Ryan got kicked out of his mother's house in Denver just before summer, right after he turned 17. He just wouldn't mind her strictures against smoking pot in the house. He was a smart kid, but he had quit going to school and had simply become too much for her to handle. He was depressive, defiant, confused -- all the usual teenage stuff, only moreso in his case than average.
He came to stay with me for a while in L.A. I didn't think it was too good an idea, but I couldn't see just leaving him on the streets. As a gay man, I didn't have a lot of experience dealing with kids, though some of the men I'd had relationships with in the past had been pretty immature. I remember one guy, real skinny blond with big green eyes who lived with me a few months; John was his name, about 23 (I was then about 30), who was such a brat and layabout that I used to take him over my knee or lay him across the foot of the bed and spank his cute little bare butt -- and regularly; it seemed like every week or so. It was kind of hot, actually, but I spanked him not as a _s_e_x_ual turn-on (though it was that, for both of us, especially afterwards!), but because he was a brat and a slob, and I spanked him very, very hard and for a long time, with a stiff strap or paddle, till he cried in pain and really changed his attitude. I was genuinely angry at him, and I was punishing him. But it didn't really work out in the end. I just couldn't live with him, and an intimate relationship has to be on an equal footing. Still, I had in my mind the idea that if my nephew Ryan didn't act like a halfway responsible adult, I'd try the old fashioned methods of discipline that his mother had given up when he was ten and the schools no longer use -- I'd whip his butt. Nothing _s_e_x_ual -- I would be very careful about that -- but I wasn't about to play sensitivity feel-good games with this kid. If he didn't toe the line -- my line -- he'd feel the paddle on his butt, and that would be that. Before he even arrived, I even went out to the garage and found my old laminated wood paddle. I guess I was pretty sure I'd be needing it.
At first Ryan was very respectful -- careful. I told him where he could put his stuff, and showed him the little room in the back of the house (not really a bedroom -- I think it had been intended as a sewing room) that would be his. My lover, Michael, sort of remained aloof from all this. He was traveling a lot on business anyway, and basically stayed out of the picture.
The very first day I tried to lay down the law a little.
"OK, Ryan, let's get some things understood right from the outset. First, you are a minor, and you're in my custody. If that sounds like prison, OK, but make sure you understand that we have rules here, and I insist that you follow them. Got that?"
"Ah, yeah, sure..."
"Good. I want you to find a way to get your life on track, and I'm going to help you as best I can, but there are some things I won't tolerate, and you need to be very clear about them." I listed a bunch of don'ts -- no drugs, no alcohol, no staying out after one in the morning, no music loud enough to disturb the neighbors, or us for that matter, etc. I told him I expected him to keep his room neat and to help with some chores. As soon as possible, he was going back to school and he would treat it like a job, with no unexcused absences, and no screwing around. He seemed a bit sullen, but he agreed. So I let up on him a little, and we got to talking. We had some interests in common -- mainly classical music, somewhat to my surprise. I'm so used to finding kids under 25 almost like they were from another planet these days.
Things went OK for a few days, but then one afternoon I came home from work a little early, to find him in the living room, with dishes and magazines strewn around -- he was trying to clean them up at the last minute -- and a definite smell of marijuana in the air. "Oh boy," I said to myself, as I just sort of glared at him before speaking, "this is it."
He was trying to bus the dishes into the kitchen in a quick trot.
"Ryan." I said this evenly, not loud, just enough edge to let him know that I would have his attention NOW.
"Uh...yeah?"
"Ryan, I am REALLY disappointed in you. I told you just three days ago that I would have no drugs in this house. I gave you the dignity of not searching your stuff to make sure you were clean. Now you've been smoking pot in my house."
He looked at the floor. "I'm sorry, Uncle Andy, really..."
"Ryan. Shut up, and listen to me. I don't care if you're sorry, and I don't want to hear excuses, or anything at all from you. You have disobeyed me, and I am not going to allow that. You've been allowed to get away with all kinds of _s_h_i_t_, and that's what led to your mother kicking you out -- you were out of control. Well, you're not going to be out of control here. You are going to be punished. Now go to your room, right now. I'll be there in one minute and you're going to get the spanking of your life."
"Spanking! You're going to SPANK me!?"
That's right, now get in there unless you want me to drag you!"
He went. He looked back at me, his blue eyes flared in the pinkish cast of his flushed face, framed by his long, straight blond hair. I saw amazement, and a little fear in his expression. I returned it with the steadiest, most determined look I could muster. When he had turned into the hall, I went directly to my room and got the paddle out of the drawer and waited just long enough for him to have a moment to think about what was about to happen, then I went and knocked on his closed door.
I didn't wait for an answer, but walked straight in, holding the paddle forward so he would see it. He was sitting on the bed, fully clothed, a look of wonder and fear on his face.
"All right, stand up," I ordered him as I stood by with the paddle in one hand as I stroked it lightly with the other.
"You're going to swat me with that...?"
"Ryan. Shut up. I am going to SPANK you. You will not speak unless I ask you a question until it's over, though I imagine you will cry a bit, 'cause I am going to give you the _d_a_m_n_ good spanking you should have had a LONG, LONG time ago. Now come over here. I sat on the bed, and, pointedly, set the paddle down next to me. He walked over, slowly, facing me. I tugged his arm lightly and pulled him alongside my knees on the right, ready to lay him across my lap in a traditional over the knee posture.
"OK. Pants down, below the knees."
"You're going to..."
"Ryan. Shut up. Do as I tell you, and don't answer back, or it will be MUCH worse for you."
He slowly unbuckled his ratty jeans and pulled them down to his knees. He was wearing tight jockey shorts underneath, which were far from new. I could see the delicate basket of his _c_o_c_k_ and balls, nested in the crinkly, almost orange hair that some blonds have, right through the underwear.
"Shorts too, boy... this is a bare assed beating."
He pulled down the underwear too, slowly, and almost fitfully. His _d_i_c_k_ was scrunched against his balls, and his creamy white butt was so cute I took a long, admiring drink of it before guiding his body across my lap. I put my hand squarely on his butt and squeezed it just a little, then raised my hand high and brought it down with a sharp, hard SLAP! across both cheeks. A red flash formed instantly and he jerked a little. "OWWW!"
Again, SMACK! "OWW!" SMACKK! "OWW-OH-OWW!" He started bucking a little, so I pushed him down with my other hand and held his body in place. He was skinny and none too athletic, so I could easily hold him in place. SMACK! SMACK!! SMACK!! I spanked all over his butt, with a steady rhythm -- not too fast, but not so slow as to be a series of swats as opposed to a spanking. I raised my arm above shoulder height each time and brought it down with real force... this was for real, and I wanted him to be VERY sore afterwards.
After ten or eleven he started squirming and howling continuously, so I trapped his legs with my right leg. "Hold still, Ryan. This is not going to be over till you've been thoroughly spanked. Breathe deeply and take it like a man, because you're going to take it one way or the other."
He did seem to take it better after that, still crying out, but not jerking as violently. I continued with the bare hand to bare butt, good hard, steady spanking for a long time, till he was just simpering and letting out little howls after each smack, his butt a fiery red, quivering pair of mounds in my lap. I had given him at least a hundred smacks, and my arm was tired. Time for the paddle.
"OK, Ryan, stand up. And don't think your spanking is over yet. You're a big boy, and you've _f_u_c_k_ed up bad... you're going to remember this for the rest of your life... I guarantee it." He stood up, his face almost as red as his ass, with just a trace of tears, and looked at me with a peculiar mixture of hatred, or defiance, and ... was it respect?
"Take your pants all the way off... underwear too. And take your shirt off. Just gets in the way." He did, slowly, gingerly. His butt was still almost magenta, and the heat of it was more than just my imagination.
"All right, now kneel on the floor, against the bed." He looked at me with that defiant glare, but did as he was told, and without a word. He was learning.
He got on the floor, with his torso on the bed, and his butt folded over the edge of the bed. I stood over him and picked up the paddle. I lifted it in the air and brought it down CRACK! in an underhand swing, good and hard. It was about a half-inch thick laminated paddle, about nine by six inches in the paddle part, plus handle. Made for some sort of paddleball game with a hard rubber ball like a handball. Really packed some force to it. His butt instantly flared so red it was hard to believe it could get any redder. His body involuntarily jerked, and he actually screamed in pain.
I kneeled beside him, at right angles, and raised the paddle for another smack, this time from only a couple of feet away. But he jerked and screamed again... this was really getting to him. I had a moment where I thought this might be too much, maybe I should let up, but then I realized, no, if I meant to really get through to this kid and let him know once and for all that Uncle Andy means business and will spank his little butt HARD if he _f_u_c_k_s up, I had to make him cry real tears and leave him good and sore for a few days.
Again I found a rhythm. I pulled the paddle straight back about two feet and swatted his butt, first one side, then the other, covering the whole area, sometimes angling up against the line with the calf for an especially cutting swat of the lower butt. I spanked steadily, about one swat a second, till I had given him at least thirty. He was almost convulsing, and screaming and sobbing..."Oh GOD! OWWWW! Please! OHHH! OWWWW!" But I was merciless. I kept on, like a methodical machine, spanking him hard and steady. Then I decided he'd just about had enough so I pulled him up and stood up myself. But I didn't let him up. I made him bend over like in school, except I grabbed his torso with my left arm and held on. I pulled back maybe two and a half feet and let him have a good hard swat.
He screamed louder than ever and tried to jerk up, but I held him down. His butt was purple, and blotches of little ruptured capillaries under the skin were forming all over. SWAT! SWAT! I gave him ten like that. About as hard as a gym teacher's swat I got once in high school. That one swat had made me not want another, EVER. But Ryan was getting ten, on top of what I was quite sure was the hardest spanking he'd ever had, by a large factor. SWAT! SWAT!
Finally it was over. He just collapsed on the bed. I put my hand on his butt, to feel the heat, which was intense! "All right. That's it. Now you know, I MEAN it when I tell you something, and if you screw up you will PAY a price."
I walked out paddle in hand, and left him whimpering and crying on the bed. A couple of minutes later I came back with a bottle of lotion and rubbed it on his butt, as he lay on his stomach. He stopped crying, but said nothing, and neither did I. I think we understood each other perfectly.
He actually did respond to that spanking. He straightened up quite a bit. I got him back in school, and he finished the term, before going back home to finish his last year. And that was the last time he used pot or any other drugs that I knew about, anyway. There were three other occasions when I spanked his butt, but that first time was the most intense, and definitely had a major impact on him. I really think more kids, maybe not every kid, but some of them anyway, just need somebody to actually take them in hand and physically punish them, to get it through their stubborn, selfish minds that you don't go through life with only your own rules.