That night as I held a calm but completely naked Julian in my arms, I was tempted to paddle him right then. His buns were ready for it and his mind was in the right place to bond with it too, but I had told him I would paddle him Saturday night and it just was not Saturday. His whole body responded to my hand on his buns now, but I just could not do it right then no matter how much I wanted to.
Instead both of us finally fell asleep. The next day he seemed calmed than he had been for a long time. He had come to grips with it now and accepted it. The paddle was no longer such a threat. It was now something very personal to be applied only by me. It would bond us.
But we both had a huge schedule and too many things that had to be done that Friday and then both of us were going to one of those dinner parties. I did not see in all day, but when I finally walked in, there is stood sports jacket and tie, while he stood there holding whatever it was he was drinking and talking to a gorgeous woman in a long slinky dress that made her look especially attractive. Julian's slacks were not bad either, but together they looked great. Dinner and the evening were fine, but as the party broke up it was to me he came to go home. We drove talking about the evening and the people there. Small talk. Nothing important. Back at the place in the city we were out by the pool just winding down from the long day. At least it was Friday.
But it was also now less than 24 hours before Julian was going to be paddled. I was making a point of not bringing it up.
He came up behind me and put his arms down over my shoulders and chest with his head close to mine. "Any chance I could talk you out of using my paddle tomorrow night, Boss?" he half whispered.
I smiled, pulled him around and down beside me. It was good to hear him recognizing it openly as his. My hand went around him and patted his bun that were still nicely encased in his slacks from the party.
"Not a single chance at all, my boy, none at all." I hugged him and felt his body go slack, "Tomorrow night you've got a special date scheduled with something that's going to become a good old friend, my son," I whispered in his ear. "I wouldn't deny your meeting that for the world."
"I didn't think so, but you can't blame a guy for trying," he said half heatedly.
"By the way, tomorrow night, make no plans at all. You are to be here at 6 o'clock sharp. Coat and tie for dinner. And no plans for Sunday either. You're spending it here getting some things settled."
"Yes, Sir," he responded.
I knew Julian was ready.
A paddle for a boy you care about can become something more than just "special." Carefully made and sanded by him, he had panted his name on it. "JULIAN'S" he had painted on this one with the careful dedication and attractive scroll that only an arts students could do so well. Small and fine, looking nothing like any of those in an "adult shop," it had only one intention: to be cracked meaningfully and personally across the fleshy tight buns, always bare and usually over your knees, of the fine young man you cared for. It could be used quickly to bring him to tears suddenly when you were punishing him, or more slowly, evenly gently, as you warmed up his young buns personally and intimately for him. And anything in between. But its use is limited to his own bare bottom and for your use only. As such, there is an extremely solid bond that develops when a boy (of any age) presents you with his paddle that he has carefully crafted and that first time he feels it. It is a strong deterrent to keep him from breaking any rules and there is no question it can re-focus him quickly and propel him in the correct way. But it also has a far more personal use and one that bonds you together solidly.
Julian was ready to feel his own paddle.
I was ready to give it to him.
Reality and the world, however, somehow have a way of screwing up the best of plans, _d_a_m_n_ it! The next morning he woke up sick as a dog from something he had obviously eaten at that last night's party. Initially I thought it might also just be nervousness about tonight and I thought he would be fine by noon, then I thought so by afternoon, but he was not fine. He stayed in bed. I ended up going to the pharmacy for some medicine my doctor recommended over the phone. That evening instead of paddling him, I played nurse.
His date with his paddle was unfortunately put off until the following weekend. This Saturday night he got no further than laying naked on the couch under a blanket with his head propped up against my chest while we both watched TV.
In some ways he seemed relieved to know I wasn't going to paddle him when he was not feeling good like this. However, the reality of waiting for seven more days seemed excruciating to him. I knew he would prefer to meet it that night. However, that just was not possible. Julian was ill. The medicine seemed to help, but it was not until mid-morning Sunday that he seemed to be really smiling and feeling better. This Sunday I made brunch though he was finally able to navigate and join me on that front porch. By Sunday evening, he seemed fine again. Monday started another whole work week.
What can I say? Reality is far different than fantasy. That was the way it happened.
Seven more days! EUCH!
To be continued . . .