Emotions, the next morning after I had paddled Julian, were far more tender and appreciative that you might have expected. We joked, made brunch together, and talked long and deeply about lots of things. To be quite honest, I cannot say I had seen him that content and happy for a long time, but I can also assure you he made no jokes that day about a spanking!
Yes, Julian really was exceptional. He was, without question, an exceptionally good looking guy blessed with a naturally fine physique that became even better over time as he began to exercise along with me each evening. He was especially outward and friendly by nature, once you got to know him, but he also just happened to crave and soar under the utter surety of having a man now who watched over his actual behaviors, his goals he set for himself, and what he wanted to accomplish but who, in addition, also watched over his needs for discipline and gave it to him whether he wanted it at any particular moment or not.
Nothing like an unexpected swift slap or two across a young man's bare bottom to keep him alert. It certainly worked with Julian! No matter who was around, he always knew what was expected of him. If he failed, his jeans and briefs would come down on the spot for a quick slap or two even if others were around. Julian got what he needed, when he needed it!
Consequently Julian quickly became what many would label, "Ideal."
In short, life went on normally, but Julian's spankings continued some might even say they were regular -- for real incidents in his life. When it was time for Julian to go over my knees, he did so and he was spanked. Julian took them regularly and thrived on guidance as he met his own set goals while gaining self-confidence and even pride in himself and in his professional work. He was simply a genuinely nice person with a secret we shared.
Julian was occasionally paddled at other times too when simply warnings went unheeded and things he was told not to do he went ahead and did anyway. He had a right to make his own decisions, but I had a right to correct him. Sometimes he just got too busy and failed on some of the things he knew he needed to do. On those occasions and when things like that happened, yes, the paddle came out and Julian felt it across his young bare bottom!
Julian did not (!) like his paddle at all, especially when he knew in advance he was going to feel it; but sometimes he was pulled over my lap and he felt it anyway! Other times he knew when it was going to happen and went through his dread and avoidance moods all over again. Julian did not like his paddle and its presence sitting out unexpectedly always noticeably unnerved him!
But there were other times, just normal times, when Julian and I would have a long quiet talk, somewhere in private and he would sometimes end up sprawled out over my lap for a taste of my hairbrush too. It stung for sure, could bring him to tears quickly if I wanted it to, but it could also be applied in such a way that he knew what he had done wrong (or failed to do) but it had not merited the full force of his paddle.
Julian preferred the hairbrush to his paddle. He would tell you so openly.
One day an elderly friend in Germany gave me a pair of fine, expensive leather slippers with the not too subtle suggestion (in front of Julian in a public restaurant) that I use one to spank Julian with some nights. Julian was anything but happy about that comment (!), and, not surprisingly he never did like that particular man. Still the man was right! That exceptionally fine and expensive leather slipper across Julian's nice bare ass always worked wonders. Julian utterly hated being told to go get that slipper and he would do everything possible to avoid it . . . but there still were some occasions when I took down his jeans, took his briefs off, and spanked him with that leather slipper anyway.
That leather slipper was especially effective, even with just a few slaps, when I would pressure his fine bare bottom and force him to spread his buns more apart and then aim a few deep down there. No question the slipper works well if you do it right and want your boy to yelp and yell rather quickly!
By far, though, the night Julian hated the most was that one night the same German man who had sent it was visiting and Julian came in 30 minutes late for dinner leaving both of us waiting. He said he has "simply forgotten it was tonight" and he sounded sincere, but I wondered if his memory loss had had anything to do with the German man's being there? The sheepish look on Julian's face told me he knew he was in trouble, but his look turned to panic when I told him to go get that detested slipper. His apologies did not succeed that evening (as they typically did not any evening) and Julian got his bare ass spanked with that despised slipper while the elderly man who had sent it to me stood there watching and smiling. I was not sure while Julian disliked most that evening -- the fact that he got spanked with the slipper on his bare bottom or the fact that the elderly German man stood there and watched him get it? Anyway, I took my time spanking him that night (with the man's smiling approval). Then later Julian offered his sincere apologies for being late and joined us for dinner. No question about it, that slipper hurts!
But far more typically between Julian and me it was just a good old-fashioned spanking that Julian found himself turned up over my lap to get. The slap of my hand across his young bare bottom was often all it took. A good glass of fine wine after dinner, some time alone taking about things privately, and then finally some private time with his slacks and briefs down while his young bare fanny got slapped over my lap . . . well, usually that was more typical and kept him in line just fine.
Some things never did change. Around the house, Julian was almost constantly in those white cotton Jockey's he favored and his playful attitude and "jokes" about needing spanked never left him. "You gonna' spank me tonight?" or "am I in for it?" he seemed to be asking frequently and it always causes a non-committal smile on my part. At times he would come right out and ask for one "Ah, I screwed up today so I guess you're goanna' spank me when I tell you what happened today" -- and immediately Julian would tell me what he had done before I ever got around to asking. Yes, on those occasion I would stop whatever I was doing and talk with him. Almost always on those particular occasions, I would agree with him that a spanking would be helpful and thus I would forget about whatever I had been doing and strip him and spank him.
Julian always thoroughly disliked actually being spanked over my lap when it was happening. Nevertheless, yes, he continued to get spanked anyway and those things he wanted to work on for his own life improved over time as he moved forward with distinction.
Yes, whenever he screwed up, Julian continued to get his bare bottom slapped for it until he would cry it all out a bit and promised he had finally learned "this time for sure, I promise you."
But he never did seem to really learn "this time for sure," so that "spanking chair," he came to call it, stayed in the house for when the boy in Julian needed another lesson.
He had a tendency to get emotional at times too, but the mere mention of a calming usually did the trick. If it did not, well, he would get one on my lap for fifteen minutes, maybe 30, maybe even an hour, or for as long as it took.
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Over the years his behavior and focus improved immensely, but there were still always those nights when he needed his bare bottom slapped for him and I would spank him.
Very, very few people, even those who knew us both and well, ever knew he was still spanked. The bond between us was extremely firm, yet tender and unbreakable. Julian knew who he was and what he wanted and needed in his life. He got it. In public he was professional and even accomplished and well respected, but once the doors closed behind us at home, there were always those times when I took his clothes off and still spanked his fine bare bottom. I directed Julian's tears as I guided his bare bottom. Julian became very contented and his life reflected his comfortableness at home.
His relationship with his own parents developed more maturely (though they never knew he was being spanked) and in every way issues that had plagued him in his past seemed to dissipate naturally.
Julian and Larry became like brothers and talked all the time. Aaron was always trying to get him to come do fashion modeling in Toronto, Chris touted the advantages in Washington, D. C.; but Julian remained nearby and completely focused on his career in Art. He was very good at it, actually, and was enjoying some accolades from the art community. But Julian always seemed to retain that very, very boyish 19 year old look and manner. Too many people did not take him serious. He never aged.
Julian's own father asked one evening, "How come he's so dedicated to his work and future down here when he cared about nothing when he lived back at home?"
How do you answer a question like that to Julian's father?!? But, yes, he was focused and he was doing exceptionally well building his career.
Some boys know what they need and are not afraid of being who they are. That is a perfect description of Julian, a boy who turned on and was at his best when her bottom was rosy!
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Although there were many, many more good times and deepening moments of solid friends between Julian and me those years, not every "story" especially a non-fiction one has a "happy ending." One weekend when I was in Paris, Julian was jogging alone in the evening in the city. Yes, it was probably later in the evening than he should have been jogging alone as dusk had already fallen, but both Julian and I were always addicted to exercise. I had talked to him on the phone just before and knew he was heading out to jog and then had planned to join mutual friends at the Club for a late dinner.
Julian was unfortunate enough to have encountered a gang of younger city hoods, out for a weekend of who knows what but booze were heavily involved. Somehow they were driving by him in a pickup and taunting him though he apparently was paying no attention. Infuriated, it appears they cut him off with the front of their truck against a brick wall, grabbed him and continued the taunts. For reasons only understood by those into hate, they beat Julian to a pulp and left him there to be found three or four hours later by a security guard in that rather good city neighborhood. Julian expired in the local hospital six days later as I sat there a long long time, holding his hand and talking and smiling at him whether he could see me or hear me or not did not matter. His parents were there too celebrating ultimately the time we all had with an exceptional young man who left far too soon.
Julian never tired of having those white cotton briefs he liked so much being pulled down and usually off for a private conversation. And more times that not, it was my hand that would end up doing the talking.
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This "story," which took place a few years ago, is dedicated to the memory of an exceptionally fine young man. A man who may have looked too good for his own good, but he was an exceptional human being in every way anyway. He was what he was. Those who did this were found, but lacking enough hard evidence, they escaped major punishment.
Hate crimes are an exceptionally horrible thing . . . especially in a land that holds all men to be created equal.
The Story of Julian . . .
In memory of Julian,
From Cal and His Brothers