I loved having Nolan for a guest. He was Steve’s best friend, which was enough for me; but I thought he was great on his own. The fact that he’d gone to the same school as Steve before he moved in with me was a good link to Steve’s old friends, and Steve even got to see some of them when spending time at Nolan’s house. However, don’t forget that the two of them met to become friends at my store, where I’d already known and liked Nolan.
I didn’t mind Steve spending time at Nolan’s house, but the boys preferred staying at my house when they could. I think there were four major reasons for that. The first was that, while Nolan’s dad was a good guy and they had a great relationship, he wasn’t into comics and games like I was. The second, third, and fourth reasons were Nolan’s little sisters.
That’s not to say that Nolan’s little sisters were bad. After growing up with mine, I feel an instinctive dislike of sisters, but Nolan’s still seemed pretty nice, though I only saw them on rare occasions, when they came to the comic store with him or when I was dropping off or picking up one of the boys. Still, nice or not, it was obviously enjoyable for Nolan to be able to relax, run around in his briefs or even naked, and just act like a guy without having to worry about Mom or little sisters that might get offended and run tattle.
There was another, sadder reason why Nolan liked spending time at my house.
I’d been surprised when Nolan told me his dad had quit spanking him when he was eight. Here in Bransom, with our conservative, largely Baptist population, it’s not at all unusual to know boys who are spanked up into their teens. I can name a dozen kids (besides mine), who got their last spankings when they were in high school and these are kids who are still in high school. I know a lot more kids who received their last spankings when they were twelve. I’ve also known more than a couple of kids who’ve never been spanked, or were only ‘spanked’ (what I’d consider swats) when they were toddlers. Eight, for some reason, just seems like an odd time to quit spanking.
It turns out it had nothing to do with Nolan’s age. His dad quit spanking because he considers spanking a childish punishment, and he needed Nolan to quit being a child. Nolan was eight when they found out his father was dying.
Mr. Miller didn’t talk about his problem. Nolan wasn’t really comfortable with it, but he did need someone to talk with occasionally. Mostly that was to relieve his feelings, but he did tell me some about what was going on; the only problem being that he didn’t know all the medical terminology. Nevertheless, what I understand is, Mr. Miller was diagnosed with a degenerative nerve disease. The course of the disease was the same for almost everybody, but how long it took could vary a lot and couldn’t be determined without some observation. When he was first diagnosed, Mr. Miller didn’t know if he had two years to live or ten.
What Mr. Miller did know was that he had an eight-year-old son, three daughters who were five, four, and one, and a wife who’d not even gone back to work yet. I don’t think he was worried so much about finances as he was raising the kids. From what the doctors were telling him, he wouldn’t live to see Nolan start college, much less long enough to finish raising the girls. Knowing his wife would have to work, he started training Nolan to be her assistant and teaching him to be responsible for his sisters.
When I first heard that, I felt like punching Nolan’s dad. To help avoid problems with the girls one day, he robbed Nolan of a lot of his childhood. Fortunately, I didn’t punch anybody and didn’t even make my opinions known. I say fortunately because upon some calm thought and reflection, it occurred to me that Nolan really was having a pretty good childhood. His parents had plenty of money and didn’t mind spending it, so Nolan was able to collect comics and play Magic. He played baseball every season; he wasn’t great at it, but he had a good time. He was allowed to stay over at my house as often as every other weekend and sometimes would spend several days in a row there during vacations. All he was really doing was teaching Nolan to be more responsible than an average boy, and that’s not really a bad thing.
The only complaint I really had was that, when Mr. Miller decided to do that, he’d stopped spanking Nolan and started combining grounding with extra chores. Nolan explained to me that the idea was to give him added responsibilities for a while when he failed one of his normal ones. My biggest problem with that was that I had the feeling that the only place Nolan was allowed to go while he was grounded was on guilt trips. Still, he didn’t seem unhappy, and everything I saw said he was well-adjusted, and he was polite, friendly, a good student, and an all around good kid.
Before Stevie moved in with me, I’d taken an important lesson from Big Brothers/Big Sisters. They tell you not to make every get together something big and special. The kids will love it, but sooner or later, you’ll run out of money or things to do, then the kids will be disappointed. What the kids really need is just someone to spend time with them and give them attention. That worked great for Stevie and me, and I used the same principle when Nolan visited. Instead of doing special stuff, I tried to make my home some place that Nolan could go to just be a kid. It seemed to work great for him.
It’s almost funny because Nolan did find it hard to quit being helpful and responsible. Stuff that Stevie wouldn’t even think of, Nolan would be jumping up to ask if he could help. It took a while, but I finally convinced him that he was our guest, and if I needed help, I’d ask for it.
I remember, remember, it was the twelfth of November, and the three of us came home at about 11pm. We’d gone to see the opening of Disney’s The Three Musketeers and we all loved it. It might have not been the most faithful adaptation, but it was a lot of fun. The night had been beautiful, cool, but not cold, and we’d gone to play a round of putt-putt when the movie was over. The boys had been dancing around, acting like they were sword fighting, and we ended up talking about other great sword fight scenes in movies Princess Bride is best, but I was able to interest the boys in some Errol Flynn, and we’d decided to watch a couple of those tomorrow night (after I overrode protest that it was not too late to do it that night).
When we got home, I told the boys to get cleaned up and ready for bed, and we could play a little Magic before bedtime if they wanted. While the two of them would run around the house naked, wrestle together that way and sleep together, bathing together seemed to cross some line. Stevie told Nolan that he should try the shower in my bathroom (no bath, just a stall, but large and with a massage head), which he thought sounded fun. I was going to make a snack after my shower, so Steve and I went first.
Knowing that Nolan was waiting, I hurried through my shower, and came out, wearing briefs and a big t-shirt. I was a bit surprised he wasn’t waiting for me, so stuck my head in Steve’s room. Still no sign of him, until I heard something that I shouldn’t have heard. Stepping to the door of my office, I saw a computer light where there should be only darkness.
"Whatcha doin’, Nolan?"
The boy jumped.
"I thought you’d still be in the shower."
He hadn’t answered the question, but the game on the screen was answer enough.
"I guess you did. I know Steve knows my office is off limits, but haven’t I told you that before?"
"Yes, sir."
I’d given the boy an out, but he told the truth. I don’t know if it was the responsibility his father had been teaching him, if he liked me too much to lie to me (or was afraid I’d call him out if he did), or if he just didn’t think about it. Whatever the case, he’d handed me a problem that I now had to deal with.
"Nolan," I said, without really having to think about it, "I like you; but if you’re going to be over here, I expect you to obey the rules just like I do Steve. Do you understand?"
"Yes, sir. I’m sorry."
I glanced at my watch and it was getting close to midnight. "It’s too late to call your dad, now. Go get your shower, Nolan. I’ll take you home in the morning."
"Why?!?" he exclaimed more upset now than at being caught. "We were gonna play Magic and watch those movies and stuff."
"Yes, we were; but you acted up. If I’d caught Stevie in here without permission, he’d already be getting spanked. I know your father doesn’t believe in spanking, so I’ll just have to take you home."
"He believes in it," the boy muttered.
"Well, the fact that he hasn’t spanked you since you were eight says he doesn’t believe in it for you. Since I can’t very well ground you here, that leaves sending you home. If I expect you to obey the rules when you’re over here, you’re going to have to expect to be punished when you don’t."
"But it’s not fair to send me home," he protested, with maybe a slight sob in his voice.
"No, but it’s not fair to Stevie that I let you do whatever you want without anything happening. I’m sorry that Steve ends up getting punished too, but I don’t know what else to do."
Nolan was obviously unhappy, and I couldn’t blame him. It wasn’t a good situation. If I took him home early, it’d be ruining the boy’s weekend, but I’d also have to tell his parents why, and there was a good chance he’d end up getting punished again for the same behavior. He was staring at his feet. He’d kicked off his shoes and seemed to be studying the bit of his left little toe that was nearly sticking out a hole in the sock. He finally muttered something, too low for me to really understand it.
"Excuse me?"
He spoke up a bit this time, sounding upset and looking nearly shell-shocked, he glanced up and said, "You could spank me."
"You haven’t had a spanking in years, Nolan. Even if it wasn’t too late to call your dad, and even if he’d give me perm…."
"Don’t call him, Jack. He said you’re in charge when I’m over here and I have to follow your rules. Why can’t you just treat me like you do Steve so we can get it over with?"
"Nolan, you were here one time when I spanked Steve. I don’t know if you could hear anything…."
"You mean him crying?"
"That’s exactly what I mean. I’m sure you remember that spankings hurt, and I think Stevie’ll tell you that they don’t hurt less because you’re almost twelve. That just means I’m going to spank harder."
I honestly didn’t have to think about this, and I wasn’t trying to talk the boy out of it. I just didn’t want him changing his mind later and getting mad at me. And honestly, while I’d heard his dad say exactly that, I doubt a spanking was what he meant when he told Nolan that he had to ‘follow my rules’. Still, I liked Nolan a lot and really had thought of spanking him before. Of course, those evening dreams had been of him and Stevie getting in trouble together, but that’s a totally different topic.
"I know, Jack. Stevie says it hurts really bad when you spank, but I don’t wanna go home. Dad’ll lecture me and be all disappointed. Can’t we just get it over with? Please?"
For some reason, I find it really hard to resist a cute boy begging me to do exactly what I want to do anyway.
"If you’re sure that’s what you want, that’s what we’ll do; but I don’t want you changing your mind or getting mad at me. I’ve already warned you this is going to hurt, and you’ve already admitted you deserve it, so if you want to do this, we’re going to do it and do it right. Are you sure?"
Now he wasn’t, but that was a good thing. He didn’t hem and haw or try to get out of it, he just thought about it. If he’d been too sure, not seeming to take it seriously enough, I might have changed my mind. As it was, I could watch his train of thought as he really considered it one more time. His eyes rolled a bit, then he bit his lower lip. He looked away from me, then down towards the ground. Finally, after a long, quiet minute or so, he looked me in the eye and nodded.
"I’m sure."
I had him stand from the chair, then turned it all the way away from the desk before taking my own seat and gesturing for him to stand in front of me. As soon as he was there, I had him lift his shirt.
While I’d seen him running around the house naked and wrestling with Steve, it seemed different now, more special, as I was undressing him for a spanking. He seemed to sense it as well, though I couldn’t say if it was because of my undressing him or the impending spanking, but he would tense or flinch a bit when my hands brushed against him. He wasn’t trying to resist though, and the movements were minor—subconscious.
With his t-shirt out of the way, I slid his zipper down, undid the top button, exposing a pair of Fruit of the Looms, then slid the jeans down his smooth, hairless legs, to his ankles.
"Step out," I instructed him. "You can put your hands on my shoulders, if you need to balance."
I felt one hand press against my left shoulder as we got him out of his jeans, then I sat up and looked at him.
Nolan’s birthday is the day after Steve’s—eleven December instead of the tenth. They were both about the same size, around average for boys nearly twelve. Nolan was a little softer than Stevie, though; he had fuller cheeks, and his belly was a little rounded, with very slight love handles. I also knew that his rear cheeks were fuller, barely having any dimples, and I was anxious to get him over my lap and find out how firm they were.
I reached up and started to slide his briefs down, giving me the closest look I’d ever had at his privates. Nolan flinched again and started to step back as the white cotton started sliding down his legs, but he forced himself back without making me stop or say anything.
He wasn’t quite twelve yet, and I would have been surprised to see any hair or find that he wasn’t pink and white; but his balls definitely weren’t a little boy’s anymore. They were about the same size as Steve’s, but where Steve’s were tight up against his crotch still, Nolan’s were starting to dangle. Where Steve had been putting on some length lately—his stiffy was probably about three and a-half inches long now—it was still nearly as thin as it had been a couple of years ago; but Nolan, whom I don’t think was any longer than when I’d first seen him naked about nine months ago, was a fair amount thicker, swelling out a bit from his belly, then tapering again at the little pink head (I already knew he was circumcised, but I did love the way it stuck out of his loose foreskin).
As soon as he’d stepped out of his briefs, I looked up at him. "You’re going to have to go shower when we’re through here, so why not go ahead and take off the shirt?"
He did, dropping it on top of his other clothes, which left him in nothing but his socks. He looked even more nervous for a moment, glancing away from me, but then looking back.
"Should I go get the paddle?"
I’d been wondering the same question. If the boy hadn’t been spanked since he was eight and he was turning twelve in three weeks, that meant it had been at least three, and maybe almost four, years since he’d had a spanking. If it had been Stevie I caught in here, there would have been no question that he’d be getting paddled. Still, you had to consider not just the crime, but the boy.
"It’s been a long time since you’ve been spanked, Nolan," I said, wanting him to understand my decision, "but you deliberately broke a rule and that’s pretty serious." I stopped for a second, re-evaluating my decision, then nodded. "I’m going to give you a hand spanking, but then finish up with a taste of the paddle, so I guess you should."
He nodded, looking like he’d expected that but still not happy, then turned to the door. After two steps he stopped long enough to take off his socks, tossed them with his other clothes, then padded, totally naked, out of the room. I couldn’t help but watch the mild sway of his full backside as he went.
Stevie had obviously shown him the paddle at some point, or at least told him exactly where it was, because Nolan was back as quickly as Steve would have been. Maybe more quickly since Nolan didn’t have the drawback of knowing exactly how badly that paddle would soon be burning his cheeks.
He walked across the room to me, his stride slowing and becoming noticeably more nervous as he came, then he tried to hand me the paddle.
"Why don’t you hold onto it until I’m ready?" I suggested. He nodded.
"Do you know how I spank Steve?" I inquired, and he nodded again.
"You mean over your lap?"
"Yeah, did your dad ever spank you that way?"
"Yes, sir."
He knew the basics, but it took a little work to get him exactly into position. I’m a little bigger than his dad, but he’s a lot bigger than he must have been at eight. It wasn’t as smooth as with Stevie, but it still didn’t take too long to get him into position. Soon enough, both his hands were before him, holding the paddle against the ground. I had my left leg straightened and my right heel propped against the chair leg, lifting his bottom a bit. His toes didn’t quite touch the carpet, but they were spread a bit and gently waving.
It turns out his bottom was pleasantly padded, not loose or sloppy. I gently stroked it as I gave him a last, quick lecture.
"I don’t expect you to follow every rule exactly like Steve does. I’m sure your family does some things differently, and I’m not going to make a big deal if you leave your jacket lying on the floor sometimes or if you use a word I prefer Steve not to use. However, when it comes to the big stuff like you minding me and you following the rules that you know and have accepted, then you are going to mind them or you are going to pay the price. Understand?"
"Yes, sir," he replied, quietly, but quite clearly.
"Did you follow all the rules tonight?"
"No, sir. I came into your office without you saying I could."
"That’s right. And what’s the price you’re going to have to pay?"
"I’m gonna get a spanking," he said, miserably and ready for this to be, not started, but over.
Sure that he understood what and why, I granted his wish. I think I surprised him at first, almost disappointed him, and probably made him think worse of Stevie. Of course, he didn’t know that I wasn’t spanking him like I would Steve. I was testing to see what he could take. The first few swats are what I’d have given my youngest brother. Aaron had just turned eight, and I’d had to spank him a few times in the past. The spanks that would have him crying were only pinking Nolan’s buns a bit, and he lay there, quiet and still, after the first swat surprised a yelp out of him.
As soon as I realized he could take that, I started increasing the intensity a bit. The pace was still slow and measured, just like I spanked Steve, but the smacks were getting firmer after every few swats.
It wasn’t hard to tell when I’d reached the right level. At first, he’d just been lying there. As the swats grew firmer, he started squeezing his legs together, then they started to jerk a bit with each smack, before he started to squirm a little. Then I realized that, not only was he really kicking and squirming, but I could hear a continual, though, quiet ‘ouch, oh, ahh,’ accompanying every smack.
I kept the swats right at that level and continued moving all around his spank-area, from the top of each cheek, down onto his legs, and from hip to hip, each smack adding a little more color to those formerly pale cheeks.
As his cheeks changed from rosy to red, and my hand was developing a warm, tingly sting, he started to really cry; not loudly, but it slowly grew harder, until I could see the sobs shaking him. By then, his legs were kicking up and down, and he was constantly squirming, not trying to escape, but to relieve the heat. Finally I had his almost his entire bottom and upper legs a uniform shade of deep red; not as dark as I would have been aiming for with Stevie, but obviously plenty hot and sore for him. After all, a boy a month short of twelve who’d not been spanked in three or four years was practically a spanking virgin. The only exceptions to that uniform color were his sit spots, which were more a deep rose still.
"I think we’re ready for the paddle now, Nolan."
I’d given him a brief rest after the last hand spank. He should have known what was coming now but still protested.
"No, Jack. I’m sorry. I learned my lesson. I don’t need the paddle."
"I told you what was going to happen, Nolan. You’ve been really good and brave about this so far. Don’t start acting up now. Hand me the paddle." I was trying to make my voice supportive but firm.
There was a long moment’s pause and I was about to repeat myself when I saw his right shoulder shake. Slowly the paddle began to rise towards me, almost looking more like it was coming on its on, and he was trying to hold it back.
I waited patiently until the paddle cleared his hips. Then I took his wrist in one hand, took the paddle from him, and pinned the hand to the small of his back.
"We’re almost through now, kiddo. This is the worst part, but you just have to be brave a minute more."
He was tense, and I uncurled my fingers from the handle of the paddle and traced them lightly down the center of his cheeks, barely touching the crease; drawing them down until I came to his legs, then I gently pushed my fingers between them. Even as I was doing that, I spoke.
"Relax, Nolan. We’re almost through. C’mon now. Spread your legs just a bit."
He made himself obey me, though it was slow. He was finally ready. I took a firm grip on the paddle again and smacked it down against the upper part of his left cheek.
"OW!" he cried, nothing about it quiet this time. He’d been crying hard before and had only gained a little control when I stopped the hand spanking, but he was quickly in full voice and ratcheting up the volume.
The paddle smacked back and forth from cheek to cheek, leaving each spot a dark, hot red. One, two, then back and two more just below the first ones. A third set, then a fourth, which landed on his sit spots, but I didn’t move on after that. Another set on his sit spots, and by the third, he was really bawling. Again, and a last set, before moving down to place two more smacks on each leg, then moving back up and placing a firm, rapid fire six more swats right over his little hole.
Nolan was bawling loud and hard, lying limp across my lap, too sore to even move. For Stevie, it would have been a little harder than average, and easy for directly breaking a rule. For Nolan, it must have been nearly harsh.
I dropped the paddle on his clothes and twisted enough to dig into my desk for a handkerchief. I tucked it into the neck of my t-shirt and began to softly rub his back and bottom. After a minute, he began to twitch a bit, and I helped him up, turning him to sit in my lap.
He was still crying hard and loud, and his face was soaked with tears and snot. I cleaned him up a bit with the handkerchief, then pulled him against my chest, letting him cry himself out. We sat like that for another moment or two, until he calmed enough that I was sure I could talk to him.
"You think you’re going to remember to follow the rules now, Nolan?"
"Yes, sir!"
"Was it a lot worse than you thought it’d be?"
"It was," sniff, "worse, but maybe not a lot worse. I knew it was gonna be bad. Your hand’s really bad enough."
"Stevie’s said the same thing, but I need to make sure I get through to you guys. You ready to get up and go get a shower?"
He had to think about it for a minute, but finally nodded.
"Okay, but I always finish Stevie’s spankings with one last smack."
His eyes went wide and worried until I pulled him back towards me and gave him a kiss on the forehead. He giggled a bit, more from relief than the bad pun, I think. Then he hugged me again and kissed my cheek. I held him another minute until I felt him pull slightly away.
"Get your clothes and the paddle and go put them away, then jump in the shower. He was carefully coming to his feet when I told him, then bending, even more carefully, to pick the stuff up. "And don’t get the shower too hot. It’ll make your backside burn worse if you do."
He nodded a thanks to me and headed towards the door. As soon as he’d turned away, I stood, making sure my t-shirt covered my excitement, and left behind him.
Stepping out into the hall, I nearly ran into Nolan, who’d stopped. It was easy to see why, since Steve was standing at the end of the hall, naked, hair damp, and still flushed from his shower. The question was clear on his face.
"Umm…." Nolan hesitated. "I was playing on your dad’s computer without asking. He was gonna send me home tomorrow, but .…" I guess the rest seemed obvious enough.
Stevie looked at the two of us for just a minute (jealously?), then came forward and carefully wrapped his arms around his friend. The two of them hugged for just a minute before breaking away. Then Steve stepped to Nolan’s side.
"Wow! Looks like you got a pretty good one."
Nolan separated the paddle from the bundle of clothes so Steve could see it. Steve just winced and nodded. Nolan wasn’t crying anymore, but his face was still stained with tears, and his eyes might have been leaking just a bit. He looked away from Steve and started to step around him.
"I gotta put this stuff up and go get a shower," he said shyly.
"Okay," Steve replied, making room for the other boy. "Oh," he continued after a brief pause, "don’t get the water…."
"Too hot, it’ll burn my butt again." Nolan looked up at his friend, suddenly smiling. "Yeah, your dad warned me."
Steve smiled back and the two of them headed for his room.
Nolan and Steve are still friends, and Mr. Miller and I grew to know and respect each other fairly well. He once confided to me that since Nolan was eight when the doctors told him he might have as much as ten years to live, he hoped he’d have long enough to see Nolan graduate high school and be accepted into college.