Release and Catch

It was Friday, the last weekday before the kids started back to school. My house was a bit more crowded than usual, and there was a certain manic-ness to the air. Whispers of ‘We gotta have fun, gotta have fun, gotta have fun,’ seemed to fill the air in beat to rushing sneakers.

That’s not to say that the boys were acting up too much. I’d had to give a couple of warnings when boys let their enthusiasm push them to doing things that weren’t good ideas, but generally, most of them were on good behavior. At least part of that must have been because the boys who tend to spend much time at my house generally are well behaved. I’m sure the balance of the reason was that time spent over my lap would definitely detract from the good times.

Of course, in every good group, there’s one or two who have to keep pushing, or who don’t even recognize that they are pushing. Case in point: Chase Wagner.

I’ve said before that Chase isn’t actually hyper, and I still stand by that. What I believe I said was that he seemed like he was scared of missing something, and that still seems to be true.

In nothing but a pair of Van’s old bright orange floral-print swim trunks, Chase was dashing from place to place. Running outside for a splash in the pool, then downstairs to watch some pool or foosball, to Van’s room to see what his peer’s were doing, or back out to watch some softball or try a few shots at the basketball goal.

I’m not sure how many times I’d warned him. I’d grabbed him off his feet on at least one occasion and made him sit out for ten minutes for jumping into the pool without checking and nearly landing on someone’s head. At this point, however many warnings he’d had had been enough. I’d worked with him so that he could have a fun day, but he’d apparently decided he wasn’t going to work with me.

It was late afternoon, and I excused myself from the chat room as he came flying up the stairs.

"Chase Wagner!" I called, my voice raised slightly to be sure he heard me.

He stopped like his feet had hit Super Glue. His body was suddenly rigid, as his brain raced to decipher my tone, and then figure out what he’d done.

Though Chase was only six when I met him, he already had a lean build. Since then, he’s grown a few inches, sometimes putting on a bit of extra padding, but he always seems to come back to the same tall, slender build. He’d obviously grown a bit over the summer, since his hand-me-down trunks, which are what I mostly saw him in these days, were showing a bit of fairer skin below their leg bands.

Taller or not, Chase is still cute as a button. Maybe because of his natural leanness, his features are a bit better defined than many young boys’. That, with his light brown hair (which was normally in a fauxhawk, but those trips in and out of the pool had ruined it for today, so it was actually just a mess) and blue eyes made him one of the cuter little fellows I see on a regular basis.

"I’m sorry, Mr. Jack," he informed me, as he turned back to look.

I’m not sure if he was trying for sorrow, atonement, or just begging for mercy, but the look on his face didn’t do anything to make him less cute.

"For what?"

"For running in the house again."

"Why don’t you and I go have a talk about that?"

He grimaced, since most boys around here know what talk is frequently a euphemism for; and the fact that after taking his hand I started towards my office certainly did nothing to comfort him.

I shut the door to my office behind us, crossed to my desk, and with his small hand still held in mine, I turned the straight backed, armless, wooden chair from my desk, so it was facing into the room. Only when I was sitting did I release his hand. Then, before he could respond, I took him by the hips and flipped him over my lap.

He groaned.

He groaned again, slightly louder, as my fingers slid into the waistband of his trunks and eased them down to his knees.

Though the shorts were almost completely dry, his skin still had a slightly clammy feel. I rested my hand against one cheek, gave it a light squeeze, then repeated the action on the other side. Then I began to gently rub my hand around both tiny cheeks.

Chase had stiffened when he felt my hand against his bottom, but now he relaxed a bit, and I thought I could feel a purr rumbling against my legs.



I’ve known Chase for about two years now, since his parents moved in nearby. In many ways, Chase is one of my favorite kids. He’s a sweetheart and doesn’t seem to have a mean bone in his body. I’m probably as close to him as I am any boy who has two loving parents with whom he lives.

Despite that, or possibly because of it, Chase has made many trips over my lap, especially during the first year or so that I knew him. Some of those were with Van and/or other boys he hung out with, but he made a pretty fair number of trips on his own merits.

Eventually, as I came to know Chase and his family better, I came to a realization. Like any boy, Chase needed occasional correction from time to time, and spanking works as well with him as it has with most boys I’ve known. However, there was something Chase needed much more than that – attention.

When Chase’s parents first moved in, his younger brother Blaize was barely two, and was receiving all the attention toddlers require. Of course, any person only has so much attention to go around, so with Blaize getting so much attention, Chase was getting less attention than he was accustomed to.

When I realized that, I started to make time for Chase and to spend a bit of private time together when he came over. I’d often sit him in my lap and talk to him a bit, then roll him over for a back rub, punctuated by an occasional firm but playful swat to his rear.

I will never be one to say that attention solves all problems, but I notice that the number of real spankings Chase earned around me went way down. For that matter, now that his brother’s out of the toddler stage, Chase isn’t reporting nearly as many spankings on the home front to me as he once did.

"Now, Chase," I told him, after giving him a moment to get used to the position, "I’ve told you several times to settle down and that you shouldn’t be running in the house or by the side of the pool, haven’t I?"

"Yes, Mr. Jack."

I had to smile a bit. ‘Mr. Jack’ was a form of manners his father had insisted on when Chase first started to hang out with us, and it seems to have stuck. Of course, in the intervening years, the missing front teeth that had made it so cute have been replaced. It’s not quite as cute without the slight lisp, but it’s still a charming endearment for me.

"And you know what happens to little boys who can’t follow the rules or mind, don’t you?"

"They get spanked," he admitted with a definite sob in his voice.

"That’s one thing that can happen, buddy, but I’m going to give you a choice. Okay?"

"A choice?" he asked, the sob gone, his attention seemingly engaged by this unexpected event.

"A choice," I assured him.

"You know that you haven’t been acting like you should today, even though I’ve given you several warnings. If you think it’s what you need, I can go ahead and smack your bottom right now with my hand."

"Just your hand?" he asked, clinging to the bit of reprieve.

"Just my hand. Or," I continued, "I can give you one more chance. But if I give you one more chance and you blow it, you’re going to get…"

"The Tailblazer?" he interrupted, the sob sneaking back.

"Exactly. Now, do you want a spanking now, or would you like one more chance?"

"One more chance, please?"

"Okay," I agreed.

With that, and not having to worry about a sore bottom, I quickly flipped him up and over, so he was sitting in my lap. He must have been fidgeting at least a little, because his trunks had worked down below his knees, but he didn’t seem worried about it. Chase had never seemed very modest around me, and it still wasn’t a problem for us.

"Now, Chase, I want you to understand I’m not kidding. Any more of this kind of behavior, and I’ll paddle your bottom. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, sir… Can I use Spanky Bear?"

I nodded.

"You could, but wouldn’t it be better just to behave?"

He nodded slowly.

"Now, Chase, you know Van and I love you, and you are welcome to stay, but if you think you just can’t behave, do you think maybe you should go home instead of getting paddled?"

He looked at me for a minute.

"Do I have to?"

"No, buddy, you don’t have to."

"I wanna stay."

"Okay," I agreed. "But just remember, I warned you."

"I’ll be good, Mr. Jack."

I had to smile.

"I know you’ll try, buddy."

With a quick kiss on the cheek, I set him on his feet, then watched as he yanked his trunks back up, then headed for the door at barely more than a quick walk.



Chase actually did manage to behave until his mom called and asked me to send him home. I’m actually glad things worked out for him. Chase is cute as a bug and fun to spank, but there are times, even when a kid seems to be begging for a spanking, when I really prefer he finds a way to avoid it.

Then again, there are times when boys seem like they’re desperate for a spanking and are going to do everything they can to arrange for one.



It was after 9pm, and I was standing at the kitchen counter, tapping a rapid beat against the countertop. Josh was upstairs with his role-playing buddies. Johnny, who’d never gotten into that stuff, had invited Riley Malone and Rory Dugan to spend the night. He’d invited Doug Marchant as well, but Doug, who’s about to start his freshman year in high school, and whose father has recently been trying alternatives to spanking, had gotten to spend the day at home. The problem was, while Johnny, Rory, and Riley were supposed to be in the house, they couldn’t be located.

It sometimes seems to me that I have a gift for looking for the boys at times that they don’t want to be sought. I’d checked in Johnny’s room, the game room, the theater, the backyard, upstairs in the teens’ area, and even with Josh’s role-playing group. They were in none of those places, and no one had seen them lately. I’d even checked the board to see if they’d signed out and just not told anyone, but they’d not even done that. I was standing there, contemplating calling Rory or Riley’s parents, knowing that would escalate matters, but not sure what else to do, when I heard the utility room door, which opens out next to the driveway and garage. Since no one had been out there that I’d noticed, I turned to watch. Sure enough, my prodigals entered a moment later, trying hard to be stealthy. When Johnny opened the door to see me standing right there, his face fell.

"Don’t just stand there," I told them, trying not to sound too upset with them. "Come on in."

The three of them might as well have been baa-ing, as sheepish as they looked, but they came in, shutting the door behind them.

"Would you like to tell me where you’ve been?"

Wrong question. It was obvious from both their faces and body language that telling me where they’d been was pretty low on the list of things they wanted to do. Still, with my standing and staring, it apparently gave the question the correct twist.

"We were… Ummm…"

The three exchanged a quick look that I recognized.

"Let me give you gentlemen a piece of advice. It might be tempting to try to avoid the truth, hoping you can still get out of trouble, but don‘t. You don’t know what I’ve already checked, and lying will not only make me more irritated if I catch you, but it’ll also make me doubt you in the future. Understand me?"

Three heads nodded, then they exchanged another glance with a few shrugs.

"We went to talk to Doug," Johnny admitted.

"Isn’t he grounded?"

"Yeah, we talked through his window."

"And you knew I wouldn’t let you go, because he was grounded," I suggested, not quite a question.

They nodded.

"So instead of asking, you just went without permission?"

More nods.

"At 9pm."

Sheepish nods.

"Johnny, go to your room."

He looked up in mute protest, but then reluctantly obeyed me.

"Do you two want to spend the night here or should I call your parents and let them know why you’re coming home?"

"Here," Riley answered without pause; then, with a questioning glance, turned and followed Johnny.

That was fair. If it had just been him, I wouldn’t have even offered the choice. While I’d spanked Rory before, I didn’t know him or his family as well.

"Rory?"

He opened his mouth, then closed it. I watched his Adam’s apple bob up and down, then he tried again.

"You’re gonna whup us?"

"If you left the house at this time of night without letting anyone know, then went to visit someone you knew wasn’t supposed to have visitors, what would your dad do?"

"Whup me," he admitted miserably.

"Yeah, that‘s what I thought."

"But you’re gonna whup us all together?"

I nodded.

"We gotta go to bed after that?"

It was hard for me not to smile. The Dugans come from further East Texas than where we live. Normally Rory doesn’t have much of an accent, but there’s a trace of Louisiana in his voice that apparently comes out when he gets stressed, which makes him sound a lot like Noah.

"No, when it’s over, it’s over. You don’t have to go to bed or anything until you want to."

"I’ll stay," he finally said after a long but silent struggle.

I nodded, then pointed towards Johnny’s room. Rory went. I followed right behind him.



I made a brief stop before going into the twin’s room, and when I entered, the three boys were standing by the bed, watching the doorway. I don’t know if it was unconscious or what, but the three boys were lined up according to size. From my left, it was Riley, Rory, then Johnny.

"You boys know what’s going on," I said without preamble. "Get your clothes off."

None of them seemed to be in a hurry to obey me, but there seemed some relief in Riley and Johnny. Having dad (or uncle) undress you at their age had to be embarrassing. Of course, having to undress yourself, knowing what was coming, isn’t exactly easy or fun.

It was a bit different with Rory, and it wasn’t hard to figure out why. I’d only spanked him twice before, and once had let him undress himself. The thing is, Rory hasn’t started middle school yet and attended Briscoe. Riley, who attended Bransom Christian Academy, suited out for gym class, even though sixth graders didn’t shower afterwards. Undressing in front of a room full of kids wasn’t a big deal to him or Johnny, who was a year older than the other two boys, leaving aside the spankings and skinny dipping they’d shared. Rory hadn’t had that socialization, and he must have been pretty uncomfortable with the entire scenario.

I waited patiently while the three of them stripped down. All three of them are lean, athletic boys. Riley is both the smallest and darkest. Rory is tall and lean, but with a little extra padding that suggests he has a growth spurting coming any day. Johnny was the only fair-haired boy in the group, and was also the oldest and tallest, though he’s not really much taller than Rory. I tried to be serious – or at least keep a game face – but it was interesting to watch them stripping down where I could compare then.

Soon enough – much sooner than they would have preferred, I’m sure – all three of them were down to their undies. Johnny was wearing some kind of abstract design with rectangles in different sizes and colors covering everywhere, while Rory was wearing a pair of red boxers, covered with Star Wars Legos characters. Riley was the cutest in a pair of the Tiger briefs I’d given him – the ones with white elastic and blue panels.

Once all three had tossed their clothes aside, standing only in their skivvies, I gave them the bad news.

"Bare."

With Johnny and Riley, the only real question had been whether I was going to do it right before I spanked them, or if they were coming off now. Rory was a bit more hesitant to obey, but when he glanced over and saw his friends sliding their shorts off, he followed suit.

I try to give my boys some privacy, and try not to keep up with who might be doing what to whom. I firmly believe that it’s normal for boys to be curious about each other, to want to check out how other boys are growing, and to ‘help each other out’. Because of my own interest, I don’t want to know too many details of it, though.

In this case, I’m not sure it had been going on, because the three boys certainly seemed to be checking each other out. In Johnny’s case, it’s easy to understand why. While Johnny is about to start eighth grade, he is still pretty smooth. He finally has a bit of blond hair at the lowest part of his belly, but not as much as Josh has, and what he has isn’t as obvious, since it is a pretty light blond.

Riley and Rory seemed to be in a slightly different situation. Of course, Rory wasn’t as used to our household, simply because he hasn’t spent the amount of time around here that Riley has. He also hasn’t had nearly as many chances to go over my lap before. As a matter of fact, this was the first time he’d been spanked with Johnny, and that seemed obvious in the amount of attention he was paying to my naked son.

While Johnny was hardly full grown, he was in the midst of puberty, which put him further along than the other two boys. There was something… loose, unfinished looking about Johnny’s sack, but it did hang down, and his balls were a decent size. And while his penis was still white and pink, it was long enough that the head rested between his balls, and was reasonably thick. It’s not really possible to tell when someone is soft how big he’ll really be when he’s erect, but I didn’t have much doubt that Johnny was bigger than the other two boys.

Riley wasn’t really very interested in what Johnny was showing, which made me think that either he just wasn’t curious, or that Johnny had proudly shown off his hairs as soon as they appeared, which I considered far more likely. He did show a bit of curiosity about Rory, but only briefly. Then again, it hadn’t been that long since he and Rory had had a good chance to check each other out.



It was early in May when Riley and Rory had taken a practical joke too far. It was obvious that Johnny was in at the first of it, but (for once) he had exercised the better part of valor and departed before the climax.

I don’t remember all the details, but Riley, Rory, and Johnny had been on a bit of a tear – enough so that they’d managed to get on my nerves. Someone had decided it would be fun to prank on the little kids. To that end, they’d somehow convinced Van, Parker, Scooter, Donny, and Kirby to go into Van’s closet. Once in there, instead of following, they’d pulled the closet door shut, then flipped off the lights.

I’ll admit that being held hostage in a closet by your older brothers during daylight hours shouldn’t be that scary. On the other hand, these are little kids, and scary or not, it’s still very frustrating.

When the kids started making a lot of noise, Johnny suggested releasing them. He warned his friends that they were going to get in trouble. Apparently Rory replied that they were ‘just playing around’, which Johnny took as his cue to leave (and he and I did have a talk later about what he should have done).

While my house is pretty big, I’m used to listening, and certain levels of noise do tend to echo. Also, some people know it’s a good idea to let Dad know when you hear major commotions going on (if nothing else, it’s a good way to establish that you had nothing to do with causing said commotion). It didn’t take me long to end up in Van and Parker’s room.

"What is going on?"

I think there might have been a bit of edge to my voice.

Riley and Rory, who’d been struggling a bit to hold the door closed, jumped around to start explaining themselves, allowing the closet door to pop open. There were muffled exclamations, and a few seconds later, the angry hive released its swarm, who were only prevented from attacking by my presence.

Getting the gist of what had happened hadn’t required rocket science, so I sent Rory and Riley to my office and let them wait there while I questioned the little guys, then tracked down Johnny, who Van and Parker swore had been in on it.

Johnny filled out the details, and I promised him a talk later, then went to deal with the waiting miscreants.

Riley and Rory were waiting nervously in my office. By some instinct, they were both standing in front of the writing desk, where I do most of my spanking in that room. When I shut the door behind me, they both jumped.

The discussion didn’t take long, though it was lengthened by an almost constant stream of excuses, explanations, and pleas from Rory. I think Riley knew better and just wanted to get it over with. Both boys reluctantly agreed that they’d not been on their best behavior recently, that they both had a history of teasing brothers and ‘pranking’ them (they wouldn’t quite admit to ‘picking on’), and they both agreed that I didn’t need to call their parents.

I think Rory considered changing his mind when I reached behind me and pulled Heat from the paddle drawer. Riley and Rory are both twelve, the same age as Bryce, but both bigger than him. If Bryce was much bigger, I would already have promoted him to Red, but decided to use the lighter paddle on these two, since they’re just not as accustomed to being paddled as my boys are.

Then it got much harder, for Rory at least. I had the boys lift their shirts.

Rory protested. He protested the idea that he was going to get spanked in front of Riley. He protested getting undressed in front of Riley. He protested that I was going to undress him.

Tired of his protests, I told him he could go wait in the living room until his dad got home, and then he and I could go talk to his dad.

In turn, Rory assured me he hadn’t actually been protesting, just commenting, and agreed to shut up then and there.

He lifted his shirt.

Because of his excess protests, I started with him. Undo his fly, then Riley’s. Take Rory’s jeans down to his ankles, then take them off. Then it was Riley’s turn for the same. Then, regretting that he wore boxers instead of briefs, I slid those down and off, pausing to snap at him to get his shirt back up. Then it was Riley’s turn, and his briefs came off, leaving both of them bare from lower chest to feet.

It was cute seeing the two of them side-by-side like that, and not just because they were both stressing over their coming paddling.

Rory and Riley were like a study in the different ways boys can mature. Rory’s balls had swollen some, but were still close up between his legs. His thin penis wasn’t especially long, but was long enough to arch limply out over that swollen package.

On the other hand, Riley’s balls were smaller than Rory’s, but his sack already had a bit of dangle. His penis looked a great deal shorter than Rory’s, maybe only an inch or so, but was thicker than the other boy’s. Despite being generally smaller, his penis rested down along his sack, and it gave him a more mature look.

I sat back for a second, watching the two boys as they shyly, nervously checked each other out and came to a decision. Riley was smaller than Rory, but I think he was also slightly older. He’d also had many more trips over my lap, and had shared more than a couple of them.

I let Rory go first.

Rory wasn’t especially thrilled at the privilege, but apparently liked the idea of waiting for his dad even less. He came over to me. I helped him over my lap, and this time knew enough to pin his hand behind his back before I started.

Rory is not good at taking a paddling. From what Rory’s older brothers have told me, almost all his spankings have been by hand, with just a very few coming from a wooden spoon. To be getting it with a good-sized paddle, even (or maybe especially) with a lighter but longer style like I use, broke him down thoroughly.

Riley, who wasn’t used to having to wait while someone his own age got it, watched wide-eyed as I went to work on Rory’s bottom. Rory tried to hold out, tried to be brave with a peer watching him, but I just kept going, and he finally broke down as the paddle moved from his bottom to his legs.

Rory was receiving one of my standard three-down paddlings, and it obviously had him sore and stinging. No matter that he was trying to choke back the yelps and sobs – he couldn’t stop his body from reacting, and he was squirming all over my lap, kicking his legs around, and fighting to get his hand free.

Two swats on his left leg, and he couldn’t take it anymore. A loud ‘oh-ow’, and then there was no question that he was sobbing. Like before, he was also begging me to stop.

I didn’t.

The paddle moved back to his bottom for a second trip, and his crying just grew harder and harder. As the paddle moved back over his already aching backside, Rory’s struggles grew harder and harder, until his entire body arched up into nearly a ‘u’, then he just collapsed, nearly motionless, as the paddle finished his bottom and moved down onto his legs again.

As irritated as I was with them, and as tired as I was with them picking on their siblings, what they’d done hadn’t actually been harmful, so I stopped there, without touching his sit spots directly. I doubt Rory appreciated my restraint, but I knew that it would make a difference to him in a while.

I rolled Rory up into my lap for just a second, for a brief squeeze and some reassurance that he’d survived, and then I helped him stand.

With Rory on his feet, Riley didn’t have to be told what was coming next. He laid himself across my lap before I had to say anything, though tears were already trailing down his cheeks, and he moaned softly as he did it.

Paddles aren’t used at Riley’s home at all, but he’d had enough experience at my house to know what was coming. He didn’t take it well, but I think he’s not quite as… theatrical as Rory in the first place, and he’s a bit more accustomed to my spankings as well.

Which means he didn’t break down quite as soon or as hard as Rory did, but he was still crying hard and loud by the time his bottom and upper legs were a nice shade of red, and I was satisfied.

I sat him up for a brief hug, then offered to let Rory join us, but he didn’t seem that interested. I released Riley and helped him to his feet.

"I’m going to tell you boys this again, and I hope it sticks this time, all right?"

They both nodded, tears still flowing down Riley’s cheeks, though the flow had eased to a trickle for Rory.

"If they don’t laugh at it, then it’s not a joke – it’s picking, bullying. If you had done it for a second, then let them go, it might not have been funny, but you wouldn’t have gotten spanked for it. But there was no excuse to just keep doing it when you knew they didn’t like it. Do you understand the difference now?"

"Yes, sir," the echoed each other.

"And can you guess how, if you forget the difference, I’ll remind you?"

"Spankings?" Riley asked.

"Rory?"

He nodded. "Spankings."

"Exactly. Keep it in mind."

I watched while the two still-crying, red bottomed boys dressed, then took them to my bathroom so they could clean up in private. Then, without my suggestion, they went and apologized to the younger boys.

I did have a talk with Johnny later, letting him know that, while I was happy he’d quit when he did, I wasn’t happy with the rest of it. We talked for a while about what he should have done (like reminding the other boys that I was probably going to spank if I caught them), and made sure he understood why he didn’t get spanked this time, and why he might in the future.

He seemed to take the lesson to heart.



Of course, now they were in trouble again, though not for the same thing (suggesting even these three can eventually figure out what’s causing that recurring ache in their butts).

Like me, it looked like Riley and Rory might be remembering that previous event. Of course, for me it was largely an interest in comparative anatomy and how, or if, the two boys had changed in the last few months. Judging by the looks in their eyes, I’d say they were remembering other things.

"I want you guys to know that I can understand wanting to talk to your friend, even if he’s grounded. I can also understand wanting to get out of the house when it’s dark and a little cooler. However, you all know my rules about keeping track of you guys. The fact is that you left the house without letting anyone know. If you’d told me you were going to… I dunno, the convenience store for a Slurpee or something, then snuck over to see Doug, you might be in a bit of trouble, but you wouldn’t be about to get your rears worn out. But you didn’t. You just left. No one knew where you were or what had happened. Even if you don’t want to admit the safety problems, did you think about what might have happened if one of your parents had called or something had happened here?"

All three of them were squirming while I lectured. None of them wanted to meet my eyes. Now, as they continued to study the floor, they all shook their heads.

"And the fact of the matter is, no matter what you meant to do, no matter whether you thought you’d be safe or not, no matter if someone called or not, you all knew the rule, and you broke it anyway."

"I try not to be arbitrary about making rules. When I do make one, I try to explain why I have it and listen to how you guys feel about it. But when a rule is made, it’s made, and you all know what happens to boys that don’t follow the rules."

I was quiet a moment, and so were they.

"All right then, turn around and bend over the bed."

Johnny’s head finally came up, and he was looking at me. They were all looking at me.

"Wh… what?"

"Turn around," I said, a bit more slowly and more clearly.

They all obeyed.

It was a nice sight. Riley was shorter than the other two boys, and his rear end was nearly perfect, forming nearly a heart-shape as the two cheeks separated from each other and sloped gently to the small of his back, then swerved in round, full sweeps, until they curved back in to meet again. The upward slope from his back, then down again to his legs was too gentle for him to be perfect, but each cheek was round and full, smooth and undimpled. If his bottom wasn’t perfect, it was close enough.

Rory’s height worked against him. His bottom seemed more stretched out. He did have a hint of hips, but his bottom was still lean and deeply dimpled, and the slopes were even less distinct, making slow rises, rather than shelves. He wasn’t so thin his rear was flat, but what there was seemed isolated from the rest of him, not a part of it.

Johnny was about as lean as Rory, but he had more weight and tone. While his rear was proportionally narrower than Riley’s, and while he did have some dimples, his athleticism left it nicely shaped, and his upper and lower curves were actually better shaped and more distinct than the other boys. And while he was dimpled, they weren’t too deep, providing a bit of accent, not a complete separation.

"Now," I said, managing to speak after only a quick moment to enjoy the sight, "bend over the bed."

It was almost laughable. All three of them obeyed me, but they each found a different way to do it. Johnny stepped forward, bent at the waist, keeping his lower body straight, and put his forearms flat on the bed, like he was ready for a school paddling, with which I knew he had some experience. I was pretty sure that almost, if not totally, all of Rory’s experience was over someone’s lap, and he just stepped forward and collapsed across the bed, loosely enough that Johnny looked over at him. Riley walked forward, bent down to put his forearms on the bed, then collapsed down so his upper body was on his arms or the bed, and his legs were slightly spread, but with no real weight on them. Of course, I knew that Riley had had some experience with his father’s belt, and this might be a position to which he was more accustomed than the other boys.

"Like Riley," I said, then waited while the other two boys complied.

I took another few seconds to adjust them, then stood by Riley’s side and leaned forward. I rested my hand in the small of Johnny’s back and ran my hand across his butt for a second, then did the same thing for Rory, then Riley, while I spoke.

"Some people will tell you it’s easier to ask forgiveness than permission, and that’s true, as far as it goes – sometimes, at least. The thing you have to think about it, what’s going to happen after I apologize? If I’m not at work when I’m scheduled, will I get fired? If I leave school during class, will I get detention or will Dad switch my butt for skipping? And if I leave the house without telling anybody, am I going to get spanked?"

I matched actions to words then. A couple of swats for Riley, then Rory, then Johnny – and an extra for Johnny before starting over. I tried to make sure each boy received the attention he needed, two or three swats at a time. I kept the numbers about even, but there was nothing making me keep all the swats equally firm, or making the placement exactly the same.

Without being held across my lap, it seemed harder for the boys to stay still, and they were all three squirming around more quickly than I would have expected. Then again, with me in a standing position, I was able to get more snap into each swat, and had to be careful not to put too much force into the swings. The sound was delightful though (to me, if not them), and I enjoyed the slight echo as my flat hand distinctly clapped against their cheeks.

Back and forth I worked, turning bottoms from milk and honey, to pink, then rosy. As we passed light rose, I began hearing very distinct, though mostly quiet, ohs and ouches. They weren’t quite yelps, but were more than just a quick, indrawn hiss.

As their bottoms approached a true red, I noticed all three pairs of feet were doing variations on kicking a bit, though Johnny’s were really just squirming around on the floor, almost like he was seeking traction. Rory’s were the worst, beating a quick rhythm with one foot, then the other.

I stopped.

"Guys, there was nothing really wrong with what you did – not like if you’d snuck out to steal or vandalize something – but you have to learn to think about other people and how your actions affect them; you have to learn that rules are there for a reason, and you have to learn that there are consequences to your actions."

This time, as I spoke, I reached for the reason for my short delay, and I pulled Black out of my back pocket. Black is a fairly small leather paddle, about three-eighths of an inch thick, and eighteen inches or so long, and two wide. It’s stiffer than a belt, but much more supple than wood, and is a pretty good compromise between the two.

I leaned back down, lined up, and smacked the paddle down on the middle of Riley’s rear.

He howled and bucked. If I’d not had my hand on the small of his back, he might have come all the way off the bed, but even just the gentle pressure I was applying reminded him to stay still.

Again the paddle cracked down, just below the first lash, leaving another dark red line across his cheeks. He was crying hard and loud now, as the stiff leather branded lines of fire across his already tenderized cheeks.

While Riley was thrashing around, Rory and Johnny were both trying to find the reason for the sudden increase in Riley’s complaints. Rory was pushing himself up on one elbow, but I paused a second to push him back down. In that position, I was too close for him to get a good view, but Johnny was further away, and was easily able to see the small strap as I raised it a third time. His face crumpled and he turned forward to bury it against the bed, not quite in time to bury a whimper.

I smacked the paddle down one last time across the lower slope of Riley’s bottom, just before it became legs. His back arched up so much he was nearly facing the ceiling as he cried his agony. Then he collapsed back against the bed, crying hard and unreservedly, but not quite bawling. His cheeks were rosy around the edges, then slightly darker, but a true dark red where the paddle had cracked down.

Rory was already crying before I touched the paddle down against his bottom, but he wailed quietly when the leather touched his cheek. Keeping a hand on the small of his back, I lifted the paddle and cracked it down.

His quiet wail became loud as the leather cracked against his cheeks, undulating with sobs. The other boys knew what was happening now, so I didn’t pause as I walked the strap down his butt, leaving three distinct stripes that I was sure he could feel as easily as I could see. Though I was smacking him no harder than I had Riley, the waiting time must have keyed him up, or he was less used to implements than I thought, because he was bawling before I’d finished with him.

Another step, line Black up on target, and Johnny moaned as he felt the paddle lift away. The boy had enough experience to know it was when the paddle moved away, not when it lined up, that you were really in trouble.

Johnny was much more accustomed to being paddled than his friends were, as well as being older, and he took the strokes of the paddle better. That’s not to say he didn’t kick and squirm around almost as much as they did, or that he didn’t cry, but he managed not to howl and yell. His crying was hard, but quieter than theirs had been.

I thought about giving Johnny more, since he was older and more experienced. I even thought about putting a stripe or two on his upper legs. I only had to pause a moment, though, before deciding that he’d taken it well, and that it wouldn’t hurt to let him look a bit braver than his friends since he was older.

I dropped the paddle on the bed beside him.

Since Johnny was right there, I helped him up. Despite the fact that tears were flowing down his face and that he was shaking with agony, I didn’t have to pull him into a hug.

I held him tight against my chest for a minute, letting him cry out his pain and sorrow, then I released him. As soon as I let him go, he reached for his rear, then stopped. It was hard to read the question in his tear-filled eyes, but his actions made it obvious, and I nodded permission for him to rub.

Rory’s squall had passed, though he was still doing plenty of crying when I pulled him up from the bed. He didn’t resist when I pulled him into a hug and seemed happy to let me cradle him against my chest. He seemed torn on whether he should hug me back or rub his aching rear, but settled for hugging me when I reached down and gently massaged it for him.

Riley, who hadn’t cried as hard as Rory, was still crying a bit, but had noticed the boy next to him being pulled from the bed. Without waiting to be asked, Riley stood up himself, gave his rear a brief rub, then threw his arms around me, and coincidentally, Rory. I waited for the taller boy to protest, but he didn’t, so I moved my arms to hold them both. After a moment, deciding he hadn’t had enough, Johnny joined us.

I think it said something that Rory wasn’t bothered to be in the middle of a four guy hug, while the other two boys around him were as naked as he was. I’m not sure whether it was about their friendship or just about how bad he was feeling, but it said something.

After a few moments, as tears dried up, the hug loosened, then the boys moved away from me. There was a moment where no one seemed to know what to do. All of them were rubbing again, but it was almost incidental at that point. It was kind of cute, because all three of them were suddenly uncomfortable and acting shy now that the punishment and forgiveness were done.

"Why don’t you guys go wash up? I don’t think there’s any need to get dressed, but you can put your shorts and t-shirts back on anyway."

They all looked at each other, then nodded. Rory and Johnny started picking up their clothes, so Riley headed towards the bathroom.

"By the way," I said, causing them all to stop and look at me.

"The reason I was looking for you in the first place was to see if you wanted to make sundaes. Interested?"

They were all suddenly enthusiastic.

"And don’t worry," I assured them, "we can eat at the kitchen counter so you won’t even have to sit down."

The looks they gave me said they didn’t think I was nearly as funny as I thought. I did notice that none of them could avoid at least a little smile though.







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