Justin Eades 02

This story proceeds directly from Justin Eades 01


I hadn’t noticed it at the Pokemon tournament where Justin had done so well, but the next time I saw him, he seemed different. Not like he was angry about my spanking him, but shy. Of course, boys around that age do tend to be physically modest, so maybe he was just embarrassed about my having seen him nearly nude, or maybe just about the idea that he’d laughed, even a little, while getting spanked.

Whatever the reason, it wasn’t enough to keep him from coming in for the different tournaments. He played every Pokemon tournament we had, the Thursday night Magic tournaments, and some of the Sunday Magic tournaments. I only missed him once during the next couple of weeks. Usually his mom would drop him off to look around at my store while she did her weekly grocery shopping, but he didn’t show up this time. Of course, there were a lot of different reasons he might not have come in for that.

The first spanking I’d given Justin had been after school started, but not long after—probably in mid-September. Pokemon was a huge part of our business right then and was obviously more than a flash-in-the-pan, but Magic had been a major part of my business for over six years, and I had no intention of ignoring it. The hard part was that the Pokemon tourneys were so big at the time they took up both of my game rooms when we were running them, so it was hard to schedule other things at the same time (which is what finally led to my having the upstairs remodeled and moving most of our offices to the new warehouse facility). The end result was that we were down to having only one Juniors (under sixteen) Magic tournament each month.

I try to have all-night tournament/parties on major holidays to give people an alternative. Halloween is no exception, and it was planned for Friday, 29 Oct. Because of that, we’d set the Junior Magic Tournament for the evening of 16 Oct, after the Pokemon tourney ended. That was about a month after I’d spanked Justin for the Pokemon cards.



After a couple of weeks had gone by, Justin and I seemed to be back to normal. I never did really figure out why he’d been uncomfortable around me, but I guess he either resolved it or became accustomed to it. Either way, I still took him home on Thursday evenings, and he still made time to talk to me, and sometimes to play a pick-up game with me.

Still, comfortable around each other or not, I was a bit surprised to see him and his mom walk into the store on a Tuesday evening, the week before the Juniors’ Tourney.

"Hi, Jack!" Mrs. Eades called, after having looked around for a minute. "Glad we caught you."

I greeted her, and we exchanged small talk for a minute. Justin stood nearby, looking like someone who was impatient with politeness and wanted to get down to brass tacks. I was looking at his mom but watching him, and I could see his fidgeting stop when she came to the point.

"I have to work the evening shift today and," she glanced at her watch, "have to leave pretty soon. Justin wanted to come up and work on some new deck of his, with your help. Since I’ll be at work…."

"Sure," I interrupted her. "I’ll be happy to take him home when we’re finished."

She looked relieved, and Justin gleamed. She said her goodbyes and was quickly out the door. I sent Justin packing for the game room.

"I have a few things I have to finish up, so you get this deck you’re working on and spread it out like I showed you. I’ll be there in a few minutes."



It actually took about twenty minutes, but he didn’t have to wait too long before I came in with my "Case ‘o Cards" (patent pending). We took a look at his deck, I made a couple of suggestions, then we shuffled up and I played him with a few of the different decks I had made. The best way to test a deck is against another that you know works.

When helping the kids like this, I try not to tell them everything. Collectible card games are very fun, but they can also teach a kid a lot, including logic, organization, and strategy. I try to suggest ideas and directions and show them how to test if it’s a good idea. It makes them crazy sometimes, but it also makes them much prouder when their answer proves itself.

After several test games and a few adjustments, Justin had a deck with which he was really happy, and with which he expected to do really well at the upcoming tourney. There was only one problem.

"Now I just have to figure out where to get the other cards."

One of the tricks I’d taught Justin was, rather than trading for a bunch of cards you think might be nice to have, get a junk card, write the details on that one, then test it. If the deck doesn’t work, no big deal. If it does, then trade for what you need. He needed about six cards for his deck. I’d already given him a couple of common cards, of which I probably had thirty copies, and a couple more that he wanted weren’t much harder to find. However, he was also looking a couple of rares that were going to be a bit hard to find in just a few days.

The boy looked up at me, trying to make puppy dog eyes, which isn’t easy when yours are blue. "I don’t guess I have anything you want to trade? Or maybe something you need for the store?"

I shook my head. I’d already looked through his trade binder. "Not really, Justin. I might have an extra of this one," I continued, pointing at one of the fake cards he’d pulled from his deck, "but the only copies of this one I have are already in a deck. And you really don’t have any cards the store needs, so I couldn’t give you much for anything."

I felt a little bad but tried not to make too many exceptions to the rules. I was running a business, after all. Just looked down at the table, then sighed and looked back up at me.

"I’d really like to have this for the tournament on Saturday." He paused for a minute, looking like he was giving serious consideration to something before he spoke again. "Could I get them like I got those Pokemon cards?"

"Which Pokemon cards, Justin?" I asked, though I was sure I knew what he meant.

"You know." He looked at me for a minute, then realized I was going to make him say it. "When you spanked me," he finally added, in a quieter, hesitant voice.

"You realize that we can’t do that every time you want some cards, Justin?"

"But you said…."

"I know. I was joking a bit when I said we’d do it for this tournament, but I did say it, and we will do it. I just don’t want you thinking we’re going to do it all the time. Okay?"

He shrugged, then nodded.



Tuesday wasn’t my late night, and I’d already stayed a little late (not that I wasn’t sure Steve had everything under control). Still, Justin was a little nervous about getting a spanking, even in my office, with people still in the store and suggested that I go ahead and take him home. He wanted to show me his room, and there wouldn’t be anyone else there. It worked fine for me.

Justin’s mom didn’t live in a big place, but both kids had their own bedrooms, which certainly made Justin happy. The living room was both clean and nice, but I didn’t get much chance to look at it since Justin nearly dragged me back to his room.

His room wasn’t very big, but wasn’t a closet either—maybe eight foot by ten or so. It wasn’t overcrowded with furniture, though, which I’m sure helped. When you walked in the door, the room spread to your right and ahead of you. On the far corner of the wall was his twin bed with a bookcase headboard. To the left of that was a desk, which sat under a decent-sized window. The thick curtains were drawn, so I couldn’t tell what kind of view he had. Against the wall directly in front of me when I walked in was a small table or stand, then a dresser. On the stand was a fairly small TV—maybe thirteen inches, with an old game console (a Sega Saturn, I think) and some cartridges. To my right was a closet, which had to be pretty small, both because of the hall space and because it was the type with accordion doors, which don’t seem to appear often on walk-ins.

"What d’ya think?" he asked shyly. I could tell it meant a lot to him.

"It’s a nice room, Just."

It really was, too. A little small, but not too bad for a twelve-year-old boy, especially when it was his own space. On the wall above his bed was a poster he’d bought from me of all 151 of the original Pokemon, and it was surrounded by promotional Magic posters I’d handed out at the store. On the wall around the dresser were a couple of Texas Rangers posters, including one of Nolan Ryan wound up for a pitch. There was a shelf attached to the wall just inside the door that held pictures of several baseball teams, as well as a couple of trophies.

"That’s the one we won last spring for first place in our division, and then we got that one for second place at the district tournament."

"That’s really great, Justin."

He was preening at the praise, and I wondered how many friends he brought home. Maybe the actual question should have been, ‘How many adult male friends did he bring home?’

The room was neat and clean, but not quite up to the standards of the living room. There was a basket for dirty clothes, but there was a sock by it on the floor and a t-shirt hanging half over the edge. His bed was actually made, but rumpled where he’d probably been sitting on it. The desk was big and roomy (it was the type with drawers on one side and shelves on the other, and the shelves were where he kept his gaming stuff), but had a ton of stuff spread out on the top, and one drawer stood partially open. It was nice, and I would have bet his mom made him keep it clean, but it was still obviously lived in and still a boy’s room.

"Yeah, this is real nice."

"Hey, remember I told you that my dad used to paddle me, like you do your kids?"

I nodded.

"Wanna see it?"

I shrugged, trying to hide my excitement that he still had it. "Sure."

He rushed over to the desk, knelt, and dug through the bottom drawer for a minute, before pulling out what looked like a paddle ball paddle from it, then carried it over to me. As soon as I got a look at it, I realized it was larger (both in length and diameter) and thicker than a normal one. It was a Contest Model, Fli-Back Imperial and looked like it’d make quite an impression.

"Is this like what you spank your kids with?" he asked as he was handing it to me.

"Not really," I answered while looking at it. "It’s probably about as thick as what I use on Tommy, though." After a second, I tried to describe one of my novelty paddles to him, and had him hold his paddle, so I could gesture.

I was watching him as I talked and got to thinking. I knew he talked to Zack and Chris sometimes, and they seemed to get along at the store. He played Magic and Pokemon both, and we were making some real progress in teaching Magic to Chris. I don’t know why, but I had the feeling the kid was lonely, and I decided right then to have Chris invite him to spend the night with us the next weekend. The only reason I didn’t mention it right then was that I wanted to make sure the two of them really did get along first.

"So," I said, changing back to the topic at hand, "am I supposed to use that for your spanking tonight?"

"No way! We said like last time. That’s just your hand."

I smiled, and he smiled back, starting to get a sense of when I was joking.

"But it is going to be on your bare bottom, right?"

He nodded. We’d worked out most of the details before getting him the cards, but I wanted to go over them one more time, both to make sure we understood each other, and because it was fun to hear him talking about it.

"How many?"

"Well, you gave me 33 last time, and that was for two cards. You gave me six cards this time."

"True, but only two of them were worth much. How about…" I paused a second, pretending to think about it, but really just pulled a number out of thin air, "forty?"

He shrugged, thought a minute, then said, "Okay, but just one hard one—right?"

"Mmmm… I dunno. You got one hard one last time, but that was for two cards. How about three hard ones?"

"You said only two of those cards were worth much." He paused for a second, tilted his head sideways, and I had the feeling he was enjoying the negotiations as much as I was, though maybe not for the same reason. "Two?"

"Two," I agreed.

He took the paddle and stuck it back in the bottom drawer, while I pulled the chair from his desk. The room wasn’t wide enough for me to spank him with it facing away from the desk, so I moved it down towards the foot of the bed and turned it so the back of the chair was against the bed; then I sat down. Justin watched, then came over to me, but stopped a few steps away.

"Hey, Jack? I need to take a bath after you go."

When someone makes a seeming non sequitur like that, it’s usually because you’re missing the connection. It only took me a second to pick it up this time.

"So you’re going to have to get undressed anyway?"

He nodded.

"Maybe I should just take all your clothes off then?" I asked in a way so that it was obviously a suggestion as much as a statement.

Justin just shrugged, but something about his look said ‘okay’.

"We’ll do that then. Get those shoes off."

The boy knelt down where he was and untied the shoes, then stood and toed them off, kicking each towards the closet. When that was done, he raised each foot, removed both socks, then balled them up and tossed them towards the clothesbasket.

Justin was wearing a green t-shirt and jeans. He’d been wearing a jacket when we came in but had left it in a small closet by the front door. As soon as he was barefoot, he finished the short walk over to me and raised his t-shirt without having to be told.

He watched closely as I unzipped his fly, then unsnapped the button, before spreading the fly and sliding the jeans down, exposing a pair of Hanes briefs that had seen a bit of wear. The jeans slid easily down his silky smooth, lightly muscled legs. When they reached his ankles, he tried to step out of them, but lost his balance and almost fell over. I reached up and grabbed his hips to steady him.

"You can hold onto my shoulders while we get these off," I suggested.

He let go of his tee and grabbed my shoulders. As soon as he had a good hold, I bent back down and pulled the jeans off, folding them and laying them behind me on the bed.

As soon as the jeans had come off, he’d moved his hands back and was holding his shirt up again. I stood, moving my gaze from looking up at him to looking down, but always looking into his eyes. As soon as I was on my feet, I made a gun with thumb and forefinger and pointed it at him.

"Get those hands up, pilgrim," I said, in what I’ve been assured is a horrible John Wayne impersonation.

His eyes goggled, but then he giggled and raised his hands.

I took the bottom of the shirt, which really hadn’t slid down much, and lifted it over his head. Our eyes stayed in contact until the shirt covered his face, and he was still looking at me when it moved past. I pointed towards the basket, and he nodded, so I balled the shirt up and tossed it towards the basket.

"Two points," Justin said, even as I took his hands and moved them to the top of his head, before sitting back down.

He was left in just those old, slightly off-white Hanes briefs, and he was beautiful. I slid my fingers into the elastic waistband, then looked up at him. "You ready?" I asked. He just nodded.

The briefs slid down, exposing his adolescent boyhood. He stepped out of the shorts without losing his balance. I threw them towards the basket, not looking to see if they’d made it. I guess he wasn’t as nervous this time, because he seemed a bit longer than I remembered him, maybe more like four inches than three. He was circumcised and the remaining foreskin balled up loosely behind the head. My thoughts started going someplace they shouldn’t, so I quickly grabbed his hips and guided him around to my side.

Justin didn’t resist while I guided him over my lap, but he didn’t help either. Every move was directed either by me or by gravity. As soon as he was in position, I gave that sweet bottom a thorough rub, before finally lifting my hand and bringing it smacking back down. It wasn’t a hard slap, and only left a pinkish blob in a vague handprint. He took it quietly and still.

"Don’t you think you should count this time to make sure I don’t miss some?"

"One," he replied in an exasperated tone that let me know he understood I was joking with him.

It’s impossible to be sure, but I think I was smacking just a touch harder than I had the first time. He counted each smack as his bottom reddened. I was still keeping everything on his rear and avoiding the legs, but even with reasonably light smacks, the heat started to build up. He didn’t have a giggling fit this time, but you could tell he almost lapsed into it once or twice.

He still oohed and ouched but never got very loud. As we got close to the end, he started to wiggle just a bit, and I could hear a quiet gasp after some of the smacks that must have caught a more sensitive spot or someplace that had had a little more attention. His count was getting a little shaky, but he didn’t sound like he was anywhere near tears.

"Thirty-eight," the boy said.

"What’d we say; forty, then two hard ones?"

"Nope. The two hard ones were part of the forty."

"You sure, or is your rear just starting to sting?"

"Both!" he assured me.

"Well, if you’re sure…."

I left it dangling there as my hand came up and gave a firm, rapid smack on his left check, then his right. He did yelp for those, which was fair, since they were probably about as hard as I’d give Chris for a normal spanking.

As soon as the second smack had landed, I popped him to his feet, and he was sore enough to do a short fire dance. It didn’t last a minute, though, and he was quickly turning to catch sight of his backside in the dresser mirror.

"I think that’s redder than last time," he said in a somewhat accusatory manner.

"Well, you did get more swats," I assured him blithely, and he turned to look at me as if trying to decide if I’d done it harder or not. I guess he decided it didn’t matter.

"C’mere."

He walked back over to me and I grabbed hold of him, pulling him back to my lap, but not to go over it this time. As soon as he realized what I was doing, he quit resisting. With him sitting on my lap, I draped an arm around his shoulder, and he bent down a bit to rest his head against my chest. We sat there quietly for a minute or two.

"Was that too hard?"

"Nah, not really, I guess."

"Good. You know something?"

"What’s that?"

"I gotta go home, and you gotta get a bath."

"Right now?" he said in a voice hinting at protest.

"Well, maybe not right now."

We were quiet for a few minutes before I felt I really needed to go. Besides, my leg was falling asleep.

"It is time to go now, Justin," I said, as I dropped my arm and helped him stand. He didn’t look happy, but he didn’t complain either.

The boy escorted me to the front door, his red rear standing out against his pale skin, even though the hall and living room were mostly dark.

"Stand behind the door, kiddo. You don’t want to shock any neighbors."

"Oh, ha ha. You’re so funny."

"Yeah," I replied, "but looks aren’t everything." I paused and looked at him standing there, naked in the living room and seemingly unbothered by it. "You know something, Justin?"

"Huh?"

"You’re a pretty good kid." I reached up, mussed his hair, then left before he had a chance to say anything.



I was interested to see how Justin was going to react this time. Were we going to have the shy, awkward phase again? It had been his suggestion that I strip him completely, but emotional responses aren’t always predictable (or understandable). He certainly didn’t have a problem at the juniors tournament the next weekend and gave me a quick hug when he came up to get his prizes for first place (which might have made Chris, who’d also played in the tournament, a little jealous, since he was rather possessive of me that evening when Justin went home with us). More importantly, Justin was neither shy nor awkward that evening and stripped down to his briefs when the other boys did. Aaron was at his Mom’s house that evening, so Chris had invited Zack and Scott as well, and the boys had a great time. The only reference Justin made to the spanking I’d given him a few days before was when, upon walking into Aaron’s bedroom, he looked at the paddle hanging by the door and asked, "This?"



Everything seemed the same for the next few weeks. Justin came to our Halloween tournament, which was on Friday night, and did pretty well, placing in the under 15 Pokemon and junior Magic divisions, and seemed pretty happy about it. Of course, I knew he’d had to borrow against the next week’s allowance to play in it, so I’d not expected to see him the rest of the weekend. Once again, however, it was a mid-week visit that surprised me.

"I hope you don’t mind, Jack," his mom told me. "Something’s been bothering him since the weekend, I think, and I guess he needs to talk to a guy about it. He’s been asking to see you since Monday. I know you have your own kids to take care of, but he really likes you. Can I leave him with you?"

"Of course," I assured her. "I know boys need their moms, but sometimes they just need to talk to a guy."

"Thank you. I’m so sor…."

"Don’t be. He’s a really great kid, and I like him. I don’t mind giving him a little time."

She smiled before leaving.



There was something wrong with Justin, and I started to think he didn’t want to talk about it. I told him I had some paperwork I had to do and invited him to my office, where he sat on the couch, alternately watching me and looking around. I guess the silence got to him because he finally got to the point. Or got around it, anyway.

"Jack, do you remember telling me why you spank your kids?"

I didn’t have to think about it long. I didn’t remember the details, but that’s the kind of conversation that sticks with me. "Yeah."

"Could you explain that to me again?"

"Okay, but do you mean why do I punish or why I specifically spank?"

He thought about it a minute, then answered, "Both, I guess."

Justin had landed on the couch, so I put the paperwork aside, moved to a chair on the other side of the desk, and took a minute to (re-)explain my theory on why a kid needs to be punished when he screws up (because he needs to learn to accept the consequences of his actions) and why I choose spanking (because it’s over quickly and because I believe it to be more cathartic than other punishments). Then I had to digress to explain catharsis and atonement, but he was a smart kid and quickly got the idea.

"So what you’re saying is, if a kid did something he knew was wrong, then a spanking makes him feel better?"

"Well, maybe not all the time and maybe not for every boy, but yeah, I think that’s basically true. It seems to me that when a kid has done something that he knows is wrong and he’s feeling bad about it, a spanking can let him get over those bad feelings. When my kids are younger, instead of trying to explain all this stuff, I just tell them that they‘re ‘crying out the bad feelings’."

He looked at me for a second, then nodded and looked away. We were both quiet for a few minutes, and I finally decided to give him a nudge.

"Do you want to tell me what you did, Justin?"

He nearly jumped off the couch and his eyes were wide. "What makes you think that I did something wrong? Maybe I was just curious."

I could have explained my reasoning. After all, boys really aren’t that hard to read, they aren’t particularly subtle, and I’d had lots of experience reading them. On the other hand, I do have had lots of experience reading them and dealing with them and decided not to press.

"You’re right. I’m sorry for jumping to conclusions. I’m going to have to leave pretty soon; would you like to have dinner with us tonight?"

He was already distracted again, and it took a minute for the question to penetrate.

"Huh? Oh, no think you. Mom made my favorite casserole before she left."

"Okay, well I need to finish a couple of things before we go. Did you have another question?"

He shook his head, still distracted.

"If you do, I don’t mind. I’d rather talk to you than do paperwork."

He smiled at that, but it only lasted a second, then he picked up a magazine from the coffee table and leaned back on the couch. I moved back behind my desk and went back to the paperwork.

About five minutes went by and I was just about finished when he finally got it off his chest.

"I papered this guy’s house."

I put the pen down and looked up at him. "Well, that’s not really nice Justin, and it is kind of illegal, but I don’t think you’ve ruined your whole life or anything. Is that what’s been bothering you?"

He was bright red now and wouldn’t look at me, but nodded, then shrugged.

"Kinda. See, it was Mr. Nellis…" he glanced at me, but I didn’t know the guy. I guess my blank look clued him in, so he went on. "Mr. Nellis is this old guy that lives by himself a few houses down from us. He’s kinda weird. Did you see the house with all the junk in the front yard?"

I only had to think a minute to know what he was talking about. This guy had garden gnomes, flamingoes, birdbaths, and fountains all over his front yard, so I assumed that was it and nodded.

"Well, he’s weird, but he’s really nice. He always has some candy in his front pocket, and he gives some to my little sister all the time. He’s real nice to Mom, and she likes him. He even helped us carry some stuff when we moved in. But he’s weird!" He said it like he was trying to justify something, though it wasn’t obvious if it was to me or himself.

"So anyway, I went to a Halloween party Saturday night. I didn’t know the guys real well, but I go to school with a couple of them, and Mom thought it’d be nice for me to meet some more kids who live around our place."

In my experience, if you’ve not met kids after living somewhere three years, it’s probably because you don’t want to. It turned out that these were the type of kids Justin really hadn’t needed to meet, whether he’d wanted to or not.

"Well, they think Mr. Nellis is kinda creepy. He likes to stop and talk to kids when he’s walking his dogs—he has these tiny little dogs that look like fuzz balls with tails like handles (I think he meant Pomeranians)— and he offers them candy. These guys were making fun of him, like he was one of those perverts who give kids candy so they can do stuff to them; you know?"

I nodded, not wanting to distract him.

"Anyway, they decided they were going to sneak away from the party and paper his house, and they asked me to go with them. I didn’t want to ‘cause I know him, and I tried to tell them he was okay, but then they started to tease me."

"So you went with them?"

The kid was pretty upset and wouldn’t look at me, but I could see light reflecting off his watery eyes as he nodded.

"I went with them and helped them do it, even though I really like the guy. He was really upset the next day. I thought he’d be mad, but he was just sad. He couldn’t understand why people would do something like that to him when he always tries to be nice."

Justin’s voice had barely broken during the spankings I’d given him, but it was breaking now. I thought about going over to him, but I was afraid that any show of compassion would be more than he could take right now, and probably more than he thought he deserved.

"I guess you didn’t tell him you helped do it?"

"How could I? I felt like such a jerk!" He nearly wailed the last part, and I saw tears start to spill over as he finally turned to look at me. "I helped him clean it up," he insisted firmly, as if it was important to him that I believe him.

"But that doesn’t make up for doing it, does it?"

He stared at me for a second, then his eyes dropped to the floor and he shook his head.

"You did something you know was wrong and you feel really bad about it, but you don’t know what to do about it. Have you thought about just telling your mom?"

"NO! She wouldn’t understand!" He nearly whined the second part.

"Justin, she wouldn’t understand? Or maybe she’d just give you a guilt trip and ground you?"

The boy looked at me for a minute, then shrugged.

"Justin, I have a pretty good idea why you came to me, but I need you to be honest with me about it. Okay?"

I waited a minute while he thought it over, then nodded.

"Are you afraid to tell Mr. Nellis and your mom because of what they might think of you?"

He did think about that before nodding, but it seemed to be the right answer for him.

"Weren’t you afraid of what I’d think of you?"

"No. I’ve talked to Chris some. You know we go to the same school?"

I did know that they both went to Kearns, though they were in different grades. I nodded.

"Well, we have the same lunch. He really l… likes you, even though you spank him. He said that you never get mad at him, even when he really screws up."

I nodded and thought about it for a minute, but it was obvious where things were going, so I skipped to the real question.

"Do you want me to spank you, Justin?"

Now that we were at the crux of the matter, he didn’t know what to say. He’d had play spankings from me and knew they stung. He had that paddle and had an idea of what his dad’s spankings had been like. He’d talked to Chris, so he probably had some idea of what my real spankings were like. I wasn’t sure if he was scared to go the rest of the way, or maybe if I’d just asked the wrong question.

"Justin?" I said, pausing to make sure I had his attention. "Do you deserve a spanking?"

He looked at me, tears standing in his eyes, and he nodded. "Yes, sir," he replied weakly, barely above a whisper.

"I think maybe I should take you on home so we can use your dad’s old paddle. What do you think?"

He nodded, then stood when I came around the desk and held my hand out for him.



The drive to Justin’s home wasn’t long, but it was intensely quiet this time. The boy couldn’t look at me and was fidgeting all the way. When we got to his house, he finally looked at me, watching as I shut off the car and got out. Only when I was walking around did he finally get out, but then didn’t shut the door. Instead, he held it open, keeping it between me and him. After a minute, I held my hand out for him again. He just looked at me for a minute.

"I’m scared, Jack."

I looked at him for a minute, trying to think of the right thing to say.

"I can understand that, Justin," I told him after a long pause. "Spankings hurt, but they hurt for a reason, don’t they?"

He nodded. I waited quietly until he finally answered.

"Because I did something wrong and I gotta accept the consequences."

"That’s right. But if that was the only reason, they wouldn’t be as useful as they are." I reached over, took his chin in my hand, and made him look up at me. "You didn’t answer me when I asked you in the office, but you want this spanking; don’t you? You did something that you know was wrong, you’re sorry for it, and you helped Mr. Nellis clean up, but you still feel horrible, and you want that feeling to go away. Don’t you?"

He nodded, seeming unable to look away from me.

"Justin, I’m not your father, but I do care for you. I’m not responsible for you, though. If you want me to do this, we will; but it’s going to be a real spanking. It’s going to hurt and I expect you’re going to cry. If you don’t think you can do that, if you don’t think you can take a real spanking from me and us still be friends, then we need to do something else. I think your mother will be more understanding than you think, and I’ll sit down and talk to her with you, if you want."

He’d started shaking his head before I got through. "I just wanna get it over with, Jack. I’ll still be your friend. I l… I like you, like Chris does."

I looked around. I didn’t want to embarrass the boy, but it was dark and the driveway wasn’t real visible anyway. "C’mere."

He walked over to me this time, shutting the door behind him, and let me pull him into a brief but firm hug.

"We can do this how and when you want, Justin; but I think it’d be better to just get it over with. Okay?"

I felt him nod against my chest, and I let him go. He stepped over to the front door and unlocked it.



Justin wasn’t so eager to lead me to his room this time, so I laid my hand gently on the back of his neck, and this time I guided him. Once in the room, I gave him a soft shove, and he stepped nervously inside. He stood there for a moment, tense and obviously nervous, before finally turning to look at me.

"I guess you should start by getting the paddle."

He nodded and stepped over to his desk. His jeans might have been a little old because they were hugging his rear end as he bent over to open the drawer where the paddle had been resting. He didn’t have to dig for it this time, making me wonder if he just didn’t use that drawer often, or if he’d been taking the paddle out the last few days, wondering if this was what he really wanted to do.

He stood up with the hot pink paddle in his hand and stared at it for a minute, maybe wondering if it was too late to change his mind. Then he squared his shoulders and turned to me, carrying the paddle over to hand it to me. I glanced back at the desk, but he stepped over and dragged the chair to the side of the bed, almost exactly where I’d placed it. When he looked at me, I nodded. We stood there for just a second before I decided we might as well go all the way.

"Shoes," I said and nothing more, but he knew what I meant.

In an almost exact repeat of a few weeks before, he bent down to untie the shoes, then stood, toed them off, and kicked them towards the closet; socks came off and were tossed towards the clothesbasket, then he stepped over to where I’d sat and lifted his shirt.

There was no teasing or joking conversation this time. The boy wasn’t actually trembling, but he was fidgeting quite a bit as I undid his fly and spread it. Still, once his jeans reached his ankles, I felt his hands on my shoulders, and he easily stepped out of them. By the time I’d folded the jeans and laid them across the end of the bed, he’d already raised his hands above his head. I stood long enough to pull the yellow polo off of him. As soon as it cleared his arms, he put his hands atop his head, but this time he wouldn’t even meet my eyes.

As soon as he felt my fingers slip into the waistband of his briefs, he nearly jumped out of them (and scared me half to death doing it), but then forced himself to be still as I pulled them off. As the white cotton started to slide down his smooth legs, the boy went rigid—well, his body did. Mr. Happy was far from rigid, seeming even smaller than the first time I’d seen him. After throwing the briefs into the laundry basket, I turned back to him, and he was trembling. I took a little pity and guided him across my lap with no delay.

With him in position, I started to rub his bottom a bit, hoping to calm and relax him. I started with my right hand, but switched to my left, letting my right hand steal behind me to find where I’d laid the paddle. I moved my hand from his left cheek to his right, then moved it to his back, as I touched the paddle to his rear. The little relaxation he’d managed fled at that one touch, but I continued rubbing his back with my hand and his bottom with the paddle.

"Justin, I’m about to start spanking you, buddy. Once I start, I’m not going to stop until I think you’ve had enough. I’m pretty sure you’ll be crying loud and hard before I stop. Understand?"

He made a noise that was somewhere between a grunt and a sob, but I decided to take it for a yes.

"You’ve had a couple of pretty playful spankings from me. I know they stung, but before I’m through, your bottom’s going to be aching and throbbing, and you’ll probably think you’re about to die. And you know you deserve it. What you did was wrong. Not just because it was vandalism. I could almost understand that if it’d been someone you were mad at; but you did it to someone you liked and knew was a good guy just because you didn’t want to look bad to some kids you barely knew. Is that about right?"

He was sobbing now, but managed to choke out a strangled, ‘Yes, sir.’

"I really like you, Justin, and have always thought you were a really nice kid. Even nice kids make mistakes, though, and I hope you learn from this one. I’m going to ask you one last time because, like I said, once I get started, I won’t stop until I’m done. I’ll let you up right now, and we can go on like nothing happened. If you want to talk to your mom, I’m still willing to help you. So what’s it going to be, son: let you up or spank you?"

There was a long minute of silence, and I was about to lift him to his feet, when he said in a surprisingly calmer voice, "Spank me."

As soon as he said it, I wrapped my left arm firmly around his waist and the paddle came up. I made a couple of test snaps with my wrist and just a bit of forearm, then cracked the paddle against his bottom, then lifted the paddle to examine the result. After a couple of seconds, I snapped the paddle down again, on his right cheek this time, and a bit harder. Lifting the paddle this time, the result was a dark pink, almost exactly what I wanted.

I’d thought hard while driving him home about how to do this. He was younger than Chris but older than Tommy, and between them in size. He’d also not had a real spanking in more than three years. The boy was torn up by guilt and needed a thorough session, but I wanted it to be long, not brutal. The fact that I was using a nearly round paddle, rather than a long, narrow one like the ones to which I was accustomed didn’t help. At least they were close to the same weight.

Because the paddle was almost round, it only took three swats to more than cover one of his little cheeks. After six swats, a good part of his bottom was close to the same shade of dark pink, so I started giving swats with just part of the paddle to get the still white spots, but that still involved some overlap, which really heightened the sting.

There were no little gasps or ow’s this time and no lying still. If I’d not been holding his waist, Justin would have been right off my lap. He was kicking and squirming hard, thrashing around, and his hands were jerking around and started moving back to protect his rear several times. It only took a few swats to get him yelping, but he’d been nearly in tears before the spanking started and was quickly crying loud and hard, sobbing between each loud cry as the paddle snapped down again.

His bottom was a deep shade of rose before I paid any attention to his legs. I didn’t spank them much but felt like they needed some attention. Several swats back and forth between each leg left them nearly as dark as his bottom, drawing a long shriek of protest, and leaving him too sore to kick anymore.

One thing I’ll give Justin is that he never begged—didn’t even ask me to stop. Maybe he just couldn’t speak, but maybe he understood this is what he’d asked for and deserved. The only word I understood during the entire spanking was a loud ‘No’, as I moved the paddle back to his bottom, and that’s when I had to pause to pin his right wrist beneath my forearm.

I’d planned to cover his bottom a couple of times more, which should have left it a dark red that would have left him tender for a while. Before I finished even one more, he was bawling hard and loud, just lying limply across my lap and crying so hard his sobs were the only thing moving his body. When he started to choke on a sob, I knew there was no way he could take much more, so I placed a couple of swats right on his sit spots and dropped the paddle behind me.

I tried to help Justin sit up in my lap, but he wasn’t having any of it. He didn’t want to move at all, so I reached down to rest my left hand on his chest, holding him a bit, while I rubbed his back.

After a few minutes, he started to calm down a bit, so I rolled him up into my lap. I half expected him to break away from me, but as soon as I pulled him in, he clung to my shoulders, burying his face against my chest. I held him tightly, rocking a bit, and rubbing his bottom.

After a while, when his crying started to fade, I swung him around so he was standing between my legs, though his face was still lying against my chest, and began to rub his bottom. He flinched at first, but then I could feel tension drain from him.

"I need to get home, Justin, but I don’t want to leave you alone right now. Sure you don’t want to come over for dinner?"

He was quiet for a minute or two, then said in a voice still rather choked by tears, "Okay, but I don’t think I can sit down right now."

I stifled a small laugh, then assured him, "If you can put some pants on, I’ll let you lie down in the back seat on the way over there."





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