Visitors-2, Sore Bottoms-3

The kid was a natural. He'd never played Pente before, but was giving me a good game. He wasn't going to come close to winning, but you don't expect that. I was pleasantly surprised at how well he was doing. While I have plenty of people with whom to play Magic and other collectible card games, board games, and even role-playing games (when I can make the time), finding someone who can give me a challenge in strategy games like chess, Pente, Batallo, and Abalone is much harder. I think I would have loved Kevin, even if he hadn't been so darned cute. His being here today and willing to talk about how he was allowed to be here—even if the talk was filled with plenty of hesitation, squirms, and blushes on his side—made it even better. Okay, actually the blushes and other stuff weren't something I had to tolerate; they just made him even cuter.

At our Halloween party, I'd spent some time talking to Kevin after helping him into a last minute costume, since he'd missed the costume part of the party when he‘d been invited. He'd decided that some black velvet tights from a Ren Faire costume were the perfect thing. Of course, since they were skin tight, they couldn't exactly be worn over his underwear (and, even though he's a freshman in high school, the boy was wearing white briefs, which is just another reason for me to love him), and he wasn't shy about sliding them off, showing me that he doesn't just look young, but he's really not much more developed than Barry, and maybe a little less than Noah. He and Daniel know each other from school, and he'd been over a time or two, and had even challenged me to a game of chess. He hadn't won, but he'd given me a good game. He reminded me of it later that evening and let me know he wanted a re-match, so I invited him over the next Saturday afternoon.

A few days later, Kevin called to tell me he wasn't going to be able to make it. He'd been sliding on his chores a bit, his dad had been chewing him out, and he let his mouth run away from him. (He may look like a cute twelve year old, but I guess that proves he really is a teenager.) The previous weekend, I'd made a comment about spanking, and Kevin admitted that his dad used to spank him, but there was something about the way he stressed that word, or maybe about how he acted when he said it, that made me wonder if he was being one hundred percent honest. When he called, I found out why he'd sounded a little unusual.

"Are you going to be mad at me for not coming?"

"Kevin, if you're grounded, then you can't come. I'm going to miss playing, but we can do it some other time."

"You're sure? I don't want you to be mad at me." There was a brief pause, and I was about to reassure him when he went on. "I'll come if you want me to."

"If you're grounded, how're you going to spend Saturday afternoon over here? Even if I'd let you, don't you think your parents might notice?"

"I don't have to be grounded if I don't want," the boy admitted, a bit nervous for some reason.

"It's not much of a punishment if you don't have to be grounded, but yeah, if you can come, c'mon. I'd love to see you."

Have you ever heard anyone blushing over the phone? You can just hear it in his voice that he’s bright red and squirming. That's how Kevin was when he answered me, after a pause so long I was about to ask if he was still there.

"Well, when I get in trouble, Dad always gives me a choice. I have to do some extra chores, and then I gotta either be grounded through the weekend or get a spanking." There was another pause, before he said, "If you ain't gonna be mad at me, then maybe we can do it the next weekend?"

Sigh! Oh well, it's not like I'd get to be there for it. "No, Kevin. I'm not going to be mad at you, and I think the next weekend will be just fine. Why don't you call me a couple of days before, and I'll let you know what time."



We'd signed off and I'd nearly forgotten about it by Saturday afternoon (except for a pleasant daydream or two about that cute, hairless little bottom of his and how his dad would have dealt with it.) So can you imagine my surprise when I was told Saturday afternoon that I had a visitor and it turned out to be Kevin? Can you imagine my pleasure?

I escorted him in to my office and asked what he was doing there. "Have a seat, Kev," I told him, pointing to the couch. Then added, in a playful tone, "You can sit, can't you?"

Like I said, Kev looks twelve. He's a little tall for that age, but lean. He has dark brown, wavy hair that has just a bit of bronze to it when you see him under bright light or especially in the sun. He has honey brown eyes and a thick batch of light freckles. Except for a thatch of pubic hair and a few wisps under his arms, he's still smooth. Oh, and did I mention that he has a fair complexion and a blush that's as charming as his smile? I know because he went dark red when I said that.

He stammered for a minute, but finally admitted, "Yeah. When we got off the phone Wednesday, I got to thinking about it, and I really wanted to come over today, so I asked Dad if I could go ahead and get spanked instead."

"I guess he said yes."

His blush, which had been fading, was answer enough. He was definitely ready for some chess, but we detoured by the kitchen to get some drinks. I asked if he was hungry (have you ever met a teenage boy who wasn't?), so I fixed a snack tray and we went up to my gaming room.

Kevin is a bit of a geek, but he's very smart and seems to relate much better to older kids and adults. He seems starved for attention—not in general, but from people who can talk to him on his level about the things he loves. We started out talking about books, including the Wheel of Time series which I'm currently re-reading, and David Weber, who is a favorite author for both of us, but it didn't take me long to turn the conversation around to his being there.

Kevin blushed and stammered, kept his eyes on the chess board, and squirmed like he'd been spanked three minutes ago, rather than three days, but he did tell me about it, and in enough detail to make even an old goat like me happy.

Kevin admitted that his dad had been a bit surprised when he'd asked for a spanking, since he'd been taking the groundings for over two years at that point. "Unfortunately," Kevin informed me dryly , "he still remembers how to do it."

Putting his magazine down, his dad had stood and escorted Kevin to his bedroom. From what Kevin told me, he remembered the drill as well as his dad did.

"When Dad takes me to my room, or when he tells me I'm going to get spanked—or I guess when I tell him I'm going to get spanked now—I have to take my belt off and give it to him or get it out of my closet if I'm not wearing it. Then I gotta take my pants and shorts down. I usually just shove 'em all the way down. When I was little, sometimes I tried to just pull ‘em down a real little bit, like here," he said, lifting up a bit and gesturing to a spot that was barely below where the leg band would be on his briefs, "but if I did that, he'd pull 'em down instead. One time, I guess maybe I was ten, I fought with him when he tried to do it, and he ended up taking ALL my clothes off and didn't let me put anything on the rest of the day. That was really embarrassing, so now I just get it over with."

"Anyway," he went on, "after my butt’s bare, I gotta lay down on dad's legs. It felt really weird the other day. I guess I’ve grown some. I mean, I know I have, but you don't really think about it. I'm used to Dad being a lot bigger than me, but this time, my head and toes were both nearly on the floor. So after I'm on his lap, he heats me up with his hand 'til my butt's hurtin' real good."

"You cry?" I asked, hoping I sounded casual.

"No! Well, not really. I mean, I guess my eyes are kinda wet, but I'm not makin' any noise or nuthin'." He'd looked up at me for that, I guess wanting to make sure I didn't think he was a wimp or a baby or something. I just nodded. I guess he thought I believed him, because he went on. "When he stops, he rubs my butt, kinda like this," he said, pushing his left shoulder towards me and gently rubbing his hand over it. "I guess he's making sure he didn't miss anyplace."

"Or, maybe his hand hurts, and he's just trying to rub out some of the sting," I suggested facetiously.

Kevin snorted. "His hand ain't what's stingin'," he replied indignantly. I tried not to laugh.

"But that's the worst part, 'cause I gotta lay there, waitin'. I ain't cryin', but it really does hurt pretty bad already, but then I can feel him shift, and when he does that, I know he's reachin' for the belt. I'm not real big," he continued, gesturing at his narrow frame, "but Dad doubles the belt up, and goes over my butt again, and it's already hurtin', and that belt just sets me on fire."

The boy was looking pretty distressed, and I was ready to change the subject, but he took a deep breath, then sighed. "I don't get too many with the belt, though. Used to be, I could never count 'em, but this last time, he gave me seven. That's not too many."

"No, but on top of a pretty good spanking, I'll bet it's enough."

"You got that right. I don't mind tellin' ya, I do cry when he uses that belt."

"Belts do hurt," I assured him. "My dad used the belt on me when I was a kid. It was never after a spanking, but I never just got a few swats. I'll bet he gave me twice that many when I was a lot younger than you. The last few times I got it, I'll bet I got twenty-five or thirty."

"Yeah, my dad's spanked me like that, but only a few times, when I was really in trouble." We compared details on how our dad's applied the belt and it turned out that they were pretty similar. "God," he suddenly snapped, "I hate gettin' it like that. I'd rather be grounded forever than get another whippin' like that."

We were both quiet for a minute. I really did hate the thought of the cute little fellow lying naked over a pile of pillows at the foot of his bed, waiting for that strap to crack down across his pretty little rear again and again. Of course, I also hated when I switched the boys, but every once in a while, their behavior was so out of line that it seemed they needed something extreme to settle things. I'm sure that was just as true with Kevin.

Now I have to admit that Kevin really seemed to have been telling the truth when he said he 'used' to get spanked. He's going to be fifteen in February, and he claims he can only remember three spankings since he was in sixth grade not long after he‘d turned twelve; two of which he didn't have a choice to avoid. Even beyond the choice between spanking and grounding, he reminds me a lot of Ryan, in that I think both of them can have plenty of fun without doing anything to get in trouble. As with Ryan, I think most of the trouble he gets into is just an occasional boyish lapse, and the rest is caused by an occasional upsurge in hormones. If the two weren’t being whipsawed by adolescence, they’d probably never get in serious trouble.

Glancing over at him, I saw he'd looked up from the board and was watching me. Suddenly I felt as embarrassed as he looked, but we both smiled at each other. Surprisingly, he was the one who broke the silence. "You're pretty cool for a 'rent," he informed me. Not wanting the conversation to get any more serious, I headed it in another direction.

"Oh, I'm really just a big kid."

And with that, we turned the conversation to movies, which continued through another game of chess, before I started to teach him Pente, and that's where we were when a shamefaced Noah came in, trailed by Ryan Wheeler.

The two of them just stood there for a minute, and I finally asked, "Noah?"

He brought his hands out from behind his back, holding two pieces of a gray statue out to me. "It was an accident, Dad."

I had to take a deep breath. Accident or not, that statue was twenty-five years old. I hadn't seen one, at any price, in nearly fifteen years (of course, I'd not been looking either). Still, it was just a statue, and I wasn't going to yell at my son because of it. Well, not much.

"It was an accident accident, or was it a 'we were rough housing where we shouldn't have been' accident?"

"A real one, Dad. I swear we weren't…."

"Noah Haynes," I interrupted him, as my brain finally finished hunting through the memory banks, "wasn't that statue in my library?"

Noah had already been looking anywhere but me. Now he was intently studying the weave of the carpet as he mumbled a barely audible, 'Yes, sir.'

"Kevin," I said, turning to my guest, "I'm going to need a few minutes to deal with this. Why don't you take our dishes to the kitchen, then you can use the phone down there to call your dad and see if you can spend the night tonight. We might be busy a few minutes, so after that, see if you can find Ryan and ask if he'll start showing you the rules to Heroclix."

Kevin had been looking nearly as nervous as Noah and Wheels. He grabbed our dishes and nearly ran out of the room. As I turned back to my two problem-of-the-moment children, I made a mental note to let Kev know that, unlike colds and flu, spankings aren't actually contagious.

I waited a moment to be sure Kevin was gone, then asked, "Who gave you permission to be in my library, Noah?"

"No one," he admitted, almost as quietly as his last answer.

I sighed. I didn't want to be mad at him about this. An accident's an accident; but an accident occurring where you're not supposed to be is something else. Instead of glaring at Noah, I turned to Wheels.

"Wheels, I think you're going to have to go home."

"Jack," he said, looking up at me piteously, "I'm the one that broke it."

I had to shake my head. "Thank you for admitting that, Wheels, but Noah knows he's not supposed to be in my rooms without permission. I'm not going to punish anyone for breaking the statue, but Noah is in trouble for being in the library."

Wheels said something, but I could barely even hear it, much less understand what he said.

"Excuse me?"

He raised his head to look at me, and his eyes were damp and nervous. "I knew we weren't supposed to go in there, but he was just going to show me a picture of Cerebus. He said it's really funny."

"It doesn't matter why, Wheels. You know what happens to boys in this house when they can't follow the rules, don't you?"

"They get spanked," he answered, looking anyplace but at me or Noah.

"Do you want me to call your dad?"

He looked up at me and tried to answer. His tongue jumped out and danced across his lips, then he tried again. Finally he just shook his head.

"All right then," I said, almost in a sigh, "why don't we go to my office?

As I led the two boys downstairs, my nasty, cynical, suspicious, and somewhat paranoid brain started to develop an unpleasant scenario. I knew from casual conversation that, while Wheels had heard both his brothers get several spankings (and he'd had a few himself), he still hadn't seen a spanking since he’d watched Noah go over my lap five or six months before. I suddenly started to wonder if my poor statue was lying upstairs, in two pieces, because Wheels had decided he wanted to repeat that experience. Well, I had surprises planned for both boys. I thought Noah's might not be totally unpleasant (well, maybe a little less unpleasant than usual, anyway), but I was sure Wheel's would be.

As soon as we were in the office, the two of them took their place in front of the spanking chair, even before I had it turned around. Sitting, I looked up at both of them. "You both know you weren't supposed to be in my library. You went anyway. I really wish you'd just start following the rules, Noah. Have I ever not let you go in there when you wanted?"

"No, sir."

"Then why didn't you just ask?"

The boy shrugged. It really wasn't a fair question. He was barely thirteen and probably did a lot of things every day that he couldn't explain. Maybe he was just in a hurry. Maybe he knew I always said okay, so he figured he didn't have to ask anymore. Maybe he just wanted to show his friend that he didn't have to follow the rules. Maybe he just thought he wouldn’t get caught. Or, most likely, he just didn’t think at all. Why he did it didn't really matter, but I did want him to think about it a bit. If he could figure it out, maybe he wouldn't do it again.

"What about you, Wheels. Do you have any idea why, if you knew you weren't supposed to go in there, you went anyway?"

The poor kid looked miserable and just shook his head.

"Okay, I think you two know you're supposed to obey the rules. Do you need any more lecture?"

Two heads shook as one.

"All right then; shirts up."

The last time I'd spanked Wheels, he'd been ready for bed. This time, he lifted his red-sleeved baseball jersey a bit, then looked over at Noah. Seeing Noah‘s brown t-shirt all the way up to his armpits, Wheels did the same. Both of them were already shoeless and beltless, so starting with Wheels, I unbuttoned each boy's pants, then unzipped them, before pulling them to their ankles to be stepped out of. As I spread Wheels’s fly, I exposed a pair of camouflage boxers. Noah was wearing the white Hanes briefs he preferred for some reason. As his jeans slid down his smooth legs, it was easy to see that Wheels was just as hard as I'd expected him to be, whether he'd hoped this would happen or not.

When both boys were in just undies and shirt, I turned to the paddle drawer just long enough to get the short strap I'd bought for my office, which was almost exactly identical to Black, which was still hanging in the room Noah shared with Barry. I handed it to Wheels, then stood.

"Hang on to that for me for one second. C'mere Noah," I added, dropping my arm around his shoulders.

Noah looked at me questioningly but didn't resist as I led him outside the office.

The worst problem with my office is the door to it opens directly towards the living room. That doesn't make it a great place to do corner time. However, since almost every boy in the house right then had been in a similar position, I wasn't too worried for Noah's modesty.

Turning him, I gently pushed him, face first, against the wall, right beside the office door.

"You can wait your turn right here, Noah."

"Out here? How come?"

"Just trust me on this one, son. The two of you need to be spanked separately. Okay?"

He was hesitant and confused, but he did trust me and nodded, lifting his shirt back into place, and leaning forward so his nose was almost touching the wall. I reached out and patted his shoulder before stepping back into the office and pulling the door closed.

Wheels wasn't where I left him, but he wasn’t hiding, just standing at my desk. As I shut the door behind me, he was picking the short leather paddle back up. He turned when the door shut, so it was easy for me to realize he'd just been removing his glasses.

"You're not going to spank us together?"

"Don't you remember the talk we had last time, Wheels?"

"You mean about my boner?" he replied, neglecting to mention that he was still tenting his boxers right then.

"Yeah, but after that. Didn't I tell you that whenever you got in trouble over here, I'd spank you, but it was going to be separate?"

"Oh, yeah."

I have to admit, I felt sorry for the boy. By the look on his face, I was suddenly sure that he hadn't been setting Noah up. I do think he'd been anticipating one thing about getting his own bottom heated, and now I'd taken that from him. I still think it was best, but I felt a bit like a bully for some reason.

I took my seat and motioned, and he hesitantly stepped up to me. Everything had already been said, so I snagged his boxers and pulled them down, being careful not to bend his stiffy too much.

Wheels still wasn't as big as Noah, though I think he'd grown a bit since the last spring, and maybe even since I'd spanked him during the summer, but when I got his boxers down, it was much easier to see the difference. His privates were no longer boyishly white and pink, but they still weren't real dark, either. They were bigger though, and he had a patch of dark brown hair starting to grow at the upper base. It's hard to tell without a ruler, but he was hard enough for me to think that he was probably a little longer and wider than he'd been before as well.

As soon as Wheels was out of his boxers, I took his arm and guided him into position across my lap. Noah has really hardened up the last few months from his football practice. Wheels, on the other hand, was still pretty soft. Not fat, not even chubby, but his belly wasn't quite flat anymore and his bottom didn't even have a little dimple now, once he relaxed. All things considered, I wouldn't be surprised if he woke up one day soon and was four inches taller. For now, he had just enough extra weight for it to be really pleasant.

After a brief pause to admire the canvas before me, I lifted my black leather paintbrush and went to work. I started in the normal pattern, though I already knew I'd be taking it a bit easier with Wheels. Still, the paddle traced down the center of both cheeks. He did manage to take the first two swats quietly, though he couldn't keep from jerking as each one fell.

Black is narrower than the paddles, so I tracked five right down the middle of his chubby little bottom, before going back up to concentrate on each cheek separately. Back and forth, left, then right, I started at the very top of each full cheek, almost at the small of his back, and trailed six swats down each.

At first, when Wheels jerked to the swat of the small leather paddle, I could feel him poking against the inside of my left thigh. That quickly faded away as the burning sting built, and drove all thoughts of Noah's upcoming spanking from his brain.

After the first couple of swats, Wheels began to yelp but was soon sobbing aloud as I drew the paddle down both cheeks. I was only planning one covering for him, so I didn't mind if they overlapped a bit. I think he objected to it, and was quick to let me know, protesting with loud sobs that quickly grew into full blown crying.

The involuntary jerk of his body as each smack fell soon became kicking, squirming, and struggling, and before I finished with his bottom, I had to pause to pin his right hand against the small of his back, beneath my forearm and tighten my grip on his waist.

By the time I'd finished six down each cheek, Wheels was crying loud and hard, but not yet bawling. As I placed the first swat on his upper leg, he howled, kicking both legs together and almost looking like a landed fish, as he flopped around my lap with each smack.

Four on each leg and you could tell that Wheels was right on the edge, but all it took to push him over was his feeling me lining that paddle up on his sit spots. He was crying so hard I couldn't understand a word he said, but I didn't have to understand him to tell he was begging.

I carefully counted out how I was going to place those last twelve swats, leaving him too sore to sit for a while, then sighed. I have to admit I was upset with him and Noah both. They'd not only broken a rule, but I'd lost something I really enjoyed because of it. Still, it was obvious that Wheels wasn't used to the type of spankings I give my kids. Cutting my intended finish more than in half, I placed two quick, firm swats on each sit spot, then a final one, right over the center of his bottom's smile.

The boy was limp and didn't resist or struggle as I lifted him from over my lap to sitting in it. I was careful to place him so most of his bottom was dangling between my legs. His little boyhood was soft and unhappy, which proved I'd made my point. When I pulled him to me, he cried against my shoulder, but a couple of minutes went by before I felt his arms reach around me.

I let Wheels calm down some, but didn't let him stop crying before I had him get up. His lap time seemed to have helped him recover a bit since, as soon as he was on his feet, he began a fairly energetic fire dance. I almost stopped him, but he was cute, so I gave him a minute to rub before calling him to attention.

"That's enough rubbing, Wheels. Get your boxers on and c'mon."

He looked a bit puzzled at getting dressed already, but didn't argue. He obviously didn't enjoy bending over, but it was only a few seconds until he was covered at least a little. As soon as he had them on, I took him by the back of the neck and led him out of the office.

Noah jumped when we came out, but I turned away from him and led Wheels to my library. As soon as we were inside, I turned him to face a blank wall, yanked his boxers down to his ankles, and warned him "Do NOT let me catch you rubbing or looking around. Understand?"

He was still sobbing just a bit, but it was easy enough to understand him when he replied, "Yes, sir."



With Wheels taken care of, I was almost ready to deal with Noah. I left him standing there, still in his briefs, with his shirt still held up, then came back to him just a minute later.

"You can come in now, Noah."

I'm sure he would really have preferred not to, but he docilely followed me inside, then stopped before I could close the door.

"Take your shorts off, then go stand by the stool."

I'm sure he was a bit surprised to see the stool standing there. I'd only moved it in a couple of days before, so he'd probably not seen it in my office before. The fact that Black was lying atop it probably did nothing to make him feel better about it. Still, he obeyed me; stooping to take off his briefs, then tossing them aside on the couch, he walked over to the stool with a complete lack of shyness.

Unlike Wheels, I probably see Noah nude at least once a week. It's not that I have to spank him that often, but he usually showers in the evening, but doesn't take a change of clothes with him, just walking back to his room naked as he towels dry. Barry does the same thing, and since I go to their room almost every evening, it's not unusual to see one or both of them undressed.

Because I see him that way so often, I think I sometimes miss seeing him grow. Having just seen Wheels, whom I'd seen naked with Noah just once, when I'd spanked the two of them together last spring, it made me really look at Noah. I really noticed that his equipment was darkening to nearly an adult hue, that he looked a little bigger, and that the thick hair that had once been constrained to just the lowest part of his belly was starting to spread a bit and reach down towards his sack.

"Noah, you know the rules, son. You know you're not allowed in my private areas without permission. I don't know what else to tell you."

"How come I can't go in your rooms, but you can go in mine?"

I paused for a second and tilted my head, but there really wasn't anything sarcastic in his voice. It seemed like an honest question, so I gave him an honest answer.

The answer wasn't 'because it's my house', or 'because I'm a grown-up'. The first isn't even true. I paid for the house, but he's part of the family, he lives here, so it's OUR house. The second was a bit more true; just like he's allowed to do more things than Van is, but not as many as Bobby, I get to do more than Bobby. However, even that isn't the real answer.

Instead, I took a minute to explain to him that I'm his father, and he doesn't have a right to privacy from his parents. I try not to take advantage of that, but the truth is, I have to check on him at times to make sure he's not getting into trouble, not doing anything dangerous, and simply following the rules, and keeping things at least moderately clean. I also explained that the library was off limits because there was stuff I didn't want him seeing by himself and some not at all. In some ways, Noah's pretty mature, and I don't have trouble with him watching some R-rated movies, but a lot of them, I'd want either to watch with him or discuss with him after he'd seen it.

"Besides," I finished, "if you ever do any of my laundry, you have my permission to go into my bedroom to put it up."

Smiling just a bit at the weak joke, Noah admitted that he understood my points.

"Okay, are you ready to get this over with?"

He obviously didn't want to nod, but did. I lifted the paddle from the stool and turned him towards it.

"Put your feet right here, then bend and grab as far down as you can."

I had to help him find the right position, pushing the small of his back to put his waist up against the edge of the seat.

"Go up on your tip toes."

He did, then I put my hand between his shoulder blades and gently pushed him down. He grabbed the legs of the stool and walked his grip down, until he was holding below the bottom rung. I looked back and saw that the toes of one foot were barely touching the ground, while the other was waving an inch or so above.

Lining the paddle up, I went to work. With him having to hold the legs of the stool to keep himself from falling, the spanking actually went much more easily than his usually did. I stood with my left leg right against the side of the stool, and kept my left arm across his back to hold his waist like I always did. He kicked a lot, but didn't seem to squirm as much.

Since Noah was getting a full spanking, he didn't actually get as many swats in the first set as Wheels had. Except for small kicks of his legs, Noah took the first swats well. Four down the center of his bottom, then five down each cheek. Four more down the center, then a couple into his dimples. Four more down the center, then I went to work on his legs.

Noah took his spanking well, but he couldn't stay completely quiet. As I paused to line up each blow, I could hear soft sobbing as I finished with his bottom and moved down to his legs. Each smack on the legs brought a louder yelp, growing slightly wet by the last one. Back to his bottom, and the same pattern brought more reaction as the leather paddle added fire to an already stinging bottom. By the time I went back down the crack the second time for that set, he was really crying. By the time I went back to work on his legs, it was getting hard and loud.

I hate the idea that I might be being too harsh on the boy, but since he'd started football this fall, he's toughened up even more, and I'd already learned that Noah has to break down for me to really get through to him. I might be able to let him off easy sometimes, but in a situation like this, when he'd broken something he knew I really liked, I wanted him to know that he'd paid the debt and we were even.

He was crying loudly before I finished his legs, but not hard enough, so I went back and drew another trail of even darker red down each of his cheeks. This time, when I came to the sit spots at the bottom of each cheek, the paddle kept cracking down, but didn't move any further.

One, two, three, four, five, six; back and forth for three on each sit spot, then three more to each, rapid fire, and he broke. Noah was bawling loud and hard as I placed a final three swats on that tender spot right where the bottom and both legs meet.

I'd decided to use the stool after spanking Noah's Uncle Trent, my youngest brother. When I was through with him, I just left Noah lying across it. He was crying loud and hard, squirming just a bit, and his legs were still kicking, almost like he hadn't realized the spanking was over. After a minute, he was lying still, but still crying.

The problem with Noah is, he doesn't want to be comforted when a spanking's over. Not right away. Leaving him over the stool gave him a little simulated privacy and alone time.

I put the paddle back in its drawer and went to take a quick peek at Wheels, who still had his nose against the wall, no longer crying, but still holding his shirt to expose his very red bottom. Without letting him know I was there, I went back to my office.

When I came in, Noah had let go of the stool legs and slid back a bit, so his feet were on the floor, but he was still lying across stool. He was also rubbing his bottom but jerked his hands away when he realized I'd come back.

"It's okay," I assured him, walking across the floor to stand next to him, and began to rub his back.

We stayed like that for a minute, me rubbing his back, him rubbing his bottom, then he suddenly stopped, put his hands on the seat of the stool, and pushed himself up. Then he turned to look at me with bloodshot eyes in a tear-stained face.

"I really am sorry we broke your statue, Dad. It was really cool."

"Yeah, but maybe we can fix it. We'll get the super glue later."

He nodded. "I'm sorry I didn't ask if we can go."

"I am too, Noah. I really hope you realize soon that rules aren't suggestions. I know you don't believe this but, in a lot of ways, I probably don't like spanking you any more than you like getting it."

He tilted his head and looked at me for a minute, then stepped forward and wrapped his arms around me.

"I believe it," he murmured against my shirt.



Fifteen minutes or so later, Wheels had joined Noah in his room, looking at a couple of the Cerebus books that they'd gone after to start the disaster in the first place. After making sure they were both okay, I tapped on the door to Ryan and Mickey's room. Remembering the conversation Noah and I had just had, I waited patiently for a 'come in' to be called.

Ryan and Cameron were sprawled out on the floor with a Heroclix game set up between them. Kevin was sitting to the side, watching. All three of them looked up when I came in.

"My dad said I can stay over, Jack. Ryan and Cam have been telling me to play the game. Ryan says he'll get me a rule sheet when they're through playing this one."

Geez, kid! Take a breath.

"That's great, Kev. I'll tell you what, though. I have some extra rule sheets upstairs. Why don't we go get you one, then we'll finish the Pente game we were playing.

"Okay," he smiled, jumping from the floor and walking to me. I had to smile at his enthusiasm.

Leaving the playroom, Kev was walking right up against me. After a moment's quiet, he looked up at me.

"Did you really spank those two guys?"

"Yes, I did."

"Would you spank me?" he asked nervously.

"Well, Kev, if you got in trouble over here, I'd either spank you or call your dad."

"How'd you decide?"

"I wouldn't. I'd give you the choice. At least the first time."

I glanced over at him to see him nodding.

"Would you use a paddle, like in Daniel's room?"

"Ummm... Daniel's kind of an advanced student, Kev. Did you see the paddle in Ryan's room."

He nodded again.

"I think that'd be good for you if we ever had to do it. You seem like a pretty good kid to me, though," I assured him, dropping my arm around his shoulders.

He smiled and blushed just a bit.

"Have you ever spanked Cam?" he asked, looking away from me.

"That, young sir, is between me and Cam, and is none of your business."

He looked back at me, smiling big, and a twinkle in his eye. "That means you have."

"Oh it does, does it? Well, what does this mean?"

Suddenly the arm around his shoulders bent into a loose headlock and pulled him down. With my free hand, I began lightly rubbbing my knuckles against the top of his head.

"It means your mean!' he exclaimed, trying to get away from me. I didn't take it too seriously though, since his attempt to escape wasn't nearly as hard as his laughter.





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