Noah and Ryan Wheeler
"WHERE THE HE…."
I stopped. I try very hard not to cuss in front of the boys. I took a deep breath, then counted to ten. Backwards. In German. And French. Then another deep breath and I tried it again.
"Where did you get the bag and what’s in it?"
I was asking because Noah and his friend, Ryan, had just come in the laundry room door, carrying a shopping bag from the local grocery store, which was still over a half-mile away. That wouldn’t normally be a big deal, except it was just after 10pm and they didn’t have permission to be out of the house. Judging by the looks on their faces, those facts had occurred to them as well.
Not that Ryan wasn’t normally pale. He was a very good looking boy - cute, not handsome. His cheeks were full and his chin was sharp, but mildly dimpled. His eyes were a slightly off blue, and the gold-wire and tortoiseshell glasses he wore fit his face and accented them nicely. His hair was a thick, medium-brown, that hung barely over his ears. His lips were a little thin and pale, but he had an infectious smile - you couldn’t look at him smile without wanting to do it yourself. His biggest problem - well, maybe not a problem - was that it looked like his parents had found a going out of business sale at the freckle factory. He was slightly shorter than Noah, but looked like he weighed close to the same, which didn’t make him chubby, but filled him out nicely.
Noah was looking about the way he normally did, except that his eyes were wide. I think that was partially because of my near lapse into cursing, but partially from his realization that he’d just been caught in a major screw up.
"We, uhh, we needed some glue for that scene thing we’re making."
"First, it’s a diorama," I reminded him. "Second, who gave you permission to go to leave the house at this time of night. Third, how’d you get there?"
"We rode our bikes - well, my bike, Ryan borrowed Barry’s."
"And did you tell whoever gave you permission that you were going to ride your bikes, along a major rode, after dark? Who gave you permission again?"
He knew he was beat and stared at his feet as he finally confessed, "Nobody."
"Thank you for being honest about it, at least. Ryan, go get your stuff together while I call your dad."
"Why?" he asked, shocked for some reason.
"Because Noah isn’t going to want you here in a few minutes, for one thing. For another, I don’t know your parent’s rules, so it should be up to him to decide if you deserve to be punished."
"I’m really sorry, Jack. I know we screwed up. Please don’t send me home."
"Look, Ryan. I like you and I’m sorry that you don’t want to go home, but Noah’s in trouble and, if nothing else, I’m pretty sure he doesn’t want you waiting around while he’s punished."
"That’s okay. Couldn’t you just punish me, too?"
I turned to Noah. "You want to field this one?"
"You know that black thing hanging in my room?" He paused for Ryan to nod. "I’m gonna have to take my clothes off so he can spank me with it."
Ryan stared at him for a minute, then shrugged. "I’m gonna get spanked anyway. But if I gotta go home, Dad’ll probably ground me, too. Please let me stay."
Now, in case you didn’t notice me say it before, Ryan’s a real cutie. I’m not going to say that I’ve never turned down a chance to spank a cute boy that I’d never spanked before, but it doesn’t happen often. I didn’t expect this to be one of those times. Still, I didn't want him to cry foul later and screw up their friendship, so I gave it another try.
"Ryan, when I spank, it’s long, and it’s hard. Now, I’m guessing that you don’t want me to call your dad and ask him if it’s okay for me to punish you?"
"Please don’t."
"Ryan, if you’re that afraid of me telling your father, I have to ask one question: does your father beat you?"
His eyes went wide for a second and his jaws dropped open. "No," he insisted, seeming shocked that I’d even suggest such a thing. "He really doesn’t spank me all that much anymore. It’s just he’s really strict and he grounds me a lot!"
"And you’d rather get a spanking than get grounded?"
"Right…Yeah."
"Noah, anything you want to add to that?"
"Yeah. Ryan, I don’t really care that much; but, he’s gonna spank us together. We’re gonna have to watch each other get it. If that makes a difference to you…"
I’m pretty sure Noah was trying to sound blasé, but he wasn’t quite making it. Still, as he went through the details, Ryan’s eyes got wider and wider and his face was slowly suffused with a pretty shade of coral pink. He stood there quietly for a minute, then finally, slowly nodded.
"That’s still better," he finally replied, though there was something about him that screamed his nervousness.
"Where’s Barry?"
It took Noah a second to realize I was talking to him. Then it took him another second to think of the answer. "Uhm… I think he’s in our room with Mark."
"In that case, I think you two need to go to your room, get ready for bed, then go to my office."
I waited until they started to walk away, then I stopped them.
"Oh, Noah?"
He turned enough to look back over his shoulder at me.
"When you come to my office, bring Black."
At the mention of the leather paddle/strap that I’d first punished him with, and had used more than a time or two since, his shoulders slumped. Noah actually preferred the paddle, because it was more likely to bruise, so more likely to result in a (relatively) shorter spanking.
A few minutes later, I was sitting in my office when there was a knock at the door and the two boys entered. I see Noah in his briefs almost every day. As much as I enjoyed looking at him that first day, I enjoy it more now. When Noah first moved in, he was lean and hard. He’s still those things, but he’s filled out a bit and he’s looking better than ever. On the other hand, my eyes were drawn to Ryan, who I did NOT get to see in his briefs every day (well, okay, he wears boxers, but it’s the same principal).
Ryan is just a little soft, just like I’d expected. Where Noah’s belly is lean and firm, Ryan’s was just flat. And it looked really nice.
"Over here, gentlemen and put your hands on your heads."
The two boys reluctantly walked over to me. Noah started to raise his hands, then stopped and handed Black to me. I took it, sat it behind me, then leaned forward. Noah closed his eyes as I grabbed the waistband of his Fruit of the Looms and slid them down.
It’d only been a few days since I’d bared him the last time and he wasn’t any different, but, thinking back a bit, he was a fair amount more mature than he’d been when he first moved in. It’d been only six or seven months, but one ball was hanging lower than the other, the head was becoming a darker red, the hair was starting to spread up towards his belly and down to his scrotum, which was shaping up a bit. In other words, he was growing up and, like most of my family, he was growing early. The briefs slid down his long, still hairless legs, and he stepped out of them without having to be told.
Ryan was staring as I turned to him and he grimaced as I reached towards him. He didn’t step back, though. His boxers were red, Fruit of the Loom knit boxers with a button on the fly. Those knit boxers are about the same fabric as briefs, and it clung to him the same way. He looked pretty excited. He also looked like he had as nice a backside as I’d expected.
I grabbed the boxers by the leg bands and slid them down, slowly exposing his crown jewels. Ryan wasn’t as developed as Noah, in some ways not even as much as Barry, but he was far from a little kid. I’m going to guess that his dick was over four inches. I think that was a fairly accurate guess in this case, since, while he didn’t have a full-blown, pointing at the sky erection, he was firm enough that it was pointing almost straight ahead of him, with only a slight downward droop at he end. Glancing over at Noah, I saw him studying Ryan nearly as closely as I’d been. When he saw me looking, he quickly glanced away, but that didn’t keep me from seeing that Ryan’s stiffy had been stimulating for Noah, who was now in a similar situation himself.
Ryan’s scrotum was a little more reddish than the creamy white of his inner thighs, but it still had the loose, dangly look of someone who was still growing. His balls weren’t especially big, but weren’t little peanuts either. Ryan had a loose circumcision, no hair, and his glans hadn’t began to darken, so, except for the reddish tint to the sac, he was still white and pink and looked so tasty I wanted to lean forward and give him a kiss. That probably wasn’t appropriate to the situation, though, so I restrained myself, even as I had to duck to the side a bit to avoid getting smacked in the face, as I helped him step out of his boxers.
Making sure both boys were very pointedly looking away from each other, I leaned back and surreptitiously adjusted myself, before clearing my throat and beginning the lecture.
I explained to the two boys how dangerous what they’d done was. It wasn’t just that they’d left the house without permission, which was bad enough on it’s own, but they’d done it after dark, on (or maybe across) a major street. In other words, in one of Noah’s specialties, they’d not only broken the rules, but they’d done it in a dangerous way. When I mentioned that, Noah managed a very effective cringe, and really did look sad and upset at disappointing me.
These days, I’m pretty good at judging when a lecture’s having just the right effect. When both boys had realized, not just exactly why they were in trouble, but how much trouble they were in, I stopped. The two of them stood there quietly for a minute, and I let them soak in the understanding of why they deserved what they were about to get.
"Noah, would you explain to your friend how we decide who goes first around here?"
Noah turned to Ryan and began to tell him a rather loose version of my reasons to let friends get their turn out of the way. I don’t think the boys had actually enjoyed my lecture, but neither of them had lost much in the way of their stiffies, though they still weren‘t fully erect. As Noah was explaining, he looked at Ryan, and I saw his little guy twitch a bit, torn between the excitement of seeing his buddy and fear of the coming spanking. The same thing seemed to be effecting Ryan.
When I asked if Ryan understood, he nodded, but I could tell he wasn’t real happy.
"Have you ever been spanked over someone’s lap before, Ryan?"
"Yes, sir. That’s how my dad does it to my little brothers… How he used to do it with me."
"Then you should know what to do, let’s go."
Ryan blushed a bit and grimaced, and he laid across my lap. I took a minute to adjust him, and admired his perfect, round, creamy white bottom. It was clenched tight right then, deeply dimpled; but, I gently stroked it with my left hand, while holding Black up with my right. Slowly, he relaxed, until his bottom went back to it’s natural, and very cute, shape. As soon as the dimples vanished, I let the strap fall.
Not expecting it, he yelped as it cracked down across the upper slope of his bottom, leaving a red stripe across it, right below the part where his crack ‘v-ed’ open into the small of his back. I let the strap lay there for a few seconds before it came up, then back down right below where the first had landed. He didn’t yelp this time, but it obviously got through to him. The strap came down a third, then a fourth time - each blow landing right across his bottom, centered on the crack. Then I started again on the left cheek, then the right.
Ryan was sobbing before I finished the left check, and crying before I got down to his legs. With Black, I don’t use quite the same pattern, but it was more than enough for him. He was crying hard as I placed one, two, three swats down each leg; but, when I moved back to the top and started again… When he realized that I was going again, that his spanking must not even be half over, he broke.
Ryan was crying hard and loud as the paddle/strap tracked it’s way down his bottom again, he was writhing and trying to escape. I stopped long enough to take a firmer grip on his waist, then went back to work. As I put the last swats on his right cheek, he was howling, crying so hard he was nearly hoarse, and I decided he’d had enough.
I gently rolled the boy to sit in my lap, and he was squirming hard, trying to keep the weight off his blazing, crimson cheeks. I held him for just a second, then let him up to do a quick fire dance before telling him to hold still and get his hands back on his head. He managed the second, but wasn’t really holding still. I did notice that he’d finally managed to suppress that embarrassing stiffy.
Glancing over to tell Noah to take his place, I saw that Noah’s had gone away as well. I felt a bit bad for him, since there were already tears standing in his eyes, but not bad enough to not give him everything he deserved for doing something that dangerous and breaking basic, household rules.
Noah might not have had as long to gain experience as the other boys had, but he’d been practicing a lot since moving in with us, and I didn’t have to adjust him after he put himself over my lap. Ryan was still bouncing around and trying to flex the sting out of his bottom; but, by the time Noah got into position, his hysterics had begun to calm.
As soon as Noah was in place, I took a grip on his hip and went to work. The pattern was the same as I’d used with Ryan, the same as I’d used too many times with Noah, since he’d moved in with us. Even though he knew it and had just seen it, it wasn’t any better. As Black tracked down his bottom, leaving harsh, red marks down the milky cheeks, Noah jerked with each impact. He’d not yelped at first, but he’d known what was coming. Still, that couldn’t prevent him from crying. It was soft at first, just quiet sobs that I felt more than heard, but I kept going, the sting and the heat kept building, and, with each stroke, he lost a little more control of himself.
By the time I started the second trip across his bottom, he was crying loud and hard. The thing is, with Noah, that’s like a plateau. He’ll get there where you think he’s almost had enough and just needs a touch more, but then he’ll stay there. I’d learned better than to ease off now, so I kept tracking down his bottom - the lean, firm cheeks darkening from red to near scarlet where the last blow had fallen. I was spacing them a little further apart to avoid overlap. What he’d done had been not just dangerous, but just dumb. I’d point out later to him that there were three different people in the house who would have been happy to give him a ride, if he’d just asked. Instead, he snuck off. I can understand the thrill to that, but, as the adult, I have to make sure that, if he doesn’t see what a truly bad idea it is on it’s own, he has other reasons to avoid it.
As I brought the little strap down on his already tender, sore left leg, he finally broke. He was howling hard and loud as I switched back and forth between his upper thighs. He was struggling hard to get away, but I had too good a grip on his waist; but, I also knew it was time to finish up.
After the last swat on his right leg, I choked up on the strap to control exactly where it fell, and brought it down on his left sit spot. Then another, same spot, right cheek. Back to the left, and that’s when Noah surprised me. In his struggling, he’d actually managed to twist and bend enough to get his right arm around my blocking arm and cover his cheek. That did not make me happy. I didn’t lean back or move my hold on him, but let my voice tell him exactly how bad an idea that was.
"Move your hand, Noah," I told him plainly and distinctly, my voice dripping menace.
I waited a count of one, two, three. When the hand didn’t move, I placed a firm swat on the already red area on the back of each leg, then repeated myself.
"Move your hand NOW, son."
When the hand didn’t move, I repeated the two swats in a slightly different area, then gave him another few seconds to consider the idea. I did see that his hand had twitched, but didn’t leave.
Noah was crying loud and hard - bawling. He was trying to talk to me, but I couldn’t understand most of what he was saying. I’m sure I didn’t really need to, since it was probably the same thing his brothers, my brothers, and even myself had said in similar circumstances. Still, he needed to know that he wasn’t in control.
"I’m going to count to three, Noah. If you’ve not moved your hand, I’ll spank your hand, then I’ll move it, and I’ll start over."
He probably didn’t know it, but that wasn’t as big a threat as it sounded. When I said start over, I actually only meant the spanks on the sit spot, not the whole thing.
"One."
It occurred to me then, that I shouldn’t have spanked the two boys together. I believed that Noah really needed this. We were making progress, but I was having to break down twelve years of training in him, to get him to follow my rules, and it wasn’t easy on either of us. The problem was, I’d not realized, or even thought about, how much easier Ryan would break down, meaning Noah was getting a much harder spanking for the same thing. It could be justified, but it could also be material for Ryan to tease him, ruining their friendship and causing problems for Noah at school.
"Two."
Thinking of this, I glanced up at Ryan. His face was blotchy, soaked with tears, and his nose was running. He was still crying a little, but what caught me was the way his mouth hung open a bit, and the glazed look in his eyes. He seemed fascinated by Noah’s spanking. And then I looked down.
I’d been right in my estimate of Ryan’s length. It was easy to tell now because he was rock hard. Not only was his dick engorged, but there was a shiny spot on the tip of his head that suggested this was not just nerves or fear.
I enjoyed the view for a minute, but then turned back to my son.
"All right, Noah. That’s…"
Before I could say the number, his hand slowly pulled out of the way. As soon as it cleared his cheek, I took the wrist in my left hand and pinned it against his hip. Then I went back to work on the sit spots. I placed a second swat on his right leg, then one, two quick but firm ones back on the left, followed by two rapid fire ones to the right, and finished up with one, two, three right across the smile of his bottom.
Noah’s not nearly as bad as he used to be, but I learned to be careful of him. Instead of letting him up to hug, like I would have with the rest of my boys, I left him laying there and gently rubbed his bottom for a moment. Like so many boys before him, he’d found that he wasn’t able to accept the consequences of his actions. I felt bad about his broken crying, even as I’d enjoyed it. I’m sure that Noah had thought I was being mean when I kept going after he thought he couldn’t take any more. Maybe I had been; but, the boy needed to learn that his only input into his punishment was whether he earned it or not. What he did not need to know was that I’d intended to give him nearly twice as many spanks there at the end than I actually had. I let him off easy (well, comparatively anyway - a little anyway), but I didn’t want to know that he could affect that, so he wouldn’t try to play it later.
It wasn’t even a full minute when I felt something in Noah shift, and I knew he - like most any other naughty boy who’d been pushed beyond his limits - was ready for some comfort and love.
"Ryan." I had to repeat it twice to get his attention. Then he suddenly realized he was standing there with a hard-on from watching me spank his friend, and his face went from splotchy to neon red. "Go on to the corner."
He stood there a second longer, then turned and walked over to where I’d pointed. Once his erection was hidden, I helped Noah up into my lap, where he was happy to cry on my shoulder for a little bit. When he started to settle down a bit, I sent him on to his own corner.
I left the two of them standing there for a few minutes until both of them had settled down a bit. Then I walked over to Noah and wrapped my arms around him for a second before dropping one to gently rub his fiery little cheeks again. After a few seconds of that, I took it easy on him again, instead of making him do his entire time in the corner.
"Noah, what you did tonight was not just wrong, but very dangerous. Do you understand that now?"
"Yes, sir."
"The spanking was for what you did wrong. For what you did that was dangerous, you’re grounded from your bike for one week. Next Friday, we’ll talk about bike safety, then you can ride again Saturday. Understand me?"
He looked really angry for a second, then shrugged and agreed that he understood, even if he didn’t exactly agree.
"Good. I need to talk to Ryan for a minute. Why don’t you go get a shower. Okay?"
He started to turn away, then stopped and wrapped his arms around me.
"I’m really sorry I screwed up, Dad."
"I’m sorry, too, Noah. We okay now?"
I felt him nod against my chest, so I squeezed him tight for a second, then let him go. He stepped away and started walking away. I let him get almost to the door before I stopped him.
"Noah?" I waited for him to turn back to me. "Pick up your shorts and put Black up, please."
I watched him turn around and go back over to them. He was a bit stiff when he bent over to get his shorts from the floor, then I watched him walk out, enjoying the walk. Once he was gone, pulling the door closed behind him, I turned to Ryan.
I stepped up behind Ryan and treated him like I had Noah. I wrapped my arms around him from behind and hugged him for a moment. Then I dropped the hand and spent a minute rubbing his very pleasant, but still hot bottom. I leaned forward and saw that he still had that stiffy, though it wasn’t quite as diamond-hard as it had been before, and at least didn’t seem to be dripping on the carpet.
After a moment like that, with the boy nearly purring in my arms, I stepped back and moved my arm from hugging him, to resting on his shoulder to pull him around to face me.
"Go pick up your undies. I’ll let you use my bathroom to get cleaned up."
Ryan picked his boxers up and started to put them on, but I stopped him. After a short protest, which he quickly dropped after I offered to put him back over my lap, he very carefully held them in front of him. I couldn’t blame him. Walking around with a red heinie is not exactly unusual around our house. Walking around with a red heinie and a major stiffy is. It’s only a few paces from my office door to the hallway to my bedroom, so I doubt anyone noticed much, anyway.
In my bathroom, I let Ryan get a drink and showed him how to use the controls of my shower (yes, it takes lessons - my shower has three different main options - rain, waterfall, or normal shower, and there are sub-options on the rain system), warned him about a hot shower at that time, and told him to get cleaned up while I fetched his overnight bag. As I left the bathroom, Ryan had already pulled the door shut behind him and I could hear the water starting to run.
Ryan was such a cutie, and I so much hated boxers, that I really thought about getting a pair of Noah’s briefs for him. They should fit, but, though I was tempted, I decided it was both unfair and pretty darned blatant. Noah must have been in the shower, so I grabbed Ryan’s overnight bag and carried it back to my room.
I quietly opened the bathroom door to put the bag down. The walls and door of my shower have only a slight frost to them, and it’s very easy to see out - and in. Ryan had his back to the door. He had the shower on the rain setting, and it was pouring straight over his head. I don’t blame him, because it’s a very relaxing setting. Of course, relaxing wasn’t exactly what he was doing. He wasn’t quite turned 180 degrees from the door, so it was easy to see what he was doing. His left hand was behind him, rubbing a bottom that, while I couldn’t make out an exact color through the light frosted and steamy doors, I’m sure was still a nice shade of red. I couldn’t see exactly what his right hand was doing, but judging from the motion and location, there wasn’t much doubt.
Ryan’s head was slightly back and his left shoulder was leaning against the wall. He’d obviously been doing that for a while, because you could tell he was breathing heavy. I stood quietly watching for just over a minute when he suddenly went up on his toes and his head went all the way back. After a few seconds of being near rigid like that, he slumped forward against the wall.
I watched for a few more seconds until he reached for the soap, then I let him know I was there.
"Ryan!" I called, raising my voice enough to be heard over the shower. As I spoke, I reached behind me and pulled the door open a bit, then I sat the bag down on the edge of the tub. "Your clothes are right here."
He’d jumped when I spoke and I could see his eyes were wide and worried when he turned to look at me. I lifted his bag a bit so he could see it, then let myself out of the bath. My bathroom opens into a combined vanity/closet/dressing room, so I stopped to undress myself. As soon as I was down to my boxers, I pulled on a baggy undershirt and sat down. Playing the pictures of the last 30 minutes or so through my mind, I did the same thing that Ryan had just been doing, listening for the sound of the shower to stop. I managed to climax before it did, but not by much. As I was sitting there, trying to collect my breath, I heard the water shut off. I decided I shouldn’t wait right there by the door.
Sitting on my bed, I waited a minute for Ryan to come out. His hair was damp and combed back. His body was lightly flushed from the warm shower he’d just had, and he was wearing another pair of boxers - green this time. He looked at me, and I patted the bed beside me.
"I think we need to have a talk, Ryan."
His face was pink from the shower, but now it went red. He glanced at the bedroom door for a second, like he wanted to make a run for it, then walked over and sat beside me, dropping the bag on the floor.
"Are you going to spank me again?"
"No, in this case, I really mean talk."
"About what?"
"What do you think?"
He stammered for a minute, trying to think of something to say, then looked up and must have seen something good behind my eyes, because he finally answered in a quiet, shamed voice, "My boner."
"That’s right. But those are natural, Ryan. I know they’re embarrassing, but you don’t have to be ashamed of it. Okay?"
He nodded, but was obviously unsure he believed me.
"The thing is, this wasn’t just a regular boner, was it?"
He obviously knew what I meant and shook his head to show I was right.
"Do you like getting spanked Ryan?"
"No!" he answered, suddenly indignant. I just stared at him for a minute, and he finally clarified. "I mean, it’s too scary when you’re about to get it, then it hurts so bad. But I guess I kind of like it later, like when my butts still all warm and tingly, but it don’t really hurt no more."
I nodded, because I’d heard the same thing from other guys before and I knew exactly what he meant. Still, that wasn’t the whole truth.
"What you had wasn’t a sort-of boner, Ryan, and you were still crying when you had it, so I don’t think your butt had stopped hurting that fast. I’m not going to make you talk to me about this, Ryan; but, I think you want to. Don’t you?"
He looked at me for a minute, as if he wasn’t sure himself, but then he nodded.
"Then don’t lie to me."
"If we talk about it, if I tell you the whole truth, are you gonna tell my Dad?"
"Nope. If you want to talk to me, then it’s all between just you and me."
He looked away for a minute then looked back to me.
"I don’t like getting spanked…" he said quietly, as if wanting to say something else, but not knowing how to go on.
"But you do like other guys getting spanked," I finished for him.
He looked back at me, obviously stunned that I’d known it.
"Man! Noah was right about you," he said.
I blinked at the apparent non-sequitor. "How’s that?"
"You’re really smart. Noah says he can’t get away with nuthin, cause you always catch him."
Well, that’s good to know. I usually expect that the guys get away with at least twice as much as I catch. It’s also good to let the kids think I’m better than I am. I couldn’t see a reason to enlighten him as to why I recognized his symptoms so easily.
"Is this the first time you’ve ever see one of your friends spanked?"
"It’s the first time I seen anybody spanked."
"I thought you said you have two little brothers."
"I do - Ethan and Jacob - but I never see ‘em get it. Dad always spanks us in our room, and we all got our own room."
"Is that why you asked to stay here and get spanked with Noah; so you could see him get it?"
He looked really uncomfortable and embarrassed for a minute before he finally admitted it. "I really didn’t want you to tell my dad, though. He probably would have spanked me and grounded me both."
"All right. I guess we’re square then, Ryan. However," I added, quelling his relief, "since I’ve spanked you now, any time you’re over here, and you get in trouble, I’ll spank you again. Get me?"
"Gotcha, Jack."
"Good. If it does happen again, and you get in trouble with someone else, I think we’ll do you each privately. Okay?"
He nodded sheepishly, his disappointment obvious. I started to stand, but he stopped me.
"Jack?" I turned to look at him. "Is it wrong for me to like it? Spanking, I mean."
"No, it’s not wrong. It’s just what you like. You didn’t choose to like it, did you?" I paused while he shook his head. "Now, if you saw your brothers get it, and you tricked them into getting spanked, then it’d be wrong; but since you don’t know when they get it…" My voice trailed off as the boy reddened again. "Ryan, you said you wouldn’t lie to me, and you said you’d never seen your brothers get spanked…"
"I haven’t set them up, Jack. And I never try to get them in trouble. Really I don’t."
"Then what were you embarrassed about?"
"Well," he admitted hesitantly, "I hear ‘em get it."
"How’s that?"
Ryan explained to me how their rooms are laid out. There’s a short hallway off the living room. Along the hall are three bedrooms and a bathroom. Since Ryan’s the oldest, he has the biggest room, which happens to be the corner room. Ethan, who’s 10, is to one side of him, and Jacob, who’s 7, is to the other, with the bathroom on the far side.
"I can’t hear everything. Like, when Dad chews us out like you did…"
"Lectures you, you mean?"
"Yeah, when he does that, I can’t really hear it, unless I press my ear up against the wall; but, when he starts spanking, I can lay down on my bed and hear everything."
Gee, I wonder what he could be doing when he laid down on his bed and was listening to that?
"Do you usually listen at the wall or wait until the spanking starts?"
"I like to listen, if I know they’re gonna get it. Sometimes I don’t know til Dad starts to spank them; but, I like to hear what he says and listen when he makes ‘em get undressed and everything."
"And what do you do when you’re listening?"
He went really red and looked away from me before answering, "Nothing."
"Remember what I said about lying. You don’t have to tell me, but liars get spanked in this house, Ryan."
He blanched, then lifted his rear from the bed enough to reach below and rub it.
"I jack off, but not too much."
I really hate that term, but I finally realized it’s useless to argue about it. "Because you want to wait until the spanking to finish?"
He went red again, but didn’t argue with me. "It’s really not bad?"
"Nope. At least, not as far as I’m concerned. Other people might disagree, and a lot of people would think you’re weird, so you should be careful about telling people, but I don’t think it’s a problem."
With that assurance, Ryan started saying things he'd probably been wanting to talk to somebody about for years - or at least since he discovered puberty. He told me about how his dad would often lower Jacob's pants and briefs for him, but how he and Ethan had to do it themselves, and he loved listening to Ethan whine and beg before dad finally had to threaten him to get him to do it. He talked about how they'd all gotten hand spankings when they were little, but how Ethan got paddled sometimes now (and blushingly admitted that he got the paddle ever time now, and had even had the belt once or twice). He told me about sometimes getting to see their butts in the bathroom afterwards, especially if the spanking was late in the day. He obviously had a hard-on again (and I was glad I'd put on a baggy undershirt, when I finally interupted him.
"I'd love to hear more, Ryan; but, if we keep talking, Noah’ll wonder if I’m spanking you again, so you’d better go on."
The boy hoped off the bed, grabbed his bag, but stopped and came back before he got to the door. He stood in front of me for a minute, looking for something, but then he leaned forward and wrapped his arms around me. "Thanks for talking to me and not telling my dad and everything, Jack."
I held him tight. "You’re welcome, kiddo. I’m always here if you need to talk again. Or if you need another spanking."
He pulled back to look me in the face and winced as I reached down to pat his rear.
"Thanks for the talk, but no thanks for the spanking. You spank hard. As soon as I’m too old to spank anymore, I’m gonna tell my dad to talk to you, so you can teach him how to do it right."
"That’s a good idea, Ryan. Maybe I can do that when he picks you up tomorrow."
Ryan looked a little sick as he left my room. The next time I saw him, he seemed tender, but he and Noah were playing some wireless game on their NDSs, and he seemed happy. When his dad did pick him up the next day, he kept a pretty close eye on us, though. For some reason, he seemed really interested in everything I said to his dad.