Dear James, I'm returning to Asia tomorrow. Raul, Paolo, and Mea remain there, as does Niwat who's a bit down at the moment since I've told him by phone a few moments ago he's in for a spanking when I return. Unfortunately we couldn't get a visa for Mea, so I went alone, though Chris joined me from Washington for his break.
As I mentioned before, it was a very different young Chris who disembarked from the plane when I picked him up at the California airport on Dec. 26th. Sure, he was still dressed immaculately with his radiant smile, those signature tight jeans as revealing and appealing of his superior high school gymnastic physique as always and he was more confident and outward than ever when he dove into my arms (family style), talking a mile a minute. Still, a boy his age who has been brought back under control with the family paddle might be expected to be noticeably cautious and careful in the presence of a man who sees through him and who he knows won't hesitate to apply his own style of "family discipline" if he strays, and he was!.
I came on business, but stayed (young Chris and I) in the home of friends I've known for years who have their own teenage son living here as well (the mom's son, adopted by her new husband). The father and I do business together sometimes, but we discovered years ago we agreed fully on other matters as well, especially when it comes to discipline. He and his wife belong to that group out here that believes in the "Spencer Plan" (which they follow rigidly as do the others, including those with teenage kids). They are interesting California folk and discuss things openly. Hence although I hadn't mentioned it to young Chris, this is a "simpatico" residence for us to use as home base in the States. Chris was a hit in the family and he and Bruce, the teenage son, also hit it off well from the start, with Bruce promising to show young Chris around Los Angeles and take in Disneyland, Magic Mountain, and all the rest. It was a good experience for Chris who's eyes were wide open and taking in everything with clear amazement. From a California perspectives his features and hair are such that the locals are often just staring at him and one young girl came up to us in a restaurant convinced he was some current TV star!
If Chris had questions about this family, they were quickly settled the morning after we arrived when Bruce's father abruptly grabbed Bruce up from the table, yanked down his shorts and briefs and took him struggling bare assed across his lap at the breakfast table in front of us all and thoroughly spanked his young white bare bottom to various shades of red after he'd jumped up spilling his orange juice. With Bruce in tears over his father's lap, our host made it clear he was not to assume he could get away with anything just because there were guests. Chris looked panicked. I'd seen it before. Bruce's father has always been strict and short tempered with Bruce, but I was glad to see nothing had changed just because Bruce had just recently turned sixteen. He's the stereotypical California surfer, tall, lithe, defined muscles, with sun bleached hair (shoulder length and flowing) and a nice firm bottom under his trendy very baggy shorts always showing his underwear and always looking about to fall from his hips although they never do. Dressing like he does, he blends in out here, but unwrap the package and underneath there's a shy, quiet young man with a nice and very _s_e_x_y bare body. I had, by the way, agreed to watch over Bruce while his folks took advantage of my presence to get away for a long weekend to Palm Springs. Bruce stood there, wiping his eyes, his shorts and brief at his ankles, with his nice red bottom on display, when his father finally let the boy up. Then he apologized to us all and did his best to rejoin the breakfast conversation -- not easy to do with guests presence and Chris' staring wide eyes -- after he finished his cry and tried to regain control of himself when his father forbid him to raise his shorts but forced him to sit back down at the table anyway! His face was extremely red that morning, but Bruce had earned that spanking and he got it immediately. Bruce's getting spanked at the breakfast table used to me fairly regular when he was much younger and I'd stayed here in the past. Now that he's sixteen, I suspect it's more rare.
The house here is a huge one with a separate guest wing with bath and sitting area with a view to the ocean and four guest bedrooms. It's a beautiful California-style place I often make my home when I'm in this part of the world. Each of us has private bedrooms, perfect for the varying jet lags, but it also gave me the advantage of directing young Chris into his and, without discussion, greeting him properly, immediately stripping down his designer jeans and snug white cotton briefs before taking him into my arms and hugging him more appropriately while my right hand cupped and patted his nice tight bottom I'd been missing. It's one of my favourite ways of comforting and yet reclaiming a boy while instilling in him the feel of my hand cupping his bottom. A boy with me must understand and accept he is subject to my control and that in addition to punishment that includes my touching or handling him as I see fit to instil obedience and discipline. Whether I hold my boy like that after he's been spanked and is crying out his tears on my chest or to settle him when I'm about to take him over my lap for his spanking, or just greeting and accepting him as I was with young Chris that first night, it sets the stage and keeps the relationship crystal clear. As I felt his tight buns that first night, he flinched and jerked but he was soon was back under my control, and nuzzling, and back in and subject to the "relationship" I had put on a hold when he left Asia to return to school in DC last September. Again I waited until he had adjusted himself in my arms and was again holding himself freely open to my hand and to me, but this time I could also feel his raging hard on. I ignored it and guided his stomach down on his bed so I could inspect more personally and carefully his bare bottom, spreading his thighs and cheeks widely to enjoy them fully as he clung to my left hand under his chest. He was whimpering slightly, not knowing what I would do, but I was merely enjoying the beauty spread before me and affirming I'd made the right choice letting him come for the holidays.
Every boy who travels with me knows and accepts several conditions. Some, you know. When travelling I require denim jeans unless I say otherwise and he is required to set out the paddle and his personal thermometer upon arrival in the hotel or wherever. A boy hates that, but it makes control clear and keeps tension where I want it to be kept. But a boy especially hates to set out the paddle and his thermometer if we are in a home, like here with others present. Everyone, even strangers, might know! But the boy must be trained and the possibility that others might know, even a hotel maid, has control and beneficial value. Of course the boy is embarrassed. Nevertheless, Chris had complied and both were on the bed light stand beside the bed on which young Chris was now laying, exposed, while clutching my hand under him, increasingly tightly. The boy's so cute and gorgeous and his buns were so open and exposed there that I thought hard about taking him further that first night. He could profit from a good spanking from the hand of the man to whom he was now responsible. But it was so quiet in the California night air in the house, too quiet to break the silence with the paddle, tears, and wailing of young Chris. Instead I played and fingered him, his _c_o_c_k_ straight down and hard between his legs. His buns and cherry were ultimately to prove to hard to simply ignore.
Finally I decided, "I think it time for your temperature taken tonight, Chris." I was speaking to him quietly.
Immediately he bottom clenched and tightened firmly, "Please, Sir. Do you have to! Please don't!"
I swatted his bottom, "You need your first spanking for the holidays right now, boy?" I questioned him, now grasping and clenching his left bun tightly as he jerked in surprised and squealed.
"No, no, Sir. Please! It's up to you. Please, Sir, I forgot. I won't forget again. Oooou, you decide, Sir. Please!" He was clenching my hand more tightly, his bottom flexing wildly, clenching firmly, anticipating the unpleasant entry, my middle finger forcing the issue, but he couldn't help himself.
"Then relax down here," I pushed at his cherry, "open up so I can take care of my boy," he was trying but still his buns clenched automatically. "Now, boy, and I mean now, or I'll spank you good and hard!."
He was trying, tears were forming in his eyes as his face was twisted around and watching in fear as he saw my right hand reach for his thermometer. His buns were flexing beautifully as only a young gymnast's can do. He was emotional now, unsure if I would spank him or temp him. . . or both!
"This is what you need tonight, my boy, been missing it the past months, huh, boy?" I applied KY liberally with my finger as he continued squirming, afraid now. He hated both!
"Yes, Sir. Ooooou," he jerked as my finger did it's job, "I'm trying, Sir, I'M TRYING!" He was whining, crying.
Then I slowly insert it up, way up in, his personal thermometer, which he'd not felt invade his bare bottom for the past three months. Unless, of course, Melvin had discovered the beauty of a boy as the tube is applied effectively. That slender glass tube slipped up nicely in my American boy and stayed there in spite of his wiggling bare bottom and his whimpering. I was enjoying holding it way in, playing with him, telling him to relax, something impossible for young Chris in this state at this point. Through it all he hugged tightly with both of his hands to my left hand under his chest. I held him like that for about ten minutes while he whimpered softly and then ultimately began to adjust and finally relax under my hand, accepting things.
When, but only when, I was satisfied he had fully accepted his place, I released pressure and slowly permitted it to slip out from him, immediately after which he spontaneously clutched himself in my arms, whimpering softly pledging his best. He was going to be fine now. It wasn't going to be necessary to give young Chris a spanking on that first night. Young Chris was back in line as things should be.
As an aside I was also interested to see if Melvin had paddled him recently before putting him on the plane at Dulles. The rosy colour on the top of Chris' buns (one place only) gave evidence Melvin had maybe tried, although obviously not well. There would be time to hear Chris' stories from the home front later (if you're interested, tell me), but for that first night with a very tired boy, I covered him with a sheet and he fell asleep clutching my hand. Beautiful kid, just beautiful! But he also needed some attention and reassurance that first night.
Later, with Chris sleeping, I had the rest of the evening to catch up privately with my own friends, who told me with pride about Bruce, his progress in school, their concerns, etc. Bruce had gone to his room to study (he's in an advanced math program right now).
When his folks were in Palm Springs, Bruce and I talked a lot, especially Friday when Chris was still at the Mall and we sat out on the deck together and snacked. His goal in life is simple: the perfect wave. And this is a source of conflict with his folks. And the perfect chick. I think he'll ultimately see better goals, able to support himself and this chick he's constantly searching for. I also got around to asking him how he felt about his Dad's still spanking him, now that he's 16, like that first morning we were here at breakfast. He initially turned red, but then talked rather freely, I though. He didn't like his father spanking him, and felt it unfair to have been spanked bare in front of us but he "was used to it." He had lots of interesting excuses, but with his folks' circle of friends being so into the "Spencer Plan," it was just something he'd grown up with. "I mean like it keeps ya focused, especially when some of the others are around too." He said he thought it was a good idea, "especially for like guys like me who can't get it together yet and I like it better than `childish grounding' and `go to your room' silly stuff, I mean like here when I screw up I know I'm gonna' get spanked and it hurts like hell but I know what I did wrong and I like kind a' pay the price and then get on with it. I mean like it's the way it is like."
He also said he wanted a girl who would "get into like The Plan." He said he'd had a "couple of chicks" he'd tried to bring it up with but couldn't, but his present one he'd spanked her twice and she'd "sort of" spanked him once "and like wasn't too bad at it but funny like it really turned her on and after was super even though the Plan's for improvement. No matter, like 'cause Dad and Mom are probably like gonna' still be spanking me anyway for a long time, but, oh, well, like maybe like she could be awesome at it cause like she sometimes sees her Dad spanking her brothers and she ain't no stranger to seeing a guy's bare butt 'cause like all her brothers get it that way from her old man and 'cause like, I guess if I'm to tell ya' the truth, she's always talking about and playing with my butt, like you know, putting her hand on it when we're out walking on the beach and things." He started laughing.
Bruce said he knew for sure some of his pals in school were still spanked, "'cause like we talk ya' know but not all but what the Hell" and he suspected some of the other guys were too. "Hey, it's California we've got no hang ups here, and like no big deal there are about a hundred families in Dad's group."
The sun had long ago set and we still sat talking on when there was a sound of the screen door sliding open behind us. Bruce jumped up startled. His chick had showed. Long blond straight hair, gorgeous but too much California make-up. After introductions and his dashing to get a few things, they started to leave when I said, "Remember, be back by midnight tonight," then smiling, "And you know what happens if you're not."
Bruce turned red, but it was the chick that replied, "Yea, like you'll paddle his little bare tush for him won't you?"
"Ask him," was all I replied.
She howled in laughter, he was scarlet and pulling her toward the door, "Come on, we'll be late for the party."
But, she wouldn't let him off that easy, "Yea, man, like get real." Then to me, as the screen was shutting behind them, "Maybe you'll let me stay and watch him get it?" Now they were both laughing but he was dragging her out by the arm.
Shortly after, Chris came back and we took in Evita. Good thing the movie was engrossing!
As it turned out Brad was seven minutes late, "Ah, come on. She had to stop to use the lady's room on the way!" he'd pleaded. "I got her as fast as I could!"
"That's not my problem," I replied. "Keep up the talk and I'll get the paddle or maybe you'd prefer my belt?"
"WHAT!?! BUT IT WASN'T MY FAULT. . ."
"OK, you asked for it. I'm not interested in your reasons for being late!" I cut him off, "Chris, go get the paddle."
"But, but Dad let's me tell my side." He almost seemed to stamp his foot in disbelief!
"Chris, I said go get your paddle! Bruce is going to get his fanny paddled." Chris had just stood watching our interchange, but now he went for it immediately. "Get over here, Bruce. You know what's coming." Bruce, looking shocked watching Chris leave the room to fetch the paddle, took a couple of cautious steps toward me.
"Please!"
With Bruce in front of my, I reached over and began unbuttoning his buttons. "Please nothing, my boy." The flap of his fly was open. "You've gotten to big for your britches, I see; but don't worry `cause there coming down and you're gonna'a get your fanny paddled but got for that one." I was pulling up his shirt tails from inside his pants as his bare chest and nice abs became exposed, unwrapping that package, displaying the boy, preparing to give him a good spanking and paddling, after I'd stripped him completely myself. "You know better than to talk back. Don't you remember the last time I had to discipline you?" I asked. His pants hanging very low showed his briefs above them
His shirt came off as I pushed it down his shoulders, stripping him.
"Yea, sure I do, but I'm older now! Please don't take `em off me!"
I was ignoring him, unbuckling his thin black leather belt, pulling it through the loops, doubling it threateningly in my hands. "Then you know better that to try to justify things. You were late. Period. Your folk's said midnight. Period. End of discussion." I cracked his belt in my hand, looking at his nice firm chest and definition, better than I'd remembered. His pants had slipped even lower on his waist.
I reached for his fly, "Look, please," he said, watching my hands unzip him as I continued stripping him down, "Like it was only a couple of minutes. Give me a break. Dad would never know." His pants were open, his fly down, the white cotton of his briefs and now his basket coming fully into view.
I reached around a clenched his ass, still in his slacks, startling him, causing him to jerk forward toward me. "That's what you want? `A break?' That's what your Spencer Plan is all about? Your Dad would?" I was grabbing his ass hard now.
"No, of course not. When like they're here and I'm late I get it across their lap, but you're not my Dad and I'm not a kid anymore." He was wiggling from the pressure I was placing on his ass. "Please, just give me another chance."
Chris came back into the room, his wooden paddle in his hand and looked at Bruce, squirming. "I said you're getting the paddle." I yanked down Bruce's slacks to the flood and he stepped out of them, standing there now in just his white briefs and socks. I felt his buns through that cotton. Not a change, I thought to myself. I pulled his briefs down and off, helping him step out of them,. He stood there helpless and stripped while I pulled over a straight chair. Chris was staring at him.
"Please, Please give me another change, Unk?"
`Unk?" I wondered. I looked at him standing there, his hand trying to protect his _c_o_c_k_ from Chris' and my view. He looked good, real good. Then I took him across my knees, forcing his bare bottom right up over my knees. I adjusted his _c_o_c_k_ and balls and rested my hand after running it over his bottom. He'd developed some since the last time I'd spanked him. Whatever caused him to be late, I was happy to handle it.
He was wiggling when my right hand landed hard across both cheeks, leaving a firm hand print.
"Ooooou!" he yelled, flinching. Thereafter my hand landed again and again, hard fast, leaving a nice red glow everywhere, reddening up his bare bottom. Within minutes he was kicking and crying softly, but when I landed the first crack with the paddle, his screams could have been heard anywhere in the house. I spanked him, paddled him, spanked him and kept it up.
"Sorry, Bruce," I said, "but the same rules apply when I'm here whether your folks are here or not!"
"OK! OK! OK!" he yelled out between his screams. "It won't happen again."
I just continued with young Chris watching. Soon the redness of Bruce's face with his tears flowing freely matched his bottom by the time I'd finished. He's a super guy with a nice tanned body sporting a great white streak where his surfer shorts usually hang that just makes his young _c_o_c_k_ (which becomes hard when he's given his orders and remains so throughout) and balls and firm fanny very evident of his youthful virility and California openness. His bottom's enticing to spank, and hence I'm sure all of us who have spanked him have gone on longer than necessary. I enjoyed it and was glad he was a few minutes late. I took my time, giving it to him long and hard and enjoying the display over my knees. Bruce's laid back openness and looks make him perfect to spank.
Sure, he had lots of excuses but the more intriguing one was his "chick" had caused him to be late on purpose by stopping to use the ladies room just before he dashed back. I wonder. . ..
Bruce is a stereotypic "California Dream" and with his manner and childish extemporaneous nature that now and then gets him into trouble, he's been across many laps before, including mine and those in his parent's group and a few of his teachers and gym coaches in the private school he attends. I happened to know the exclusive school in which he has always been enrolled offers parents the option of signing waivers for the school to use corporal punish when, in the teacher's best judgement, it is called for. Bruce's parents had signed that waiver.
Then, Tuesday, Bruce's folks arrived back from Palm Springs and later when they learned I'd spanked Bruce for missing curfew that one night, Bruce's father angrily sent him to his room for the afternoon and scheduled him for paddling that evening. I was amazed at how it developed. With the boy cursing and stamping and stammering and in spite of it all and the father making it clear that he had been warned "before" about trying to get away with things when they weren't there, Bruce disappeared to his room, but then at the appointed 21:00 hour, a very upset Bruce who'd spent the afternoon in his room "thinking" was paraded out, stripped, and paddled by his father, in front of us all. (And one of his mom's friends happened to be there as well). Talk about a good paddling! Jeep!! The teenager really got a good one on his bare bottom!
The look on Bruce's face when he was marched out in front of us all and saw the small wooden, highly polished and shellacked paddle his Dad obviously planned on using on his bottom sitting on the table there was priceless! When his Dad marched him out to the "family room" Bruce was dressed in a form fitting sleeveless T-shirt, nice tight Levi's with a thin black belt and silver buckle, and white wool athletic socks. He looked good, but he wasn't smiling and I was surprised as he'd always worn overly baggy cloths all week long. His Dad wasted no time bending him over a family room chair and using that paddle to dust the his bottom of his old well-worn Levi's with well placed swats causing him to jump and yell. He was, though, soon told to take them down and then in front of us all, Bruce went over his Dad's lap and as his jockey's were paddled he started crying even before those jockey's and T-shirt were pulled and pushed out of the way. Those in the room were quiet, simply looking as his bare bottom already slightly red was exposed. But things only got real serious after a very red faced Bruce was stood up and told to strip completely in front of us all and with only his socks on taken back across his Dad's lap and the then the real paddling began. Shortly he was more than crying, his feet flailing wildly with his fists pounding the carpet.
Dad finished, and I mean finished, him, leaving him screaming, in flowing tears, a small boy again. With his sun bleached hair flowing wildly and his tanned body moving even more wildly, he looked GREAT! And let me tell you, this surfer's got a great tight bottom to blister! Kids, like Bruce, at his age are natural, open, playful, fearful, and coy all at once.
Young Chris, who was extremely quite immediately prior to and through out the paddling of his new friend, went pale, then whispered only one thing when it was over and Bruce was sent crying back to his room for the night, "Wow! Please don't ever leave me alone here, promise?!?" I patted the seat of his jeans and said, "Don't worry, I take care of you," causing a strange look to appear on his face but thereafter disappeared back to Bruce's room to comfort and commiserate with his new friend, not appearing for a long time and then heading for his own room.
Later with the boys in bed and the "adults" were talking about the past and the future, I asked Bruce's father why he paddled the boy so heavily for a rather minor infraction? What he said was somewhat surprising, I guess. Part of his reason was this "Spencer Plan" they and their friends adhere to for family cohesion. As he put it, "Bruce's been aware of the Plan's rules for years and he knows what he can depend on happening when he let's the family down with bad behaviour whether we're around to see it or not and that includes school, scouts, and so forth." But the other part, "I warned him before I left that he was to be on his best behaviour with you but still he let me down and returned later than you told him to be back." What about the girl friend's maybe making him late? "That's Bruce's problem; it's happened before and he's been spanked because of it. She's a strange one, but he seems to like her for some reason or another. Anyhow, this time the paddle was called for." But he went on, "but that's the kind of thing our friends following the Plan often talk about and maybe I'll bring it up Sunday evening with the others and let Bruce give his side." In short both parents were adamant "the Plan" required it and Bruce had known that and they would both "follow up" with Bruce to insure there was no repeat (my assumption was they meant he would be spanked more over this small issue and he knew it).
Overall, Bruce's folks responded to what I saw as a relatively minor infraction in a major way (I never told them I had actually spanked him twice and the second one for another reason!) and took it very, very seriously. Although you seem to not have participated in many of them, conversations such as this above one, in this case late at night, are, in my experience not all that rare when you are part of the circle of folk in every country, again in my experience, who accept and practice corporal punishment -- hand, paddle, hairbrush, strap, belt or switch on the bare bottom of the one who requires it -- as the most natural action in the world. No games, no scenes. Simply what is called for. And I still think this is what you are also missing and lack. [note: You might want to see if there is a group using the "Spencer Paddle" or "Spencer Plan" in your city, James. They usually identify themselves in Swingers' newspapers or maybe you can find them on the Net? Develop a friendship with those in families. You'll find them very open and talkative, good people of all ages, often married or committed men and women who the Paddle adds to their lives and family and are not at all hesitant to practice and talk about it.]
The next morning when I walked into the kitchen, Bruce said almost nothing and had a very red face and watery eyes as he stared into his cereal bowl while sitting at the table dressed in just his socks and white jockey's (my reading was that just before breakfast that morning Bruce had just had those white Jockey's pulled down around his knees and had just been over a lap and spanked by one parent in their Master Bedroom Suite that morning but I couldn't be sure). He hunched over the table and seemed to be a bit choked or crying when I was the first one out to join the family that morning, but he did seem to recover at the table before Chris arrived and later he, in an extremely loose pair of royal blue nylon runners shorts, came out on the deck where I was watching the Ocean with a second cup of coffee and apologized for the problem he had caused me (and then leaned forward and, in whispered tones, thanked me for not saying anything about his second problem or that I had spanked him twice). It was touching and I smiled remember the feel of his bare bottom across my lap and his reactions as I had spanked his bare bottom for him on both occasions. Looking at him in those blue nylon shorts with his nice legs and thigh visible, I knew I'd like to feel it and do it again: but, after all he seems in enough trouble with his Dad (something about his Math Class), so I simply passed it off and told him to just consider it as another lesson he had had to learn and turned the conversation (and his attention) to the beaches and sea in SE Asia. Soon he was smiling and hugging me (although I am not sure I like being called "uncle" by him!). He'd like to come sometime, and I'd be delighted to have him! Late morning, after long emotional good-bye's among friends (especially between Bruce and young Chris, which surprised me), we took Chris to the airport to return to high school in DC. In a week, I'll return to Bangkok.
So much for California! Life goes on.
Cal