Dear James,
Glad to hear you're back in London. Hope you're feeling better about your Gentleman these days. He's got a lot of offer and teach you, remember, regardless of that incident with the gardener (though I enjoyed hearing about it).
I've returned now from Europe and, yes, Andre did finally get it.
Weeks ago, the telephone had rung and Mea had answered it. Low and behold, it was Andre's father! It turns out young Andre, bless his young soul, had had some of his friends over at my place the prior night -- something explicitly forbidden him without my permission -- but anyway there were two couples (Andre and his current girl friend, whom I've met, plus another guy and his). They'd apparently brought in some beer and the boys were planning to plow their gals. Sounds "All-American" so far and no big deal or challenge in de Nederland. You'll recall Andre's folk farm my property near Hoorn and watch over my place, though Andre does most of my stuff as his Dad's got too much else to do.
Although his Dad doesn't know it, periodically he'll use my place to sew his wild seed, after all it's quiet and private. He's always asked my permission in advance and I almost always have let him. His folks, being very conservative Dutch Reform Church members, would faint and he knows what his Dad would do, but Andre takes care of my stuff there and he need to have his fun sometime. If he screws up around me, I correct him and his folks know that too. To quote him one day last summer when he'd left some bottles and stuff strewn around and I'd called him on it and spanked him, sending him beyond himself over my knee one afternoon: "So all you do is spank me but it's worth it 'cause even though you really spank hard and I cry a lot, it's over soon and we're always friends." Sounds fair to me. I'll admit he's great to spank after he's just had his fun and I'm there chaperoning in the living room. She always leaves rather quickly (I've no idea why) or immediately without breakfast if she'd stayed over, and then Andre'll turn and look my way smiling or chuckling after he's shut the door or returned from walking or biking her to the tram stop. He always has the cutest satisfied but coy look in his eyes as he begins to smile more and more broadly my way, proud of himself and his adolescent conquest.
But, he's a teenager and when necessary, all it takes is the snap of my finger and upon a point to the floor, and his grin is gone immediately and he'll strip down to his white cotton briefs he favours and crawl over for what he knows he's getting. Time to pay the piper. A straight boy who's screwed up and needs some education and especially one who's just cum and now has to take his spanking is just a pure joy to turn over. Andre accepts things. Rather me than his father. Andre is one of the few I usually begin his spanking on his briefs and then lower them myself and remove them while he hangs over my lap. As you know, he's especially sensitive to my hand and hats it, but he also is always very actively seductively wiggling his bare bottom while I'm giving it to him -- and he's taking it -- my hand on his bare bottom on those rather personal occasions. Although I don't spank him now as much as I used to when I lived much closer, in my experience disciplining Andre, he's especially sensitive and humiliated by any comments about his bottom. He's always cried easily and freely. Talk about a beautiful lad to have around to watch over the place!
But, he hadn't checked with me in advance this time (and he didn't know I was going to be in Brussels for a few days a few weeks later and would try to get up anyway) , he was apparently a bit careless and had a candle too near a window. His Dad had noticed and went up to check on things, catching Andre in the midst of a passionate moment, his bare butt pumping away! Not surprisingly, his Dad saw no humour in the situation and apparently made them send the girl(s?) home immediately while he fetched his strap from his cottage to strap Andre and his friend (whose state at that crucial moment was not revealed to me). Apparently when he got back, he had stripped him and had started swinging his strap against him when the rug moved, he slipped, falling against a old oak coffee table and broke his arm. I'm sure, knowing his Father that he was beyond himself in rage. And Andre had avoided the strap.
Then, I understood, that next evening with his arm in a cast, his Father had called placed that call to me. An embarrassed Andre had ended up on the phone. He was upset but after I calmed him down, I told him clearly that when I did return to Hoorn I would spank him. Talk about dead silence on the phone when my point got through!
"You're kidding, aren't you?" he finally got out.
To which I'd said "Not at all, Andre," and hung up.
For the next few weeks, there was one very concerned country boy in Hoorn and I knew his father, crusty old-fashioned farmer that he'd been all his life, would also make sure the pressure was on his boy even though he was powerless with his broken arm to provide him what he had always done to correct Andre in the past. In this case, his father and I were in complete agreement.
When I finally got to Europe and after completing some business in Brussels, I took the train up to Amsterdam, then to Hoorn, arriving late afternoon. Andre, as good looking as ever, was at the station but greeted me with reserve this time.
His Dad's was still in a cast but my place was fine. Later that evening I joined his family for dinner in their Cottage (as I've often done). Later I'd planned to take time to take down the lad's jeans and march him bare bottom out to the shed behind my place to re-acquaint him with my strap. His Dad, never known for subtlety, had during dinner repeated again his directive I discipline Andre for his as he couldn't with his arm like it was and his Dad went on about Andre's behaviour in general as we all, including Andre and his Mom, sat there listening and having dinner. Andre turned red but knowing better than to argue, just looked down, became quiet, and squirmed his bottom in his tight jeans in his chair as his Dad talked on in detail. He knows what he was in for somewhat. Great guy! Very un-Dutch looking! His upper torso's firm and his body's very well built from all the outside work with a tight firm bottom equal to his reputation around the town as a stud. That bottom, once his jeans are taken down, has taken many a good licking as he's grown up there. He's not at all shy but socially outward and thus most find him appealing and he is, believe me, with a personality to match! Too bad he needed some discipline my first night back, but I knew I'd be happy to oblige his Dad's directions for sure and both he and his Dad knew it too!
Andre's Dad and I are unusually close, genuinely enjoy each other's company even though he's much older and gruffer than anyone I've ever known anywhere. His Dad's always been strict with Andre, who's been raised knowing displeasure from Dad results in his getting spanked, paddled, strapped or more. It's been that way forever, farm folk seem like that, but it's also why Andre's doing better than any of his peers and will make it in something other than farming, I'm sure. My hunch is there's rarely been more than a few weeks go by he hasn't been spanked or paddled as he grew up. And, there none of this "I'm too old" nonsense in that farm family. In many ways, he's like you were at that age, James. He may not recognise how much he needs and benefits from domestic discipline over his Dad's lap, but he accepts it from his Dad and me (though much less frequently especially since I'm not in Europe most of the time now) without question. He does need it. My hunch is he craves it, as he clearly is motivated by it and it's threat and thereafter excels. When he doesn't get it, he always seems a bit lethargic maybe antsy, but I wonder if he has made the connection? When did you? Think he recognises it in himself yet?
Like that night after my return, his Dad's accident had been weeks earlier and thus it had been maybe five weeks since his last spanking. Sure, Andre's fine but he didn't have that sparkle even when he was telling me about all the concerns and great things he had going on in his life. I think he missed it and the attention it implies? What do you think? You're closer to his age?
I've known for years some men/boys crave that special relationship with a man who holds them accountable and propel them forward. They do much better when they really find it. You're one, so probably is Mea.
Anyway, that night at dinner I watched him at the table and knew I was looking forward to getting him back to my place up the path, taking down his jeans and strapping his bare bottom, maybe spanking him, getting him going again before I had to leave again.
And in turned out to be quite a Friday evening! Dinner with Andre's folks (their cottage) was as enjoyable as always, as I started to say above. Andre said almost nothing as we were talking about stuff at the place in my absence. I'm sure, from the way he was watching me, he knew I hadn't forgotten and planned on at least spanking him when we finished. He was in a black and red flannel work shirt, thick brown leather belt around his tight work jeans. It's cold there at this time of the year and there was a fire in the fireplace where we were sharing a meal and re-acquainting ourselves as I'd not been back for at least six months or longer. Farm folk eat early and turn in. OK with me as I eyed a shy Andre back knowing what I'd be doing later would make it an interesting, late night for sure, and I'll admit I was anxious to getting started.
About halfway along, as I started to say above, his Dad asked him directly if he was sorry for his "stupidness the other week" and Andre replied with a sincere sounding "Yes, Sir." Immediately tension filled that room in which we were sitting. His mother got up from the table and did something at the stove, not looking at what was going on at the table were we three men were left sitting. Dad continued, "Do you think you'll be able to do better after you're punished?" "Yes, Sir," he replied reverently. "I hope so, Son," his Dad went on, "now get yourself up in that corner, think about what you did until he's ready to handle you for me! You're real lucky I couldn't do it myself that night when I caught you like that!" "Yes, Sir." Andre rose from the table, almost military fashion, and stood, forehead against the wall in the corner his Dad had pointed to. Uninterrupted thereafter, our meal continued normally. Although his folks technically rent/work for me, we're good friends. Much later coffee finished and stuff around the place in my absence having been discussed, I put my hand on Andre's shoulder, startling him, his forehead still against the wall in that corner. "Come on, Andre, time we go up to my place and handle things." He looked genuinely concerned, scared, sad as he left with me, my hand still on his shoulder.
Walking back, I asked him how he was feeling? "Awful! I'm embarrassed I disappointed you. Am I going to get strapped?" was all he said with a very forlorn look in his eyes. "Yes, for your father," I answered, "And I'll probably spank you as well." We walked together, my hand on his shoulder, the rest of the way up the tree lined lane in silence.
Inside my place, in the big room, he knew what was coming. I tossed a few logs on the fire that had been left burning there. It was a huge, all purpose type of room not uncommon in these kind of Dutch rural places. I let him stand there while I unbuckled his belt myself, removed it completely, then undid the hooks on his Levi's and pulled them down to his ankles, helping him step out of them with him resting his hand on my shoulder for balance, then tossed them aside. Time now for his white briefs. I took them down myself leaving him standing there bare, good looking equipment, same nice tight bottom I remember. It was white, unspanked for awhile.
"Anything to say," I asked? "I'm ashamed and sorry" was all he said. I thought he was about to cry as I nudged him, with my hand on his bare bottom, toward the back door, pausing to pick up my razor strap that I kept hanging there. He watched. He knew what was next. "You know the way," I said. Yes, he knew the way as I marched him bare bottomed out to the back shed, flicked on the light and plugged in an electric heater strong enough to do the job in that rather small shed, sat down the small strap on my workbench and took the larger, razor strap off its hook behind the door. This time I told him to take off his socks, shoes, shirt and T-shirt, making him naked in the light of that single bare bulb hanging down among the tools. I spread a blue towel over my workbench and bent him forward over it. Jeez, he looked good. His strong naked back over that bench, his hair flopping forward as he leaned bracing himself on his elbows, and of course his bare buns open there, clenched tightly at first, nice and white and just waiting for me there in the dimly lit shed. I stood behind him, putting my hand on them and thinking for a few minutes.
"Know what happens now, my boy?" I asked?
"Yes, Sir. Please, Sir." I was already raising my arm and brought the strap down hard across his bottom. He grit his teeth tightly as the first two or three smacks left vivid impressions of my razor strap etched in vivid red across both cheeks of his bare bottom. He was clenching his buns, holding on tightly to the top of the workbench with his hands, his head down, his flopping hair concealing it and his eyes. His first squeal came after about the fifth slap of my strap and by the eighth or ninth he was crying freely, his legs and bottom moving frantically, freely, but his upper body firm on that bench. He knows well my rules and knows better than to try to stand or bring his hand back to protect his bottom no matter how much it stings. After fifteen with that strap he was crying, wailing like a small boy. I paused looking at his bare bottom streaked now with red stripes. Inspecting the results so far, I was satisfied. Solid red stripes, no welts, no bruises. I'd not forgotten how. Then I took him over my lap and gave him the next fifteen with the small strap, more intimately applied to round out his punishment, making his bottom red all over, still unbruised, but very well "spanked." I was getting through to him, over my lap he began begging, promising, especially as I applied my small strap to the undersides of his bottom where it always does him the most good. His hands were pounding the floor, his body frantically wiggling, trying to escape from that from which escape was not possible. I began to spank him with my hand then. He knew he couldn't get away from me, but now he was like a small boy, out of control, responding to the pain and humiliation of being spanked, strapped, punished as his Dad had asked. He knew why, what he'd done. I didn't really though and didn't ask. I only blistered his bare bottom. Back and forth fifteen and fifteen I continued strapping him in punishment, spanking him with my hand to even it out, with him crying loudly, promising, pleading to no avail until ultimately I knew I'd taught him well. He'd been disciplined soundly as his Dad had asked.
I waited patiently while Andre continued crying himself out, draped naked over my lap, settling down, regaining control. That in itself took a long time. His bare bottom was extremely hot to touch, very red, and, I'm sure, quite painful. He repeated promises, begging for no more, crying "I'm sooo sorry!" I'd agreed already, but he feared I'd give him more, start again as he hung there vulnerable, open to whatever I decided. I'd given him a good one. This time even I was proud of my results!
He'd been punished and now it was over with, at least for the time being.
I tossed Andre a work shirt that was hanging there and he walked back into my house that way, then told him to sit on the sofa and offered him a beer. It was warm, almost toasty with the rustic smell of the dry wood burning nearby, flames casting shadow everywhere. It took him a long time to regain himself. Then, after he started talking normally and with some good stereo music on, he was talking on and on about everything. . Much later when he was joking and laughing again, I asked some of my (our?) questions and I listened carefully to his reply:
Yes, he knows his Dad's always been strict with him and more strict than some of his friends' Dads are with them but he feels his Dad's just trying to insure him to a better future than farming. He said some of his friends were spanked too when then were growing up, but now that he's older "not all" of them are still spanked by their fathers like he still is. Sometimes he "hates" it but he knows it's his Dad's way of caring for him. He doesn't like still being stripped or being told to lower his pants and underwear "to get my spankings" but "if I told Dad that, he'd get angry and probably give it to me worse than I was going to get it anyway and he'd still give it to me on my bare ass, and anyway he believes in that and so do you, so it doesn't matter what I think cause both of you are going to make me take them down anyway so I do what I'm told. . . He's my Dad and I know not to argue."
Later, "Dad's been spanking me for as long as I can remember and I guess he will as long as I live here with him and mom." "When I was younger, I used to get spankings more often, sometimes more than one a day when we were working outside and all. . . When I was maybe 10-14, I got spanked a lot 'cause I was young and wanted to do things he didn't like and I didn't work hard at school or around the farm and I got spanked, paddled too, a lot for it. A couple of years ago, I felt he should stop and just keep me in my room maybe like some of my friends get, but one day when I did something wrong in the field, I don't remember what, and he got very angry when I told him that. He didn't care about what my friends got, I remember him yelling at me. So he took down my pants and spanked me over his lap right there to teach me, then he made me get a twig from a tree and he whipped me with it. I remember how horrible when he made me lay over a log so he could whip me with that twig. I was very scared and it hurt a lot! It was the worst whipping I ever got and I learned not to object or argue with him for sure. I don't. He's my Dad so he decides. Since he got hurt he hasn't spanked me, but before it was maybe once a week for sure I could count on. He's real, real strict, stricter than most and I know that for sure. That why he called you. I like it when it's just my spanking he gives me cause it doesn't hurt too from him. Don't tell him, please, but as he's older now he doesn't spank me hard like he used to when I was growing up."
What's it feel like and what good does it do? He was real clear: "It hurts like hell when he uses his paddle or belt, but spankings hurt too you know, especially when you do it!" But, "Yea, it makes me realise what I did wrong and what I've got to improve, gets me going right for sure." He talked on and finally said, "Sure it does help me though. Like the last couple of months when you've been gone and he's hurt, I felt kind of strange 'cause I know I'm doing some things but he can only yell. Then, when he told me you were coming back and would strap me, I got real scared, real scared, and started watching things real careful. He told me you would come but he didn't tell me when. You didn't tell me when you were coming either. I got really worried and was real careful to do things right and all. That was the worst part, waiting. In some ways I feel better now you've whipped me and it's over and we can be friends again. Yea it hurt worse when you did it, but it's so embarrassing when you take off my pants and I know I let you down, but I don't mean to let you down. I just do, then I'm sorry and regret it cause I know what you'll think."
How does he feel about my spanking him? "Ah, I never really thought about that. You're family to me, but it hurts more when you spank me and I'm more embarrassed in front of you and I worry more about it honestly."
And, "But you know sometimes I know I shouldn't do something but I just get going on doing it anyway, but it may sound crazy but if I know you or Dad are around, it's scary cause I know you both'll spank me anytime. I don't like it when you spank me, especially you, so I'm always trying my best when you're around so you don't have to spank me, Dad too! Yea, I know you're both trying to help me grow up best, but still it hurts like hell to have your ass spanked, worse still with a paddle or that strap you used tonight. I mean like do you know how much it hurt when you whipped me tonight? I'm not going to risk that again for sure! My ass is still on fire even now and we've been talking for what maybe three hours now!"
What can I say? We sat up and talked long into the night as he told me about all that has been going on in his life since I was last there. His plans for his future and his seriousness about getting away from farming are clear. In short, Andre had grown up a lot during the months of my absence. While you might not fully comprehend it yet, James, it is possible for a boy to respect and share on a very deep level even though you are someone who can judge him and spank him at any point. Sometimes, you just click I guess, and Andre and I did so a few years ago. This was like "old home week."
The next days things were normal on all fronts. The weather broke a bit and the Winter sun came out as we both took off on bikes for about 4 hours, his mom made some great pies, I drove his Dad to the physician's, Andre was around either working or just hanging out talking. Great guy! I'm back to home in a few days. Andre's Dad's thanked me [don't read too much into it], said he'd "already noticed a difference" [he always says that] but it's nice to hear anyway. Andre got just what he needed: his bare ass whipped and pulled back into line. Nothing more.
So I'm off to Schiphol after I post this and back home. Chris will be over very shortly for his American "Spring Break" - sounds strange, "Spring Break" in a high school? Regards to your Man, and, Oh, by the way, get over it and move on, please.
Cal Hoorn, The Netherlands