I love my new son, he is one of the best looking boys in his class. I love it when he comes up and kisses me goodbye in the mornings and runs off happily to join his friends.
I always dreamt of having my own son and I could not have hoped for better.
I focus on it again as he walks off. Beautiful, they are becoming a little tight and I make a note that I must take him to the shops and get some larger ones. It is aboput at this point in my day that I usually make up my mind and have to drive home quickly to deal with it.
I started spanking soon after I married his mother. Since my own boyhood I have been interested in smacking boys bottoms. I usually spank in the evenings when his mother is out of the house.
At first he told his mother about the spankings and this led to a few arguments and a little upset and I had to assert myself quickly. Now he knows that she will get upset with him and that I will smack harder next time if he tells her so he normally says nothing.
I am careful to spank until his little bottom cheeks are nice and red and starting to sting, but no further.
I love to send him to his room. I know he will look up at me with those large eyes in a sort of pityful 'you are not going to spank me again are you daddy' look. He accepts the inevitable.
I adjust myself before opening his bedroom door slowly, just like my father did to me.
I close the door firmly and walk to the side of his bed. He hands me his paper and I begin to ask him to spell the words he got wrong in his test in the living room. He is nervous and never gets them all correct. They are far too difficult for a normal seven year old boy to learn.
I order him to stand in between my legs and his face starts to give that lovely expression of concern. I undo his shorts slowly and let them fall to the carpet.
''Over please'' I say, and he positions himself obediently over my lap, arms hanging down in front and toes trying to touch the carpet behind him. He cannot quite reach it which means he is bent double across my lap. I put one hand in either side of his little white briefs and pull them down over his bottom slowly, as if peeling a grape.
No marks, beautiful, smooth. I feel it, savour the young boy scent, tap gently, stroke and carress each little buttock. He is silent, waiting, I sense his nerves. He makes a slight sniffing noise.
Boys of this age have not learnt to tense so I rub the smooth soft bottom flesh
''What is your nice bottom for son?'' I ask
''So you can smack it when I am naughty, daddy'' he replies.
''How should I smack it son?'' I enquire
''YOu should smack it hard daddy'' he replies as he has been taught.
''very well then, daddies must spank their naughty little boys bottoms very hard'' I tease him.
I could judge by my new fathers mood, and tell my own short term future, from only a few months after he married my mum.
I was seven when I got a new dad. My mum worked and my dad was a sales rep who worked from home so he took over the role of supervising me most of the time.
He had visits with clients during the school day and if I was off school for any reason I travelled with him and had to wait in the car while he did business. My father was strict with me. Looking back at the photos he took of me at the time I was always smiling with a cheeky grin, but I know that when he punished me, which he did a lot, I was not so happy.
A hard smacked bottom, or the threat of one, was a daily occurrence. Whenever Dad decided I had been naughty I would have to go to my room and after a while I would be across his knee and he would be rubbing my bottom and talking to me for a long time before he would start a long smacking.
At first I got his hand but as I became older I had a slipper, a wooden spoon and later a short thin cane, I hated this the most because it started when I was eleven. Dad would tell me he liked to see my bottom bounce as he whipped it. I started to get embarrased about lying over Dad's knee with my bare bottom throbbing and stinging while I was told what a bad boy I was. I guess that afet a while I came to believe that I really was a bad boy who had to be spanked a lot. Sometimes it felt as if Dad and I were really close and my bottom belonegd to him.
The other starnge thing about Dad was that he made me stay in my school uniform, in school term, until it was time for bed. I wished I could Have played soccer with friends after school but dad said I had to do lots of extra work so that I would be successful. In the early days when I was still little, and a bit stupid I guess, I did not do my work correctly in protest, even though I knew my bottom would be stinging as I got into bed, but it was worth it.