{General Information: Paolo, my "houseboy" (?), and I were in Rome where Alejandro -- an old friend from Madrid who is extremely well healed and connect joined us (he, has a huge spread in Argentina) and had brought Paolo's younger brother from Argentina to Rome. The boy's on a trial visit with me and is now in school in Bangkok. What follows is a non-fiction letter to a friend. Cal)
Dear James, As you know, we returned from Italy later than planned and it took me until now to jot you this note that follows:
Paolo and I arrived that Friday morning. I immediately went to some business meetings so Paolo spent the day with his brother, Raul. He'd flown in with Juan, Alejandro's nephew a day earlier from Argentina. When I got back to our hotel, Paolo was full of anxiety over my meeting his brother and pacing the floor. I'd had a rough day and was feeling jet lag so when he said something like "Please go easy on my brother; he's so young. . .," I cut him off, pulled down his jeans and briefs and gave his bare bottom a good tanning. I'm sure his spanking was heard through the walls and in the hall where maids were working (from their looks later), but I didn't care. Just a man spanking his boy. That's all. He needed a spanking and got one! As he cried it out, I followed with a nice long, slow insertion of his thermometer until he was calm and back to normal. It took a long time over my knees with that tube up as far as possible, but he's beautiful getting it like that, all bare and red, finishing his crying, his hands holding my leg tightly for comfort and support. He struggles to hold so still despite his discomfort with me holding it fully in him and flicking his pucker and tries to get his tears under control, knowing what I'm doing, seeing, and enjoying. And he knows from experience that at any point I may withdraw it, spank him again, and insert it all over again. The quicker he get himself under control and takes what he got coming, the sooner it's over.
In the hands of a man who knows how to use it, I've never seen a more simple item, easy to transport, bring more concern to a boy's face and I've never seen a boy who won't do anything to avoid it's being brought out and it's insertion. This night he'd missteped and earned it. I'm in no hurry. Especially with Paolo! He was very uptight and it took about 35 minutes inserted fully as I talked quietly to him like that until I decided he was ready for me to remove it and take him naked into my arms. He was very docile when I finally did. He'd received his punishment and was forgiven. I don't take suggestions from Paolo.
Later when we met Alejandro and his nephews at his hotel for dinner, Paolo's bottom was red, hot, and ready under his slacks. No one mentioned his red eyes. Alejandro had left Rual in his Suite saying I should go meet him privately the first time, which was OK with me; but we talked so long about his current project in Brussels, etc., El Jefe (who's wife had sent some wine!), Demitri/etc., Juan Carlos, and others we both know, that by the time dinner was over I was exhausted and put off meeting Rual till the next afternoon. Later at our hotel with Paolo, just cause I wanted to, I pulled him out of the shower and spanked him again! Let me assure you I had a well spanked boy before that first night was over. Paolo hates to be turned over and spanked (remember he's 29), but he does seem to understand he needs attention and takes it almost as assurance my interest remains in him. And it does! He's absolutely beautiful when his bare bottom's very red, with his long hair flowing down over it and he's crying in my arms on my shoulder while my hand's are down there insuring it's still a nice, hot temperature! If it cools down, that can easily be remedied quickly. I've come to enjoying having boys around who get it when they need it or when I choose to give it to them! The real thing is so much better. . ..
Saturday I worked through lunch and Paolo, with his bottom rosy under his jeans, again went with his brother. I don't know if he said anything to his brother or not, but I forced him to wear a tight thong to insure a bit of friction from the denim against his buns. It's a good way to keep a boy nice and hot, reminding him whom he belongs to!
About 16:00 I went to Alejandro's Suite to meet this infamous brother waiting alone in the second bedroom there (shared with Juan and Guiermo).
Entering unannounced not bothering to knock, my first impression was of a very young boy sitting alone on the bed with his arms around his knees watching TV. Startled he looked at me and bounced off his bed, falling prostrate on his hands and knees on the rug! Not anticipated, I pulled him up gently and looked at him. His face was handsome, high cheek bones, well formed features, striking eyes and deep brows and an anxious but clear smile. He had on an old flannel-like shirt (blue and white), open at his neck with a white crew visible underneath. His pants were a workman's, sort of dirty grey, with a belt that looked like it could have gone around his slim waist twice! The slacks themselves were too big, old, and scruffy. On his feet he wore athletic socks and black leather shoes of the loafer variety. Overall, his appearance was of a farm worker for sure who looked extremely out of place in a classy Rome suite room.
When I spoke my name and allowed my palm to graze his face, raising it so I could look directly at him, he reacted as if he'd expected me to slap him. That wasn't my intent. Rather I'd gone to meet him with no "game plan" at all. I hadn't decided to strip him and spank him then and there, as Young Chris, the American lad, had counselled, and set him "right;" but neither had I decided not to. All I had decided was to meet this boy who would be under my authority, temporarily, until I felt comfortable one way or another. I turned off his TV and we both sat on the edge of the bed. First, let's get to know him. He was extremely nervous. What had he heard or been told? I'm not unreasonable, as I trust you know.
So, I asked him first what Paolo had told him? "That I should be good for you 'cause you'd be like my father and let me go to school and work too. He said I should do whatever you tell me to do 'cause if I didn't you'd punish me like a father should but I didn't have to worry 'cause you were fair, and he told me you'd teach me a lot and give me a chance for a future." He seemed naively genuine, very shy, elf-like.
I asked him if Paolo'd told him how I'd "punish" him? "Yes," he replied, looking directly at me with those huge eyes, "he said you would be very strict when I needed it and would spank me, but I must listen good 'cause you had other ways but he didn't say what."
"All that OK with you?" I asked.
"Yea, sure," he replied, "I never had a real father who could give me things or help me or anything." I was amazed his English was much better than Paolo's. "And anyway," he went on, "I've been spanked all my life anyway so that isn't any difference. I'm not old enough not to get spanked yet." I wanted to follow up that, but didn't.
Why had he wanted to come? "It was bad on the ranch. They said. . . well, they said I was sleeping with this girl who said she was pregnant but I know I wasn't . . .."
"Don't ever lie to me, Juan," I added.
"No, but I wasn't _f_u_c_k_ing her. She was my girlfriend and I liked her a lot but when I wanted to she never would, but she said it was me cause she had another boyfriend and she didn't want' him to get in trouble so she said I was the one. No one would listen to me and the men strapped me and said they were going to send me away and everyone, all the boys and the girls too, got to watch them whip me as a lesson they said, that night. They told Sr. Alejandro who wasn't there to stop them, but I hadn't done it. I promise you I hadn't." He seemed about to cry, so I changed the topic.
"Did your brother tell you I still punish him?" He looked up at me, "Yea," he answered, "he said he gets spanked a lot, but he still liked working for you." The kid sounded so genuine and nice.
I told him the basic rules and he nodded. Then I told him to stand.
"What are you going to do?" he asked softly?
"Look at you more closely" I replied while tugging at his long belt.
"Are you going to spank me, Sir?" He seemed tense and genuinely concerned again.
"Don't ever question me like that, Son." I answered but not too sharply. "Do you need a spanking now?"
"No, Sir."
"OK, then it's up to me, isn't it?"
"Yes, Sir." He was biting his teeth as I unbuckled and unwound that leather belt and pulling it out, tossed it on a chair. His slacks would have immediately fallen down if he hadn't grabbed them by the waist. They had to be 2 - 3 inches too big! Still I unzipped them, then took his hands and watched them fall directly to his ankles. While his shirt tales covered some of his brief, I could see enough. They were a old, faded white, with the elastic worn out, barely hanging there. There seemed to be some evidence of a nice basket, certainly his upper thighs were well defined and nicely formed, but his cotton briefs were so floppy there was a space between his thighs and the briefs that should have been cupping both his endowment as well as his buns. I pushed him backwards and he hobbled toward and in the bath, his bottom against the sink. Then I pushed them down. His _c_o_c_k_ and balls were resting, almost no pubic hair surrounding them. I pushed his shirt tails up in his hands and he held himself open like that. Then taking some soap and warm water, soaped him carefully and holding his _c_o_c_k_ in my hand, applied some pressure under his base and under his balls, watching as he expanded fully and nicely in my hands. The lad had potential! Through out it all he remained with his eyes firmly closed tightly, his face had turned red. My hand wandered up his stomach, feeling the beginning of good definition. Turning him around, I bend him over the sink slightly soaping this new bare bottom that though tiny and smaller than I'd expected, was hairless, firm, and even slightly rosy. With my hands exploring this bottom I certainly intended to spank more than once and was looking forward to it, actually, I applied some pressure to his young cherry and noticed he immediately became erect! He was very tight, a virgin, probably rather recently ready to move into his manhood, even the back of his neck was flaming red with embarrassment as I handled him. He showed no resistance at all except for holding himself as tight as possible.
It was a hard one to resist, but I turned him around, his bottom again resting on the sink, took his head in my hands, and looking right at him, told him he was never to hide anything from me and never, ever to be ashamed of any part of his body. I told him if he ever was, he'd be spanked for sure.
"Yes, Sir." He responded when I asked him if he understood me.
I had him shower. I looked in his suitcase. Most of his cloths were old and none of his briefs were wearable, so I left it all and took him back to my hotel where Paolo lent him some that fit him very nicely and I lent him a few Polo's (extremely cheap in Bangkok). He looked much better but seemed shocked anyone would give him anything.
So the three of us joined Alejandro, Guiermo, and Juan for what was to be dinner out with Rual looking quite OK in his new cloths despite of those old pants. It was Alejandro who noticed them and asked Juan how he could have come like that? It turned out Juan had travelled Business, but put the boy in Economy. When Alejandro learned I had given him his shirt, Paolo had lent him a belt, etc., Alejandro was anything but happy. My hunch is he paddled him later that night.
Not much unusual except Paolo turned scarlet when I put him in the position of admitting to his brother I'd spanked him just last night and I forced him to show his brother his personal "punishment paddle" that he's made (we were all in my room which had a sitting area, not a Suite).
The next morning we three made a pilgrimage to "La Rinascente's" second floor's Men's Section to purchase a pair of jeans and slacks for Raul. It became interesting when the older male clerk produced slacks which he assured us would fit him "Perfectly" and Raul went behind a curtain to try them. He came out -- and came close -- proclaiming, "They're too tight. . ." before Paolo cut him off in Spanish with a clear form of "cerrado su boca" (sp?) before I could catch him in his first assertion that could have lead him to his first bare bottom blistering over my knee upon return to our hotel. Paolo knows I like them in slacks that cup and separate the buns a bit -- continental style. These ones did very nicely and made it obvious the lad's worth a second glance. Raul said nothing further as I felt them, as did Paolo, and we all agreed (including the clerk) they were perfect and bought them! Raul's adjusting to his new assets.
So in borrowed briefs, Polo, with new fitting slack or new jeans now, Raul looks like anyone else, only more appealing!
By the way, Raul's father is a European who visited the spread and slept with Paolo's mother. The boy does not look Indian and, in person, doesn't look as much like Paolo as I'd thought from the one photo I'd seen. There's nothing wrong with this lad, except he's younger than I thought.
Nothing much happened for several days as I did business (as did Alejandro) and the boys "toured." Alejandro and I planned to go up to his friend's vineyards near Gallese for Saturday, then his wife and I would meet me on the train and "do" Florence (she's an art expert) with Alejandro returning to Rome. I was not too surprised when he asked if I'd mind if he "inspected" Paolo? Well, I rather did, but I saw no choice. I knew he'd discipline any of the boys if he choose to anyway (as would I if I had been the one returning).
I learned from his wife -- who's name is Ana (sp?), but whom everyone refers to as La Donna (sp?) -- Alejandro is an informal advisor on EU/agribusiness to the King and holds a title! Then during dinner one night when Alejandro somewhat abruptly took both his nephews from the table up to their Suite, she said something like: "Don't look so concerned. He's not going to paddle them now." I smiled a bit embarrassed but then she continued, "You know in past days, private schools and Priests or nuns instilled discipline and rules with an understanding of repentance and absolution in younger generations, but today, though some priests will, with more modern notions ruling our society, young people never learn these things. Alejandro's disciplined both of them for most of their lives, and I understand you have upon occasion as well, and look how well especially Guiermo's turned out. He's splendidly prepared for leading the Group when Alejandro's too old and Juan will get there eventually too. More parents should be like Alejandro." Her's was a statement. I only nodded. About that time all three returned to the table with no reason given for their absence.
His friend who owned the vineyard (?) outside Gallese was middle-aged, quite large and bald, but jolly humoured and very gracious as host. From what I saw most of the grapes must come from some other location to make all the bottles he had ageing?
During his grand tour as walked with a golden handled cane, he pointed out one farm worker, stripped to his waist and glistening with sweat over his superb body chopping fence logs. He called him over and the lad bounded up to us. He was more olive skinned but he had a full hear of black ringlets and beautiful black eyes. He arrived wiping sweat from his brow and smiling broadly as he was introduced to Alejandro and myself. The host asked the boy -- who seemed not to speak Italian -- why he had "broken the rules" last Monday, I think it was. The boy related in basic English with some French words a tale of a flat tire on a scooter causing his delay and didn't seem concerned. The host merely took his cane and while tracing the lad's solid abdominal definition told him to come to him after dinner "to settle it" (in English) and the lad, responding "Yes, Sir," acted like it was the most natural thing in the world. Watching the lad turn with sweat still glistening on his bare shoulders and back and falling down to dampen his oversized work slacks (similar to what Rual had arrived in), there was only promise to visualise as he went back to his fencing unconcerned. I hoped our host had in mind what I knew I'd enjoy watching. Alejandro's friends have never been a disappointment yet. Turns out the lad's from Tunis, where the fat one also has a place (and French Tunisian descent about 25).
The host seemed like something out of a Felini flick, walking along with his very expensive looking walking stick. He added with a smile that he "enjoys giving the North Africans a chance" but that "these boys and girls need more education always." Then stumbling along the path he added enticingly, "You'll see what I mean later."
He also has a connection with a vineyard in the Napa Valley (where is that in California?). Turned out the guy has a real school for these workers from the place in Tunis (he's got maybe 25 boys and girls of varying ages above 13 years) they attend mornings before work and evenings after work and includes "maids" in his house, etc. The guy sees himself as providing a good opportunity and an education for these worker's futures, and genuinely so, but is clearly a firm believer in corporal punishment and an affectionate. My hopes rose for the evening but dinner was not less than six hours away.
Parenthetically, I learned more about Alejandro's "friend" (the Greek?) who's apparently still coming by his yacht to spend some days in Phuket. This one also apparently has a teacher on board for the crew, who I'm told come predominantly from farm or underclass French lads. [Reminded me of the "story" I scripted in those ones I sent you titled "My French Tutor" based on a true situation of an American friend where his Tutor in Paris also had such a farm lad who not only accepted the Tutor's spanking him in the kitchen when he erred but was sure the man was doing him a major favour - something I've found elsewhere as well.] Anyhow this Greek is said to favour nice tight bare bottoms with precisely defined French bikini lines on his crew's fannies, which Alejandro says he loves to work and show off. Apparently he pays his crew so well that boys compete to sign on, relishing their work and cruises to exotic places, knowing the strict requirements on that vessel and the strict discipline they all face. If the guy does make it to Phuket, it sounds like it will be interesting, to say the obvious. Tan lines do add to it all, in many ways, and all the French boy's I've known have all lived up to their potential. If the guy comes, I'll tell you, if you're interested?
Anyway, our host took a nap after our tour, leaving Alejandro and me sitting and talking until around 21:00 dinner.
After a long, somewhat boring, meal with the host going on and on, it was not until he was sipping cognac and a bit to the winds when there was a soft knock on the door and the field boy entered quietly, dressed identically as this afternoon, and, unacknowledged by the host or his even pausing in his story to look at him, the lad came and stood beside him. Our host still did not look at him as he continued talking to us while reaching over and taking the lad's slacks and boxer shorts completely down. The lad, acting as if this were the most natural thing in the world showed no reaction as his pecker and nuts came out into view by those of us at the table, stepped out of his slacks and briefs leaving him only in his field shoes and socks, and stood there tall and proudly in all his youthful masculine glory, displaying a superior physique, tan above his belt but living olive below, truly etched from good hard field work. The display was magnificent as he stood there as if a guest at a dinner party waiting to be introduced and totally unconcerned about his brash nudity showing all he had as the servant, who paid him no attention, cleared the table.
He simply stood there! He must have known how exceptionally fine he looked. Following the table's clearing and the host's poured more cognac, the servant brought a wooden paddle and placed it on the table in front of the host. Still without looking at or acknowledging the boy in any way, our host reached over, grabbed the boy by his upper inner thigh, tugging him closer. The boy remained silent and offered no resistance. Then the host pushed back his dinner chair a bit, took hold of the lad's bare bottom, and guided him across his lap (still never looking at him or acknowledging him nor pausing in his interminable story). Only then did he stop talking and looked at the fine young male bare bottom across his lap, ran his hands over it and its upper thighs, then picked up that paddle, brought it down hard, shattering the room silence and paddled the boy. The man, huffing and puffing soon, seemed to be doing it well, given the red marks left by the descending paddle, but the boy remained basically smiling every time his face jerked toward me, thought a few times his face grimaced briefly in pain and he let out an "ouch" or something similar in what I think was French. His legs still in his shoes and socks moved around and his bottom clenched with each swat.
After maybe 10 minutes, the boy's full but tight bare bottom was red but he was still smiling -- no whimpers, tears, pleas, nothing but "ah's and ouch's"! The host seem pleased with his red bottom, in which he took great interest while commenting on it's hot feel and the boy's learning to obey the rules. The boy remained fairly unaffected from what I could see, though the Host seemed utterly exhausted.
Then surprisingly he ask me if I would like to spank him? Sure! And I did as I took the lad, who walked over proudly to me still smiling and laid himself across my own lap unconcerned. I spanked him first with my hand until whimpers and "ah's" and "oh's" began more earnestly and his long muscular thighs and legs began really dancing. I've been at this long enough to know when a boy's playing with you and really needs a good spanking from a man. As you know, this is the kind of challenge I really enjoy and I was happy to oblige. My hand gave it to him and I'm sure in places where he'd never been spanked before. His concern had increased noticeably now. When his smile left, I switched to that paddle until the tears began in earnest as I blistered his bottom with it and the real enjoyment began, then after a while, returned to my hand, taking the lad back to his childhood and providing a real lesson. The lad was beautiful to spank, especially as he had no fear at all and clearly was not anticipating, nor used to anything like what I gave him. His bare bottom flayed wildly as I turned it scarlet and his cries turned to screams and pleas as I continued. With the boy draped over my lap in tears, the host started talking to him calling him "my fine one" and "my little one" and then invited me to keep him for the night. Then the host just got up and left, taking Alejandro with him, as the boy still hung over my lap sobbing openly and freely, dejected, but wiggling openly in a way that told me he'd been needing this for a long time coming. Often boys know they need their bottoms spanked but don't know how or are afraid to ask. This one had gotten it, at least for now.
I sat alone in that dining room now with the lad hung crying over my lap as I caressed his very red bare bottom with the paddle I'd just used on it. As we were alone and the house was quiet I just let him hang there privately. Every time I touched his bare bottom to feel the heat while I continued thinking about giving him more, he wept further. He'd be a good boy for me, I felt sure!
Accepting good fortune, I did then escort him dressed in only his shoes and socks to my room, only wishing I had a spare thermometer along. As I didn't, I stood him in the room's corner like that and later after I'd showered, pulled him across the bed and gave him his second real spanking for that evening. I was sure he'd be a real good boy now and he was. For the next full day and until I departed for the train the following morning, the lad remained at my side, his eyes blood shoot and his bottom glowing under his loose slacks. Periodically I'd just take him aside, pull them down and spank him and he got one each morning and evening as well.
My host not only approved, but watched twice, saying it was a good object for the others who would certainly hear rumors. Fine for me!
All in all, a great time for which I thanked our host profusely. The host offered him for the rest of my time in Italy, but, I turned it down regretfully. Instead, I limited myself to keeping the lad's bottom nicely red under his slacks to insure he remembered and I left knowing I'd experienced something special. The host told me at the station he'd never seen the lad cry before. I looked at the boy when the host said that and watched his embarrassment. Sometimes youths need spanking. They need to cry. Loud. Tears. Round, red bare butts. This one did for sure. I'd spanked him soundly before coming to the station and both he and I knew he was very red. The train pulled in while I looked at him standing there. His face seemed to have a look of relief on it at my departure. In some ways I regretted leaving but had a schedule to keep (unfortunately). Still with that lad at the Station, I hope I can return sometime, someday.
In "pre-reserved" seats Ana sat waving to Alejandro who would return to Rome. (There was a boy with Alejandro, too) She engulfed me in her knowledge of the art we would see, filling me in with the excitement of a school girl. Once we arrived, it was hard keeping up with her pace!
That next afternoon about 14:00 we were nearing a small plaza after a second day of touring and walking down the small street. I noticed a man leaning provocatively against a door frame while casually attempting smoke rings. With one arm crossing his chest and the other high in the air with the cigarette, he had on a loose plaid long-sleeved shirt, white T visible where his shirt was parted on his chest, loose fitting "50's" stiffly creased Levis with a very thin and expensive-looking thin alligator belt with gold buckle holding them up plus black loafers and white (believe it or not!) socks. And, he was smiled my way!
Unfortunately his smile was for Ana with whom he began talking lively in Italian. He clearly knew her and seemed pleased to see her. His stark features, beautiful coal black hair with deep brows, striking lips and very white teeth, added to his mystique standing there in the door of this cafe in this small cobble stone street. Who was he? He disappeared to get the "owner" but returned with coffee for one of four tables outside. When the owner appeared, she was older than Ana, nicely dressed, with a soiled apron in which she'd been cutting something in a kitchen. Clearly she and Ana were friends. I was introduced to the man as Ana's "American friend" and he began speaking tourist talk in very basic English while the women smoked and discussed who knows what?
Later when we returned for dinner there and he was serving, Ana whispered he was the owner's lover of about a year despite the differences in their ages. Dinner was lavish in that small place filled with customers and seven waiters and waitresses serving all. Ana and I were solving the world's problems with good wine at the end of a great evening when a waitresses came over and said, "Please with me come." Ana nodded so I followed her up a narrow creaking steep staircase. At the top she opened a heavy wooden door and motioned for me to enter. I did.
There in a beautifully feminine decorated room was that owner on a stark hard wood chair in the room's centre. Over her lap she held the bare bottom of the man from earlier, his well creased jeans now crumpled at his ankles with his black silk boxers at his calf's. His shirt tails had slipped down his back over his shoulders probably as he'd struggled and his hair flopped over his head so as to cover his eyes keeping his face, which he had further hidden in his hands, from view. His nicely bared buns she was caressing with her red-painted finger nails were rosy where she had spanked him. She'd done so fairly well and thoroughly as she pressed his buns apart as if to show me she knew where and how to spank a boy his age and how to do it right.
I was surprised but comfortable. "Ana mentioned your interest in what I prefer to call 'family correction'?" She said and I nodded. "I thought you might enjoy seeing how I handle this little boy's fanny when he disappoints me?"
I managed to stumble out weak sounding "Yes, well done, Madam." But wasn't sure what she expected me to say or do, sit or stand? I stood. She said nothing further, but putting her hand between his legs she forced him to raise his bare bottom higher off her lap, exhibiting his extremely firm erection she was holding in her hands. Very firm and ready! "You see," she continued, "he'll perform splendidly tonight. Maybe you weren't aware that women know such things, but we do, my American friend, we do!" With his very attractive and somewhat rosy bare bottom extended higher in the air off her lap like that and her right hand forcing his thighs apart as she clasped his nuts while her other hand tweaked his cheery, I wondered momentarily exactly what she did "do." As that red nail applied some pressure to his pucker, the boy from the afternoon moaned what must have been the Italian equivalency of "OK, OK, I'm ready!" He was completely under her control.
I left the room, quietly shutting the door behind me, and returned to the table a bit star-struck with what I'd just seen. Ana smiled. "I thought you'd enjoy her; he, by the way is 27; she's 61 but doesn't look it does she? Quite a lady, isn't she?"
That was the understatement of the year. Ignoring upstairs, conversation moved to other things.
A half hour or so later I noticed him waiting on tables again as usual, though he seemed avoiding our table or looking at me. Later as the restaurant cleared out and slowed down he joined us, sitting between Ana and me with a beer, his cigarette, and talking on. "Espresso?" he asked and when I nodded he disappeared and reappeared with it. Sitting down, he leaned over to my ear and half whispered in basic English, "I do not let her do that much often, but I know how to treat a woman!" He smirked in a man-to-man way. I smiled. He was seductively attractive, but Oh, so, Italian, trying to be macho! He seemed unaware Ana also had heard and left the table.
Minutes later the owner appeared, towering above him ordering, "Antonio! Come with me!" Speaking in English clearly for my benefit she added, "Come, too, if you wish" and after we both rose, "Typical male ignorance. I've warned him about. He only said it because you are American!" She pushed him into the kitchen, into a back room, looking like a storage room as I followed. He seemed concerned but baffled until she pulled a paddle out of a drawer and stood before him. "So, you know how to treat a woman, do you? Well, I also know how to treat a boy! Take off your cloths, everything!" She spoke in English clearly for my benefit.
He began speaking in rapid Italian, but he was also taking off his cloths and FAST, and he took off every stitch of them! Standing there naked and proud, he seemed to be apologizing. His face now showed real concern. He kept on talking as she forced him over a stack of boxes, adjusted his bare a bit rosy bottom up high, stroking it and his thighs as he continued talking while struggling for balance. Then when she was ready she paddled him as well as any man might ever have done in this situation. This time he was crying and jerking violently despite of his age and image he had been trying to project to me earlier. After the paddling had gone on far long enough she stopped, feeling the heat from his bottom. "Here," she said, "You feel!" I did and he was very hot! When I stepped aside she torn into him again and paddled him furiously. I have often found women in a real punishment situation are much more severe in punishing a "boy" than most men might be. She certainly was! If there was anyone left in that restaurant or kitchen, there would have been no doubt he was getting the paddle. He was crying and yelling loudly and kicking and squirming to boot over those boxes as he got his bare bottom paddled but good! Her paddle reddened him everywhere, including on his upper thighs. He screamed then! "Go to my bed and wait for me there! I'll deal with you later!" His eyes flowing with tears, he paused only to grasp his jeans, holding them before himself for protection, tears still streaming from his very read eyes, as he tore out and up those stairs. She, in turn, returned to our table, poured Ana and myself an after dinner drink and talk leisurely and freely with her old friend in Italian and with me, a bit, in English.
I saw him only once again, only briefly. Mid-morning we stopped by for coffee and when he served us he said pointedly to me, "I'm sorry I spoke badly but please forgive me, Sir." He sat beside me again this time but this time when the two women went into the kitchen to look at something, Antonio said much more carefully, "What I say, it's my life; but if I had a job away from here I'd go." What the hell! I gave him my card! "Thailand?" he exclaimed, "It's beautiful there!" Jeez, would I like to follow up with this one. He's as seductive as Hell!
The rest of the stay was uneventful. Getting to know Ana more and seeing a more human side in Alejandro was good, but I spent too much time working! Paolo and Juan bonded nicely -- both exhibited 100% gentlemanly conduct. Paolo said Alejandro had examined him and wanted assurance he was happy with his new life. Nothing more. Guiermo was as impressive as ever, and even Juan, when he got over his humiliation, loosened up a bit, though he did step out of line and advised me to strap Juan "'cause that's all he understands very well." I thanked him. Ana had immediately returned to Madrid and the four of us finished out the stay.
As for Juan - I gave him every opportunity to stumble and earn his first lesson in Italy, but his conduct was fine. Paolo actually came a bit more close.
We returned to Bangkok the other day and Juan will be in an international school in a week or so. Mea's great! Niwat's still here in Grad School so the place's up to four, though only two are working and only Mea's working on the venture. Who's been turned over since we've returned? No one. And I've agreed to nothing more than a fair trial for Juan for a couple of months or so. We'll see what happens!
Talk to you later! Cal