Where There's Smoke...

I always end up feeling guilty and hypocritical when I spank one of the boys for doing something that I not only did and enjoyed, but got away with, when I was a kid. Part of me wonders if I’m being fair or doing it just because I enjoy spanking them. Sometimes I wonder if I’m being unfair by not letting them enjoy things that I enjoyed doing when I was a kid.

For the most part, I know that’s not a real problem. The simple fact of the matter is that it’s a parent’s job to teach a kid to be an adult. In my opinion, there are two important facets to that. The first is to make sure that a kid knows what’s expected of him and is able to do those things. The second aspect is that the kid knows the consequences if he doesn’t do those things, and is able to make a fair and balanced risk-assessment before deciding to do them anyway.

Does that sound incredibly pragmatic or even unethical? Consider this then. Would you rob a bank? Okay, what if your car won’t start. You don’t have a ride, and Wal-Mart is over a mile closer to you than the nearest auto supply store. You know the part you need and it’s only a couple of dollars. The problem is, it’s two days before Christmas and the line for the express lane is over thirty minutes long. Since you have someplace to be, are you going to stand in the line or slip that thing under your coat and walk out? What if you’re checking out, hand the lady at the register a ten and she gives you change for a twenty? Would you react differently in any of those situations? Did you have to think about one of them a lot more than another? They’re all theft aren’t they?

The thing is, legally, if not morally, they’re not the same. If the lady counts the change wrong, I’m not even sure your taking it is illegal. So there’s a different level of risk to all of those things. The same with speeding. I speed on the highway all the time, but I never speed in a school zone. Why? Because the school zone has stricter penalties, a higher chance of getting caught, and a higher chance of something bad happening if I do. It’s a judgment call on my part and I believe kids have to learn to do that. They’ll be a lot healthier and happier in life if they also learn to accept the consequences when they do choose to violate a rule, then put it behind them instead of ranting about how unfair life is and how everyone’s against them.

Dean Marchant always gets off early on Wednesdays because he has to be at the warehouse early to make sure we’re ready for the comic shipment to arrive. Yesterday, because Roland was still home sick with tonsillitis, Andrew agreed to lock up for Doug, and Doug left a few minutes earlier than normal, even after taking a long lunch to go home and check on the boy.

It was right at 6pm when Dean arrived. He stuck his head in the kitchen to say hello to me, then we went back to get his kids. I stuck my head into the twins’ room, expecting to find all of them, as well as Riley Malone, but only found Josh, lying on his bed, reading a book, and seeming upset about something. There were no obvious signs, but I’ve known Josh all his life and can tell when something’s bothering him. It wasn’t something he wanted to discuss, though.

"Okay. Well, you know I’m here if you want to talk. In the meantime, do you know where the guys are?"

"No, sir," he replied cautiously.

"Well, Dean’s here to get Doug. Can you make a guess?"

"Oh!" he said, suddenly sitting up and looking startled. "I’ll go get them."

Now, something was obviously wrong, since he’d already said he didn’t know where they were. Alarm bells weren’t actually sounding, but I was growing curious.

"You don’t even have your shoes on, Josh. If you don’t know where they are, where do you think they are?"

"Down by the creek." He managed a pretty neutral tone, but I suddenly had a good bet that they were down by the creek doing something they weren’t supposed to do, and whatever it was had been enough to drive Josh back to his bedroom.

Thanking him, Dean and I headed out back. We’d gone out the utility room, with me grabbing a jacket on the way out, and walked along the fence. I was about to suggest he and I split up and each take one of the main trails they might have followed and call each other in a few minutes or when we found them, but it turned out not to be necessary. As soon as we reached the end of the fence, there they were—huddling out of the wind and warming their hands around the fire.

Dean went off before I did. I half listened while he lectured and half examined the fire they’d built. It wasn’t too bad. They’d surrounded it with some rocks and had cleared the ground beneath it, but hadn’t cleared enough ground around it, and it was too high and loose, where it would have been easy for a gust of wind to blow a stray twig out. For that matter, it was too close to the fence. While we’re still reasonably damp and I wasn’t too worried, it wasn’t exactly a safe fire, and if we hadn’t had a very damp autumn, it could have been dangerous.

Dean had punctuated his lecture by yanking Doug up and landing several swats on the back of his pants, so I did the same with Riley, leaving Johnny for Dean to finish. When all three boys had been swatted, we lined them up and did a thorough job of putting out the fire. I started to put them nose to the fence, then changed my mind and let them watch as we smothered the fire, spreading it to look for embers, then had Johnny run get the dogs’ water dish for us to pour over it. As soon as we were sure the fire was out, we marched the three very unhappy boys back to the house.

Dean and I have shared discipline chores since the first week I met him. We don’t agree on everything; he spanks for things I don’t, but most of his spankings are less intense than mine (it’s from him that I got the idea of ‘good’ spankings—short spankings meant to sting, but not provoke full blown tears—though with him they’re actually used for discipline more than with me). We do both agree, however, that spankings do the most good when they’re soonest applied, and that sharing a mutually earned punishment is a good way to reinforce a lesson. I took Dean aside and informed him of what was going to happen to Johnny. He agreed, so he stayed to supervise the three boys getting out of coats and things, while I called Kim Malone.

Kim wasn’t happy to hear what had been going on and agreed to let me handle it. Her only caveat was that I wait a few minutes for Curtis to get there, to which I agreed. As soon as I hung up the phone, I ran upstairs to request a favor.

Back downstairs, the three boys were wilting under Dean’s stern gaze. While waiting, I took the opportunity to add my own two cents to the lecture, concentrating on the fact that their fire hadn’t been built safely, that they’d had some luck in that because of the recent weather, and the fact that fire damage isn’t any better because it was ‘only messing around’ or ‘an accident’. As I was mentioning the fact that accidental fires that are caused by carelessness are still legally punishable, we were interrupted by Daniel.

"What you boys did was wrong and dangerous, and you knew it was against the rules. All three of you were in Cub Scouts, and I taught you the camping rules myself. What do you remember about campfires?"

All three boys looked ashamed and began to study their shoes, but Doug finally looked up at me and said, "We don’t mess with them without adult supervision."

"That’s right, but it’s exactly what you did. It didn’t get away from you, but that’s not an excuse for doing it. I’m not going to try to scare you into doing what you’re supposed to do with horror stories of one of you getting hurt or the house burning down. However, like I said, starting fires where you’re not supposed to can get you in trouble with the law. Whether you boys knew that or not, you knew you weren’t supposed to do it."

I gestured at Daniel, who’d been standing patiently during the lecture, and whom they’d looked at briefly when he first came up. Now they were staring at him. "Daniel’s going to take you three out and show you how to pick a switch."

A sob escaped Johnny’s lips. I knew the other two boys had never received, or even seen, a switching, but I guess someone had told them about them. Doug moaned, and Riley looked like he was about to sick up.

This day was the coldest day we’ve had so far this season. It never got above 37, and the wind had been between ten and fifteen miles all day long. Because of that, the guys weren’t going to have to go out naked, but I made sure to explain that they were lucky to the extent that they were missing part of the punishment.

Daniel had pulled on a jacket after putting on his shoes, but I sent the other boys out in shirtsleeves. They weren’t going to be out there long, and it would remind them of how much cold they were getting to miss.

We didn’t have to wait long for them to come back, but it was long enough for Curtis Malone to show up with Tim, Donny, and Scooter in tow (Tyler was already here, playing with Tristan, Gordy, and Bryce). Those three boys took seats on the couch, while Doug and I had a brief discussion with Curtis. When our three campers came back in, each carrying a vicious looking switch, they stood, shivering under our collective gazed, and I’m sure it wasn’t just from the cold.

Taking seats on the other couch, we each stood our boy in front of us and began to undress him. This time I was handling the lecture, with the other dads chipping in an occasional comment. I explained to them (again), why spankings are necessary, what boys need to learn from them, and why this one was going to be especially bad. By the time the lecture was finished (and the three of them were nude), they were all nearly in tears. I finished by pointing out that no matter how they acted or what mistakes they made, we loved them, and that, even when we imposed what might seem harsh punishments as consequences, we hoped they loved us. I made sure that each of the three boys knew I meant that I loved all three of them, and wasn’t surprised when Curtis and Dean did the same. Once they’d been reassured, we sent the three of them, as a group, to fetch the other boys that were in the house to witness the session, telling them to start upstairs.

As soon as they were gone, I adjusted things a bit to make a fitting stage, then we waited. It was only a few moments before boys began to trickle in. Except for PJ, who was in his apartment studying for a final, all my boys were home and came in. Along with my troop and the Malone boys, we had Dean’s nephew Tristan and Gordy and Dex, (all three of whom I supervise every day after school), but we also had a few visitors: Kevin Wales, Mark Flunt (who looked very glad his first real spanking hadn’t gone down like this), and Ryan Wheeler (who looked both bemused and delighted, but I doubt anyone else would have noticed it).

Curtis hadn’t had a chance to lecture yet, so I turned things over to him, having given him a few hints about what I said in this situation. He was lecturing our three miscreants, but obviously addressing the whole crew. He explained how dangerous that kind of behavior could be and pointed out that even Scooter (the youngest boy there) knew better than to do it. Further, he mentioned that burns are one of the most painful wounds you can receive and that they may never heal completely. Because of that, he explained, we fathers had agreed that a special punishment was called for this time, and that the other boys deserved a chance to learn from this as well.

While Curtis was doing an admirable job on the lecture, I had the chance to quietly observe the three naked boys. They were all squirming, probably in guilt and humiliation both. None of them were shy about being naked, but that was with their friends, or while everyone else was naked and playing in the pool or something. Being naked, not only while everyone else was dressed, but while awaiting punishment, was obviously an entirely different kettle of fish.

Even as distressed as they were, they were a delight to behold, each of them very different from the others. Having turned thirteen in September, Doug was the oldest, while Riley, who’d only turned eleven last month, was the youngest. All three boys were adolescent, but Doug isn’t really that much bigger or more mature (physically—emotionally there’s a reason he’s friends more with the twins than Barry and Noah). Doug has thick, medium brown hair that he wears a bit long (usually about collar length) and beautiful blue eyes. Johnny wears his blond hair shorter than that, but not as short as Riley’s black hair. Johnny’s blue eyes are a lighter shade than Doug’s, but not nearly as light as Riley’s gray eyes. All three boys are cute, but while Doug is the cutest, I think Riley is going to turn out to be a handsome man.

I have to blush a bit when I admit that their faces weren’t really what I was studying. I’ve seen all three boys naked more than a time or two (and I’ve spanked all three of them), but having them lined up like this was certainly interesting. Each boy was being required to hold his switch in both hands, behind his back, so they were unable to hide anything from the other boys (or from me). Riley’s only about three months older than Bryce, though he’s on a more average growth schedule, but I don’t think his peter is any bigger than Bryce’s. On the other hand, Riley’s balls have started to swell, with the result that his penis looks pretty small hanging over them. Johnny is about eight months older than Riley. The twins’ dad wasn’t an early grower, and it looks like the twins are going to follow suit. However, standing next to Riley, you could tell he was an early adolescent. Johnny’s balls were about as big as Riley’s, but he’s recently started to get some dangle. His penis, however, while only a bit thicker than Riley’s, looked to be almost twice as long (maybe three inches?). Even though he’s not especially mature for even a brand-new teenager, Doug is still bigger than the other two boys; with his balls dangling loose and uneven now, his penis, though about the same length as Johnny’s, is probably twice as thick.

Soon enough, I had to get back to business as Curtis finished his lecture. Since I was the only experienced switcher, I’d been given the honors. I started by announcing the sentence; that each boy would be receiving a number of strokes equal to his age on his next birthday, and that we’d be proceeding from youngest to oldest. Riley was not exactly thrilled to hear that, but he didn’t resist as his father led him over to the side of the couch that we’d kept clear of witnesses.

With him standing at side of the couch, I turned him to face it, then had him lie across the arm. Once he was in position, I took his hips and lifted him so his bottom was at just the right level and his feet were off the floor. After a quick warning to keep his hands in front of him, and a suggestion that he grab the cushion, I started work.

None of the Malone boys are heavyset. Though Riley has a very nice bottom, it’s lean and dimpled, not leaving a lot of surface area over which the switch can spread its bite. He tensed as the switch whistled hungrily down. There was a moment’s silence as the first stroke sliced across his cheeks, then he shrieked as the pain really hit him.

Before I could aim the second swat, Riley went crazy. He was kicking around, trying to get off the arm of the couch. He was squirming hard and his hands were flying around behind him. I placed my hand in the small of his back to hold him down, but couldn’t catch his hands. After a lengthy few seconds, Curtis chased Cal off the other end of the couch and sat down by Riley’s head. Capturing Riley’s hands in one of his, Curtis placed his other hand around the boy’s shoulders. It didn’t still him, but it settled him down a lot.

With him back in position, except his flailing, kicking legs, I placed the second stroke just below the first. His head came up and he shrieked just as loudly before returning to his hard crying. His reaction was the same with every stroke, and he fought harder to get away, until about the seventh, after which he must have been just too sore to keep trying. His struggles—kicking and squirming— died away, and he finally just lay there, only his voice rising in protest as the last three swats sliced into his sit spots and upper legs.

Curtis held on for another moment after the last stroke fell, before releasing the boy. I dropped the switch and leaned forward to help Riley up. He moved slowly and with stiffness, but clung to me fiercely once I put my arms around him. He was still crying hard and loud but was saying something over and over. I think he was apologizing, though it could have been oaths of vengeance for all I could really understand. Still, I assured him that it was all right now and that I loved him. It seemed to be the right thing to say, and he settled down just a little as I rubbed his back with one hand and let the other trace across the ridges on his rear.

I held him for a moment longer, while Curtis climbed to his feet, then I turned the boy to his father, to whom he clung just as fiercely, and this time I could understand his pleas for forgiveness. After a moment, Curtis loosened the hug and led the boy to stand over by the other two, then stood behind him, holding Riley’s arms to his side to keep the boy from rubbing.

Johnny’s cheeks were already wet and I could see his chest shaking with silent sobs as I held my hand out towards him. He started shaking his head hard, so I walked over to him. He was still shaking his head, even as he slowly reached out and took my hand. He didn’t resist when I led him to the couch, though there was a moment of tension when I guided him to the arm. I started to guide him into place, then stopped and whispered a question to him. He nodded, then looked around for a moment before saying, ‘Charlie.’

Charlie jumped when I said his name, but then nodded and came to sit where Curtis had been. He didn’t look very happy, and I hated to put him in this position. Not just because he was having to participate, however indirectly, in the punishment of his brother; but because he’d once confided in me that he and a couple of his friends had used to set little camp fires in the trails. Through luck or planning, they’d never been caught, and his face made it obvious he was experiencing a genuine ‘there but for the grace…’ moment. Still, he did it.

I helped Johnny across the couch’s arms, lifting him a bit, then Charlie took his hands, and rested one of his own hands in Johnny’s back. With the boy secure, I took his switch and raised it above his little rear.

The switch cut the air and sliced across Johnny’s tender, pale bottom. He howled, though not as loudly as Riley had. He struggled, trying to free his hands from his big brother, but only succeeding in jerking around. When the switch came up, there was a pink stripe across his pale rear, which was quickly darkening to red.

The next stroke drew another howl, maybe a bit louder. His struggles, which had eased a bit, intensified again, and his legs began to kick around, not just up and down, but side to side, either trying to ease the sting or just get out of the way.

With each stroke, his cries and struggles grew harder and harder, then finally peaked when eight lines marked most of his bottom, from the top nearly to the sit spots. By the time the ninth stroke whistled down, he was bawling loud and hard, and his struggles began to weaken, until he was barely squirming as the twelfth let its mark.

Like Riley, he allowed me to gently help him to his feet, then clung to me as his legs nearly fell out from beneath him. He was crying loud and hard and clung to me desperately as I quietly whispered over and over again that it was okay and that I loved him. I softly traced my fingers across each welt on his little rear as I did it, rubbing his back at the same time. After tracing each line, I turned him over to Charlie, who led him to stand next to Curtis.

There was nothing silent about Doug right then. I really felt sorry for the boy. He might get spanked more than Riley or Johnny, but two-thirds of his were only hand spankings, and he wasn’t used to the paddlings, brushings, or beltings the two younger boys received. He was crying aloud as I motioned to his father and tried to resist as Dean led him over to the couch. Dean was inexorable, though, and soon had him at the arm of the couch and was pulling him across it. I had to get the switch he‘d dropped, but was right back and helped Dean get him into place.

Even with Dean holding his hands and me holding a bit of pressure on his back, Doug was struggling hard and kicking so wildly I couldn’t get a clean shot at his bottom. After a moment, I called to Bobby and had him hold Doug’s feet. Between the three of us, Doug could squirm and struggle but could barely move otherwise.

Doug shrieked as the switch bit into his bottom, rounder and fuller than the younger boys’, and one I loved to have across my lap. Again and again the switch bit down, but I don’t think Doug was shrieking as loudly as Riley had. As a matter of fact, I think he got a little control of himself as the switching went on. I can only guess that he’d been so panicked and horrified by what he’d seen, that there was no way the real thing could be as bad as he’d been fearing.

Then again, it wasn’t fun either. He did regain some control of himself, but he’d already been on the edge, and he was bawling loud and hard before I got to the tenth stroke. By the thirteenth, I think he was on the edge of hysteria and could barely stand when I tried to help him up.

Trouble standing or not, Doug clung to me just as hard as his friends had. He was too incoherent to even try to say anything, and so desperate that he wouldn’t release me when I tried to switch him to his father. Finally, I pulled Dean into a group hug with us, then slowly transferred the boy over to him.

It had only been a few minutes since I’d finished Riley’s switching. Glancing at him, I could see that he was still shaking with sobs, and tears still flowed down his face. I think he was quiet, though his cries may only have been drowned out by Johnny, who was still shaking hard with his loud sobs. After hugging his son a moment, Dean led the boy to the other three. Then all three boys were guided to the fireplace, where we helped them onto the hearth where they had to stand, with noses facing (or leaning down on) the mantle, making their striped bottoms the focus of the room.

With the three of them all still crying and doing a very public corner time, we chased the rest of the boys off, either to get back to what they were doing or to get ready to go, if their father/uncle was now here. As the boys left, the murmur of conversation suggested that my boys were detailing to the others exactly what they could do to earn a starring row in a similar performance. I paused a moment to separate Wheels from the rest of the boys, then quietly suggested he use my bathroom if he needed.

As soon as the room was clear, I made a final suggestion to the other fathers, and we let the boys come down. Only a few minutes had passed, but with the worst over, they’d all been able to get themselves under some control. One at a time, each of us dads shared a group hug with the boys. Our families are close and we do all care for the other kids, even though I could tell it was pretty uncomfortable for Curtis. Once that was done, we led the boys to the half bath and let them clean up, before taking them back to the living room to get dressed. Once again, I feel a little bad about it, but I have to admit there was some entertainment value in watching them pull briefs, then jeans, over their tender and well-striped bottoms. Johnny wanted to stay nude, so I offered him the choice of dressing or going back to corner time, so he said goodbye to his friends and went to stick his nose against the wall next to the fireplace.

Once their boys were dressed, Curtis and Dean went to fetch their other boys, and I took the moment of privacy for one last hug, and to let Riley know that he was still invited to come over the next day for brownies (along with all his brothers, of course). I don’t expect the boys to hold even a hard punishment against me, but I was surprised at how affectionate the two of them were before they left.



It only took a few minutes for Wheels to come back out of my bathroom, and I did ask him a couple of questions (he and his brothers are going to stay a couple of days with us over the Christmas holidays since neither parent can get off work). After he’d come and gone, I let Johnny out of the corner and watched him walk, slow, stiff, and tender, to his room.

With dinner now running late, I went to my bathroom to take a leak and wash up, and found I had one last thing to deal with. I fetched Wheels from Barry and Noah’s room, explaining (more for Noah’s benefit than anything) that he needed to learn to clean up after himself if he made a mess. Back in my bathroom, I made him drop pants and boxers before placing a few good, hard swats on his bottom, and made him clean the cum off the back of my toilet, before letting him dress. Judging by his reaction, I think he might not mind a few hand swats as much as he does a full spanking.



Oh, and I did have a talk with Josh that night. It was obvious to me that he knew what the other boys had been up to. He didn’t do it with them, but he didn’t let anyone else know, either. I was tempted to be mad at him and even thought about spanking him. In the end, I decided that he’d made a good decision by leaving, and that, at eleven, I can’t expect him to snitch on his best friends and brother. Instead, I told him I was proud of the decision that he’d made and suggested a few ways he might be able to talk his brother (or another friend) out of doing something that he knew was wrong without causing hard feelings or humiliating him. Quietly whispering, ‘Won’t Dad use a switch if he catches you?’ is one great approach.





Return to Story List

Return to Table of Contents