I am strongly opposed to the spanking of RL children and believe that spanking children is wrong. There are better ways to guide a child and better lessons to be taught by caring parents than though hitting. I believe that real-life, non-consensual spanking is both debilitating to the child's physical and psychological well-being and debilitating to the child-parent relationship. The potential for permanent psychological hurt cannot be overlooked. Still, I am a spankophile and while I am opposed to the RL spanking of children I nonetheless find the fictional account of such stories, and some remembrances of my own and other's RL experiences, very arousing. If such stories and remembrances do not interest you, move on. tbfyb: tbfyb@hotmail. com
This story was sent to me by tbfyb, who had written about half of what you see here, but he was not happy with the way he had concluded it. He asked me if I would be interested in trying to finish it. I was quite flattered by his request and wound up doubling the size of the story. Hope everyone likes it. It was quite fun collaborating with someone else. Let us both know what you think. Eric Blyton: ericblyton@hotmail. com
THURSDAY
Roger Springer was late for little league practice. His homeroom teacher, Mr. Ryan, who also taught history, had made him stay after school because he had (for the third day this week) disturbed the class with his constant chatter. Now it was already 4:30, he'd never make it to practice on time.
As Roger exited the school he noticed an old bike sitting all alone in the bike rack -- he decided to walk by, just to make sure the bike was locked (it wasn't). His own bike, a ten-speed, had a flat tire and was at home in the family's garage. Since he was late, and this bike wasn't locked, Roger decided to "borrow" it. He'd ride it until he was a short distance from the playing field, and then dump it in some bushes. Hell, when the practice was over he might even pretend to find the stupid bike and be a hero. But then, who'd want a crummy old bike like this anyway, it was a pile of junk, all rusted. Nothing like his ten speed at home. Besides, Roger thought to himself, any one who left their bike unlocked deserved to have it stolen.
* * *
Michael Shaw was new to the neighborhood. Bad enough he'd had to say good-bye to all his old friends in Chicago, but everyone at this new school seemed so aloof. They had already formed long-lasting relationships and didn't seem very interested in making any new friends.
Mike's father just started working for a new company. This company had paid to have the whole family move from Chicago to Orlando. Mike's father had been unemployed for the past four months so this new job was a Godsend. At least that's what his mother said.
Now they could pay the bills and maybe have a little money left over. What little money they seemed to have now had been spent buying new school clothes, a used bike, and food for the family. But things were looking up. Just last week his father thanked him for helping out around the house, and promised to see what could be done about starting up a regular allowance. In the meantime his father and mother both wanted him to concentrate on school work and getting good grades.
Well, thought Mike, not having any friends had at least one advantage, it allowed him to get all his school work done at the library before he went home.
Just then, Mrs. Johnson, the school librarian, walked over.
"Aren't you the busy one," commented Mrs. Johnson. "I wish more of the other students would drop by and do their homework like this, Lord knows some of your fellow students need to spend a lot more time doing their homework and a lot less time playing games and watching TV. You know, you're the only boy who's been here all afternoon."
"Well Mrs. Johnson, we don't have a TV at our house and I promised my mom and dad that I'd work extra hard this year to get good grades." Mike looked up at the library clock (4:40). "I better head on home now, Mrs. Johnson." He gathered his books together. He'd put them back in his locker, and then hurry home to help his mom get everything ready for supper.
Mike slammed his locker shut and ran down the hall towards the exit. No need to worry about running in the hallway at this time of day. He pushed the double doors open and headed down the stairs toward the bike racks.
Suddenly he stopped, as if in mid-stride, the bike racks were empty. Where was his bike? He'd left the house a little late this morning and hadn't taken the time to lock the bike. He'd promised his father that he would always remember to lock the bike "no matter what!" This was the first time he'd failed to do it, and sure enough, the bike was gone. What was he going to tell his dad? What would his dad say?
When he got home it was already well past five. His mother was in the kitchen.
"Mike, is that you? Where have you been? You're father will be home any moment. Hurry up and set the table. I thought I told you to be home by no later than 5:00."
"I'm sorry," answered Mike, "someone stole my bike and I had to walk home."
"Stole your bike. How'd that happen? Wasn't it locked?"
"I was late getting to school this morning and I guess I didn't take the time to lock it properly."
"Well, you'll have to explain that to your father when he gets home. You promised him that you'd remember to keep that bike locked at all times. You know we don't have the money to buy you another bike, we didn't really have the money to buy you that one. I wouldn't be too surprised if your dad decides to give you a spanking."
Mike's stomach turned a flip. He hadn't thought about that. His father hadn't spanked him in almost a year, not since he'd turned 13 anyway. But Mike could clearly remember some of the spankings he'd been given in Chicago. Dad didn't spank often, but when he did spank, it was something you remembered for a long time.
Mike finished setting the table and asked his mom if there was anything else she wanted done. He would have asked anyway, but with even the slightest chance of a spanking in his future, he wanted to muster all the good will he could; while he still had the chance.
* * *
Roger peddled his "borrowed" bike as fast as he could. Even so, the going was hard and he'd be a little late for practice. Next time, I'll have to "borrow" a faster bike, Roger jokingly thought to himself. Anyway, so far no one had seemed to notice him and that was good. When the ballpark was about a block and a half away, Roger hopped off the bike and dropped it next to the curb. Then he ran the rest of the way to the field.
"About time you made it," chided Mr. Browning, the little league coach.
"I had to stay late after school," Roger replied truthfully, "I ran all the way here as fast as I could." Well, truth had its limits, besides riding that old bike was almost like running.
As Roger headed to the dugout he noticed his father sitting in the bleachers. He must have gotten off work early, thought Roger. His dad went to all the Saturday games and sometimes, like today, he'd get off work early and walk over from the house to watch his son's practice.
Practice went well. Roger, who played center field, caught two fly balls and, when it was his turn to hit, knocked several balls deep into the outfield. Not a bad showing, Roger thought to himself, even if I do say so myself.
After the coach had finished talking to all the boys, Roger walked over to his dad.
"Did you see me catch those fly balls?" Roger bragged to his Dad.
"Yeah, and you're not bad with a bat either," replied Mr. Springer with obvious pride in his son's performance. "I thought for awhile there you weren't going to show up. Why were you so late?"
Roger didn't want his dad to find out that he'd been kept after school but he'd already told the coach that he had to stay late. "I went to the library to look up a few things for my science project," Roger lied (well, his Science class had gone to the library earlier that morning, so it wasn't a total lie) "I guess I just lost track of the time."
Wanting to change the subject as quickly as possible, Roger continued, "You know you've got to give me some money so I can get my bike over to the shop and have that flat tire fixed. I had to run all the way from school."
"Humph," responded Mr. Springer, "when I was a boy I had a repair kit and fixed any flats I got myself. Had to buy that repair kit with my own money too! Kids these days are just too spoiled I guess."
Roger and his dad left the field and headed up the street, towards their house. As they walked up the sidewalk together, Mr. Springer spotted the bike Roger had abandoned at the curb.
"Now there's a perfect example of what I'm talking about," Mr. Springer continued. "Just look at that bike lying there. Kid's just don't take care of things like they used to when I was a boy."
Mr. Springer stopped and looked around, trying to see if he could spot the owner of this bike, but there was no one in sight.
"Hell, if we leave the bike lying like that, someone's likely to drive over it, or it will get stolen. Pick it up and we'll take it home. I'll drop it off at the police station after dinner."
* * *
Mike's father was late getting home. As they sat at the supper table eating he explained how the car wouldn't start when he got off work. One of his fellow workers gave him a jump start, but it was clear that the battery was just old and would have to be replaced soon; another expense.
"Speaking of expenses," said Mrs. Shaw, "I think Mike has something he wants to tell you."
Without looking up directly at his dad, Mike explained how his bike had been stolen at school. This news, following so quickly the bad news about the car battery, didn't bode well for avoiding a spanking.
"You promised me, if I bought you that bike, that you'd take care of it, and keep it locked at all times. Don't your promises mean anything?"
"Yes, but . . ."
"But nothing! You didn't lock the bike and now its been stolen. I can't afford to buy you another." After pausing for several seconds, Mr. Shaw continued. "You know its been a long time since I've spanked you, but I don't think you've given me much choice. Do you?"
Mike looked down at the table and shook his head. "No sir."
"All right then, when you've finished eating, and finished helping your mother clear the table, I'll be waiting for you in the living room."
The rest of the supper passed without conversation. Mike had long since lost his appetite but knew he'd better finish his supper. Besides, he wouldn't be excused until everyone had finished eating and then it would be time to help clear off the table.
When Mr. Shaw finished eating, he excused himself from the table and decided to call the police station, on the off chance that someone had reported finding a lost bike. The police told him that no one had called in to report finding a bike today, then added that they seldom ever got calls like that. "Once a bike's been stolen, it's usually gone forever."
Mr. Shaw hung up the phone and went to his room to retrieve the razor strop that had once belonged to his own father. He hadn't had much occasion to use it lately but guessed it was about time to bring it out of retirement. Then he went to the living room to relax for a moment and wait for Mike to finish clearing off the table.
After a few minutes Mike entered the living room, his eyes spotted the razor strop lying on the floor next to the chair his father occupied. He started to cry. He told his father that he was sorry.
"I'm sorry. I know you work hard to make money and that you warned me about leaving the bike unlocked. I didn't forget on purpose. I locked it every day. It's just that today I was late and got in a hurry and must have forgotten. I'm sorry."
"I'm sorry too, Mike. But sorry doesn't bring back the bike, and sorry doesn't excuse your breaking your promise to me. Now I know you've been helpful around the house and I'll take that into consideration when I spank you. But you need to learn a lesson here. You need to understand that a promise is a promise, and that keeping a promise one day and forgetting it the next is not acceptable behavior. You think about that while I'm spanking you, and you think about that while you do your corner time. Do you understand me."
"Yes sir."
Mr. Shaw reached down to pick up the razor strop and stood up. Mike walked up to the side of the chair, and started to unbuckle his belt.
"Go ahead and take off your shoes and socks first," said Mr. Shaw, "then just take off your pants. That will be easier than pulling them down around your ankles. Besides, it's getting late and you won't be wearing your pants for the rest of the evening."
Mike sat down on the floor and did as he was told, remembering to take off his underpants too (without being asked). Then he stood up and placed his hands along one arm of the chair.
CRRAAACK went the strop as it wrapped itself around Mike's bottom. The pain took his breath away but Mike knew that this was only the start. His father was usually good for a baker's dozen at least. CRRAAACK his upper legs felt like they had been set on fire.
Mr. Shaw delivered six strokes, each stroke cutting cleanly across Mike's bottom and upper legs. Then he stopped and put the belt down.
"I think that's enough. Your mom says you've been very helpful around the house and I know how difficult this move has been on everyone. But that doesn't excuse your forgetting to lock your bike or failing to keep your promise. Now, go stand in the corner and think about what I've told you."
Mike's bottom and upper legs were ablaze. Strangely, the shorter spanking seemed to sting more than the longer spankings he had received in the past. Nonetheless, he was grateful that the spanking had ended when it did. He'd fully expected to hear and feel that razor strop tear across his backside at least a dozen times more than it had. Now he'd just have to wait out the corner time before going to bed.
* * *
Conversation at the Springer's dinner table was more upbeat. Roger told his mom all about his sterling performance at little league practice.
When they finished eating, Roger went to the living room to watch TV. Mr. Springer went to the kitchen and used the phone to call the police station. The officer on duty took a description of the abandoned bike and then asked Mr. Springer to hold on the line for a moment. He seemed to remember someone having taken a call earlier that evening; a bike that had been stolen from the Junior High school. The description of the bike found by Mr. Springer seemed to match that contained in the earlier report.
When he returned to the phone, the officer said that the address of the person who had reported the stolen bike was in the same general neighborhood. The bike's owner had declined to file an official stolen bike complaint, but he had left an address and telephone number. The officer said that he couldn't give Mr. Springer this information on the phone, but if he had no objections, the officer could call Mr. Shaw at his home and then have him call Mr. Springer direct. Mr. Springer agreed, hung up the phone, and turned to help his wife finish the dishes. After about 10 minutes the phone rang. It was Mr. Shaw, the father of the boy whose bike had been stolen from school. It was clearly the same bike. Mr. Shaw lived about five blocks over. Mr. Springer said that he owned a pickup truck and that it would be no trouble for him to bring the bike over right now.
Roger was still camped out in front of the TV when Mr. Springer finished talking to Mr. Shaw. Something wasn't right. Roger's father decided to leave Roger in front of the TV and return the bike to the Shaw's house on his own.
* * * Mike was still standing in the corner when the doorbell rang. His father, who'd been talking to someone on the phone earlier, answered the door.
"Mr. Springer?"
"Yes, but please call me Bob. I think I've got your son's bike out here in my truck."
Mike's father left the house.
Mike's interest was peaked. What was that about having his bike out in some truck?
A few minutes later Mike's father and Mr. Springer returned, both entering the house. Mike's mother, who had just finished in the kitchen, joined her husband in the foyer which was adjacent to the living room.
"Come in Bob. This here's my wife, Gale, and please call me Ed."
"Yes, please do sit down," said Mrs. Shaw, ushering their guest into the living room. "Please take a seat. May I get you something?"
"No thank you, Gale, I just finished supper."
Mike stood perfectly quiet in the far corner of the living room. He hoped that the dim lighting might shield his presence. His father always kept him in the corner at least 30 minutes following a spanking, sometimes longer.
Mike had considered himself lucky to have escaped with only six swats from his father's razor strop, but it was clear now that in exchange for that leniency, corner time had been, and would be extended. Mike also knew that one of the hazards of corner time was the unexpected visitor.
He remembered once, when he was ten or so, having been made to stand in the corner of the entry hall at their old home in when suddenly, out of no where, the paperboy and his kid sister stopped by to collect. It was raining outside so his father let the two in, so they could keep dry, while he went to look for his wallet.
The paperboy couldn't have been any older than Mike was now, and his kid sister was in the fifth grade, the same grade as Mike at the time, but in a different classroom. Talk about awkward moments, the three of them standing there alone. They, with their raincoats dripping, and Mike with his nose in the corner, his pants and underpants pulled down about his ankles, and his bottom and upper legs glowing like Rudolph's nose.
"So where'd you find our son's bike," asked Mr. Shaw? "You said you had some questions you wanted to clear up"
"Yes," replied Mr. Springer, "I feel kind of awkward about this, I really don't have any hard evidence about how your son's bike ended up so near our house but I do have this unsettling feeling. You know, when things just don't seem right, or just don't seem to add up."
"My son's in little league. I go to all his games and try to attend his practices when I can. He was late to practice this afternoon; said he was working at the library on some science project and lost track of the time. Anyway, after practice we found your son's bike abandoned about half way between the ballpark and our house. The bike was just lying there, sort of half in the street and half on the sidewalk. I looked around, but didn't see anyone who looked like they belonged to the bike, so I had Roger, that's my son, walk it home."
"Well, we sure thank you Bob. I can tell you that we're all relieved to have our son's bicycle back. We just moved here from up north and money's still a bit tight," said Gale. "We certainly would not have been able to replace the bike any time soon."
"Mike is supposed to keep his bike locked at all times," continued Ed, "but it seems he forgot to lock it today and, wouldn't you know it, someone takes the bike for a joyride."
"That's just it Ed, I have a strange feeling about that. Roger's bike has a flat tire so it's sitting in our garage waiting to be fixed. Now Roger loves baseball, I can't imagine him being late for practice. He claims he stayed after school to work on his science project, but that just doesn't ring true. Roger's never gone to the library on his own, without prodding. I can't imagine him doing it on a practice day."
"Our son does his homework in the library after school almost every day," said Gale, "if your son was there, maybe he saw him."
"I must tell you Bob," continued Ed, "that's our son in the corner over there (pointing). Mike earned himself a spanking when I got home. Not because the bike was stolen mind you, but because he had promised me that he would keep the bike locked at all times and he broke that promise. Mike, come over here."
Mike had been listening to the conversation with great interest. But the last thing he wanted to do was walk over, without his pants on, to answer a bunch of questions from a perfect stranger. Nonetheless, the very, very last thing he wanted to do was get his dad mad at him again, so he had little choice but to do as he'd been told.
Mike came over, obviously embarrassed, letting his hands drop down in front of himself.
"Tell you what Bob," continued Ed, "if you don't mind waiting a few moments I think Mike has already learned his lesson about locking bikes, I'm sure he'd feel more at ease if I let him put on his pajama's."
Mr. Springer had noticed the welts, strangely highlighted in the dim light of the corner, when Mr. Shaw had first pointed to his son. Now that he was standing in front of him he could see just how red the back of his legs were.
"Yes," replied Mr. Springer, "I'm sure he would, me too for that matter."
Mike's father nodded his head. Mike didn't have to be told twice, he quickly dashed out of the living room and headed towards his bedroom. He put on his PJ's, and returned to the living room in record time.
"Mike, do you know my son Roger?" queried Mr. Springer.
"No sir," replied Mike very politely, wishing to make certain that his father would have no complaint as to his deportment; a word Mrs. Johnson, the school librarian, was fond of using.
"Hmmm, that makes it tough. Roger told me he'd gone to the library to work on his science project when school let out, but if you don't know him, I'm not sure how we can determine whether he was there or not."
"Oh, that's easy," Mike replied quickly, "he wasn't there. I mean, the library was almost empty and Mrs. Johnson, she's our librarian, she told me that I was the only boy who had been in the library all afternoon. You can ask her if you want."
"I might just do that. What time did you leave the library? I mean, when did you notice your bicycle was gone?"
"About quarter to five. I left the library at 4:40, dropped my books off in my locker, and went straight to the bike racks. It was gone. I spent about 10 minutes hunting for it, then hurried home. I'm supposed to be home before five so I can help my mom out in the kitchen. Of course I didn't make it today."
"Thank you Mike, you've been very helpful."
Mr. Springer turned to Mike's dad and continued to talk. "You've got a fine son there Ed, very polite. I want to check out some of the things Mike talked about with the school, but I have a bad feeling about this. If Roger's not telling the truth about working at the library he must be trying to hide something. I'm not saying that he had anything to do with your son's bike being stolen, but he was late to practice and your son's bike was found near the ballpark. I'll keep in touch."
"Thank you Bob," replied Ed. "Mike's always a good kid after he's been spanked but in truth, he's a pretty good kid most of the time. This move's been hard on everyone and Mike hasn't made a lot of friends yet. I want to thank you for bringing Mike's bike over, I'm sure he appreciates having it back. Isn't that right Mike?"
"Yes sir!" replied Mike with enthusiasm, "and I promise I'll never forget to lock it again."
"Be careful what you promise!," Mr. Shaw cautioned in a lighthearted fashion, obviously trying to lessen the tension that had spoiled the earlier evening.
"Okay Dad," said Mike smiling for the first time since he'd discovered his bike missing.
Ed and Gale saw Mr. Springer to the door. Then Mike left for his room, not wanting to spoil the moment by pushing his luck.
* * *
When Mr. Springer returned home, Roger was still camped in front of the TV.
"Do you have your homework done?" asked Mr. Springer.
"Don't have any homework," replied Roger, "just the science project, and I finished that at the library."