Dear James,
Well, you were right. It was one of those tailor-made occurrences life seems to toss your way now and then, but this one was made in Heaven. I'd tried several ways to get Niwat back to his Dad's place, but then I'd finally succeeded and the other night was set.
It wasn't exactly attributable to any great negotiations or convincing his Dad he really was OK now and had really stopped drinking and focused on his Grad Courses. Sorry, but life's not like that. Rather the real reason was that his new girl friend had moved out on him and he was alone and lonely once again in that beautiful penthouse, but I hadn't told Niwat that. When I'd told Niwat he was going back and when, the boy had become uneasy. At first I didn't think he believed me. But he did pack up his things and had them ready that night I'd said. And he hadn't forgotten. When I'd come in that evening his few cases were there in the hall waiting, but his paddle was on top of the second one. He'd known to leave it out.
To make a long story short, we'd gone over and his Dad had opened the door this time. All three of us when into that same den-like room I'd been escorted into that first time when I'd arrived to show the men then gathered there how to use a switch on Niwat. Now the two of them didn't really speak, so I nudged a bit. "Don't you have something to say to your father, Niwat."
"Ah, yes, yes Sir. I mean like Dad, well this is kind of hard for me to say, but I know what I was doing and all before hurt you a lot and I don't blame you for what you did to me, sending me to Cal's and all that, but I'm different now. I don't drink anymore for one, or swear. And I'm glad to be back here with you, I promise you. But, well, ah. . ." he was extending the paddle in his hands now toward his father, "Cal made me make this and well, now it's for you to use, this is for you, and I'm asking you to paddle me for all I did to cause you pain in the past and accept me back with you. Ah. . . here, Sir."
Niwat's father looked shocked, to say the least, but he took that paddle looking from the boy to me and back again several times.
Niwat had turned over his paddle to his father and followed through with enough nerve to ask him, in front of me, to paddle him with it for his past with his apologies. He'd done what I'd told him he was to do.
The look on the old man's face was worth everything. His eyes opened wide as he looked at that paddle Niwat had handed him. He tested it against his palm, then he began to smile broadly and looked at his son. "You sure you're stopped drinking?" he'd asked looking directly at him. The boy merely nodded his head, yes. "And you're telling me I'm going to use this one on you if you disobey me or drink again?" the old man had continued disbelievingly shaking his head, tapping that paddle in his palm.
Again, his boy only nodded yes.
The old man's eyes almost seemed to twinkle at little as he continued to look directly at his boy's face, even to the point of making the boy a bit ill at least. The old man seemed to be thinking, but it was impossible to know about what? Then he spoke, "And you know, I hope, just like to used to years ago when you were younger. Remember what the was like, son?"
The boy's head was rapidly shaking yes. He clearly remembered something the old man and his son were communicating about that I was left out of at least temporarily.
"When I whip you with this, my boy, it's going to be just like in the old days when I used to have to come home and take you into your room and whip you right across the flat of your bare ass. You remember those days, boy?"
He continued nodding as the man continued reminiscing, "Boy do I, I'd never seen a kid get into so much trouble right on into secondary school, but you were something else. Even after I'd whip your bottom and you were crying your heart out standing in that corner, I'll be darned it sometimes you wouldn't go out and get in more trouble again and I'd have to take down your pants and spank you again. And I'm still going to give it to you right across the flat of your bare bottom, and with this," he was looking at the paddle in his right hand his boy had made and handed him, slapping it against his left palm, "with this, well, I think it's going to do the job real well and you're going to find yourself bawling your eyes out in the corner again like you always used to and probably a lot because I don't believe you're as reformed as Cal says you are." He was smiling still. "Time will tell, now won't it?"
The boy standing there showed his anxiety and the tension he was feeling facing his Dad again after these past months. Niwat was standing there wearing a dark green polo and nicely creased, slightly snug jeans held up by his thin black alligator leather belt. He was in his black cotton socks having slipped off his loafers at the door, as is the custom here. When he'd entered, he walked in with the boldness of someone who'd once again always had it his on way with the exception of this little ritual I'd insisted upon and my being right behind him. The local semester had just been completed and a brief vacation was here. In many ways I watched him with pride as he faced his Dad again, "This is for you," he'd said, but I also felt a bit of remorse as I knew the pleasure and satisfaction I'd personally felt in pulling him back into line across my lap. He was well built and in good shape, looking great even there standing there with those cloths on. He was even nicer and ever more attractive and appealing as he hung bare bottom, jeans and shorts down around his ankles, over my bed or the stool in my study and especially stripped and spread out bare over my lap as I was spanking his firmly etched buns. It was nice to see him move on, but then again a small part of me. . ..
Again the boy had nodded positively to his Dad's direct question. "And you're asking me to use this on you, boy?" The old man began smiling. He was quite old, though in his position and with his success in business, he was quite used to assuming authority and being obeyed with his every whim catered to. It had just been that he'd never been able to really control his own boy. His smile widened even more as he stared Niwat down. Tension hung thickly as I hung in the background watching this ritual of father beginning to confront his son. "OK, boy," he'd said, "I hear you and I hear Cal telling me you're not the same as you were before, but it's yet to be seen. Still, I'll give you another chance around here, but it's not going to be the same. No more arguing. No more staying out at night. No more excuses. No more nothing. From now on no more nothing. This paddle's going to do my talking for me from now on and anytime you let me down, it's going right smack across your bare backside, boy." He continued smiling. "You hear me, son?"
Again he nodded positively, silently. I stepped back even further from where the two of them were confronting each other, given them more privacy. "OK, let's get on with it and show you the way it's going to be between us from now on since you asked. Off with them!" He'd pointed the paddle to his son's jeans.
For a moment I expected the boy to say something. They stood there looking at each other, but soon Niwat unbuckled his belt and pulled it through his loops as he watched his father intensely. A couple of moment later, his fingers were unbuckling his jeans and soon they were down around his ankles where he'd pushed them off his strong thighs and calves muscles and then he was out of them, picking them up from the flood as he'd been trained at my place, folding them a bit and placing them on the chair. Without being asked, he stooped and pulled down his jockey's to reveal his nice and now very firm bottom as bare as a baby's. His time in the gym with the other guys had paid off and he looked good, real good.
The old man continued smiling, obviously noticing the difference between his son's obedient behaviour this time in start contrast to the prior time when Mea's Uncle had first introduced us. Niwat's learned the hard way, through the switch. Obedience is now part of him. He pulled the polo off also before being told to and his hairless and well defined upper body with that ever present line of black hair whisking itself down to about his _c_o_c_k_ and nice balls left him open to full inspection. The boy's training was showing nicely. He was not at all embarrassed by his full nudity in the room with his father and I standing there watching him. Before a boy's trained, before he feels and sees in himself the benefits he receives from being under an older man's control, no matter his age or nationality, he's always uncomfortable when you strip him or stand him there in his full, youthful masculine glory. Once he's been under your hand a while and things have changed in his own mind for his better, his modesty is gone and he becomes truly comfortable with being under inspecting eye over all parts of his body as he's waiting for your guidance. To resist you is fruitless. It only brings his pants and briefs still down and a much more painful punishment. Many men simply don't understand this and make the mistake of going too easy on the boy, especially when he starts to cry and apologise. Spank him and take him hard and his punishment will not only be more effective, but he will grown into his own self pride. Thanking you for your interest in his future. Niwat was certainly at that point as he stood there naked, proud and without trying to hold himself from our eyes in any way, aware he was about to go across his Dad's lap, and waiting for the paddling he had just asked for and knowing I was going to stand there and watch him get it.
Still, however, he was also naturally concerned about this reunion with his Dad and the paddle now in his Old Man's hands., and seemingly even more concerned about the look now in this man's eyes as he continued to smile at his standing there, shifting his feet, one side to the other. Again, the boy's training was showing itself.
Niwat on his own went and brought a chair to the centre of the room and stood there in his splendid nudity waiting for his father. Obviously pleased the Old Man did sit down and take the boy, his son, across his lap adjusting his son's bare bottom right up across his lap. There in the same room where the last time the two of us had been there and the boy had struggled and required restraints, this time the boy hung there across his dad's lap, neither clenching his bottom or trying to protect himself in any way. He'd been spanked like this many times since the last time. He knew what was coming. He knew nothing was going to protect from it. He would take what he had earned.
The Old Man and the boy talked to one another as the boy hung there waiting. They reviewed the past, they talked about the future, the boy was apologising, asking forgiveness, pledging to be the son the Old Man had always wanted and then finally the boy seemed to sense his time was up and he took both his hands, grasping the old man's left ankle.
The man had been rubbing that newly polished paddle over the boy's firm but bare bottom, caressing his tight little buns as they'd talked and discussed the past and the way it was now going to be. Then he'd rested the paddle in his left hand and grasped his own right hand around the round firm left bun of the boy over his lap. As his fingers protruded slightly cupping and gripping his nice firm ass, it almost looked like the old man was about to spank him first. His hand remained holding him low and firm like that. The boy was still, wiggling only slightly once he adjusted to that hand there, waiting to take whatever his Dad was going to give him and knowing he'd earned it and more so. I watched the old man hold his boy like that, hoping he'd spank him, helping the boy adjust to this new reality for his life.
I'd seen it before, done it myself scores of time. A teenage or nice college age boy learns to adjust, almost finds comfort, in his older man's hand on his bare bottom intimately like that. Doesn't matter if it's before you spank the kid or immediately after as he's crying. It's only the boy's man who touches him like that and the kid learns the comfort and felt of his own man's hand touching and holding him. It's a crazy world out there and the pulls and temptations on kids to go with the wrong crowd or do the wrong things are myriad today. But I learned years ago that the boy, your boy, learns to recognise that hand of yours intimately on his bare bun as no one else can hold him that someone always there to guide him and guide him you will, right where it will do him the most good. The boy hanging there over his Old Man's lap wasn't resisting in any way as his Dad began to re-claim him back as his own as they talked, the boy increasingly apologising for things in their past I'd never heard mentioned. Dad was going to spank and paddle him and he knew he deserved it, needed it, and had it coming. Long over due, in fact!
"You understand I'm going to use this here paddle a lot from now on, Son," he spoke, his hand still on the boy's bun but the paddle was right there.
"Yes, Sir," he'd replied. "But I've learned my lesson and you won't have any more trouble with me, I promise, Sir."
"And that includes your language, Son. I don't want to hear anyone telling me about your swearing or anything else like that from your mouth whether I'm there or not, son."
"You won't, Sir. I've changed. I really have, Sir. I don't swear no more, Sir."
"Well, that's good, Son," the father said, patting his bare buns now. "But if you do, even one small word, and from now on you're going to get the paddle, Boy."
Niwat seemed to gulp, but said "I understand, Sir."
"I hope you do, Son. I just hope you do as I don't want to have to paddle you to much more from now on, my boy, but I will if I have to." The Old Man spoke firmly, slowly.
As he spoke, he'd let loose his hand from the boy's bun and picked up that paddle. He was still smiling broadly but only looking, actually really staring as the boy's bare bottom, when all of a sudden he lifted that paddle back and swung it down with some considerable force across the boy's bare fanny. Immediately a white outline etched itself over the boy's bare bottom showing explicitly where that paddle had landed and the boy, propelled forward, winced and screamed out loud. The man grabbed the boy, leaning onto his back with his left hand under the boy's stomach to control him better and brought that paddle sharply down again. The boy's bare flesh, as firm as it was, bounced furiously and the boy, regardless of the old man's age, obviously felt it with enough pain to cause him to involuntarily struggle to escape it's coming again.
But come again it certainly did. The father paddled his bare bottom and did it well. It turned white, then red, then as the boy began clenching it, struggling from one side to the others, those firm buns began to become fiery red as the boy getting paddled started sobbing, screaming, crying, struggling, anything to stop the pain across his bare bottom. Within minutes the boy was out of control and the Old Man was in his hey day, paddling the boy and getting it all out as tears streamed and promises and cried radiated throughout the room that was reverberating from the smacks as that wooden paddle landed on the boy's bare ass. It went on like that. The father was back in control and the son knew for sure that paddle was now back in use in the family.
The old man was intently watching his boys' bare bottom get that paddle he kept bringing down hard across his bare buns. It was as if the old man was really reliving something I really didn't know about, but it was obviously the boy knew. I stood there watching the whole thing, experience some of my own feelings as the boy cried over his Dad's lap. Every time the paddle caught him in an unexpected place or in an especially sensitive location, the boy's legs would stretch out and his whole body would jump, propelled forward, his hands pounding the floor loudly but fruitlessly in the midst of his cries. I knew that feel of this boy across my own lap, jumping and crying, but now I was seeing the sensitivity of his firm body reacting over the old man's lap as he had reacted over mine. His tightly flexing buns clenched and separated in a feeble attempt to match the rhythm of the old man's paddle, but it was fruitless. The paddle was usually aimed precisely where they were flexed most vulnerably apart, the top of his developed thighs and his youthful balls hanging open, jumping to the reactions of his bare bottom now being paddled hard.
The boy himself was unaware of the exhibition he was providing for my eyes as I stood there watching. Indeed he could have cared less as he had by now passed the point of awareness of caring, if he even would anyway. His emotions had swelled and like the highest natural high available to a boy anywhere, he had entered the ancient ritual of being consumed to emotions and tears, lying there over his old man's lap. . . he was being paddled.
This man knows how to paddle the boy's bare bottom with various swats and using various strength to keep the kid struggling across his lap, jumping from side to side, squirming, crying, promising. The old man knew just where to use that smaller paddle and where to caress his boy's bare buns right at their fleshy under parts where those swats coming without warning did the most good, causing the boy to struggle, frantically, cave in and cry himself out. This was not an old man who simply flailed away at the boy's bottom, but rather an old man who clearly knew how to do it for maximum effect.
A new era was entering Niwat's life and one that didn't need me. I watched his somewhat naturally tan bare flesh react, bounce, and watched his beautiful youthful body go out of control over his old man's lap. It went on and his, his buns became red, slightly bruised, and obviously very painful everywhere but especially in those more intimate parts where only a man who really knows how to really use a small paddle can understand. Beautiful!
My own emotions also were in this room. I'd spanked and paddled him so many times just this were way and it had been me that had trained him previously. Now it would be no more. A part of me wanted to urge the old man on, more thoroughly, more strenuously while another part of myself knew that the boy was close to where he needed to be and didn't require much more. I felt no sorry for this boy, just pride. He'll now always be a wonderful memory, but an ever present one.
I watched in silence as that bare bottom I'd caressed and spanked so often took it willingly from his real father. Unless you've had the experience of taking the risk and turning a boy sunny side up, paddling him finely, regularly, and to perfection, you will never appreciate how rewarding it to is watch that boy excel in areas he'd never dreamed or. This one had. Now he was back under the paddle of his father. He was sobbing, crying, promising. . .
As the old man continued his paddling and the boy cried constantly, now beside himself, in the midst of it, I'd slipped out of the room and had gone home. The night had been more than satisfying. Back home, Mea was out of town finishing up a business assignment for me, Rual was at a school party, and Paolo and I had used the opportunity to go out on our own and do the town just a little bit. I had a strong sense of accomplishment for what I'd witnessed in returning a new Niwat to his Dad, though I also knew, as I think did Paolo, that there were going to be times when I'd miss that boy! The place was suddenly quieter now, but it some ways I was looking forward to it. Paolo felt my hand later that night. The right reason was there for something he'd done earlier and the privacy of the two of us that evening later in the place gave me the opportunity to make up for maybe even a small bit of neglect with this one. He went to bed in tears that night probably knowing I'd welcome some sort of rebellion so I could bring out the hairbrush anyway, if he dared.
In the next few days the guys home around were extra careful, and well they should have been!
Days later, a letter arrived from Niwat's Father: "Thank you for all you did for my boy. While I always knew deep down what he needed, it was you and my friend who helped me. With my boy back home with me now, I see a difference in his ways, even the way he talks with me, and with his seriousness about his future. It's still hard for me to believe your taking him and paddling him made that much difference so quickly on a boy his age who had been out of control for years, and I'm still waiting for him to revert to his old ways, but I do thank you kindly. I guess I have to admit you were right and I was wrong in having stopped spanking him when he started to college. But now I have taken up where you left off and I assure you I am and will continue to paddle him. That paddle is kept close at hand and brought out and used regularly at my place these days and it will remains an ever present factor in my son's future as long as he lives here. Thank you for giving me back my boy!"
In the meantime, Mea's back and Chris is expected to come visit briefly during his Spring Break. Life goes on in the real world.