was still saying something over and over. It wasn’t that he was crying—he was hysterical.

I put the brush down and moved towards him again, but he tried to skitter away until I stepped back from him. After a minute, I walked away and circled behind him. It only took a few seconds, but by the time I got around to him, he was curled into a ball, with his arms up over his head, forearms crossed over his face like a boxer. I knelt down beside him, and this time, though he flinched, he didn’t try to move away from me. I started stroking him softly, running the fingers of one hand through his fairly short, dark brown hair, and letting the other trail across his upper back. Though his posture didn’t change, he seemed to relax a bit, and the hysterical crying calmed enough that I could finally make out the words.

"I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. Please don’t hit me."

I’ll admit I was confused. I know a brush spanking stings a lot, but how could it affect a kid who took hand spankings as well as Chris did like this? And especially, how could he have gone over the edge that quickly?

And then it occurred to me; he wasn’t saying, don’t hit me again, or don’t hit me anymore, he was saying don’t hit me—like he’d not been hit yet.

I leaned over a bit, so my mouth was right next to his ear, and whispered to him, "It’s okay, Chris. I’m not going to hit you. Spanking’s over now. You’re okay."

I repeated that, slowly and quietly, gently stroking his hair and back, until he began to calm down. The first signs of his relaxation were that his hands slowly moved (an inch or so, anyway) away from his face, and he was no longer curled up like a doodlebug. He was still facing away from me, and as his hands moved a bit away, he rolled his head back to look at me.

"I didn’t mean to cry, Jack; but that brush hurts so bad. I tried not to. I’m really sorry."

"You’re supposed to cry when you get spanked, Chris. They hurt."

He paused for a second and sniffed. "You’re really not going to hit me?"

"Have I ever hit you?"

He shook his head, so I was now sure we were talking about punching or slapping, not spanking.

"Chris, has someone hit you before when you cried because you were getting spanked?"

He looked nervous, like he didn’t really want to answer, but finally nodded.

After a quick moment’s thought, I helped him to his feet, leading him over to the couch. He’d kicked shorts and briefs off at some point, so it wasn’t hard at all for him to walk.

"C’mon, honey. I think you’ll be a lot more comfortable on the couch than the floor."

I sat down on the left side of the couch so he had room to spread out. He ended up lying with his upper chest and shoulders in my lap, his head on the arm of the couch, and his body resting not quite on his side, but leaning forward just a bit, to put his weight on his left hip. My left hand rested on his head, gently stroking his hair, while my right traced up and down from his shoulders to the small of his back. It took a lot of coaxing, but I finally managed to get a detailed story from him.

"It must have been about three or maybe four years ago. My mom knew this guy named Joe that she really liked. I liked him to. Most of Mom’s boyfriends would just come pick her up and they’d go out; but Joe’d come over and we’d watch videos or play games. Sometimes they’d go to the movies and even take me. Sometimes me and him even did stuff by ourselves. Once Mom even asked if I thought she should marry him."

"The only thing was, Joe thought I was kinda spoiled. Mom spanks me sometimes, but not very much. Joe said I needed a man to handle me, kinda like you do, and Mom told him to go ahead. Joe had to spank me pretty often, even though I really tried to be good. He wasn’t very good at telling me what I needed to do like you are, but I did try. Anyway, he spanked a LOT harder than you, but not real long like you do. When I got in trouble, he’d take me to my room and I’d have to pull my pants and shorts down and lay down on my bed. He’d take his belt off and whup me. He’d only give me like nine or ten swats, as long as I didn’t try to put my hands behind me or get away. That wasn’t too bad, cause I just grabbed hold of my covers and could usually not do that stuff. The thing is, Mom never spanked me real hard like that. Joe told me I needed to stop all that noise and take it like a man. I tried, but I couldn’t help it. After the first coupla times he spanked me, he told me to shut up all my cat-something.…"

"Caterwauling?" I suggested.

"Yeah, and when I didn’t he grabbed me off the bed and hit me."

"With the belt?"

"No, with his hand," he said.

I hated this because it was obvious Chris was ashamed of having ‘made Joe mad’ because he couldn’t ‘take it like a man’, and he was starting to transfer that shame to the spanking I’d just given him.

"Chris, I don’t care what this guy told you; there’s no reason to be embarrassed about crying. Men usually don’t cry like that when they hurt, but that’s because they yell and scream and cuss instead."

A small laugh escaped him, letting me know he’d heard examples of that.

"That’s what I do when I bang my elbow or stub my toe, except I manage to just grunt and groan, instead of screaming and cussing."

"And if I started screaming and cussing, I’d just get into more trouble," he added.

"That’s right. As a matter of fact, the first time I spanked you, I felt bad that you didn’t cry. It felt like I wasn’t doing a good enough job."

"Really?" he snorted in a near laugh.

"Really. Steve and Mikell were both a lot older than you the last time I spanked them, and they both cried."

"I’m sorry."

"No need to be sorry about it. It’s just that I expect a boy to cry when I spank him. And I’m sure not mad that you cried this time. It’s natural. So, if you need to cry, whether it’s because you’re getting spanked, or because you feel bad, you go right ahead. I’ll never be mad at you for showing how you feel. Okay?"

"Okay," he agreed contentedly.

"So, was that all about Joe?"

"I guess." He paused a minute, recalling what he’d said so far, or maybe just collecting his thoughts. "I hated it when he hit me. It hurt really bad, and I always felt sick after he did it."

"Did he hit you with his hand open…?"

"No, his fist… in my stomach."

I felt we’d gone far enough and wanted to let him forget about it now, but felt I had to ask just a couple of things more.

"The first time I spanked you, you said you wouldn’t cry unless I drew blood. Did you say that because Joe drew blood once?"

"No," he replied, and I started to relax, until he added, "That was a guy named Danny, or Donny, or something like that."

Sweet Jesus. The poor baby.

"What happened?"

Well, this guy was at our house. It must have been about two years ago. I remember it was really rainy, and I was bored, and him and Mom were watching TV, so I couldn’t even play games, and I guess I was being kinda bratty. Anyway, Mom went to the store to get some more beer. I don’t even remember what I did, but he was really mad, and he took me to my room and made me take off all my clothes. Then he took off his belt. I thought he was gonna do it like Joe did, but he just kept hitting me and he was calling me names and saying he’d show me he knew how to whup a boy’s a… bottom. Anyway, he left after a while, and Mom got back. She came to check on me, and that’s when I found out I was bleeding. She threw him outta the house and fixed me up; then she called the cops on him and he went to jail."

Well, that’s good anyway.

"Why didn’t she call the cops on Joe?"

"He never whupped me like that."

"But he was hitting you, Chris. I have no trouble with how you say he was spanking you, but punching a kid’s just as abusive as spanking him ‘til he bleeds."

"Oh," he replied, then sounded guilty. "I didn’t know. I never told Mom he was punching me."

"That’s okay," I assured him. "You weren’t supposed to know it was wrong. Kids shouldn’t have to know things like that. It doesn’t matter now, ‘cause I’ll never do you like that."

We sat for a moment, then I made one of the hardest offers I’ve ever had to make.

"Chris, I hate that those guys did you like that. Would you rather I not spank you anymore?"

"NO! You can’t do that, Jack. Please!"

"What’s wrong, Chris. That doesn’t mean.…"

"I wanna be one of your boys."

"You are one of my boys, Chris. I love you just as much as anyone who lives with me. Spanking or not won’t change that."

"But you’re helping me learn to behave. You’re not hurting me. I know you won’t hurt me, Jack."

Well, he had the truth of that, though I wasn’t sure how well I’d be able to spank him after this.

"Okay. I just didn’t want you to think I might hurt you. And I don’t want you to think that you have to take spankings for me to love you."

We sat there quietly another moment, and I could feel him start to tense up. I was trying to guess what he was going to tell me next, but he managed to surprise me.

"Do you want me to get the brush so you can finish spanking me?"

I didn’t have to think about that one.

"No, I think you’ve had enough spanking for today, buddy. Why don’t you get dressed?"

"Jack?"

"Yeah, kiddo?"

"Do you really love me?"

"Of course, I do. I love you as much as I do any of my kids."

"Could I… I mean, would it be okay if…?"

I wanted to tell him to spit it out, but didn’t want to make him more nervous, so just sat there, until he finally managed to say it.

"Could I call you Dad?"

"That would make me extremely happy, Chris."

He rolled over a bit and smiled up at me. Then he just lay there, letting me pet him. Finally I stopped petting and gave him a slight push. He stirred, then started to roll over, but stopped. Then he suddenly jumped up and, keeping his back to me, hopped over to grab his briefs. Even though he was trying to keep it hidden, I noticed that he was a lot happier than he’d been before the spanking. Chris may have slowly been becoming less shy around me, but this was the first time I’d seen him even half hard, and he wasn’t wanting to flaunt it.

As soon as he had his briefs on, he relaxed a bit and turned back to me.

"How come me and Scott gotta get spanked, but Zack didn’t?"

"Weren’t you listening to what I told Brenda?"

He shrugged, probably meaning that he’d been listening but had been too worried about his own rear to be concerned with someone else’s. I explained again, repeating the same thing that I’d told Scott’s mom.

"In other words," I concluded, "you and Scott were right to ask permission, and I told you no. Zack didn’t really need permission."

"But he was with us when you told him no, so doesn’t he deserve something?"

I had to smile. "Maybe just a hand spanking?"

"Yeah," he agreed, nodding.

"Well, why don’t you call him and see if he wants to come back up and get one?"

He gave me one of those looks for a minute, then his eyes went wide. "Could he spend the night tonight?"

It was my turn to shrug. "Sure, no reason why not."

Chris tugged up his fly, straightened his shirt, and walked over to my desk, where he picked up the phone. A minute later he asked to speak to Zack. I leaned back, not even pretending not to listen to this.

"Hey, dude. S’up? Look, me and Scott both got spanked for going up there after Jack told us not to."

"Yeah. Real hard because I disobeyed. He used a hairbrush. It was bad."

"Well, anyway, he says you deserve one to, but maybe only a hand spanking, since you only kinda disobeyed him. I thought, instead of you coming back up here, maybe you could spend the night tonight."

"Of course it’s gonna be on your bare a… butt. That’s how Dad always does it."

"Yeah, he said I can call him that."

"Hang on."

"Ja… Dad, remember that movie we were watching a few weeks ago, but Zack had to leave early?"

"Flash Gordon?" I responded after a few moments’ thought."

"Yeah! Can we watch that again tonight so he can see it all?"

"Sure."

"Sure," Chris repeated.

"Hang on. He hasn’t eaten yet. What’s for dinner?"

"Chicken and dumplings."

"Oh, you gotta come. Dad makes these great chicken and dumplings."

"Okay." Chris looked up at me. "He’s asking."

There was silence for a minute or so, then you could tell Zack was back and talking again. Then Chris looked back at me.

"Are you gonna pick him up?"

"Yeah. Tell him I have a couple of things to do, so we’ll be there in about twenty or thirty minutes."

A minute later, Chris hung up the phone, and I was having to shake my head, not really believing that the kid was spending the night so I could give him a spanking. What a bunch of characters!



What? Oh, you want to know what else happened? Okay, fine.

It was about twenty-five minutes later when I picked Zack up at his dad’s house. His dad came out with him, and we talked for a bit, which ended with him inviting Corey to spend the night with Ben sometimes, as well as plans for Chris to stay over with them the next weekend.

All the way home, Zack was kind of nervous for some reason. When we got there, Zack and Chris both had their arms full with their cards, so I grabbed Zack’s overnight bag and led them up to Corey’s room, where Chris had stayed for most of the summer (except when Corey was over, when he’d stay with Aaron). As soon as I dropped the bag on the spare bed, I stepped over to the desk, turned the chair to face the room, and called Zack over to me.

"You weren’t kidding?" the poor kid squeaked.

"Nope. How often do I kid about spankings?"

"A lot!" both of the smart alecks answered.

"Fine. Well, I wasn’t kidding this time. C’mere."

Zack made his way over to me, moving very slowly. As soon as he was in arms reach, I grabbed him and pulled him to my side. He was wearing soccer shorts, so I grabbed them and slid them and his briefs to his knees, then jerked him over my lap, quickly landing several swats on each cheek—not hard, but firm enough to have him yelping and squirming just a little.

"Oh, Chris. Why don’t you get your clothes off, and I’ll finish you up when I’m through with Zack."

"You said I’d had enough for today," he protested.

"Yeah, but that’s before I decided Zack needed one too. Hurry up!"

I waited just a second, until he reached for his fly. I was rubbing and gently patting Zack’s rear at the same time. As soon as Chris had the button undone, I spoke again.

"Or do you think maybe I should stop now, just call this a warning for Zack, and let the two of you off?"

"Yeah, that sounds like a good idea," Chris agreed.

"It’s a great idea," Zack added from somewhere around my knee.

"Fine, then hop up and get dressed so I can go get dinner made."

Zack started to push himself off my lap, but I couldn’t resist landing one more swat, which drew an outraged ‘Hey!’



About two and a half weeks later, I’d spent the day home with the boys, and Chris had been acting a bit more hyper than normal. I’d already had to call him down twice. I’m not even sure what happened, but I remember him looking over at me. His face showed its normal nervousness when he knew he was about to get spanked, but it also held something else—insecurity?

I’d been very careful not to let Chris get three strikes since he and I had shared that long talk, even when it meant ignoring something or pretending that I’d not seen it. This time, I didn’t see any way around it, and he was obviously becoming unsure about me. I finally gestured for him to come over to me, which he did, more nervous than reluctant.

"Haven’t we talked about that, Chris?"

"Yes, sir. It slipped."

"Do you deserve a strike for letting it slip?"

He nodded.

"How many strikes do you have?"

"Two."

"So that’s three?"

He nodded again.

"What happens to boys who get three strikes?"

"They get spanked," he admitted glumly, looking down, but watching me through his eyelashes.

"Let’s go on to my office and get it over with, then."

"Yes, sir," he agreed, not sounding thrilled now that it was actually happening.

I led Chris to my office. He lifted his t-shirt and watched while I slid his shorts and briefs down, then he let me guide him across my lap. I spanked him like I always had for three strikes… just as long, just as hard, and using all the little tricks that seemed to get to him. In return, Chris showed me what might have been more trust than anyone has ever shown me before or since.

He cried.





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