Ryan Hunter 2

It was January of 1999 when I first heard about Pokemon. I was really excited about it for several reasons. First, it was put together by Wizards of the Coast, the same company whose excellent standards had made Magic: the Gathering a worldwide success. (I later learned it wasn’t made by WotC, but was imported and translated by them, from Japan). The second thing was, unlike many of the other collectible card games that had appeared since Magic was released, this one looked top notch. The final, but probably most important point in Pokemon’s favor, at least by my standards, was that it was a much simpler game than Magic, and thus had more appeal for little kids (not to mention the cartoon on which it was based).

Even though Pokemon wouldn’t really explode into a phenomenon for a number of months after it was first released, I had some minor success with it right from the start. Not only did I have some new players, like Christopher Allen, coming in; and not only did I have some of my Magic players show an interest in the new game, like Ryan Hunter, Zack Thomas, and Gary McKinney; but I had some old Magic players come back for Pokemon, primarily Ryan’s little brother, Derek.

Ryan was a bit older than many of the Pokemon players we had, but hardly the oldest, since even some adults were attracted to the game. It took a while for people to really catch on to the game, though, especially since WotC wasn’t able to keep cards available at first, and we would have long dry periods when we had few or no new cards to sell. Still, they trickled in, and we were able to encourage new players.

By that summer, Pokemon was actually bigger than Magic. At first though, we were having Pokemon tournaments every other Saturday. I remember one of the first tournaments we had, I ended up playing because we only had fifteen players, and I didn’t want anyone to have to sit out rounds.

Ryan and I were the two best players there, and we ended up facing each other in the third round. Each round was the best two out of three games. I’d beaten Ryan in the first game, and the second game was looking pretty close when he made a stupid mistake that would have given me the game and the match. Instead, I pointed it out to him and let him take it back.

"But," I told him in a serious tone of voice, "if I let you take that back, and you come back and win the match, I’m liable to take my belt to you."

Ryan just smiled up at me, mischief gleaming in his blue eyes, and replied, "If I come back and win, I’m liable to let you."

He not only beat me, but won first place at the tournament.

After our round was over, and when it was clear the other players would still be going for a while, I surreptitiously took him into my office. He followed me willingly enough, but then got a rather sick grin when I reminded me of what we’d said. It didn’t look any healthier as he watched me take off the thick black leather belt that I was wearing.

"Over the chair," I told him.

"Oh, man!" he said, quietly but devoutly, even as he leaned across the back and gripped the seat.

"What? This is what you said, isn’t it?"

"Yeah, but I’ve never been whipped with a belt before."

"That’s right. Your dad only used his hand; right?"

"Right. You’re the only one who’s ever spanked me with anything else."

"You never even got the paddle at school?"

He shook his head, which was very funny, since he was still bending over and looking up at me.

"Well," I replied after a minute. "I don’t have the heart to be the first person to whip you with the belt." As I said that, I placed the belt down on the desk. "Go ahead and stand up."

He looked very relieved as he straightened.

"Now, drop your pants and boxers, and I’ll do this the old-fashioned way."

Ryan almost instinctively reached for his pants, but his hands stopped after an inch or so, and he gave me a very arch look.

"I’m not sure that’s really an improvement, Jack."

"Fine, spoil sport. I guess I’ll just let you off. This time anyway."

I was smiling at him and he smiled back, but he did shake my hand and thank me for my generosity in letting him take the move back.

Oh, and I did give him one swat with the belt before putting it back in my loops. After all, every boy should at least have some idea of what the belt feels like across his rear, even if it’s over his jeans instead of a real spanking.



I’m sure I’ve mentioned before that Ryan was one of my most regular gamers over the years, that I liked him a lot, and that he was a very smart kid. What I may not have mentioned is that he reminded me of myself in a number of ways. He was very smart and usually easygoing, but he could also be riled to a point where he looked scary. It was often interesting because he would sometimes get very emotional over things that didn’t seem to be a big deal; once again very like me.

Ryan continued to play Pokemon and Magic. Only a month or so after Pokemon was released, Ryan turned sixteen and got his license. That was great for his parents and the parents of Derek’s friends because Ryan started driving them. They didn’t live close to the store and were happy to have someone to handle that for them. Still, Pokemon wasn’t a big challenge for Ryan, and he started getting tired of it more quickly than his brother and the other, younger kids did.

That actually worked out great for me because Pokemon was growing by leaps and bounds at that time. I’d already expanded so that we were having Pokemon tournaments every Saturday, rather than every other. I’d also hired someone to handle the Magic tournaments on a regular basis, both to free me up to have more time available for my kids, but also because I was trying to expand our in-store gaming in other directions. However, Pokemon was keeping me from doing as much work in those directions as I wanted. When I realized that Ryan was losing interest in Pokemon and gaining interest in the other card games, I made him a proposition.

Ryan came to work for me. He only worked on Saturdays, but I paid him enough to cover his gas and buy some cards, plus have a little left over. After a few weeks, it ended up where he’d bring Derek and his friends in Saturday morning, one of the other boys’ parents would pick them up Saturday evening, and Ryan would usually stay over with us Saturday night. It worked out great for everybody.



For the most part, Ryan was a huge help. He was very easy to train and usually friendly with the younger kids. He was also clean cut and well spoken, so the parents were happy when they dropped their younger kids off. At that time, his only responsibility was the tournament, so I was training him in all aspects of that. However, a lot of tournament time was spent waiting for everyone to finish their games; so sometimes Ryan and I would sit and play one of the other games that were beginning to attract his attention.

The one fly in the ointment was, as I mentioned earlier, Ryan could sometimes become very emotional over things. While he was friendly, it was sometimes hard for him to deal with someone who wasn’t as smart as he was. I saw that a couple of times when he was trying to explain the rules to someone. Several times I even had a talk with him about the issue. Since I often felt the same way, it was easy for me to empathize with him. I’d learned a number of ways to deal with that kind of tension and irritation over the years, and I tried to share them with him. Mostly they worked, and over time, I could see him use some of the techniques when he started getting ready to erupt.

Sometimes he didn’t catch himself, though.



There was a kid named Garrett, who had been a magic player before he got into Pokemon. Saying this kid was aggravating would be akin to saying that teenage boys are mildly interested in sex.

I don’t remember what I was doing when I became aware of the situation, but I think everyone in the game room became aware of it at the same time.

"Quit being stupid. I just told you how to do it," we all heard, as Ryan’s voice cut over all the other noise in the room.

I jerked up at that. He hadn’t quite called the other boy a name, but I wanted to stop it before it went any further.

As soon as I climbed to my feet, I could see that Garrett was torn between ducking for cover and trying to stand up to the older boy so he could look macho. Given how Ryan was quivering, I think Garrett would have been wiser to have already been running.

"Ryan," I said softly, as I took him by the shoulder and turned him away from the table. "Why don’t you go get a drink and splash some water in your face? I’ll be out there in a minute."

Ryan was visibly upset, nearly trembling with the desire to smack somebody, but he nodded and stepped away from me, then out of the game room. As soon as he was gone, I turned back to Garrett.

It really was a stupid question. If it had been someone less irritating, I might have given him the benefit of the doubt and assumed he’d read the rules wrong. Considering that it was Garrett, I was more prone to believe that he’d just made a stupid mistake that was going to cost him the game, and he was trying to weasel out of it. Whichever the case, I got the rulebook, showed him the applicable rule, then watched for a minute to make sure he didn’t try anything else.



By the time I was finished with Garrett, Ryan had managed to calm down. He was standing out in the hall, by the water fountain. His face was dry, but his bangs were a little damp.

"I’m sorry, Jack. I…."

"We’re going to have to talk about it, buddy; but let’s wait. You ready to go back to work?"

He nodded, but nervously. I think he hated having to wait for the other shoe to drop. He did make a point of going over to Garrett and apologizing when their match was over.



The rest of the tournament went quietly, but I stayed with Ryan for the rest of the day. The tourney finished up, we gave out prizes, and then I visited with parents coming to pick up players, while Ryan made sure everything was picked up and put away. Finally, when the rush had ended, he came over to me.

"Do you want me to go home tonight?"

"You don’t want to stay over?"

"I thought you were mad at me."

"I’m not mad at you Ryan; but we do need to talk."

He looked very unhappy about that, but didn’t argue.

"Do you want to go home?" I asked him. He shook his head.

"Okay then. Why don’t you go up to my office. I’ll be there in a minute."

He nodded, then hefted his bag. "I’m gonna put my stuff in my car first."

I nodded, then went back to dealing with the last few players.



A few minutes later, I walked into my office. Ryan was seated in the spanking chair, which was the least comfortable of the chairs in my office. Rather than sprawling like he normally would, he was leaning forward, elbows on his knees, and face in his hands.

"You okay?"

He jumped a bit and looked up at me.

"I just feel dumb. I shouldn’ta yelled at that kid."

"You’re right, Ryan. You shouldn’t have yelled at him. And while you didn’t actually call him stupid, you shouldn’t have even used the word." I paused for a second to make sure he wasn’t going to argue, then went on. "What should you have done?"

"You mean after the fourth or fifth time I tried to explain it to him?"

I allowed myself a small smile. "Maybe even earlier than that. How about, ‘What should you have done when he argued your decision with you?’"

He smiled a bit himself, then looked serious again. "Since you were around, I guess I should have got you."

"That would have been your best decision. You are the judge, however, so you could also have just said the same thing you’ve heard me say; something like, ‘I’m sorry you don’t agree, but that’s the way we play it here. Do you want to keep playing?’ See how that would have been better?"

"Yes, sir. You’re not mad at me?"

"No, Ryan. I’m not mad at you. That doesn’t mean you’re not in trouble, though."

"I know."

"I’ve talked to you about that kind of thing before. I know you get frustrated… Lord knows I do too. That does not mean you can yell at these kids, though. They’re paying customers. They pay your salary and keep me in business."

"I know. I really am sorry."

"Since I’ve talked to you before about this, I think we need to do something more than just talk this time. How can I make an impression on you, Ryan? I know you’re trying to control yourself and not get so frustrated, so how can I help you remember that you can’t behave that way? I don’t want to fire you."

At the ‘F’ word, he looked up, his eyes suddenly wide and panicky.

"Please don’t, Jack. I’ll try harder. I promise."

"Ryan, I’ve spanked you before, so I know you’ve heard my lectures. Sometimes ‘sorry’ and ‘trying’ aren’t enough. I know you were provoked, but you did something you knew you shouldn’t have done, and now there has to be a consequence."

He just stared at me for a minute after I’d finished. Finally, into the silence he asked, "You’re gonna spank me?"

When he asked me that, I just looked at him for a minute. I wanted to flat out say yes, just to see how he was going to react. I let the idea run through my head for a minute, and while I did, I really looked at him.

At sixteen, Ryan was already about an inch taller than I was. He was a soccer player and in good shape, though he was far from what you’d call ‘ripped’. He still had the habit of sliding his hand up under his shirt to rub his belly, so I know his stomach was firm and flat, with a slight happy trail climbing towards his navel. His face really hadn’t changed much, which was a bit strange when you considered it. I’d known him about four and one-half years, since before he was twelve, and yet his face was still very boyish. He still wore his hair in bangs and usually above his ears, though it was brushing over the top of them now. Probably the biggest change was the stud he wore in his left ear, which didn’t do a lot to make him look older.

He was becoming very antsy, awaiting my answer, but I finally took a deep breath and replied. "You’re sixteen-years-old, Ryan. On the one hand, you shouldn’t need a spanking to help you remember how to behave. On the other hand, this isn’t the first time I’ve had to talk to you about something like this."

I paused and looked at him, watching him squirm in the chair, but he was looking at me and seemed to be listening. I wasn’t even sure what I wanted to say. I didn’t want him mad at me, but I wanted to spank him. Finally I realized that’s what I needed to say.

"The question is, will a spanking help you get your head on straight, or will it just make you mad at me?"

He looked away for a minute, then shrugged.

"I dunno if it’d help or not, but I wouldn’t be mad at you. I know I screwed up."

I nodded, then instructed him, "Stand up."

He was very nervous and I think his legs were trembling a bit, but he pushed himself to his feet. I stepped forward, looked into his eyes, and let my hand drop to his shoulder.

"You know how I spank, Ryan, and you’ve even had a taste of my paddle. You’re a little big for that now, I think. Did Steve ever tell you what he got when he was in bad trouble?"

"You mean the hairbrush?" he asked in a very small voice.

I nodded.

"You ready for me to pull your pants and boxers down, put you over my lap, and wear your butt out with that brush?"

His eyes were wide and maybe a bit watery, and his lower lip was quivering, but he nodded.

"Then that’s what we’re going to do if this kind of thing happens again. All right?"

He nodded and was lifting his shirt when he realized what I’d said.

"Next time?

"Next time."

"You’re not going to spank me?"

"Not this time. Not if you behave."

The air ran out of the boy like a balloon with a fist-sized hole. I thought for a minute I was going to have to hold him up.



I don’t know if it was that I’d been so upset about his behavior, that he’d felt bad about reacting like he did, or if the threat of being spanked had been that big a shock to him, but Ryan did straighten himself up a lot. Which isn’t to say that he didn’t have the occasional problem, but I do myself, and I’m a fair number of years older than him. What he did manage to do was start catching himself, and he’d ask me to cover for him while he took a break to calm down. That worked great.

At least for the summer.

When school started again, Ryan started being a little tenser. Pokemon was in its explosive period and we were really busy on Saturdays. Ryan loved doing the work, but I’m sure that on top of school and soccer, it was keeping him busy. I talked to him about cutting back or not working, but he wouldn’t hear of it. He assured me he was going fine in school, and soccer practice was only during his gym period at that time, so there was no reason to quit. He even went so far as to say that being able to pay for his own stuff and have some extra gas money made things less stressful for him.

The funniest thing was, it was such a little thing that made him blow up. We’d finished the registration and just gotten the first round of that day’s Pokemon tournament started. Ryan was running around, trying to make sure the money was turned in, the paperwork was started, and the prizes were set aside.

There was a kid named Ronny who’d been trying to get Ryan to trade him some cards. Ronny wasn’t even playing in the tournament that day. Ryan finally had everything done, and he came up to the registration table, handed me a Fresca, popped the top on his Dr. Pepper, and just started to lean back when Ronny came up and asked him again about the trade. I’ll admit it was about the third time I’d heard him ask Ryan about it, and I’d heard Ryan tell him politely that he’d try to make some time to do it later. This time, the kid just picked the wrong time to ask.

Ryan turned around and snapped, "Will you leave me the hell alone for a little while?"

Ronny’s eyes got wide and he stepped back, as if he were scared Ryan wasn’t just going to be throwing words.

"Ryan. Hall. Now." I snapped at him.

Ryan glared at me for just a second, then stalked out of the game room.

I turned my attention to Ronny and apologized for Ryan, but also explained what a pest he was being, and how he needed to have better manners and learn to treat people politely if he wanted to get anything but bad attitude from them. Then I sat him down to watch a game and went out after Ryan.

By the time I got to the hall, Ryan was looking miserable, ashamed, and upset. I walked up and put my hand around his shoulders.

"Am I in trouble?"

"What do you think?" I asked in reply.

He nodded.

"Are you gonna…?" I waited a minute, but he couldn’t finish it.

"What did I tell you last time would happen next time?"

He glanced around to make sure no one could hear, then quietly answered, "You were gonna spank me."

"So, what do you think I should do now?"

His face went beet red and he looked even more miserable and not a little bit embarrassed, as he mumbled, "Spank me."



Despite the fact that he’s taller than I am, Ryan seemed like a little boy as I led him to my office. I pulled out the spanking chair and left him standing in front of it as I walked into my bathroom.

Ryan was watching me, and he flinched when I came back with the brush in my hand. He didn’t move away from me as I walked around and sat in front of him.

"Lift your shirt, Ryan," I instructed him calmly.

"Jack. Please. I’m sixteen-years-old."

"What were we just talking about, Ryan? I thought you told me.…"

"I know, but can’t I PLEASE pull my own clothes off?"

I nearly laughed at the boy, and I think a little snicker may have escaped. I guess he didn’t hold it against me though, since I agreed to let him do that.

Ryan lifted his baggy t-shirt up under his arms and tucked it in. Then, while looking anyplace but at me, he undid the fly of his jeans, spread it, then shoved his jeans and boxers in a wad down past his knees.

While I saw Ryan in his boxers on a very regular basis with him staying at our house almost every weekend, it had been a long time since I’d seen him naked. The boy was very well hung and had a very thick patch of pubic hair, considering that only a few of them had grown up onto his belly so far. His balls were a pretty decent size and hung down well, but his dick looked to be as long and thick as mine, even though he was hanging almost straight down. I had a desperate wish to find out if he was a shower or a grower, but never did think of a way to do it.

As soon as he was bare, Ryan let me take his arm and pull him to my side, then across my lap. He was too tall for it to be a great position for him, but we did manage to get him over my lap, though his toes were on the ground on one side, and the only reason his head wasn’t on the ground was because he was using his hands to keep his upper body raised.

"OW!" Ryan cried as the first smack of the brush landed on the center of his left, lightly haired cheek, leaving a dark pink blotch. He yelled again when the same thing happened to the right side.

Maybe Ryan didn’t really remember how badly the paddle had hurt, or maybe he couldn’t believe how much worse the brush was. Whatever the reason, as that brush moved around, painting his creamy tush in shades of red, he let me know all about it.

"No, Jack! That hurts too much. Please! I’m sorry. No more. That’s enough. I’ve learned. I promise. Please, Jack! PLEASE!"

The brush kept moving, though, as he was squirming around. He was trying to push himself off my lap, but it was hard to keep his feet on the ground when I would land a swat to his upper thighs every once in a while, which resulted in his legs coming up and scissoring back and forth.

Ryan continued pleading with me, but his words began to be broken by more ouches and yelps, then a few quiet sobs crept in. They didn’t stay quiet for long.

I ignored his antics until his left hand shot back. Instead of trying to cover his butt, he tried to grab my hand. We ended up struggling a bit, but I finally got his hand towards the small of his back, then grabbed it with my left arm, pinned it down, and grabbed his hip again before he could squirm off my lap.

"Please," he sobbed as I pinned his hand. "No more, Jack."

"Yes more, Ryan," I answered, before resuming the spanking. "I think you know you need this, and I think you know we’re not finished."

With that, the brush went back to work, moving around his cheeks and sneaking down to his upper thighs for a few swats, before going back. Ryan was tough, though, for all the noise he was making. He was sobbing hard and loud, kicking and squirming, fighting to free his hands, but he never did start crying.

Finally, his butt was a decent shade of medium red. Considering how much area I had to cover, I thought that was plenty. As soon as I let him go, he shot to his feet, nearly stumbling over the jeans that had settled around his ankles, as he started dancing around, trying to rub away the burning sting. He certainly didn’t seem bothered by the show he was putting on, though I enjoyed it a great deal.

After a few long moments, he started to settle down, and I stood up. Tears were flowing down his face, his shirt was still mostly tucked up his chest, and his jeans and boxers were around his ankles, but he looked me right in the eyes.

"I’m sorry for being such a baby."

"It hurt, Ryan. I guess it hurt worse than you expected. You still took it well."

He smiled, but it was a bit skeptical.

"Are you mad at me?" I asked.

He shook his head. "Shouldn’t I be asking that?"

"I’m frustrated with you sometimes, and maybe disappointed, but I love you too much to be mad at you, little brother."

Ryan smiled shyly when I said that and looked away for a second, but then he looked back up at me and opened his arms.

In return, I opened mine, and the boy stepped into a hug.

Tears were still flowing, but I held him tight for a minute, letting him take what comfort he wanted, and I only loosened my arms when I felt his loosen. Then he stepped back.

"Can I get dressed now?

"Sure," I answered, then added, "You gonna be okay?"

He looked up from bending to get his boxers and pants untangled, and nodded.

"You gonna behave?"

He stood to pull his boxers into place. As soon as they were covering him, he reached behind to rub his rear.

"I’m sure gonna try!" he said in a very sincere voice.



Ryan had a few more troubles after that, but I never had to spank him again. That made me proud of him, but it was just a little bit irritating as well.





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