A long overdue request from a exceptional person in America's South, who wrote asking about Chris. Though it happened a few years ago, this is how it happened. For S---, who asked, actually who asked several times.
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DATE: 4/10/96
Dear Eddie,
I'm unbelievably swamped right now but given I do seen to type faster and sleep less than you, I'll keep some running notes and post them off to you upon your return to Madrid from holiday.
Of course, young Chris is here now and is right now sporting a very nice, very bare red bottom. As I type, he's sitting across the room, squirming to find the most comfortable position for his just reddened bottom on the modern black leather couch as he sit there in his flannel shirt and high wool socks while he nurses a cup of coffee and intently studies the sports report on the BBC news. His discomfort trying to sit on that couch is rewarding to watch, although I think he's trying his best to make sure I don't notice. I've never been aware of that with the couch before, but then typically after I've just given a boy a nice spanking he's standing in the corner pondering his behaviour, not watching TV. Do you suppose I've become too soft?
The sun's shining brightly and it's not as cold as it's been here. We're going out in the canal farm country by bike this afternoon. He's brought along his black pair of latex bike shorts that not only high light his assets beautifully but also are very convenient if it proves necessary to stop to swat him a few on route with only a few ducks, swans, maybe a cow or horse of two to witness his getting what he needs and hear him if his bare bottom gets exposed to the Dutch countryside. He may have come here without much discipline, but he's learned fast.
Watching him sitting here today, uncomfortable though he appears to be, it's rewarding to have participated in his transformation from the gorgeous, _c_o_c_k_y, radiant boy full of himself and fully aware of the looks his manner, dress, and facial features attract in the airport arrival crowd. . . to a young man who's now much more humbled, directed, explicitly goal-directed and firmly under control focus on those things that make you a success in life rather than just letting things happen.
Gone are those tight attracting jeans he favoured, replaced by a tight red bottom in a fresh white jock and exhibiting a manner making it clear he knows who's the boss. It hasn't been easy for him. It's hard, I guess, for a for a young, popular lad his age who's always been the star of his class and gymnastic team but who's also always lacked a dad with a strap and strong right hand for guidance, guidance he's always known he needed but couldn't fine.
But. . . I'm getting ahead of myself.
Chris, as I mentioned, came out through Customs at Schiphol just radiating excitement and a very broad smile. Dressed in Levi's that were far too tight and denim jacket with a white turtle neck and his bag casually over his shoulder and suitcase in tow, he looked good, real good! As he saw me and ran my way, the thought crossed my mind that he should be a model in Europe, but then his arms encompassed me and his voice started a never ending line of excitement which continued almost non-stop until we arrived at my place in Central Amsterdam on the canal.
Shocked at the lack of closets in a Dutch house, he peered at the tiny guest room typical of Dutch places. He just stood there looking at it unbelievably. I did too when I first moved here! But then Chris came alive again when I told him he didn't have to use it if he didn't want to but could also share my room in any way he wanted. This time when his arms flew around me and he hugged me tightly my right hand felt freely his tight, firm bottom in those Levi's, fully aware that this was where my attention was going to have to focus for the next week or so given what his Dad had said. He had no reaction to my hand's feeling his bottom freely. Clearly he had picked up on things from the conversations with Guiermo on the night we'd all been with Alejandro. It was all I could do, it certainly was tempting, not to peal those tight jeans down right then and get started. After all, he'd waited too long for this . . . But, that's not my style.
In my arms in private, "I've waited so long to come see you and I'm so excited you let me." he explained. "This place is everything I ever dreamed for." And on and on, exaggerating to be sure. I helped him put his things away in my room and gave him a brief tour around the neighborhood with it's Easter candies in the windows and all the quaintnesses of Amsterdam. He loved it and his enthusiasm was catching. Actually he liked it far better than I did!
Flying from store window to store window, Chris looked at everything.
Mid afternoon a couple of days later we took the "sneltrain" down to Brussels to meet Alejandro and Guiermo for an early dinner on restaurant row (right off the most beautiful and unique medieval town square I know of in Europe). Wild game, beauty, good wine, and the company of great friends. Guiermo and Chris were fast like brother; and of course, Alejandro and I are always talking a mile a minute (including Aljandro's schedule and revised plans to show you around when you're there).
It was Alejandro, though, who'd come right out and set the stage, "So, Chris, how to you like Cal's place in Amsterdam?"
"Yes, it's beautiful. I like it a lot, especially over the canal with the boats. We don't have that in D. C."
"Yes, you're right of course." Then he came out far too bluntly in his own jocular way, "Has he spanked you out there when you can watch boats while he's giving you what you need?"
Chris turned scarlet red (I'm sure I did too!) and looked like he was actually sweating. He just looked down and said nothing. Alejandro knew, I think or at least I hope, that I would never do that (!) but Chris didn't know.
"Come on, Chris," Alejandro continued, "you can tell me and Guiermo. No big deal, you know. Guiermo's had his bottom paddled several times since we were all in Washington that night. Actually, I paddled him tonight before you all came for dinner, right, Guiermo."
"Yes, Sir."
It was Guiermo's turn to look embarrassed now. As many times as I've seen the boy spanked or paddled, including doing it myself, he always gets horrified and embarrassed when it's brought to his attention.
"You did, Sir."
He immediately looked over at Chris, then me, and then looked down. I knew that meant Guiermo was nice and red down there under that fancy suits and tie.
"So, Chris. Has he?" Alejandro, with aristocratic European arrogance that he could lay on strongly when he wanted to, was smiling broadly, enjoying this whole situation he had orchestrated, and loving every moment of it, I knew. I was less than happy.
Chris shot a nervous glance my way before looking down at his plate again, "No, Sir," he replied rather quietly then looked again at me, "I suppose he would if I did something wrong, like, but I don't think he'll need to. . .." his voice trailed off.
Alejandro was at his best then, "Oh, don't be so surprised, my boy. Guiermo hadn't done anything 'wrong,' I think that was the word you used, tonight but I hadn't had time to use the paddle on him the past week and it was just about time he was needing to feel it. Right, Guiermo?"
Looking up, "Well, yea, actually that's right, Sir. You hadn't paddled me since last Wednesday, over a week ago, Sir, and I was, well, I was expecting it kind of, but, well, I thought you'd probably wait until Cal was here and get him to paddle me again."
Guiermo smiled, I laughed as did Alejandro, then Guiermo spoke to Chris, "But, jeez, Chris," he said, "don't be stupid enough to think Cal's only going to spank you if you do something really bad and completely wrong like. I mean sometimes you'll probably just get it like I do."
"Really?" Chris seemed genuinely taken back. He looked at me. And he didn't look happy!
"Actually, Chris," now it was my turn, "Guiermo's right! At least in some ways." My turn to smile now, "but given what I've heard from your Dad and what you're told me yourself, you've already done plenty enough to earn a trip to the family Woodshed back home. I'd say you were way over due to strip down your jeans for some long, hard ones. Guiermo's not the only one growing up, you know."
Talk about red and squirming throughout the rest of dinner! I let it hang. Guiermo and Alejandro roared in laughter, and Chris, the boy, looked about to faint! The topic changed, later Guiermo showed Chris around the square as Alejandro and I discussed some agendas given the unresolved nature of the stupid British and the beef "crisis" that had tied things in knots.
Later Chris and I hopped on the train back to Amsterdam and managed to find two seeks together. About a quarter of the way back, Chris started talking, "Ah, Cal, were you serious about what you said back there? You were just kidding? Weren't you?"
"About what?" I'd answered
"You know like about my needing a spanking and all that? That was joke like huh?"
"No joke, Chris. Yes, I was serious."
He said absolutely nothing.
Kilometres far far down the tracks, he spoke again.
"Ah, can I ask you a question, Peter?"
"Sure, shoot." He was always asking questions anyway.
"Has my Dad been talking to you?" He looked concerned now.
"Yes, but I thought you knew that?"
"And so like you know about how he spanked my younger brother and our fight?"
"Yes, but remember, Chris, you told me some of it yourself."
"Ah, yea, maybe."
Chris got very quiet again, at least for a bit.
"So, like you're definitely going to spank me?"
What's the point of prolonging this, I thought to myself.
"Yes," I said.
"Tonight?"
"Maybe, depends on when we get home. You ready for an introduction tonight, my boy?"
"You got to be kidding!" Chris replied. "Momma didn't raise no fool!" He burst out laughing. Actually so did I. Most of those around us on the train were Dutch and some looked when we started laughing, hopefully not too loudly, but it was very unlikely anyone had overheard of understood.
Chris folded his hand on his lap. He sipped a coke; I, continued with the train's special "coffee" or at least that's what the guy with the cart had said it was. We still had a good hour and half on that train before we arrived back to Amsterdam. It was dark. Too late. In the full carriage some passengers had their reading lamps on, as did I while I did paperwork from my brief case.
"Can I ask you another question?"
Again Chris spoke up suddenly. He was looking around us, though, seemingly checking who was near.
"Why not." I put my pen down and looked at him, waiting patiently.
"If you're going to spank me, and like I'm not saying like you should . . ."
I cut in.
"Not, 'if,' Chris. I'll spank you. It's just a question of 'when' you need it." I spoke quietly, gently, but laying it out clearly once and for all. Let's clear up things finally. "When I get you home tonight, we'll see."
"Ah, sorry, I didn't mean that; but, ah, let me ask better, like when you're gonna spank me, are you just gonna' use your hand, like or something else?" He looked over very concerned and waiting for my answer.
It was difficult not to laugh at him, but he had such a serious expression on his face.
"It all depends on what I feel like, Chris. I think you can probably count on feeling my hand while you're here, especially if you keep this up. For sure, it'll be my hand, but if I feel like it would be helpful to you I might also use a paddle or a strap, whatever. You've got to understand, Chris, over here you're still a high school boy, regardless of anything else, and there are certain things you need to still learn."
"Ah, yikes, I know that, Cal, but . . ."
"No 'but's,' Chris. Are you sure you're listening to me?"
"Ok, OK, like I am, I mean I really am; but, ah well I just want to know, Ah, well, when you spank me, can I keep my pants on?"
"No." I replied quietly, calmly.
He looked even more concerned now.
"Really? Ah, OK, OK, but my underwear's like OK, huh?"
"No, Chris," I turned toward him, looking right at his eyes, "let me be real clear here, Chris. Whenever I need to spank you, certainly for as long as you're here, it's on your bare bottom and you've over my lap! Got it now, boy?"
"Ah, jeez, that's rough . ." he jerked his head back sharply against the back of his chair, shaking both his seat and mine that was connected to his.
"Cut it, Chris." I said, still softly. "Why are we talking about this tonight? This is NOT a matter for discussion in the first place. If you can't cut it out and I mean RIGHT NOW, we can always just get up right now and take a walk back to the WC, it's small, but, if you need your first one right now, I'll give it to you!"
"No! NO, No, NO, I mean like, NO, sorry, Cal. I didn't mean anything by it at all. Like I was just asking, that's all. Honest, Cal. Just asking."
"Chris, what's got into you all of a sudden? We talked about all this in Washington when I was snow bound?"
"Yea, like sure, Cal, but, Ah, like, I thought we were just talking, playing like. I mean like I didn't know you were serious, but like back there when Alejandro and Guiermo said those things back there. Well, I got scared."
"Maybe you should be."
I turned back to my paperwork. That was all that was necessary to add right now. Back at the apartment would be a different situation, but not here. No matter what I'd said earlier, I had no intention to marching him back to that carriage's WC!
Again he fell silent. This time very silent, pouting almost as the tracked clicked on, rhythmically the passing of the distance home in that dark night with the fog settling in over the farm lands and canals.
Chris remained silent until we began to get close to Central Station. Then slowly but slowly and quietly. He talked about his dad and everything and why he didn't didn't think he deserved to be spanked for that. His arguments were fun to pass the time, silly maybe, but this time I allowed him to talk on. At least it was something to do, fun to watch him really squirm now.
Finally we arrived and joined the Dutch passengers who always seem to feel they had to immediately get out of the coach no matter how many people were flattened. At least at this station others weren't pouring in the same door we were both struggling to get out! The distance from "Amsterdam-CS" to the apartment is maybe fifteen minutes walk if you're slow and with nothing to carry except my brief case, we were home quickly. Somehow I had the feeling Chris actually might be thinking I'd forgotten, but once I'd put away my briefcase and hung up my coat, and called him to me. He'd disappeared discretely into another room.
You know what happened then. I've written before about the boy and his beautiful, tight gymnastic body, but outside of that time when he was covered by bubbles in that huge tub in DC, I'd limited myself while generally he was typically in those tight white cotton briefs he always wears, the ones that sculpt his bottom perfectly. This time those briefs came off too as I stripped him bare, piece by piece. He didn't take them off. I took them off for him. His contribution was focused on telling me why he didn't deserve this and stuff about Melvin. Unfortunately, I paid no attention and there he was, naked, bare, proud, and as gorgeous as I knew he would be.
He stood there talking, clearly choosing his words, very, very carefully, the leather strap was over the back of the arm chair as I walked around the room while I listened to him. I was also looking at him very closely, watching him carefully. He stood like a statue, a beautiful nude, perfect for a Greek sculpture, nice pecker developing nicely. moving now and then with curly hairs around those round firm nuts he was trying to hide there with his hands down in front of himself. His abbs and thighs were perfectly defined as you would expect from years of gymnastic training. He was smooth, well developed and as close to perfection as any boy I've ever known. He was especially nervous. He was following me with his eyes without moving a muscle, especially when I was behind him.
To be sure his nice bare bottom was not relaxed yet. He clench it, flex it, especially whenever I'd let my fingers brush it. He jumped once when I left my hand on it while he was still talking, in the midst of a sentence about some point he was trying to make that I wasn't listening to or even hearing. Perfect.
Finally I showed him his father letter. I held it in front of him and had him read it out loud for emphasis. It's ending was clear:
"I would be grateful if you would help me get control of Chris. His behaviour and attitudes to me are not right or acceptable. I know what he needs, for sure. He needs a strap, but I've just not been able to do it for lots of reasons. I've through about it a lot. I've even tried, but I haven't been able to do it.
"Please, Cal, if you do not mind, how about your helping me to get back control of my son? Spank him for me, if you would. Then help me do it, show me how to do it, without hurting him too much, but sometime soon, before it's too late."
Chris, finished reading out loud, looking up. There were tears building in his eyes like he was about to cry. "No, please No, it's not true. I didn't do those things he says, any of that. Please."
As he spoke I was guiding him across my lap. He went easily over and there he was, his bare bottom up and across my knees, just waiting. I'd imagined this moment many times, but it was better than I'd even thought. He was struggling to keep his privacy. I was permitting nothing of the sort. I was forcing his bare bottom to submit, to open, to show himself to be openly, I spread him a bit, forced, and locked by the weight of my upper body against his back, I played a bit using my hand and finger while he squirmed, at times frantically . . . then I spanked him for all it was worth.
He started sobbing after awhile, but quietly. He came out and told me pleadingly that what his Dad had said in that note was true and how sorry he was. I kept spanking him. He promised more. He tried, he was really trying, but his tears and cries were falling on deaf ears. I was amazed at how quickly, with just my hand, he was "beyond himself" and a crying, small boy, regardless of his age, out of control, flailing wildly over my lap.
When I was finally finished, it was corner time, T-shirt only on, nude beneath that, beautiful standing there like that in the corner of the apartment. Thinking. Thinking. Then, after awhile, I seemed to shock the hell out of him by spanking him again. As he wailed and cried later in my arms I explained that there was a man in charge of him now. He had to understand that things were going to be different. He had been spanked this time as his Dad had suggested in that letter, and if he didn't get his act together rather quickly, he could expect to find himself getting spanked again. He assured me, promised me, promised me the world, that that wouldn't be necessary he was so sure. But I knew he was still a high school boy and one with a typically short memory. Never mind.
Chris cried himself to sleep that night in my arms in my room. He was fine, to be sure. But, he was also about to become even finer!
The next morning, young Chris had his first experience with being under control and spending part of his morning pants-less, close to but not quite sulking. While he's used to being on display in gymnastics and he is clearly proud of his body, eating breakfast and being there in a situation where his pants were now denied to him had the effect of adding humiliation to a very proud young man who was in the process of being broken and brought back under control.
But life goes on. We discussed some summer job options for him for when his school breaks. I've told him if he really wants to learn to work outside the US, he can work for me. Why not? The guy's certainly not dumb. He simply hasn't had much opportunity in DC But this time, as we talked, he was more cautious, much more in fact, but then remember he was still adjusting to the fact that things had changed in his young life. After all, it had only been a few hours earlier, last night, that he had found himself burned sunny side up for a spanking. No one could expect for him to just wake up shouting "Great!" He'd been spanked last night. OK, so what? Still, by the end of the afternoon when he'd been shown some of the art treasures, especially the Rembrandt's that in his own American education he hadn't realized were here, and much more of what Amsterdam has to offer, he was back to his original eagerness. If anything, he seemed to want to come ever closer to me. Gone, however, were those tight seductive jeans that I'd mentioned were too extreme. He made that decision himself without any further reminders. Amsterdam, of course, has wonderful restaurants and introducing them and "European style" to young Chris was a pleasure. He marveled at the Cathedral in Haarlem, the canal boats, the markets and all the small stores. Yet, he can play a valid role in some of the work I'm doing and it appears he really wants to. It's up to him. It's got to be that way. His decision and his decision alone.
Chris got his bottom warmed several times over those days. He apparently had not had any idea that I had been serious or that it really was going to hurt. He learned that quickly. I let myself go and spanked him periodically. There was a lot to make up for given his relationship with Melvin and all the petty stuff Melvin had very kindly outlined in rather careful detail in that letter I'd made Chris read out loud that night. But it wasn't just spanking. Not at all! He and I became much closer still, did sports together, and slowly he became like family. His folks might still be somewhat ashamed of him and his high school grade performance though they did admire his gymnastic skills, but I didn't see it that way. When we had time, I showed him how to do some of that math and essay stuff he just hadn't caught on to yet. It wasn't such a big deal and was a better use of my time than the mindless stuff on the TV.
But my life is much wider than Chris and it continued fully as normal. That included doing a great deal of my own work that had been building up.
But, also, Raul had earned a trip across my lap when he appeared with his school report from his boarding school that weekend, and when I told him when he was to come to receive it, he entered precisely on time, looking very very sheepishly, but became extremely emotional when he saw Chris there. Still, Raul's pants and shorts came down any way and he got the long, bare bottom spanking he'd earned while Chris sat there watching. I made no allowance for Raul's objections that Chris was watching. Instead I stripped Raul in the way I always do and simply ignored his protests and constant looking over at Chris. Chris was watching and mesmerized.
In his own Brazilian way, Raul is Chris' equal. Both being of similar age, beautiful bodies, nice and hairless but defined, tight, firm young bottoms that they are both very embarrassed to have exposed even when it is just me in the room but with someone else there, Raul in particular went bonkers. Still Raul had earned it, he knew it, he knew he needed it, but still he was anything but happy when it came time for him to face up to it and accept the consequences, as it was happening. This is always the case.
I, in turn, was simply unwilling to agree to his request for a "postponement" for privacy. Chris was now part of the family.
It's hard for Raul to accept being spanked in front of a peer, but it was especially hard it appeared for him to accept being spanked long and hard in front of Chris.
He objected, he cried, he pleaded, but his spanking continued in Chris' presence.
Raul needed something more. He was going to get it, but I'm not going to explain it in too much detail here. Still you'll understand. You understand that in all of this is was obvious Rual was not fully under control and had lapsed in knowing what I said went, no arguments.
But given he'd already earned one, his fear of Chris' presence demanded something able to reinforce it, from a punishment point of view, that I had made that decision. His objection was unacceptable.
Knowing what Raul fears most is being exposed over my lap for this. That's exactly what happened. Forcing him to take one in front of Chris made a very noticeable and major impression on Raul. Then, you should have seen the look on Raul's face when I told him it was time for him to step out of his jeans and come over my knees again. He stamped his feet, when I made it clear he was going to get his bottom paddled again for it too, this time with a paddle, with him wailing almost immediately as he knew my paddle always caused him to do. I made it clear that when I let him up from my lap now, he was to go into the other room and get the paddle and bring it back to me to use on him. When finally I did let him up and took him in my arms, I spoke softly but clearly, implying that if he didn't behave and do precisely what I'd asked, I'd not hesitate to get out the bag or the strap. Immediately that veiled threat, which Chris didn't understand but which Raul understood explicitly, snapped him back into line. Things moved smoothly then.
Raul looked at Chris but knew very well he'd better not object further. He just walked out to get it. When he returned, red faced and already red bottomed, he presented it to me in Chris' presence using the words and ritual I've always demanded of him. No boy likes to be forced to fetch his paddle. He knows instinctively that he must go get it promptly, but he's caught between two conflicting emotions. Get it quickly and get it hard, or go more slowly, put it off a bit, but still it's going to be hard and they all instinctively remember what it felt like that last time. But when someone else is in the room, like young Chris was right then, it's worse. Rual's bare bottom is already red and he knows what young Chris and I are looking at as he walks out of the room to get that paddle. Rual did just that. There were no further objections for him.
It didn't take him long to return with it and hand it to me while he stood there. He looked so scared when I took it and then patted my thigh. Time for him to crawl over for it.
"Do you have to paddle me, Cal?" he asked?
"Did you fail to do what you should have done, boy?" I asked.
"Yes, but. . ."
"No, 'but". You remember the last time I had to paddle you?
"Yes."
"did you learn from it that time?"
"Yes" he seemed so sad now. Of course he was afraid.
"That's it, boy." I said. "No sense putting it off any longer."
He nodded sadly.
"Let's get that little bare fanny of yours right up high over here" I was patting my thigh "where I can give you a good long paddling to teach you more, boy."
There comes a time when a young high school boy like Rual knows it's coming and going to happen. Yea, that paddle in my hand is going to hurt him when I use it on his bare bottom, but he knows he has it coming and finally he give in and realizes it's best to get it over with. Rual was at that point. He started to comply.
Then he went back bending right up over my lap and got his bottom cheeks spread wide and exposed as I touched him there, while he squirmed uncomfortably. Then I paddled him as Chris watched.
When I finally let him up and stood him in the corner, he was one submissive and humble young man.
Later I gave Rual some specific assignment that I'll check on when I return to Amsterdam from New York! I'm sure he'll be a good boy and have it all completed.
The next day I made Chris purchase his own things and I took him through the ritual.
Chris and I also went up to Hoorn for a couple of days briefly. He met Andre and his father, and the twins and their father as well. Andre and Chris worked together on the place. In short it was a good period together, although still too cold outside for me!
I began introducing Chris to some of the work I needed done, especially related to the new venture. He proved very conscientious and especially good in making sure the detail was covered. By then he knew what would happen if he screwed up or just fooled around not bothering. In short everyone I introduced him to enjoyed him, including those who work with me. He fit in well, very well. Finally, he seemed to be adapting to being in an environment where the person responsible for him was also what you, Eddie, refer to as a "Man Who Spanks!"
Cal - - - - - - - - -
DATE: 4/12/96 5:46 AM
Re: Treesavers de Nederland & Chris
dear Cal --
I'll start a note here re: your adventures with "Young Chris," though I probably won't get it done till later. Hence, you may receive the comments in two parts, or all of them when I get back from work. Unless that gymnast of yours has been very naughty indeed, you should be abed as I write (it's 5 or so there, I think), as should Chris, sleeping on his tummy, I imagine.
First off, it IS quite remarkable, don't you think, how quickly Chris came to accept the rules of the game. Here is a boy who hasn't been spanked in many years, suddenly subjected to numerous bare bottom blisterings, witness to others, denied his trousers --and accepting it all as just and fair. Of course, there had been a fair amount of preparation for all this--the talks in DC when you were snowbound, Melvin's input, Guillermo's spanking in DC to which Chris was at least aural witness (and witnessed first hand its results on G's exposed rump), his dad's punishment of his little brother (how old's the kid, by the way, and how did Melvin go about it? Did Chris see his little brother get a spanking?), and then, of course, the conversations with Alejandro and Guillermo and those he had with you on the train ride back.
Still and all, there's more to it than that. What it comes down to, I think, is that a great many boys and young men like Chris actually WANT to be disciplined. Not meanly, not sheerly arbitrarily. And they certainly don't ENJOY the process. But they crave the caring and intimacy that a bare bottom blistering implies, as well as the catharsis of a good cry that allows them to be little boys again. Remember the kinds of pressures Chris is under at 16 in the US to be "grown up," which is hard on a kid. In that sense, Andre and his friends have it much easier, in that, though they have their chores and responsibilities (and apparently, their driver's licenses), they still know they are boys, subject to paternal punishment, and so perhaps feel protected and looked after the way most contemporary American teenagers don't.
As you can imagine, I wish I could have been a "fly on the wall" to see the expression on young Chris's face the first time your hand landed with a resounding swat upon his bare and helpless rump. I imagine his face five shades of red with his nose almost to the floor, his bottom bucked up high in the air, slightly spread, displaying to his acute embarrassment all his boyish "charms" to you. I can imagine as well his shock when the first smack fell, and that hopeless, helpless realization that there was nothing he could do about those to come. How many did it take before he was thrashing frantically across your lap? The image of a _c_o_c_k_y 16 year old naked, wiggling and crying like a four year old as he is taught a good lesson obviously brings back some memories for me. I'm amused that he thought that, after he was sent to the corner, that that was the end of things. He certainly was learning things about the psychology of discipline, and more than that about you!
I think it's great he was able to witness Raul's punishment, which I suspect filled him with both excitement and dread, particularly when R resisted that particular form of discipline he himself dreads, had to be spanked again, and then was nonetheless subject to it in front of his new American friend. Chris must've known that the same would later be in store for him.
Obviously, that gymnast's fanny learned the particular pains inflicted by hand and strap. Did you employ other instruments--a rice paddle or, my most obvious choice, the hairbrush? Perhaps, in NYC, you can find an appropriate one and send it to Melvin. Even without a note of explanation, I think the accountant would certainly get the message, and Chris's life, not only with you but at home, has obviously taken a new turn. Do you think Melvin will begin to employ bare bottom discipline now as a matter of course with Chris and his brother(s?). It's interesting for me to contemplate a 16 year old in l996 who fears his dad's hairbrush in the way I did in l966!
I'm certain I had more questions and remarks regarding your week with the boy (oh, yes, were those bike shorts stripped down at the side of the road as you planned?), and also regarding Raul. But for now, I'll sign off or I'm going to be late for work.
In any case, more later. This should be there when you awaken (now it's 5:30 or so yours). What's new with that possibility of yours in Farmington Hills?
All best, Eddie"
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4/14/96 7:45 a. m.
Dear Cal -
I've thought more and have some more points I want to make. I've got more time now.
In any case, in young Chris, you certainly seem to have found quite the protégé. That he wants and needs discipline (and despite his protestations there on the train, Cal, he knew what he was in for--at least, in theory--and frantically wanted you to do what you did to him; indeed, on the train, you SHOULD have taken him back to the WC and taken his pants down and smacked his bottom a few times, just to set him straight. His embarrassment would have been a sight to behold when you took him back to your seats, and, given his age, it seems nobody would have batted an eye there, just a father or uncle who had had it up to here with his 16 year old brat) and that he actually can be of practical use in your work, is a remarkable convergence of circumstances, and that all of this comes packaged quite so attractively is truly wonderful.
I wondered if you had spoken to Melvin. Chris's spring break must be drawing to a close by now, and he on his way back to DC. What do you think will happen there? Do you think he'll tell anyone about one particularly embarrassing part of his European excursion? I wonder if he will mention it to friends? An odd thing about getting spanked as a teen I remember is that, though I would get teased about it, there was a kind of admiration in some of my friends. If still getting spanked at 16 or 17 made me seem like a child, it also made both me and my dad seem somehow "macho" to some of the other guys. And, of course, as I've said, some of my friends confided they wished they could just get spanked and get it over with as opposed to being grounded for a couple weeks or, worse, belittled. I frankly think that's the worst thing that happens to teenage boys in the States these days, that instead of just getting a blistering, they get putdown and told they're worthless by their dads and other men in their lives. The psychological harm of that (and Chris, I suspect, has gotten some of that from Melvin, as Andre gets from his dad) is terrific. A good hard spanking may be humiliating, but especially when, as you do it, then there's a kind of overt comforting after, the boy feels cleansed and forgiven. Your description of Chris crying himself to sleep that first night, and then, next day, being filled with that boyish enthusiasm when you took him through Amsterdam, is an example of what I'm talking about. The "damage" on a boy's bottom a thorough thrashing heals pretty quick; the damage of being made to feel like a fool, a no-count, a perfect _s_h_i_t_, can last a lifetime.
I get the sense that Melvin, at least, will almost immediately inquire after what happened.. Indeed, I almost expected to hear that he had taken the train up to NYC to "sit at the feet of the master," as it were, and watch as you dropped his son's drawers and demonstrated how best to turn a _c_o_c_k_y teenager into a bawling little boy.
Perhaps, with your encouragement, Melvin will start a small trend. Though the figures indicate that somewhere around 30% of parents still spank, teen spanking in the States has, I gather, become quite rare, except, perhaps, in certain parts of the South and in other rural areas. Even then, we're talking about paddling and strapping, rather than old-fashioned OTK discipline. I do think that a REAL spanking is always conducted with the boy over the man's lap with the boy's pants down. With a strap or switch, it may be necessary to turn him over the back of a chair or something, but even then, he should spend part of the time across the man's lap. There's an intimacy and "childishness" to it that distinguishes it from mere "beating."
Anyway, now that Melvin has begun to employ woodshed discipline with Chris's younger brother, and may now with Chris himself, perhaps some of his business associates and the fathers of Chris's school mates will get the idea, and thus in DC at least there will be a cohort of frequently reddened high school boy bottoms, all thanks, in the end, to the "man from Amsterdam."
I was amused, by the way, with your remark about Chris having trouble getting comfortable on that leather couch. I'm familiar with the problem. On the one hand, the leather is cool, but when you sit, it warms and you tend to sweat (especially when a bottom is unusually hot) which means the rump skin then sticks to the leather, so when you move, it pulls slightly on the tender surface, a painful reminder to a boy of the state of his rear end.
Take care, and drop a note this weekend if you can. Let me know about your adventures in NYC with Chris and others, as well as your Bs. As. experience. I think I told you I was spanked there, but think your circles would be more my cup of tea
All best, "Eddie," AKA "Chris the Elder" (sounds like one of the disciples, doesn't it?)