The Cost of Illegal Entry

Has it ever occurred to you that the best thing about a cell phone is that people can get hold of you when they need to? Has it ever occurred to you that the worst thing about a cell phone is that people can get hold of you when they need to, whether you really want them to or not?

It was Sunday afternoon. Over the weekend, I’d taken the twins to visit ‘Uncle Jason’, their biological father. We were only about thirty minutes out of Bransom when the phone rang. I checked my phone to see that it was Freddie Goodman, then turned down the radio, hushed the complaints from the twins, and tapped my Bluetooth.

"Hi, Freddie."

"Hey, Dad. Ummm… It’s not Freddie, it’s Mickey."

"Hello, Mickey," I replied, feeling a bit confused now. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah. I mean… Well, no one’s hurt or anything."

Okay… No one’s hurt, and he’s not calling from the police station…

"The police aren’t on their way, are they?" I asked half-jokingly.

"No!" he protested, sounding a bit offended.

"It can’t be that bad, then. What’s going on?"

Mickey gave me the short version of the situation, which had me feeling a bit irritated. Every once in a while, I could hear Chuck say something, which Mickey would then repeat. I could also hear Topher in the background, but he didn’t seem to have much to add.

"So anyway, Freddie doesn’t know what to do with us. We were sitting here, and we talked about it and decided we should call you."

"You know what I’m going to do about it?"

"Spank us?" he replied, sounding miserable.

"You knew that was what would probably happen when you decided to call me, didn’t you?"

"Yes, sir," he admitted resignedly. Apparently, Chuck was close enough to listen, because I heard him echoing Mickey.

"All right. You two can go home and sit on the couch. I’ll be there in about…twenty or thirty minutes, and we’ll deal with it then."

"Yes, sir," he repeated again. I doubt he’d ever heard ‘wait until your father gets home’, but I have no doubt that he understood the dread the phrase had raised in generations of boys.



When we pulled up, I had the twins check the car for trash while I got our bags out of the trunk.

"You guys know the drill; clean clothes get put away, dirty clothes go in the utility room, then you can chill, but don’t forget to check the chore list—and remember you’re on the edge, Johnny."

Both boys listened with ill-concealed impatience, then took off for their rooms. I carried my own bag through to my bedroom, starting to get very irritated when I didn’t see Mickey or Chuck when I walked through the living room.

Dropping my bag, I walked back into the living room to find both of them still not there. I looked at Bobby.

"Have you seen…?"

"Your office," he replied, apparently knowing someone was in trouble.

I nodded and relaxed a bit, realizing it must have just been a miscommunication. I’d meant to let them watch football until I arrived, not wanting to make them entirely miserable with the upcoming event. Apparently they’d assumed just the opposite.

I opened the door and stepped into my office to find, not two, but three boys awaiting me on the couch, all three doing a fair job of looking miserable. Chuck was sitting on the far end of the couch, leaning over with his arms crossed over the arm of the couch, and his head resting on his arms. Mickey was sitting right next to him, with almost no room between them. Mickey’s hands were on his legs, but the back of his head was resting against the back of the couch, so he was looking up at the ceiling. Topher was closest to me, leaning over so his head was resting on Mickey’s shoulders. All three of them were barelegged, and their jeans were resting on the end of the couch closest to me, along with a couple of outer shirts or hoodies.

You know that scene in a horror movie when someone realizes the monster is right behind them, and they do a slow turn until they see it? That’s what it was like when I came into the office. There was just a second for me to see how they’d been, then they all slowly shifted so they were looking at me. I think Chuck and Mickey were torn between worry about what was about to happen and relief that I was finally there. Topher was just worried.

"On your feet, guys," I instructed them, since they seemed unsure what to do.

"Topher, what’re you doing here?"

Not that I minded Topher being here. He’s a frequent visitor to the house, but also a very well behaved one. Not that Chuck’s a terror or anything, but Chuck’s situation allows me to spank him fairly often. With Topher, it’s only happened twice, and the most recent was at the start of summer. Topher’s nowhere near as good-looking as Mickey or Chuck, but there’s something about him that I find incredibly appealing. A lot of it is his smile and his boyish openness, but part of it is just that he’s different—he looks like himself and he’s usually pretty comfortable with that (though he is pretty defensive about that nose).

"Dad," Mickey answered for the younger boy, "his parents went shopping and he doesn’t have their cell numbers with him. Freddie didn’t have them either."

Actually, I did have the numbers written down somewhere, I was almost sure, but was that really the point?

"C’mere, Toph."

Topher is the youngest and smallest of the three boys, and it showed when he stepped over to me. I reached down and gently lifted his chin so he was looking up at me.

"So you don’t want to have to wait for your parents to get home, you think you should be punished with your friends, or you don’t want your parents… your mom… to find out about this?"

His eyes shifted to the side and I saw his little Adam’s apple bob up and down, then he nodded.

"All three," he admitted meekly.

"Before you make up your mind, you should understand that I’m very upset with you guys and I’m not planning to take it easy. Are you sure?"

He didn’t look sure; he looked sick. He started to look back at the other boys, but then made himself stop. He looked back up at me and nodded.

I nodded back, then stepped over and pulled the spanking chair away from my writing desk, turning it, then took a seat.

"Line up here," I instructed them, pointing at the floor in front of me, "and get those shirts up."

I waited until they’d fallen in, then leaned back to start the lecture.

"I am very disappointed with the three of you. Mickey already told me mostly what happened, but I want to hear from you two. Chuck?" I added after a second, when they both stood mute.

Chuck turned red as he started stammering.

"We were just talking about… about…"

"Girls and… and stuff," Topher put in, blushing himself.

"Yeah," Chuck replied, "Girls and stuff. And my dad used to have these… videos hidden in his room. I wasn’t supposed to know about them but… well, I found out about ‘em by accident."

"And he told us about ‘em, and we wanted to see them," Topher added, bravely sharing the blame around.

They all stood quietly again.

"And these videos were pornographic?"

All three boys nodded miserably.

"And you thought they were hidden in your mom’s bedroom still?"

They nodded again.

"And when they weren’t where you thought they were, you looked around for them?"

Another set of nods.

"And that’s when Freddie caught you."

This time they were too miserable to even nod.



I don’t think you’re going to ever keep boys from looking at that kind of material if it’s at all available. I actually don’t think you should keep boys from seeing nude pictures. A lot of it is just curiosity about the changes their own bodies are going through. Most boys have a chance to see other boys naked on a regular basis, but females are taboo, which makes it even more attractive.

The problem is, there is a world of difference between seeing another boy naked in a shower room, or even between something relatively tame and sedate like Playboy, and a XXX-rated video.

I tried to explain all this to the boys and made a brief mention about a few of the reasons why porn isn’t a good idea for younger boys who are just developing ideas of sexuality (and might not be a good idea for anyone, but that wasn’t a subject I wanted to go into at that time).

With the boys listening to me and nodding occasionally, I thought I’d made my point.

"I can understand why you boys did that, but I think you all knew you weren’t supposed to be looking at that stuff, didn’t you?"

They all nodded, very reluctantly, since they knew they were signing their own warrants.

"All right then, shirts up and step up here."

All three boys winced, and Topher moaned a bit, but Chuck and Topher lifted the tees that had drifted down, and they stepped up, standing nervously as I started slipping boxers down and off.

Unlike Mickey and Chuck, I’d not seen Topher naked in a long time, so he was the one who’d changed the most. Topher isn’t real athletic, but he still has a boy’s naturally lean build. He’s just a little softer than his more active friends. While his balls were still close up against his legs, and he seemed to be much less excited than I remember him being last time (instead of the four inches I recalled him as having, he was barely two, and what was left of his foreskin was turtle necking around the head), the biggest change was that he had some hair. Not a lot of it, and it was still short and gathered just at the upper base of his penis, on the lowest part of his stomach. It was, however, thick, and some of those hairs were getting long enough to be curly.

Topher was embarrassed and worried, but he still seemed to watch as I stripped his friends down. I think he might have been a bit embarrassed at the fact that his friends were both better hung and hairier than he was, but he was already so distressed it was hard to tell.

With all three boys bare from waist to socks, I leaned back and looked up at them again.

"I’m going to be honest with you here, guys. If I’d just come in and caught you looking at some porn, I don’t know if I’d have spanked you or not. I hope that you understand now why I don’t feel like it’s a good idea?"

I waited and all three of them nodded after a few seconds.

"The fact is that you all three knew you shouldn’t be looking at the stuff, so let’s give you a little something to help remember that. C’mere, Topher."

He moaned a bit, but stepped forward and let me help him over my lap.

Topher was still lean through the hips and could have used more definition, but his bottom was nicely plush. I ran my hand over it a few seconds, then began to clap my hand back and forth, up and down, from cheek to cheek, and placing the occasional swat on the legs. He took it stoically for the first minute or so, but then began to squirm a bit and make little sounds under his breath.

It wasn’t a hard spanking, but it was thorough, and his bottom slowly reached a pleasant, rosy color. By that time, he was kicking just a bit, especially when a swat caught his legs, and he was making little yipping sounds that were starting to get damp.

"Hop up, Topher," I instructed him, "and let’s let Chuck have a turn."

Topher was happy to oblige, though Chuck didn’t seem excited by the idea. He did, however, place himself across my lap as soon as his smaller friend had vacated it.

"No rubbing, Topher. Get that shirt up," I snapped, but without much force or heat.

Topher looked a bit embarrassed, but his hands jumped away from his rear, and lifted his shirt again.

While I ran my hand across Chuck’s fuller, firmer cheeks, I glanced up at Topher. His eyes were red and shiny, which meant he’d not taken the hand spanking quite as well as I’d expected him to. Then again, I knew that Chuck and Mickey are both used to long, hard, thorough spankings, so maybe I shouldn’t have been surprised that Topher took it a bit hard.

Chuck got the same treatment that Topher had, with perhaps a bit more energy. He squirmed a bit, but was barely yelping by the time I had his bottom the color I wanted, and that was mostly when I caught his legs, rather than his bottom.

"Okay, Chuck," I told him, suddenly deciding he’d had enough, "clear the way for Mickey."

Chuck climbed to his feet, a bit slower and stiffer than he’d gone over, and lifted his shirt. Mickey sighed, then stepped over and laid himself into position.

My hand was starting to really sting by now, so I took a break part way through. Mickey was being at least as stoical as Chuck had been, so I hardly needed to hold him in place. Instead, I reached back and gave a number of left-handed swats. I guess it surprised Mickey, and the swats from an unexpected direction must have been different enough to be uncomfortable, because his back stiffened and a deep breath hissed in between teeth. After a second, he relaxed back down just a bit, though he did suddenly seem a bit more vocal, after his reserve had been cracked the first time.

I’m pretty sure I’d given him a bit more than Chuck had received, and both my hands were starting to sting just a bit more than was pleasant, when I let Mickey on his feet. All three of them had nice, rosy red cheeks. The other two boys had settled down, but Mickey took just a moment to fidget, obviously wishing he could be rubbing his bottom, rather than holding the t-shirt up to bare himself.

"On the wall for a minute, guys."

All three looked like they wanted to protest, but none did. Instead, they turned and trooped over to the area of wall between my supply cabinet and the corner and put noses to wall.

It looked like Chuck and Topher were over the worst of their sting, but Mickey was still bending his legs and flexing his cheeks a bit, obviously trying to work a bit more of it out.

I left the three of them there for just a couple of minutes before calling them back to me.

It was so cute when they came back. Chuck and Topher had arranged themselves to either side of Mickey, so the two brown-haired, circumcised boys were book-ending blond, uncut, taller Mickey. It made a nice picture, though I’m sure none of them would have appreciated it.

They didn’t appreciate seeing me holding Black either.

"I told you boys that I can understand wanting to look at porn, even if I don’t really approve of it. What I don’t approve OR understand is breaking the rules."

I paused to look at all three of them.

"Chuck, your mom told me that you know you’re not supposed to be in her room without permission. Is that right?"

"Yes, sir," he mumbled.

"Mickey, what’s our rule here about other people’s rooms?"

"You don’t go into someone’s private area without their permission," he answered quietly.

"Topher, do you have a rule like that at your house?"

"Yes, sir," he squeaked."

"Then you all three know why you’re going to get this. Back over my lap, Topher."

He moaned and looked miserable—looked for a second like he was going to refuse. Then Mickey reached over and patted the other boy’s back. Topher glanced at him for a second, then a sob escaped him, and he stepped over to me.

Topher reluctantly let me guide him over my lap. Once I had him in place, I didn’t waste any time getting started.

I’d thought about using Red or even Heat on Topher, but I decided it would be better for his self-respect if he was punished the same way as the other boys. He’s younger and smaller than both of them, but not that much younger than Chuck. Besides, I was almost positive that none of them were going to be paying too much attention to how many swats they each received.

I walked the little leather paddle down from the top of Topher’s crack to the bottom, then did the same down his left cheek, then his right. I skipped going back for another set down the middle, and placed a couple of swats towards the almost non-existent dimples, before going back to the middle, then down onto the legs.

I think Topher had tried briefly to take the swats stoically, but his resolve hadn’t lasted long. He was squirming around from the start, but was crying almost before he started kicking. I had a good grasp on him though, and he wasn’t kicking his feet up enough to block swats, so I ignored it.

I did the same, slightly shortened pattern again, except going back and forth from cheek to cheek and side to side this time. Topher was crying hard and loud before I made the last trip down his crack. I had to stop and pin his hand to his back so I could finish it. He was on the edge of completely breaking as I placed a couple of swats on each of his legs. When I cracked the paddle down three times, back and forth, on each sit spot, he howled, and then collapsed limply across my lap, bawling.

I left the boy there a few seconds, putting the paddle down to rub my hand lightly across the whole enflamed area, then helped him to his feet.

"Shirt back up, Topher," I gently instructed him.

He was crying hard and loud, and I doubt he would have really understood me, if he’d even heard me, so I took his hands away from his bottom, and guided them to the hem of his tee. He sobbed a bit harder, but obeyed.

With Topher cared for, I sat back down and picked up the paddle again.

"Chuck, all three of you boys knew the rules and broke them, but it was your mother’s room. Normally I go in order of age, except that guests go first. Considering the circumstances, I think I’m going to let you watch Mickey’s turn first. C’mon, Misha," I added, turning to my son, and using his old, affectionate nickname.

I don’t think he was happy to have his turn advanced, though all of my boys understand that it’s easier to get it over with. Still, he followed my instructions.

Mickey got a full pattern and then some. The paddle went three times down his crack, then four times down each cheek. Another trip down the middle, before I placed a couple of swats to the side, then a final trip down the middle before I went to his legs. Three swats down the outer slope of each leg, then three more down the middle.

Mickey was crying hard and loud before I finished the first pattern. He was kicking and squirming around, not just from the pain, but actively trying to escape. I paused to grasp around his waist more firmly, then went on. As I started the second pattern, he tried to reach behind him, but with me leaning forward for a better grasp, he couldn’t quite get his hand in the way. I could feel his left hand shoving against my back though, trying to find a path to protection.

The second set was just as thorough as the first, leaving him lying limply across my lap, bawling out his agony. I didn’t let that stop me from giving his sit spots the same thorough attention that Topher had received.

After rubbing his bottom for a few seconds, I tried to help him to his feet, but he wouldn’t go, so I rubbed a few seconds longer, until I felt him shift a bit. This time, though his legs were shaky, we made it up. He was still bawling, so I didn’t even try to talk to him, just guiding his hands to the shirt.

Chuck was already crying when I turned to him, but he didn’t resist as I pulled him back to the chair. The tension and seeing Mickey broken down had just been too much, and the boy didn’t even try to be stoical. He was squirming and kicking from the first swat, and his quiet crying quickly grew harsh as the paddle traced across his bottom.

I doubt he even noticed it, but he didn’t get quite as thorough a spanking as Mickey had, though it was more than Topher had received. The first pass was exactly the same as Mickey had received, but seemed to affect him much harder. The second time around, I skipped one trip down his crack and the swats on the sides and only gave one row down the center of the legs, rather than getting each side, but it was still enough to have him bawling long before I finished. And he did still get the same branding on the sit spots that the other boys had.

Chuck was able to stand a little more easily than Mickey had, partially because I gave him a little longer to recover. Chuck lifted his shirt without having to be told, and I herded all three boys back to the wall.

This time, I gave them plenty of recovery time, waiting until all but the final had sniffles faded away. Topher had been cute. Since he’d been the least spanked and the lightest, he recovered the most quickly. At first, as the pain and his crying faded, he seemed relieved. Then, as the time stretched while the other boys recovered, you could see him becoming restless and starting to shift around, just wanting to move and end his time in purgatory. Finally I spared him, and made him wish I hadn’t.

"You guys can turn around now."

They did, and Topher moaned when he saw me standing there. Actually, it was probably the paddle that evoked the moan. I doubt they could tell that it was only a quarter inch thick, and they were probably a bit confused by the fact that it was clear (unless the twins or Tracy had been sharing their experiences in detail), but I’m sure they could tell that it was eighteen inches long and about three-and-one-half inches wide, making it closer to the size of a school paddle than what I normally use.

"I can understand you boys wanting to look at porn. I’m not happy with you breaking the rules, but what really upsets me is the way you violated Freddie’s privacy."

I wasn’t sounding very friendly as I began to lecture again. I was waving the paddle a bit, using it to emphasize my points, and all three boys began to cry again, whether it was from the lecture, the implied threat, or both, I don’t know.

"I can understand you guys looking where you thought the vids were, but after that, from what Freddie and you guys said, you just kept looking. It doesn’t matter if you were only looking at old purses or junk, there was no excuse for it. It was reprehensible. Do you understand that?"

I was really rubbing their noses in what they’d done, in the aspects of it that they’d probably not considered, and it wasn’t helping them calm down. All three boys were crying, but Chuck and Mickey were also nodding. Topher just looked at me, confusion evident in his face.

"Reprehensible…. Deplorable? Disgusting?"

With tears flowing down his face, his eyes widened a bit, then he nodded with the rest of the boys.

"Good. I try very hard to give my kids as much privacy as I can. Mickey, what do I do with your clean clothes if I run out of space in the utility room?"

"P-p-put them on my d-dresser," he choked out.

"That’s because I want to give you guys as much privacy as I can. I don’t think I’d ever search your stuff, unless I thought you were doing something illegal, and even then, it’d be a last resort. Would you like me going through your stuff?"

Mickey was calming down a bit, now that I was talking to him, rather than at him, and he shook his head. I hadn’t actually asked the other boys, but they were shaking their heads as well.

"Mom puts my clothes in my drawers," Topher added, not seeming upset by it.

"But would you like her just digging through your stuff?"

He shook his head.

"You were wrong to go into her room, where you knew you weren’t supposed to be, but digging through her stuff was much worse than that. Do you all understand?"

They’d all settled down a bit, but tears were still rolling down their cheeks and they were all sobbing at least a bit. Now they nodded.

"And can any of you think of any reason I shouldn’t bend you over the couch and paddle your butts to make sure you never think of doing something like this again?"

Now the crying gained strength again. Chuck was shifting around, and Topher dropped his shirt to cover his bottom. Mickey was just shaking his head back and forth, but none of them argued with me.

"There is no reason. What you boys did was inexcusable, wasn’t it?"

"I’m s-s-sorry, Jack. Please, no more," Topher finally managed.

"Sorry doesn’t excuse what you did, does it?"

Even as I was asking the question, I put the paddle beside me and stepped up to the boy, pulling him against me and wrapping my left arm around his shoulders.

"Mickey? Chuck? Any reason you can think of to excuse that?"

Now both boys shook their heads. They both looked totally miserable, but Mickey started moving towards the couch. "C’mere, Mick, both of you."

The two older boys stepped over and seemed grateful for the affection that I’d denied them so far, through the first two spankings.

"Topher?"

He was squeezed in between me and the other two boys. Mickey had stepped up to my left side, carefully angling his body to keep his penis from rubbing again Topher’s backside, and was hugging us both. Chuck was to my right, and had his arms around all three of us, though he couldn’t quite reach past Mickey’s neck. When I called his name, he pushed back just a bit to look up at me.

"I know you’re scared, Topher, but do you understand how wrong it is to invade someone’s privacy like that?"

He obviously wanted to deny it, to argue, but couldn’t, and finally shook his head, choking out a ‘yes, sir.’

"Good."

That was all I said, but I squeezed them a bit tighter and just stood there while all three of them cried themselves out. I’m not sure how long we stood there—several minutes—but Mickey finally asked, "Dad, are you going to paddle us now?"

"No. I think you guys understand how wrong what you did was and why you shouldn’t do it again. If you didn’t understand it, I might have paddled you to drive it home another way, but I think you guys are all really sorry, so we can skip it this time."

"You… you’re not going to spank us anymore?"

"Not today, Topher," I assured him. "Sometimes, a threat can be just as effective as a spanking, if the boy really understands why he deserves it."

"I will tell you what I think should happen now, though. I think you guys need to put your boxers on and go up to Mickey’s room to clean up and settle down. Then, when you’re ready for it, I think you all owe Freddie an apology. She was your hostess and you didn’t treat her very good."

As I’d been speaking, I let the boys go, and they all stepped away. As I said the last part, they all looked sad and disappointed in themselves, but they nodded.

This was a case where their faces actually looked worse than their bottoms, but their bottoms were still dark red, and they were moving slowly and carefully as they walked back to where I’d removed their boxers.

It took a minute or two to get the boxers pulled on, as they were having a bit of trouble bending and balancing, but they must have felt a bit more confident with some clothes. They stepped a bit more quickly as they went to the couch and started picking up their clothes, and then they moved towards the door.

As Chuck reached towards the knob, Topher turned back to me.

"Jack?" he said, still sounding a bit teary.

"Yeah, bud?"

"Could you talk to my dad? I don’t think he knows that stuff you said about threatening. He thinks he still has to spank me every time for me to learn something."

I couldn’t stop the laugh, but by his smile, I think that’s what Topher had been wanting.





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