Van's First

We pulled up to the house in the car. Van had been unusually silent the entire way home. As the garage door came down behind us, he unfastened himself from his seat belt, grabbed his back pack, and stepped out of the car. He still didn’t say anything and wasn’t looking at me. Even if I didn’t know him so well, I could have told he was upset and nervous.

---

Van was in the morning kindergarten class the year he first lived with me. The kindergarten classes ran from 8:15 to 11:15 and from 12:15 to 3:15. He’d ride to school with the other boys, and was picked up by a day care. One of the older boy’s usually picked him up when they got out of school, but he and I spent most Tuesday afternoons together, and I’d pick him up one other day during most weeks, and he’d hang out with me at the office. Because Van could spend hours coloring or sorting through his card collections and making drawings from them, it was no problem for me to have him at work. Today wasn’t one of those special days, though. I’d received a call from his kindergarten teacher, who’d asked me if I could come in to talk with her. Of course, I’m going to make time to do that, and she asked if right after her morning class would work for me. I agreed that it would, and asked her to keep Van. I then called the day care to let them know I’d be getting him, and arranged to leave the store early.

At 11:10, I signed in at the office, then headed for Mrs. Tatum’s classroom. The bell rang on my way, and I was suddenly surrounded by a herd of munchkins, some of whom called out greetings and questions to me. I returned the salutations I could, while trying not to squash anyone underfoot, before reaching my goal.

At the door to the K4 room, I waited until the tide ebbed, then stepped inside. Two little girls were leisurely walking towards the door, Mrs. Tatum was at her desk, and at one side, my little one was staring morosely out the window and swinging his feet.

"Hello, Mr. Wells," the teacher greeted me. I wasn’t surprised to be recognized and remembered. Not only had I met her when we moved Van to this school, but she’d taught Barry and Johnny, and I had talked to several of her classes about the comic book business and the fun of reading.

At my name, Van looked up, then jumped up and ran to me for a hug. I picked him up for a squeeze and kiss, then sat him back on his feet, then turned him slightly for a pop on the bottom, reminding him that we don’t run inside.

After a short spat of polite conversation, Mrs. Tatum suggested we let Van play, while she and I sat at the front of the room to talk. She pulled a brown bag from her desk and apologized, but she was on her lunch time. Between bites, she explained to me that Van has been disrupting class again. I’d assumed it was something like that. She and I had met not long after he’d started in her class. She expected some acting up from a boy in his situation, but he seemed to take the little room she had thought to give him as a license to do whatever he wanted. When it became a problem, she and I had talked, which led to Van and I talking, and him promising to try to behave. Apparently it had worked for a while. Yet now we were back in the same situation, and I was afraid I knew what needed to be done.

---

As I unlocked the door to the utility room, Van, who’d been silent since we left the classroom finally found the nerve to ask the question that had been on his mind since before I’d arrived. "Am I going to get a spanking, Daddy?"

"Van, you know your brothers all get spanked, when they act up. Don’t you?"

"Yes, sir."

Usually, we have a snack when I pick Van up from school. This day, as soon as we’d kicked our shoes off at the back door, I took his hand and we went through the kitchen to the bedroom he shared with Bryce. I took the book bag from him and laid it on the play table, then we walked over to the desk. Turning the chair, I sat down in it, then pulled him to stand in front of me. I released his hand, but not before giving it a light squeeze.

"Van, we’ve talked about the way you’re supposed to act at school. Now, you behave at home, so I know you can behave at school. Can’t you?"

"Yes, sir. I guess."

"And do you know why it’s not nice to misbehave in class?"

He thought about it for a minute, then shook his head ‘no’.

"Well, for one thing, do you like it when people interrupt when you’re talking?"

"No, sir."

"So, why do you think it’s okay to interrupt Mrs. Tatum?"

"I don’t, Daddy. It’s wrong," he admitted miserably.

"Can you think of another reason?"

He thought a minute before he answered.

"Because some of the other kids want to listen to her?"

"That’s right, and they might not be able to if you’re messing around." I paused to think for a minute.

"Is there some reason you’re having trouble?" I asked him. "Do you not like Mrs. Tatum?"

"No, Daddy. I like her. She’s really nice. I just get tired of having to sit down all the time."

"I can understand that, Van; but, we’ve talked about that. Sometimes you have to do things you don’t want to do, don’t’ you?"

He looked down, then nodded his head. I could see that his eyes were starting to get watery.

I leaned forward, then reached out and put my hand on his back, then pulled him into me. When he felt my hand, he looked up, so we were looking at each other when I pulled him into the hug.

"Van, do you know that I love you very much?"

He nodded, then said, "I love you too, Daddy."

"The thing is, because I love you, I want you to know how to behave, so you can grow up to be a good person. The easiest way for me to do that is to tell you what you need to do, then you can do it. However, sometimes little boys, no matter how good they are and how well they usually behave, act naughty. When that happens, someone who loves them has to give them a reason that they don’t want to act naughty again. Do you know what that reason to be good next time is?"

He nodded, but then spelled it out without me having to prompt him. "A spanking."

"That’s right. And I know you’re really a very good boy. Aren’t you?"

He nodded again.

"But you weren’t acting good today, were you?"

"No, Daddy. I was naughty."

"No, Van. You weren’t naughty, but you acted naughty. And you feel bad about that now, don’t you?"

He nodded again.

"Do you know how I know you feel bad about it?"

He considered it for a moment, then shook his head.

"Because you are a good boy, and good boy’s are happy boys. And I know you’re happy most of them time. But now you’ve acted naughty, and you don’t feel like a good boy, and so you don’t feel happy. Do you?"

"No, Daddy. I feel bad."

"Misha told me he didn’t think you’ve ever had a spanking. Have you?"

"No, Daddy. Never." "I know this is scary. You’ve probably heard your brothers getting spanked and crying, so you know it hurts. But, can I tell you a secret?" I paused while he nodded, his eyes wide and fascinated. "Spankings hurt a lot; but, when they’re over, even though you’re bottom is sore, you’ll feel better. Do you know why?"

"No, Daddy. Why?" He was enrapt in the esoteric knowledge I was sharing, that it was almost like he’d forgotten it was his bottom we were talking about.

"Because acting naughty is like taking something. You have to pay for it. And after you’ve paid for it, you’ll know your forgiven and you can go back to being a good, happy boy again. Every little boy makes mistakes and acts naughty sometimes, but every time, you’ll learn, and you’ll know a little bit better. Then one day, you’ll be like Bobby or Caleb, and you won’t need to be spanked anymore, because you’ll remember how to be a good boy all the time."

"Do you know that how you were acting in class was naughty, sweetheart?"

"Yes, Daddy."

"And do you understand why boys get spanked when they act naughty?"

"Yes, Daddy."

"Then, are you ready for your spanking?"

He didn’t say anything this time, but nodded, and I saw a tear run down his cheek as he did.

"Let me see your hands." I took his hands in mine and guided them to his sides. "Now, you hold your shirt up like this, while Daddy gets you ready."

Holding his shirt up, under his arms, Van watched intently as I undid the snap on his jeans. The elastic was snug and I had to work it back to get the waistband down past his chubby, round little cheeks. After that, they slid easily down his legs, where I had him step out of them.

"Do we need to take my shirt off, Daddy?"

"I don’t think we need to. Do you want to?"

He thought for a moment, then shrugged.

"Why don’t we leave it on, then," I suggested. "However," I slid one finger into the waistband of his undies, pulled it back just a bit, then let it snap against his belly. "These do need to come off."

I matched words with action and slid them past his hips and down his legs, where he stepped out of them without having to be told. I took my time sliding the briefs down, and as I did, I explained to him that, by spanking his bare bottom, I could see what I was doing, so I wouldn’t spank him too hard.

"I know you want to be a good boy, Van; but, are you going to try to be a brave boy for Daddy, too?"

Even though I could see another tear sliding down the opposite cheek, he nodded and assured me, "Yes, Daddy."

"That‘s my good boy. Now, Bryce is older than you, but he’s not a lot bigger than you, so I think we can use his paddle. Will you show me how brave you are and go get it?"

He padded across the room, not quickly, but not in slow-motion, either. I’m sure that, to him, it seemed he reached the paddle both too quickly and not quickly enough. At the door, he gingerly reached up and took the paddle from its’ hook. I can’t imagine that he’d been living in the room for weeks now, and had never looked at the paddle before; but, once it was in his hands, he took a moment to really examine it.

I knew what he saw. It was a homemade paddle, but one I’d been very careful with. I’d made it when Barry was about his age. It was based on pictures I’d seen of Exciter Parenting’s paddles. I’d wanted to buy several of their goods; but, for some reason, had never gotten around to doing so. When I’d gone to make Barry’s paddle, I’d remembered seeing their catalogs. What I made was hardly as good as what they advertise, but it was built carefully and to the same dimensions. The actual spanking portion was not quite 3 inches wide, and about 7 inches long. It was made of a fairly light wood. I’d even found a drawing of a little boy in pajamas, with the bottom down and his bottom bright red, which I’d printed out, pasted to the paddle, then varnished over, protecting the picture and the child’s bottom with a smooth surface. It wasn’t heavy, but as Van turned and started to come back to me, it looked like it carried the weight of the world to him.

As soon as he was back in front of me, he handed me the paddle. I took it and tucked it under my leg, then looked back to him.

"That was very well done, Van. But now, I want you to try to do something even braver for me. All right?"

He nodded.

"What I want you to do is, when I start spanking you and your bottom starts hurting, think that you could be at day care playing and your bottom wouldn’t be hurting, if you’d just behaved in class. Will you do that for me?"

"Yes, Daddy. I’ll try." He wasn’t crying yet, but you could hear the tears clogging his voice.

"I know you will, sweetheart. Now, come here."

I opened my arms and Van stepped into them. I hugged him close for a minute, letting him cling to me, then I switched my hold and picked him up, draping him across my lap. I rested my right hand on his bottom, and began to rub his back with my left.

"I know you want to be a good boy, Van, and you’re going to try to be brave; but, you’ve never been spanked before. I don’t want you to put your hands behind you to try to cover your bottom, because they might get hit. Would you like me to hold them for you, to keep them out of the way?"

He didn’t answer me, but his hands came from the floor to behind him. I leaned forward and ruffled his hair. Then I took his hands and gently placed them in the small of his back, where I held both his wrist in my left hand.

I lifted my right leg a bit, but at his size, not much adjustment was needed. As I shifted, I also picked up the paddle. When I had him in just the proper place, I placed the paddle against his bottom. As the wood touched his tender cheeks, the first scared sob escaped him.

"Do you want to pay for acting naughty today, so you can be a good, happy boy again, Van?"

"Yes, Daddy." By the sound of his voice, I’m sure tears were starting to flow down his face.

"What’s my brave boy going to think about while he’s getting spanked?"

"That I could be playing and not getting spanked, if I hadn’t been naughty in class."

Having never been spanked before, he didn’t tense up when the paddle came off his bottom. He certainly did after it came down though. I think the first smack shocked him, because he was totally quiet. Before the third smack landed, he was certainly making up for it.

One, two, three smacks on each cheek, back and forth, then two down the center, and one on each leg. He was howling before I finished - kicking and squirming, trying to pull his hands from my grip, and, in between sobs, promising me that he’d never be naughty again if I’d just stop. I didn’t though. His bottom was only pink, and I wanted him to have no question that misbehavior in school would not be tolerated. I repeated the pattern again, slower and a little more firmly, trying to catch any white areas I’d missed the first time. I ended with two good swats right to the sit spots. By this time, he’d given up fighting and was laying across my lap just bawling. I gently tossed the paddle onto his brother’s bed, then reached beneath him and helped him sit up.

His face was heart-breaking, and I pulled him tightly to me, letting him cry on my shoulder. As he settled down, I reached into my back pocket for a hanky, dried his face, and let him blow his nose.

"Have your brothers told you what the last part of a spanking is?"

He shook his head no.

"The last part of a spanking is corner time. You’re going to stand quietly in the corner without looking around. You’re not allowed to rub your bottom, so you’ll hold your shirt up so you won’t forget. While you’re in the corner, you’re going to think about any lessons you’ve learned today and what you’re going to do to not be naughty next time. Understand?"

"Yes, sir."

I helped him up and walked him to the corner, then helped him get in position. I started to turn away, then stopped and ruffled his hair. He turned and smiled at me.

"Don’t look around. Remember?"

"Sorry, Daddy."

He turned back to the corner and didn’t look around again.

At six minutes, I told him he could come out and asked him to come to me. He walked over and stood in front of me again.

"So, which is better, Van: behaving in class and going to play, or acting naughty and getting spanked?"

"Behaving!" he assured me very emphatically.

"So, Mrs. Tatum isn’t going to have to call me again, because you’re disrupting class?"

He shook his head hard enough I thought it might come loose.

"And, do you think maybe you should apologize to Mrs. Tatum tomorrow, for disrupting class today?"

He thought about it for a second, then nodded.

"And do you feel better, now that you’ve paid for being naughty?"

He thought about this one even longer, but finally nodded.

"It hurt really bad, Daddy; but, I’m glad I’m a good boy again. I really did feel bad and I feel better now."

"Even though your bottom’s sore?" I asked, smiling at him.

He grinned shyly and nodded.

"Okay, I’ll tell you what. Why don’t you take Mr. Spanky and put him back where he goes. Then you can go to the bathroom and wash your face. Then you can come get dressed. After that, you can come in the kitchen, and I’ll see if I can’t find us some milk and cookies. Sound good?"

He smiled again. "Yes, SIR!"

Van picked the paddle up and turned away, but I stopped him.

"Oh, and Van?"

He turned back to me.

I had stood, and now went down to one knee in front of him.

"I love you very much, sweetheart."

"I love you too, Daddy."