Just Desserts

Sometimes it seems that a boy just needs a spanking. Maybe that’s from a lack of attention, maybe it’s because they want to make sure their limits are still in place, or maybe it’s just because, as some people put it, ‘they need their clocks reset.’ Whatever the reason it happens, it seems that when that’s what a boy needs, the universe conspires to see that it’s done. Much to the child’s disgust.

I can only assume that’s why I felt the sudden need for something to drink and walked into the kitchen in time to catch the twins with their hands in the cookie jar—or their spoons in the parfait glasses, to be more precise.

It was a cold winter’s night, and the two seven year olds were so cute, sitting on the floor in the corner between the dishwasher and stove, where they were out of casual sight and drafts, dressed in the drop-seat, footie pajamas they’d gotten for Christmas that year, dessert flutes in their hand, and guilty looks on their faces. I was tempted to let them go and might have done if they’d not been pushing their luck so much lately.

Glancing at the clock, I realized it’d only been four hours since these events started, and looking back, I guess this ending was somewhat inevitable.



Barry, who was still a few months short of nine, was living with his mom, but he and the twins were close friends. Since it was still Christmas vacation and they were feeling a bit of a let down between Christmas and their grandmother returning home to Florida, I’d been happy to let them go visit their big brother. Since it’s really only a few blocks, I had no trouble with them walking. From Cathy’s house, the three of them decided to go see what Buster was doing. I had no trouble with that. I trusted Cathy with my kids, and Buster’s house was closer to hers than hers was to mine, so they were staying within their limits.

No, the trouble was with when, not where. I’d already had to talk to the twins a couple of times about being on time. The lesson hadn’t seemed to sink in. I really do try not to spank with no warning or little reason, but sometimes it seems hard to make a point with a boy without spanking. The boys had left Buster’s home at a reasonable time, but had then had to go back to Cathy’s to get some stuff they’d left. Then they’d taken their time getting home, and it was 6:15 by the time they finally arrived.

I hate grounding and restrictions, though sometimes that is the best way to make a point. Still, the younger the boy, the harder I find to do it. Since the twins were late for their turn to set the table, I informed them that they’d get to help clean up afterwards. And since they were late—again—I informed them that they could miss dessert.

From their reaction, I think they would have preferred a spanking.

After dinner, the twins started clearing the table while I served dessert. When they saw the parfaits that I’d made, I had to listen to a fresh round of whining, but an offer to spank them and let them miss dessert seemed to make an impression on them. I wasn’t being totally cruel, though, and planned to put a note on the two remaining ones that they were for the twins—just not for tonight.

I spent a little extra time with them that evening. I let them use my bathroom so they and Bryce could take a bath together. After helping them into their warm, red, fleece jammies, we went to their room and played board games for a while. Bryce was pretty tired, so I read them all their story, then tucked Bryce into bed, and reminded the twins to keep the noise down or leave the room. Then I went to read.



The twins scrambled to their feet as I took the glasses from them, and whined and begged in misery as I dumped the parfaits down the garbage disposal and washed them out, all thought of saving them for later now gone.

"I am very disappointed in you two," I told them firmly, but trying not to sound angry. "I’ve talked with you guys about how important it is to be on time and why I expect you home when I tell you to be home. I could have grounded you for being late, or even spanked you, but I was trying to take it easy and just make a point; and instead of admitting you were wrong and learning a lesson from this, you decided to sneak around and disobey me."

Both boys were getting teary eyed and starting to whimper.

"We’re sorry, Daddy," Josh said, his voice breaking part way through.

"Yeah, Dad. We really are. We didn’t mean to sneak around."

"Yes, you did, Johnny. You don’t accidentally sneak into the kitchen, get something from the fridge, then hide to eat it."

I took a deep breath and paused for a second, calming myself before I went on.

"Guys, I know you were upset about not getting dessert, and I’m sorry about that, but I was hoping that would be enough of a consequence to get you paying attention to being on time. Obviously, it just had you thinking about how to do what you want and get away with it, so I guess we’re going to have to use a consequence that you can’t ignore or evade."

I paused again, looking at them. Both boys had a good idea what must be coming, and I think the taste of the parfait was going sour in their mouths even before I spoke again.

"Turn around."

Both boys moaned and started to turn, but it seemed that they just couldn’t. I finally took Josh by the hips, turned him, then undid the snaps and let his seat drop, exposing his round, full, slightly chubby, little boy bottom to the air. He whimpered again when he felt the air brush across his cheeks, and Johnny whimpered in sympathy, knowing his turn was coming next. Johnny resisted just a second when I tried to turn him.

"Daddy, please, no," he whimpered softly, but turned when I put just a bit more pressure on his hips.

With both boys’ bottoms bared, I stood and led them from the kitchen. Since their room was occupied by a sleeping Bryce, I led them towards my office.

The living room went quiet as we passed through it. The family had a much different make up back then, but every boy there had still made more than one trip over my lap. Not only that, but the twins were cute as button quail and loved by every other boy there, so there was a lot of sympathy, as well as empathy, at what was obviously coming.

Mikell was my oldest at home at that time, though most of his time was spent at college. He was a senior that year, and desperately awaiting graduation, so he could finally join the Air Force. Mikell had looked like an adult since he was in his late teens, but also held the record for oldest ‘boy’ to receive a discipline spanking from me. He and I hadn’t known each other when he was seven, but he’d bonded with the twins and Barry in a way he’d never been able to do with his own little brother, so there was no doubt of the sympathy in his eyes.

Despite the fact that Mikell was taller, heavier built, and two-and-one-half years older than him, Chris was the one in charge, and he’d grown into it admirably. I always found it amusing that, though Mikell was training to be a military officer, Chris had no problems directing the older boy when he was home. Of course, I also found it admirable that Mikell understood the chain of command and fell into it so easily.

Where Mikell had looked like an adult before becoming one, Chris, at twenty-years-old, still looked very boyish. He was so cute as he looked towards the three of us as we passed through, then turned away. I knew Chris loved all his little brothers, and seeing them punished was always hard on him, but I also knew he’d managed to harden his heart so he could not only see it, but do it when he had to.

Tommy, who at seventeen, would make everyone miserable when he was grounded, but still reacted fairly well to paddling, was out for the evening with Corey, who lived with his mom and Barry. I think Cal, cuddled up in his own footies, was lying on the love seat in the dent formed in his big brother’s favorite spot. Bobby must have been up in his room, probably experimenting with the foam molding set he’d gotten for Christmas, practicing to make another of the super-hero dioramas he enjoyed so much and did well enough to sell. That left Ryan and Charlie, lying on the floor playing chess. Ryan was better than the older boy, but Charlie had been practicing and looked to be giving him a real game.

When he saw the two little boys walking by, bottom covers flapping in the wind, a small, sad smile flashed across his face for just a second before he averted his eyes to give them at least a bit of privacy. There was nothing malicious or gleeful in the smile, though. To Charlie, more than any of my other boys, a spanking was just part of growing up, something you accepted to be part of the family. Not that he liked them—he begged, howled, and cried as much as any other thirteen-year-old boy while getting them, but it was a price he was happy to pay. I think he saw the other boys getting spanked as strengthening their bonds of brotherhood, though he still felt bad when anyone needed them.

As for Ryan, his look was much more empathic, which probably had something to do with his behavior the few months. I don’t know if it had been his hitting double digits, or the fact that he’d been living with me for over a year by then and felt safe to test the limits, but it seemed that recently, Ryan had been trying to see how often he could end up with his bottom as red as his top. He’d been pretty successful, which is probably why I caught faint signs of relief that it wasn’t him making the trip this time.



The twins weren’t worried about their big brothers seeing their bare bottoms flapping in the wind. Their worry was totally focused on what would soon be happening to those bare bottoms. As we stepped into my office, both of them spoke up.

"Please, Daddy. We’re really sorry. We didn’t mean…"

The two of them were babbling over each other in an obvious attempt to find the right words to avoid what they knew was coming, but I cut them off.

"Guys, we already talked about that, and you know how I feel about sorry."

I stepped over to the spanking chair, turned it to face into the room, then sat.

"Josh, what have I told you about sorry?"

"That we should either be sorry before we act up or after we get the c… con…"

"Consequences," I supplied for him, and he nodded.

"I know you’re both good boys and that you try to behave, but even the best boys sometimes do things wrong. When you boys were late the first time last week, I didn’t say much about it, did I?"

"No, sir," Josh answered.

"You just told us to watch the time," Johnny added.

"And that’s because I know time can slip away from you, or it can take longer to get home than you thought. But when it happens three or four times in a week, that looks a lot less like a real accident, and more like someone’s just being careless. Do you see that?"

They both nodded, like they weren’t positive but thought they did. It wasn’t a point worth beating into the ground, so I went on.

"But you guys aren’t getting spanked for being late. You’re getting spanked for taking the parfaits after I told you that you couldn’t have them. Now, you both are good boys, so I think you probably felt a little bad about taking them, but you wanted them enough that you did something you knew you shouldn’t have."

"I guess what I mean isn’t that you shouldn’t be sorry right now, but that you should be sorry enough before you do something wrong that you don’t do it. It doesn’t do any good to be sorry after you’ve done it and been caught, because then you have to take the consequences of what you did. After you’ve accepted the consequences, then I hope you’re sorry for what you did, because that helps you remember not to do it again. Does that make sense to you guys?"

Johnny nodded, and after a second, his brother joined him.

I reached forward, rested my hands on their outer shoulders, pulled them towards me, then kissed each of them on the cheek.

"I’m glad you do. I think you both know that I love you very much and that I spank you because I want you to remember how to behave, not just because I’m being mean."

"We know, Dad," Josh assured me.

I nodded, then leaned away from them and turned to the paddle drawer. Thanks to their brother’s recent activities, the Little Deer wasn’t right on top, but somehow it never seemed to be buried deeply either. Both of them moaned as I turned back to them with it in my hand.

"Not the Little Deer, Daddy."

"Please, Daddy," Josh echoed his brother, "we’re really sorry."

"Yeah, Daddy. Really. Please, just the Bare Cub."

"I’m sorry, too, guys, but this is really serious. You were in trouble for coming in late, then just decided you were going to ignore your punishment, disobey me, and do what you want. We can’t have that. Do you understand?

I tucked the paddle under my leg, then looked back at them.

Tears were trickling down their cheeks, but Josh nodded. Johnny looked like he wanted to plead or protest or just run, but he finally nodded as well.

The twins have always had a lean build, and at this point, when they were both still seven, I could fit them both over my lap with no problem. I started with Johnny, because he was never as… as accepting of spankings as his brother. I knew he’d kick and squirm more, so I pulled him in against me, so I’d have better control over him.

When I reached for him, Johnny jerked back for just a second, but let me turn him, so I could take his hips and lift him into place over my lap. When it came Josh’s turn to go over, he stepped towards me, turning to give me an easy grasp, though tears were already starting to run down his cheeks.

As soon as Josh was over my lap, he twisted around just a bit. I felt two little hands gripping my leg, and glanced down to see that their inner arms were twined together, their hands pushed together and fingers interlaced. I had to smile at that, at the way they were trying to support each other.

With both boys over my lap, I paused a second, then spread Johnny’s legs a bit and tucked his seat flap between his legs, then did the same for his brother. That left their bottoms completely bare. Not as much of their legs were as exposed as I normally spanked, but I was sure I’d be able to deal with it.

I lifted the paddle from under my leg and reached around to take a firm grip on Josh, keeping my arm down enough to hold Johnny in place as well. By the time I lined up the first swat, both boys were already crying a bit.

The twins had moved in with me after I’d been dealing with Charlie for a while, and to them, the pattern I’d developed for Charlie was normal. That didn’t make it much easier for them to bear, as I smacked the paddle down with half of the length on each side of Johnny’s crack then gave him another swat in the same place but lower, before giving Josh the same. Back to Johnny for three swats down his left cheek, then back to Josh again.

As the paddle painted their little bottoms red, the soft crying they’d already shared became punctuated by yelps and was broken by harsher sobs. Back and forth between the boys, I got the right cheeks, then back to the center, a swat to side, then back to the crack again, then swats to each leg, though I gave each boy three there, since they were partially cushioned by their jammies.

Their little bottoms were reaching the point between rosy and true red by the time I moved down to their legs. I was holding the two of them closely and tightly enough that they could only squirm a bit. That didn’t stop them from kicking though, and their little feet were beating up and down like an Olympic swimmer’s, as their heads thrashed around and their shoulders shoved up against each other.

Both boys were crying loud and hard before I moved back to their bottoms. This time I went back and forth, one swat for Johnny, then one for Josh, back and forth down each boy’s crack, then down each cheek. I could hear them approaching the edge of total loss of control, and Johnny’s hand began to slap against my leg—I think it was Johnny, it was on the back side of my leg—then his head came up as his back stiffened, and he howled aloud as the next swat smacked down, and he completely broke, collapsing limply across my lap and bawling.

Johnny’s collapse was too much for his brother, and Josh shrieked as the paddle smacked down on his rear, and then he was suddenly bawling himself.

Both boys lay there, feet only jerking with each swat, and their upper bodies only moving with the force of their tears, their aching red bottoms offered up in total submission to their daddy.

I finished those two little cheeks, then skipped the rest of the pattern. Instead, I lined the paddle up on their sit spots and gave a swat to Johnny’s left spot, then Josh’s, then Johnny’s right, then Josh’s, and the same again, so each of those tender spots had two swats each, to give them a little extra reminder as the burning, throbbing sting faded from their bottoms.

Satisfied that I’d made a firm (and hot) point, I sat the paddle behind me, then helped Josh to his feet. His face was anguished and his legs were shaky. His hands shot behind him, but stopped by his hips, and he just twisted, bending his legs, and crossed his hands over his chest. I sat Johnny up carefully on my left leg, then spread my legs so Josh could step in and take his own place on my right. I put my legs as close together as I could, tangling their legs, and they leaned forward to hug each other, then leaned sideways, against my chest, and let me wrap my arms around them. We sat quietly for a while, as their crying softly faded.



"Guys," I said, once their crying had almost ended, "I try to be a nice dad, but there’s something I think I need to tell you, even though you’re not going to like it."

Both of them shifted around to look up at me, becoming very nervous at that ominous pronouncement.

"Do you know why the two parfaits were still in the fridge?"

After a second, the two of them shook their heads.



"They were there because I was going to let you have them for lunch tomorrow."

Josh moaned, and Johnny began to softly cry again as I explained.

"You might not like having to follow the rules, guys, but it’s usually the best idea. If you’d just obeyed, you would have got to eat the whole thing, instead of just a couple of bites, and not gotten a spanking. Do you see how much worse you made things for yourself?"

Both of them were crying now, but they admitted they did. I’d almost not told them that because I knew how hard it would be to hear it. The problem is, you can’t really explain to a seven year old that there might be times to break the rules, but that you have to be very careful and think hard before you do it. This seemed like a good way to demonstrate risk-benefit analysis to them, even though I felt bad about their extra tears.

"You guys know I love you and I only want what’s best for you, right?"

They nodded, and Johnny added, "We love you too, Daddy."

Helping them to their feet, I led them to their bedroom. Being careful and quiet, so as not to wake Bryce, we washed their faces; I waited while they relieved themselves and brushed their teeth, and I tucked them into bed.



The next morning, some of the older boys were already up when the twins joined us for breakfast.

"You guys okay?" Charlie asked.

They nodded. Bryce looked up, a bit confused, since he’d slept through the whole thing.

"Can I ask y’all a question?" Bobby inquired.

The twins looked at each other. Josh shrugged, so Johnny said, "Yeah," though he sounded a bit hesitant.

"Did y’all button your flaps when Dad was through with you? I thought I saw something hanging between your legs, but the backsides were so red, I thought the flap must have been up."

"Oh, ha," Josh said, getting it just a second before Johnny did.

"You know the really nice thing about those pajamas?" Ryan asked.

Everyone looked at him.

"Built-in air conditioning when only part of you’s too hot."





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