Steve @ 16

It was Wednesday morning, 10 December, 1997. It was a few minutes before 7am, and I’d already made sure everyone was up and moving. Of course, back then ‘everybody’ wasn’t quite as large as it is these days. At that time, it was just Steve, Tommy, my brother Aaron, and I.

Steve was the only morning person among my boys at that time, so he’s the one I woke last. By the time Tommy and Aaron had managed to struggle their way downstairs, grumbling and bumping into things as they’d come, Steve was up and right behind them.

At first it seemed like just a normal morning. Tommy was just in his briefs, and Aaron just in his boxers. After the time Cathy had spent with us, Steve had gotten out of the habit of casual nudity and so pulled on a robe before coming down, though I knew he had nothing beneath it.

With the younger boys already at the table, Steve stepped by me, not pausing as he wished me good morning. As soon as I heard the refrigerator open, I grabbed a dishtowel and popped it at him. "Not out of the carton, you heathen." He danced away from the pop, laughing at me and grabbing a glass for his orange juice.

As soon as he’d sat down, I flipped an omelet onto a plate and carried it over to him, then went back for mine, which had been warming. Steve took a deep breath, then looked up at me.

"You got up early enough to grill the onions?"

"That’s how you like it, boy. This day only comes once a year."

He smiled a bit shyly. "Thanks, Dad."

"You’re welcome, but I hope you don’t mind if Aaron and I have plain ham and cheese?"

Hearing his name, Aaron looked up from stuffing his mouth for a minute, then went back to it, realizing no one was talking to him. Steve laughed, then reached for the paper. I slapped his hand.

"Not this morning. I need to check a few things while you stuff your face."

He nodded, looking expectant.

"First… Tommy, don’t forget that Granny’s going to pick you up after school today, and she’s going to take you Christmas shopping. Okay?"

Tommy’s darkening blond head nodded without looking up from his plate.

"Aaron…."

"I know, I know. Come straight home, no guests, chores, and homework." There was a second’s silence, then he added, in a muttered undertone, "Like I ever get to do anything else."

"Actually," I replied to my sullen little brother, while casually reaching out and thumping him on the ear, earning an annoyed glance that I chose to ignore, "your mom’s going to pick you up here at 4:30 and take you for dinner and some Christmas shopping. So do the homework and the chores, but be ready for her."

He perked up at that, and I turned my attention back to Steve.

"As for you…."

"Come straight out front by the cafeteria. That’s where you’ll pick me up."

"You got it. Think you’re ready to pass your driver’s test?"

"I hope so. I’m really only worried about parallel parking. I’m okay on everything else, aren’t I? I don’t have to take the written again?"

"You’re fine on everything, and you took the written when you got your learner’s permit. Just take a deep breath. You’re going to be fine."

He nodded, tried to relax a minute, then went back to his plate. I ate a minute, letting his teenage appetite run him most of the way through his plate, while the other two boys started to awaken and a little conversation drifted around the table. Finally, about halfway through his hash browns, Steve reached for the paper again.

"Oh, there was one other thing, Steve." I waited while he looked up at me. "Did you want to take your test in the Honda or the Toyota?"

He looked up at me, confusion plain on his face. "We don’t have a Toyota."

"Sure we do," I assured him. "Dark blue Corolla. 1998 model. It’s in the driveway. Here," I said, tossing him the keys, "go check it out."

The look on his face was indescribable but priceless, and I hate that I didn’t have a camera ready. I had to stop him as he went towards the door.

"Steve, it’s pretty chilly outside so you might want to put some pants on."

He blushed and turned to head back towards his room, but I stopped him again.

"Hang on, I almost forgot one other thing we should take care of."

He turned back to me, a quizzical look on his face that grew a bit panicky when I reached out, grabbed him by the wrist, and gave him a quick tug to me. I didn’t get a chance to say anything else, as Tommy, suddenly wide awake and full of energy, jumped out shouting, "Birthday spanking."

Even with sixteen swats from me, plus three sets of ‘one to grow on’ and ‘one to be good on’ he wasn’t too red. How red he actually was was pretty obvious, since I’d not stopped Aaron from flipping up the back of Steve’s robe before I landed the first swat. Steve took it pretty well, but I do think I saw him making notes to remember this on other people’s next birthdays.



Before he’d left for school, Steve and I had decided that no matter how badly he wanted to do otherwise, it would probably be better for him to take the test in the car in which he’d done all his driving so far, so I picked him up in the Honda that afternoon. After passing his exam (with flying colors, might I add), we went by the house to pick up the Toyota so he could drive his very own car for the first time on the way to the restaurant.

Steve and I had dinner alone at a local steakhouse that we both liked. It wasn’t that Tommy and Aaron didn’t know how to behave at a nice restaurant. It wasn’t even that Steve didn’t love his little brothers (and his little uncle). It was just that he’d been an only child for years. Now, he had three little brothers (one of whom lived with us currently, but the other two were very near by) and my little brother, and he didn’t get the time to which he was once accustomed. He never (well, rarely at least) complained about it, and he was at the age where he wanted more time to himself, but I still felt bad about it. A private, midweek dinner was the least I could manage for him. However, I did have a bit of an ulterior motive.

After our order had been taken, I looked around to make sure we weren’t likely to be overheard, then explained to him, "We do have one serious thing we need to discuss. Would you prefer to get it over with, or wait until we’re through with dinner?"

"Now, I guess. Is it bad?"

"No, you might even think it’s good. It is serious, though, and I wanted to do it when we had some privacy. I think this is private enough. Okay?"

He nodded.

"Good man. And that’s actually just what I wanted to talk to you about. Where’s your paddle, Steve?"

Now he glanced around, not quite blushing, but looking uncomfortable before he answered, "Still in my drawer."

"That’s what I thought, and it’s going to change." Steve raised an eyebrow, but didn’t interrupt, so I went on. "When we get home, you can take it to my office. You’re not going to need it anymore."

Steve got very excited about that, and I almost hated to throw water on him. "Which isn’t to say that you’re not going to be punished anymore. We’re just not going to use that anymore."

In truth, we’d really not been using it for a while. While Steve had suffered from spates of trouble, he was overall a good kid. Despite, or maybe because of my enjoyment of spanking him, we’d been putting it away for a while now, leaving the paddle in the drawer a little more often as the months went by, and using more restrictions. The threat of spanking had still been hanging over his head, but I was pretty sure that we’d not used it since the previous school year—over six months. It was past time to retire the thing.

"Of course," I went on, after giving him the bad news. "After all, now that you can drive, I have a much more effective threat."

I left it lying there for the short moment it took to register with him.

"Oh, c’mon, Dad."

"Don’t worry too much. I’m not going to be any stricter with you than I’ve ever been. You don’t need it, not like…."

I let the sentence fade away, since both of us knew the two younger boys did need the constant attention (and threat) that Steve had never really needed.

"The real point I wanted to make is a car is a lot of responsibility. You’ve already shown me that you can be responsible around the house, so I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt now. However, along with having the car, you’re going to be having new responsibilities. You won’t just get to drive for fun. I’m going to be covering your insurance and increasing your allowance to cover some gas, so I’m going to expect you to run the occasional errand and chauffeur the younger kids sometimes. We okay with that?"

He was. Like me at that age, I think a lot of it was just ‘any excuse to drive.’

"The only other change is I’m going to get real strict about your curfew. It’s one thing for you to be ten minutes or so while you’re on your bike, but in a car, I’m going to worry for a while. That means if I tell you to be home at 10pm, you’d better be home by 10pm. That doesn’t mean ten after anymore. Got me?"

"Gotcha."

The only other thing I can think of is I told you we’re getting rid of your paddle. As far as I’m concerned, you never have to get another…" I paused and looked around, then leaned forward and lowered my voice, "…spanking as long as you live. However, it’s up to you. The only way I’ll do it is if I catch you breaking a restriction or if I find out you’ve broken a law. We might talk about it if you’re already on restriction and get into more trouble, but I don’t really see that happening. So, if you want to avoid… that, then just follow the laws and don’t violate a restriction. Can you live with that?"

He nodded his head and mumbled ‘yes, sir,’ as he stuck a piece of bread into his mouth.

"Then I guess that finishes the lecture, and just in time too, since that looks like our appetizers heading this way."



Steve and I had a pleasant dinner together. It was even better when we got home. Despite being a school night, I’d called a few of his friends over, my mom had opened the house, and we had a small (and fairly quick) party. I even let him drive those of his friends without cars home (and he made it back safely, much to my relief).

It seems I had lied to him about one thing, though. Ronnie and Nolan insisted on digging Steve’s old paddle out of my office and using it for his birthday spanking, insisting the one that morning hadn’t been official, since it hadn’t been at his party. I think by the time he’d taken a few ‘to grow ons’ (none of his friends expected him to be good anyway), he was starting to get a little tender. On the other hand, since Ronnie and Steve share the same birthday and Nolan’s was the next day, he wasn’t the only one to get a taste of it. (He later admitted that instant retribution is much better than having to wait months.)

The next week went great. He was happy to be able to drive himself to school (even though he had to park in the back of the lot), and was happy to pick Aaron and Tommy up for me some days. He loved that he was able to visit his mom that weekend but still be able to sleep in his bed that night. He was also very conscientious about following the new rules and being on time.

For almost ten days.



The 19th of December was the last day of school, and the kids wanted to celebrate. It was a debate party, so I wasn’t expecting anything wild, but I still wasn’t sure about letting him go off in his own vehicle. We finally came to a compromise—well, I gave him his choice of how to proceed anyway: he could drive and have a strict 1:30 am curfew, or he could get a ride with one of his older friends (whom I knew and trusted) and stay out until the party ended. He carped, complained, and begged long and loud enough that I finally pointed out there was no law saying I had to let him go at all. With much ill grace, he agreed to the 1:30am curfew.

I trusted Steve, but I also knew him. I had little or no expectation that he was going to go out ‘cruising’ or sneak away from the party and get drunk. My worry was that someone else was going to do something stupid. After he’d finished whining and made his decision, I sat down and explained that he had almost no experience driving by himself, it was a Friday night, and I wanted him safely home before two a.m., when the bars closed and the roads filled with morons. Once he understood that I wasn’t mistrusting him, he seemed to be a bit mollified.

I’ve hosted enough of these debate parties in the last few years to know they’re almost exactly the same as they were when I was a kid. There would be a little music and dancing, some kind of snacks and plenty of soft drinks, a gift exchange, and a lot of gossip. It was basically some kids that spent a lot of time together in school situations (since debate tournaments are pretty formal and structured) having a chance to relax together and blow off some steam. Kids who seek trouble aren’t really drawn to debate, and the few that try it rarely last long. The ones who come to the parties are laid back, and their idea of trouble would be to sneak off to a corner to make out a few minutes, or maybe play a ‘slap and tickle’ game. Still, even though I wasn’t worried about what they’d be doing, I also knew that there was no reason Steve needed to be there all night.

He, apparently, disagreed.

I didn’t wait up for him, and I didn’t set my alarm clock, but I awoke at 1:25 and went to check. No boy in the bedroom, no car in the garage. By the time I’d gotten rid of a used glass of water and taken in a fresh one, still no boy. I waited ten minutes, then another five, before taping a note to his door and going back to bed. I’d barely pulled the covers up when I heard the garage door opener click on. I squinted at the clock to see 1:52. Well, at least he was home. It’d certainly be easier to go back to sleep without having to worry. I was sure that when he saw the note I’d left, he’d do the worrying for both of us.



It was getting close to 11am the next morning before I saw Steve. I made a point of taking at least one day off most weekends to spend with the boys. My other day off came during the week, when I could get errands and chores down without a lot of interruptions. Tommy was sprawled out in the living room with Brandon (for more information about Brandon, see Tommy and the Sixth Sense). Both boys were still in their briefs as they watched the last of the cartoons and snuck in wrestling matches during commercials. Aaron was still in his room, either catching up on the sleep adolescent boys rarely seem to get enough of, or possibly just hiding out from chores that ‘the evil tyrant’ (which would be me) might have planned for him. I was in the kitchen making a grocery list for the upcoming holiday when Steve finally came down.

"Good morning, Sunshine," I greeted him, not wanting to start the day by hectoring him. He knew he was in trouble, and I saw no reason I shouldn’t give him a few minutes to wake up and feed himself before the lecture started.

Steven had walked down in a pair of jeans, obviously fresh from the shower. It was an old pair of 501s, faded to a pale blue, slightly too short for him, as evidenced by the hint of ankle I could see, but still baggy enough to slide part way down his hips, exposing the waist of his Jockey briefs. He really looked good. He’d brushed out his blond hair, which looked much darker while it was still damp, but not bothered parting it, so it still hung down over his forehead, giving him a more boyish look than he normally had these days. Not that there was much boyish about his body these days. Even though he was mainly a soccer player, he made sure to work his upper body, and his chest and pecs were filling out nicely but not heavily. He wasn’t what you’d call ripped, but he had a firm, lean build like a greyhound, with a crease running down his belly and hints of a six pack to the sides. He had a definite waist, though not much hips. With the jeans on, you couldn’t tell that he had any body hair, though with his blond hair, it was often hard to see the hair he did have, even when it was exposed. Of course, I got to see this sight every day, sometimes even naked, so I wasn’t exactly drooling, but it was still pleasant to look at him.

"Morning," he replied to me, rather shyly and a bit nervously.

"I didn’t make breakfast this morning, but there’s plenty to choose."

"I’m not real hungry right now, Dad," he answered, grabbing the orange juice and pouring a glass, before climbing onto one of the kitchen counter stools.

"Do you want to talk about last night then?"

He nodded.

"There’s really not a lot to say, Son. We’ve talked about this three times that I can think of." He started to object, so I counted them off for him. "I mentioned it before your birthday, though not in a lot of detail, then we talked very specifically about it when we went out after you took the driver’s test, then we talked about it again when you wanted to drive to the party. I try not to browbeat you about things, but I did mention it again last night, before you left, so I figure that’s twice, and two halves—three times."

He shrugged, apparently ceding the point.

"Here’s the important part, Steve. I explained to you that this is when you need to show me how responsible you can be with the car. Instead, you’re late the first time I let you take it out late. Do you understand why I feel like I have to punish you?"

He nodded miserably, not even looking up at me. "When did you get home last night?"

Really, this was the important thing. I was pretty sure he’d be honest with me since he didn’t know exactly when I’d been up, but I wanted to see whether he accepted things or tried to downplay it.

"I don’t remember exactly. I think it was right at two when I got to my room."

I nodded, not commenting. Since that was nearly ten minutes later than I’d thought, he certainly wasn’t trying to downplay things, which meant I felt comfortable going a little lighter on him.

"Here’s the deal then. I don’t want to ruin your holiday any more than you want me to. I’d really like to just say that you screwed up, you’ve learned your lesson, and you won’t do it again; but you know how I feel about that, don’t you?"

Steve grimaced and nodded. The silence dragged on for a minute, and he finally looked up to see me staring at him with an upraised eyebrow, so he took a deep breath, sighed, then repeated, in the voice of a boy trying to repeat his lesson correctly, "Even if you think I’m taking it seriously, if you let me get away without any punishment, then next time I won’t take it seriously."

"Close enough. So the question now is balancing the punishment to make sure you take it seriously without being too harsh and ruining the vacation."

I pretended to think about it for a bit but had already decided what I planned to do before he ever came down. I’d just been waiting to talk to him to see how he was going to act about the whole thing.

"First of all, you know you’re not going to be using the car for a while…" I dangled.

He looked up at me and I thought he was going to protest, but he managed to control himself. After a moment’s rebellion flashed across his face, he sighed again and looked down.

"For how long?" he finally asked quietly.

"Well, I’m not making any promises that this is going to be a pattern for the future, but I was thinking ‘thirty minutes, three days’. Can you live with that?"

He should have been able to since that would still give him the car to go to his other grandparents, as well as leaving him more than a week after Christmas to run around."

"Since I’m being pretty generous about that, I think we’ll finish it off by letting you stay home today and help me do some things that we need to get done around here."

His head bobbed up again, looking mildly irritated now, but he didn’t actually protest. "Can I still go to Ronnie’s party tonight?"

I thought for just a second. "As long as you finish the chores," I agreed. I wanted him to feel under some pressure so didn’t tell him that I’d cut the chores off in plenty of time for him to get ready and go.



Saturday went well. Steve and I worked together on most of the chores, getting the house ready for the guests we’d be having over the next few days. Even at sixteen, Steve didn’t complain too much about having to spend time with me, as long as it wasn’t in front of his friends (except for a few special ones, like Nolan, who knew me nearly as well as he did, and had found themselves sharing my lap with him), and didn’t interfere with his busy social life. In this case, working together on things that really needed to be done made the day better and easier for both of us.

At 5:30 we ate dinner, and as we finished up, I told Steve it was time to finish his chores. Since he wanted to be at the party around 7pm, I knew I was pushing things. He gave me a half-hearted glare but didn’t protest.

"Clean up the dinner dishes, then go get ready for your party," I instructed him.

Steve looked incredulously at his watch, then back at me. "That’s it?" he demanded.

"That’s it. Well, and have a good time tonight."

He smiled and came around the table to give me a hug before starting to carry the dishes into the kitchen.



Three days without being able to use his brand new car. We’d argued over whether it should be Saturday, Sunday, and Monday or Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday, since he’d already used his car on Saturday, albeit very early in the morning. I finally decided not to be a hard ass about it. I really think this was a case where the screw up had taught him to be more careful, and the punishment applied as a reminder needed to be pretty mild. Sunday, he slept late, then watched some football and read. I went in for the Magic tournament, but it was really a quiet day for all of us.



Have you ever noticed how boys keep doing the same thing over and over again, even when they’re punished for it? I think it’s a combination of two things. First, boys have a need to test their limits. When the situation changes, limits may also have changed, so they test them again. The other thing is even simpler than that; boys need to make sure Dad’s still paying attention to them. (And, of course, few people actually believe they’ll be caught.)

It was Monday afternoon, just a few days before Christmas, and I was working at the store when Mr. Miller came in to pick up the gift he’d ordered for Nolan. He’d come in fairly early in the afternoon and I wasn’t very busy, so we were chatting while I rang up his the merchandise. And then he dropped the bombshell without even knowing it.

"By the way, Steve just showed me the car you got him. It’s really nice. I wish we’d been able to afford one like it for Nolan."

"I’m sure he’s happy with what you got him—a Saturn, wasn’t it?"

"Yeah, and he is happy with it. I guess that’s what’s important."

"That’s the truth. When did you see Steve’s car, anyway?"

"Oh, I ran into him at the grocery store on my way over here." He paused for a minute, and I guess something must have showed on my face because he then asked, "Is something wrong?"

"No, but aren’t you going to need some stocking stuffers, too?"

He laughed at my attempt to plus-sell, and if he realized I was changing the subject, he still let me.



At home that evening, I checked on all the kids, starting with the youngest. When I came to Steve, he didn’t seem nervous at all, so I didn’t beat around the bush. "Mr. Miller came in today to get part of Nolan’s Christmas."

"How’s he doi…? He told you, didn’t he?" There was no question when he’d looked up at me, and it was almost amusing the way his face and voice collapsed, halfway through the sentence.

"He didn’t see any reason not to, Steve. It’s not like he knew you were grounded and shouldn’t be driving around. He was only saying how nice your car was."

He shrugged and nodded. His running into Mr. Miller at the store was one of those long-odds coincidences that seem to happen all too often when a boy’s doing something he shouldn’t be doing.

"I guess the real question is, why were you there?"

"I wanted S.O.S and thought I’d make some for the guys, and we didn’t have chipped beef or enough milk…."

I almost laughed at that. Creamed chipped beef, or S.O.S. - shit on a shingle, which is the army term - is a taste I’d picked up from my mom, when she was single, and we were poor enough that gravy was considered a treat. It consists of chipped beef and gravy served over toast.

"So you thought you’d just run up there and get some?"

He nodded.

"Even though you were grounded?"

He nodded again, miserably.

"Steve, I understand wanting something, and it’s nice you were taking care of the kids, but I can already see three different ways you could have handled it. Can you think of any?"

This part was almost mean, and I hated anything similar to it when I was a kid, but he really did need to think about this stuff now, both so he could avoid it in the future, and because punishing him wouldn’t do much good if he thought he was right to have broken the rules.

"I guess I could have waited."

"Yeah, you could have maybe made something else for lunch and called me and asked me to bring the stuff home for you. Anything else?"

It looked like he tried but couldn’t come up with anything else, so shook his head.

"How about using regular beef or sausage instead of chipped beef. Then you could have just ridden your bike to the convenience store for milk."

He shrugged his shoulders. Obviously anything that put him back on a bike wasn’t really to be considered.

"Okay, then how about this one: what if you’d just called and asked if it’d be okay to run up to the store for a minute to get that stuff?"

"You woulda let me?"

"I don’t know, Steve. I might have, but either way, you wouldn’t be about to get punished again, would you?"

He shrugged, sighed, then shook his head miserably.

"Okay, in the first place, you’re still being punished for coming home late Friday night. Since you used the car today, it doesn’t count, and you’re still restricted from the car tomorrow. Understand?"

He nodded again, even more upset since he had plans to go out with some friends.

"Just call Nolan and ask him to drive. He won’t give you a hard time about it, and he’ll be happy to."

He nodded, a little happier that I wasn’t going to make him stay home.

"However, that’s your punishment for Friday; we also have to deal with what you did today. I think we need to go up to your room for that."

His eyes went wide and watery at the reminder of our discussions about what I’d expect from him now, and he was nervous as he climbed to his feet, but he did it without (much) hesitation, then led the way to his room, only a bit slowly.

Once in his room, I tried to explain myself one more time.

"Where’s your paddle?"

He looked at me for a minute as though I were an idiot, then got the point and answered, "In your office."

I nodded, then replied, "There were several reasons for that, Steve. In the first place, I was hoping we wouldn’t need it anymore. I guess that one’s not true, so it brings us to the second and third reason, which are that I thought it might be too humiliating for a boy your age to be going over your father’s lap. I also thought that I’ve been using that same paddle for years, and it’s time we tried something else." I paused to give him what I hoped was a stare equally as meaningful as menacing, before I finished. "Give me your belt."

Steve just stared at me, wide-eyed and stunned. I loved my son very much and had been pretty open with him about a lot of things, especially when my father came back into our lives. He liked Ralph, his Pop, but he knew and understood why I had troubles with him. He also knew why Aaron was living with us instead of with my dad. In other words, he knew my feelings about and experiences with belts. I think the idea that I was going to use one shocked him as much as the idea that he was about to be whipped with one. Maybe more, since I knew his Uncle Steven had whipped him and his cousin Jason with one at least once.

Still, his shock only delayed him a moment before he reached up under his checked flannel shirt and unfastened it, pulling it from its loops and doubling it over before handing it to me.

"Now," I said as I took it, "get your clothes off."

I’d not wanted to do this. I’d expected to have to force myself to do it. And yet, with all the times I’d spanked him, with all the times I’d seen him naked, I have to admit that watching him undress for this was pretty hot. That I’m sure of.

Starting at the top, one by one, Steve unbuttoned his flannel shirt, then removed it, and laid it across the back of his reading chair. Steve was far from shy around me, even under these circumstances, so without pause, he undid his jeans, button by button, then spread his fly, exposing his briefs and sliding them down his legs. He was already in his stocking feet, so he stepped out of them easily, and set them aside with his shirt. He started to pull his undershirt off, but I stopped him, and he left it on, but rucked up under his arms, as he slid out of his briefs.

Steve was a beautiful sixteen-year-old boy. He was well built, solid, but not too heavy. He was backlit by the room’s light, showing off the light cover of blond fur on his legs, which was as golden as the hair on his head, though lighter than what surrounded his penis. With no briefs, and the way his undershirt was, I could easily trace the crease all the way down to where it meet the few blond hairs that were starting to climb upward from his pubic bush.

He stood there for a moment, not being quite sure what to do, so I pointed towards the bed. "Get a couple of pillows, put them on the edge there, then lie across them."

He did, and I waited until he’d taken his place. Without my telling him, he lay across the pillows with them just under his hips, raising his bottom high, and he spread his legs just a bit. I looked for a minute, admiring the view, yet hesitant for once to mar it. It wasn’t even like I’d never whipped someone with a belt before. I’d spanked my brothers with one, among others. Yet this time was different, and it didn’t occurred to me then that the reason for that might be because this time, I was the father whipping his son.

After what seemed like a long pause, I cracked the belt down across the white cheeks, leaving a line of darker white. Steve yelled as the snap of the belt echoed around his room. His left hand flew back to cover his butt, and he rolled over onto his right side to face me. His eyes were wide and watery, and he was breathing heavily as he stared up at me. After a minute his eyes, filled with a plea, turned away from me as he lay back down, reaching above his head to take huge handfuls of the covers.

With Steve back in position, I raised the belt again and brought it back down, again and again. Each time, Steve yelled, but he stayed down after that. He was pulling the covers free from his bed, drumming his feet against the floor, and squirming around on the pillows, but he still stayed down. I watched as each stripe went dark white, then reddened as the blood rushed back. Each stripe was distinct.

Then, after the sixth, when the boy was sobbing loudly, but not quite really crying yet, I saw that on his right hip, on the side across from me, there was a darker spot, a spot where the belt hadn’t landed right, and the darker spot looked like it was slightly bloody, like the skin had been worn away. A sob escaped from me, quieter than Steve’s, and I threw the belt down beside him.

"Get up, Steve."

"Wh…" he pushed up to look at me, moving more carefully now and rather stiffly. Tears were running down his face as he looked at me. "What?"

"Get up," I repeated, a bit more loudly. "That’s enough. That’s too much."

Steve carefully climbed to his feet, then leaned forward for a hug. He was still moving stiffly, but apparently squirming around on the pillows had been pleasant in one regard, because he was standing up much straighter than he normally did after a spanking.

I tried to ignore the almost-erection, except to brush it aside with my hip as I pulled him into a hug.

"I’m sorry," we both said, close enough to the same time that I’m not sure who spoke first.

His sobs died away quickly as I held him. Once he’d quieted down, I left him to recover while I went to make dinner.



An hour later dinner was on the table, and Steve came down to take his place with the rest of us, still moving a bit slowly and wincing when he sat, but seeming to be in his usual, cheerful mood.

"Hey, Dad?" he asked partway through the meal. "I was talking to Nolan and he’s going to pick me up tomorrow. Is it okay if we leave a little earlier though?"

"Like when?"

"Five?"

"I’m not sure I can get home that early this close to Christmas." I didn’t really have to think much about it, though. Aaron and Tommy weren’t friends, but they got along okay. Tommy was only eight, but Aaron was twelve—old enough to be left alone for a bit. "I think it’ll be okay, though. Do you two heathens think you can avoid burning down the house if I leave you alone for that long?"

They were so anxious to agree, it made me a little nervous.

"I’ll tell you what; you stay out of trouble, and I’ll bring home pizza for dinner tomorrow night."

"How will you know whether we stayed out of trouble or not if you’re bringing the pizza home?"

"Good point. Then we’ll have pizza for dinner tomorrow night, and if you two behave, you can sit down to eat it."

They behaved pretty well from what I could tell.



Christmas Eve had come and gone a few minutes past. Mary and my brothers had all left after our Christmas Eve gathering. Cathy had come over after spending the evening at her mother’s house. Aaron had gone home with his mom, but Tommy, Corey, and Barry were asleep in their rooms. Cathy was asleep in my room, as I did Santa presents. I was building Barry’s first trike when Steve came in from his mom’s house.

"Hey, Dad," he said quietly. "How’d it go?"

We exchanged stories of our evenings, and he settled down to help me finish the rest of the gifts. Finally, when we had everything ready for the big day, as I was banking the fire, Steve reached nervously into one of the bags he’d brought home with him.

"This is for you, Dad."

"From your mom?" I asked with probably more than a hint of disbelief.

"No. It’s from me," he answered hesitantly, "but I wanted to give it to you in private."

I took it from him, burning up with curiosity now, and started to open it.

"Dad?"

I looked up with the package half unwrapped.

"I know how you feel about belts, and I’m sorry you had to whip me the other day. I know I really deserved more than that, and I’ll try not to do that again."

I nodded, not knowing quite what to say. He was looking into my eyes, and I felt a bit uncomfortable, so I went back to unwrapping the box.

"You said there were three reasons you let me put the paddle away; remember?"

I nodded as I snapped the tape from around the edges of the box and lifted the lid off, then looked up at him.

As I lifted the hard, wooden-backed brush, which looked almost exactly like an oversized hairbrush from the box, he went on. "I guess if I really need it, it wouldn’t be TOO humiliating for a boy my age to go over his dad’s lap."

I could feel my eyes tearing up. He was making a joke but nerves were cracking through it. I knew he was worried about it and knew he wanted to show me he was trying to be responsible. I wanted to tell him that I understood, but the words wouldn’t come out. Steve took my silence the wrong way.

"That’s why Nolan picked me up early the other day—so I could find that." He paused for a moment, then went on more nervously. "It’s not a belt, but it really stings pretty bad. Me and Nolan tried it out on each other. Not bare or anything," he rushed to assure me, "but you’ll be able to really teach me a lesson with it, if you need to."

Still not able to find the words, I just reached over and pulled him to me. Finally, after another long moment’s silence, I found the only words that mattered.

"I love you, Steve."



We finally broke apart.

"I think we’d better turn in if we’re going to get up with the little ones tomorrow."

"If Cathy’s sleeping in your room, where are you sleeping?"

"My office couch."

"You could sleep with me if you’d like. I’ll leave my shorts on."

"Thank you, but everyone’s going to be expecting me there. I’d hate to confuse anyone."

He smiled, picked up his bags, and headed upstairs. I stood by the switch to the Christmas lights, the only lights left on, while he climbed.

"Besides," I said under my breath, "if I was in bed with you, I wouldn’t have the chance to think about you and Nolan trying that brush out on each other before I go to sleep."





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