If you have read the stories by 7th Son, you may be familiar with me. I'm Ky in the stories. I wish to share my side of the story. ********************************************************************************
He first came to me about four years ago. He was fifteen going on twelve. I had heard about a prominent village honcho who was advertising for a Math tutor for his son and I had answered and got the job. So now I was about to meet the boy who was to come under my tutelage for two years.
He had arrived at my dorm (I was 18 and in my first year at university) with his father who struck a confident and aristocratic pose as they met me at the door. The father was a tall, distinguished looking man if a bit conservative about the clothes he wore which were a throwback to a bygone era even by local standards. His son whom he introduced as Hanrho would later complain that he loved his old man dearly but for his error of refusing to fully keep up with the changing trends.
In contrast Hanrho was slight of build and seemed shy. He had a good height thanks in part to his father's genes but he was so pretty that I was enamoured of him at first sight. I thought at the first that there must be a mistake, I had been accepted to tutor a boy, not a girl!
The father paid my dues in advance, left the boy with me and went away for the next hour in a stately black Mercedes Benz which in the days to come be came a familiar feature outside my dorm building. It always looked buffed and shone like the moon on a clear lunar evening.
"Well, Hanrho," I said, extending a hand to him.
"Good morning, sir," he said giving my hand a firm shake. I was surprised at his soft but deep voice which didn't seem to agree with the rest of his dispensation.
"Call me Ky," I said, inviting him to take a seat at my humble desk.
"Okay," he said, "if you call me Han."
"Han," I echoed, then suggested that we tested his Math fundamentals.
The hour passed without incident, but I found him quite prone to distractedness and at the end of our first session concluded that young Han had a problem with his concentration. I gave him a bit of pep talk. He smiled throughout, then the driver came to get him and he waved a polite goodbye to me. All very painless.
In the following weeks our friendship grew. He seemed to have developed a trust in me and I admit to finding him pleasant to tutor. He was bright, alert, affable and uncomplaining. He had quite an inventive mind and told me incredible tales borne of that mind. This was his strength but also his weakness but because he was so funny and eloquent, I always indulged him. So our one-hourly sessions became three-hourly ones, but I didn't mind; he was interesting if a little immature and edgy sometimes. I should have paid attention to that edginess. He seemed to have grown attached to me in a brotherly sense and twice invited me back to his house for tea. There I became acquainted with his folks.
Our first session in the third month turned out to be a tearful one. I never foresaw it.
I was basically a patient sort and was toying with the idea of a psychology major. But Han was more distracted than usual that day and I was no Job. I began to scold him soundly. No big deal; boys were known to be reprimanded by their teachers and in my culture even caned. I didn't think he would be unduly fazed by my harsh words. After our little diversion, Han pushed his chair back, got up and started to take off his clothes. Flabbergasted, I grabbed at his hands to stop him. He avoided them, looking quite trucculent. He continued stripping off his clothes until he had completely disrobed. I stared up at him as he finally stood naked before me.
I could not help taking a survey of his body. Or being in awe of his _s_e_x_ organs. For one so scrawny and youthful, he was, in present-day euphemism, well-endowed.
"Spank me," he whispered. So soft as to be almost inaudible.
That seemed to have startled him more than me! He retreated from me, found a corner and crouched there, not knowing what to do except shake like an alley cat cornered by a pack of stray dogs.
It struck me that this boy was pathological and needed medical attention.
Or maybe he was simply play-acting.
"Hey, han, come on," I said nervously, not wanting to make matters worse for him. "Stop fooling around. We still have a half hour of lessons to go.
As I had feared, I had succeeded to hurt his feelings. He burst into tears. I was now at a loss, so I left him alone to cry. Maybe he had had a lousy day at school earlier.
But when he didn't stop crying, I knew I had to do something to comfort him. Even then Han had a way of making your heart turn over with compassion for him. It was the way he was, lost, helpless, needy.
I went to him, squatted in front of him and touched him lightly.
"It can't be so bad," I said sincerely, "what did you do?"
He transformed right before my eyes! He got up, went to his clothes, searched the pockets of his pants and drew out some money.
"I'm not crazy," he said. "I stole this. I'm 16 today but nobody remembered so I took this. Now I feel bad about it."
My heart broke. I nodded to him, appreciating his honesty.
"So admit it to the person and return it," I advised. I was relieved he was not demented, glad he had a conscience, at least. He just needed to confess a sin. Fairly normal.
"I can't," he said. "It's my papa's and he wouldn't care."
I frowned in doubt. I became aware how much he looked like his mother. The same big, round eyes. The wide lips with the perfectly-shaped cupid's bow. The turned up corners of his mouth that made him wear a smile all the time. Yes, he had inherited the enviable looks of his mother. He once told me that his mother, whose ethnic background was a mix of Siamese, Japanese, Dutch and Chinese, was the great-granddaughter of a provincial prince who lost his kingdom in the last century in a civil coup.
Han was even spared the many plagues of mid-adolescence, acne, puppy fat, facial hair.
"But of course he cares," I said to him. Having met his family and finding them very warm, I found it hard to take Han seriously now. "And I'm sure they haven't forgotten your birthday. Look, the day isn't over yet."
He sulked, seemed ready to cry again. "You don't understand. It's like this every year!"
He controlled his urge to break down. "Would you spank me?" he whispered again. "I need you to spank me."
"I can't," I answered shaking my head.
"Why?" he asked, wailing. It was a little annoying.
"I don't know how to!' I exclaimed.
He smiled, a glint of hope escaped his eyes.
"It's easy. I'll show you," he offered.
He hopped onto my laps and before I could object he had stretched out prone on top of me, his naked bottom in my face. It was such a cute bottom there was no way I could hurt it.
"Go on," he urged innocently, wriggling his behind naughtily to tempt me. "Just hit me with your hand. Please, Ky. Please."
He was murdering me with his pleases and I thought I ought to put him and myself out of our misery soon. So I did. But I barely touched him.
"Harder," he said softly. Gave another wriggle of the behind too. _d_a_m_n_, he was cute.
Prodded on by his sweet innocence, I let my hand fall on his cheeks, harder now. He let out a tiny moan. Was it pain? Was it pleasure? My hand fell on his cheeks once more and this time when he groaned, I felt a nice sensation surge through my groin to the tip of my manhood. Han was doing something to me and I didn't want to stop, I liked it. It was empowering. Then before I had the sense, for I could not think sensibly, I was spanking my underling's pale young bottom as if it was the natural thing to do. His skin was so resilient his bottom bounced and jiggled at every smack I gave him. It was satisfying both paternally and _s_e_x_ually to be the one to smack his bottom.
"Feel me," he requested beaking the rhythm I had just been able to find in my spanking.
"What?" I asked stupidly.
He opened his legs shamelessly and left nothing uncovered. "Feel me," he repeated, finding my hand and placing it between his crack.
I think I did a clumsy job of feeling his crack at first but gradually I was allowing my hand to simply trace the lines and the rising and falling curves of his lovely bottom. I eventually went on to finger probe his tight anus which was at the flowering stage. I had always been bi_s_e_x_ual, I liked both men and women, but never one this young and so willing to freely give of himself. It seemed almost vulgar and I felt my budding longing for him disgraceful. Not to mention it was forbidden just as a man lying with another man.
But Han was gnudging me for attention and wailing to be spanked again. Gosh, what a little baby. I obliged him more eagerly this time now I almost understood where his needs were coming from. I spanked his bottom like an afficianado.
"Spank me there," he cried halting my momentum once more. I was getting better at tuning in to his needs. "Spank me there, Ky, please."
He was pleading with so much urgency that my heart caved in and to deny him would be simply cruel.
But - "No," I said, repelled by thie request.
"Yes, yes, please," he begged.
What could I do but oblige him again?
The hour passed and I was not aware that I was turning his bottom a deep shade of pink until he started to sob woefully. How long had he been crying? He hadn't indicated that he was in pain at least not much. At once I was appalled at my capacity to hurt a child. I lifted him from my laps angry I had allowed him to cajole me into spanking him this way, angry I had allowed myself to act so violently against a mere child, angry at having enjoyed it. I was about to push him to the floor. What manner of demon was this, I asked myself studying him.
But Han had fallen against my chest and was crying so sorrowfully that I found myself hugging him instead. And there was mystery in those long drawn out tears I was dying to understand. I knew it was not simply pain.
I hushed him like he was my son and said it was all right, everything was all right. He had done wrong and he had been punished for it. It was over, he was forgiven, all forgiven. I hadn't even known I had hit the truth that was to unravel the mystery of his tears and need to be spanked, but I guess that must be it.
Moments later when his tears had dried, he looked up. "Yes, it is all right," he whispered.
I almost believed he meant it for me as much as for himself.
"We must do this again," Han said looking hopeful. I could only stare at him, stunned and speechless. And then he hanged his head down as if ashamed.
When it was time, his driver came to bear him like a relentless tide back to his home in the village. I stood at the door watching the sleek black car disappear into the horizon, aware that something awfully terrifying was about to happen between Han and me. My world had changed. I knew as I watched the car speed away bearing away my beautiful young charge that what had happened just moments ago was just the start of some strange, new and fearsome experience for the both of us.
(This translation from the original text was by 'St. John'. Much thanks, K.)