Whack, whack, whack, the last three spanks of Peter's spanking fell. The eleven year lay over my lap, his jeans and white cotton briefs down around his ankles. His full round bottom, like two small mellons, were glowing pinkly. My hand was red and hot.
I stood the young sir up and pulled his briefs up. Slipping them first over his tanned behind and then lifting the waistband in front to slip his boy parts into thier pouch. As I pulled his jeans up and redid them I lectured him on playing safely and wondered why he was not showing any signs of his spanking?
I do not believe in "beating" a child when spanking. As an adult I feel it is my place to know just where the line is between discomfort, which reinforces the discipline, and pain, which only produces fear, distrust, and a good reason for the child to lie to escape being abused. This line I'd always been able to maintain well with Peter.
My older boy, Scott, could not be spanked. Being spanked was such a violation of his person he could not absorb it as punishment, but as only physical assult. With him I always used other means: corner time, early bed, loss of some thing, etc. With Peter thouogh, he coud not stand to miss out on anything and always asked for and accepted a spanking when he messed up. But now the effectiveness of spanking him was in doubt.
I'm a big man and have worked hard for years. My hands are hard and heavy, I feared hitting hard because it might cause damage, maybe longer? I made up my mind that the next time he needed a spanking I's have him accept more spanks than he'd been getting.
We often went down to the wharf, where Scott loved to fish and watch the fishing boats and Peter liked feeding the seals and hunting through the tourist shops. I was with Peter on one of these exploration when he ran up to me with one of the shore made, semi-joke, paddles. It was a foot or so long and three iches wide and an inch thick. It said, " For little dear's rears."
"Do people really buy and use these?" Peter ask increduiously.
"Mmmmm." I muttered taking the instrument of correction from him. "I'm sure some people do." I said.
"Dumb." He quipted, turning to find new treasures.
"Wait a sec." Called, swatting his jean clad, full, little rear, with the paddle.
Peter hopped and turned back to me quickly. " Huh!" He said, giving his butt a quick swipe with his hand where the paddle had smacked it.
"Put this back where you got it kiddo." I told him, noticing the paddle had gotten some attention from him. I decided it was time for Peter to have his own paddle.
I got a piece of nice oak, twnety inches long, three and a half wide, 3 4 of a inch think. I shaped a eight inch handle, sanded and polished it and soon had the perfect paddle for Peter.
Weeks went by and there was no call for punishing Peter, which was find with me. Then the day came when math got to him again. Peter hated math and had gone through a period, which I had hoped was gone for good, where he was not doing his homework, lying about his homework and disrupting his class during math. We'd ironed that out and he'd not had any trouble for a few months, then I get this note which says he's misssed two homework assignments and is talking during math.
When Peter came in from playing I heard the back door shut and the refrigerator open. I walked to the kitchen to find my young son drinking some juice, looking hot and excited from play. His excitement cooled when he saw the school note in my hand.
"You know what this is?"
He nodded, looking down at the floor.
"You know the drill." I told him and he put the juice away and went to his room. "
He got the lecture about how we'd been through this mess with homework, math and disrupting class. What was going on? And finally his admission he got bored and messed up. His head kept going to the back of the house where he coud hear his friend playing, and I knew he wanted to be back out there.
"Well?" I said at the point he knew it was time for punishment.
"Ten spanks?" he asked, starting to undo his jeans[he'd take them down and I pulled them up, which gave me time to lecture, which was what he really hated]
"Okay I said and got up of fthe bed where I'd been sitting. Peter was puzzled by this because he expected to bend over my knees for his spanking there on the bed. He stopped pulling his pants down, jeans at his ankles and briefs just having uncovered his three inch soft boy part. He watched as I left the room and finished taking his underpants down.
His eyes went immediately to the object I held in my right hand---a tan gold piece of polished wood, shaped into a paddle, a paddle Peter knew was going to spank his naked little rear end. He shivered, remembering, maybe, the paddle in the tourist shop and how it tickled his rear when I just padded him with it.
"Are you going spank me with that?" He asked, eyes big and hand reaching around to cover the threatened area of his anatomy.
"Yes my young one, I think it's time your bottm felt the spanking more than my hand. This should warm your rear very well." I said and whacked it against the plam of my left hand. It made a loud SMACK and stung well. Peter's eyes got larger and he did a little foot to foot hop as he rubbed his butt in anticipation of the spanking to come.
"Maybe ten is too many?" He ventured.
"I think it will be just right. You have been more than warned about your job at school. Now lets give you a good spanking." I said as I sat down and he moved hesitanly into positon to drape himself over my lap, naked bottom up and ready for spanking with the paddle. "This may help you remember to be more disciplined when you want to talk in class or play rather than doing your homework?" I admonished him as he bent over my knees and laid himself in position for his spanking.
His coral colored little bottom was turned up so that his legs just bent down to the floor from my right thigh while his tummy and upper body bent towards the floor from my left. I laid the cool wood across both his rear cheeks and they tightened. I lifted the paddle high over my head so Peter could see it as he looked back over his shoulder to watch his spanking.
I bought it down fast and hard, Peter closed his eyes just before the oak met the boy. It was at this poing I helt my arm stiff, slowing the paddle. I let my wrist break and the paddle fell with a nice, SMACK, across Peter's upturned naked butt. It was not a real hard spank, but having tested the paddle on my own thigh, I knew it stung. I was rewarded with a buckle of the young boy draped over my knees.
"Ugh." He grunted and I lifted the paddle for the next spank.
"Ugh." he groaned again as the second spank landed just below the first on his butt. Smack, ugh, smack, ugh, smack, ugh, smack, ugh, smack, ugh, smack, ugh, smack, ugh. Peter's bottom was rosey, he bounced with each storke of the paddle across his not so tender bottom.
"Well, what do you think, is this paddle working?" Iasked, him laying there looking up over his shoulder at me and the paddle, knowing he had one more spank left.
"It really stings, I liked your hand better."
"Oh well. "I said as I brought the paddle down and across his red and hot little sit down. "Those days are over." I smiled as he stood for me to pull his pants back up. I was pleased to see he did a short, little naughty boy dance: rubbing his hot behind and hopping from one foot to the other, his ong little boy dick wagging and tight little boy balls boucing in their wrinkled little sack.
From now on itwas going to be Peter's paddle!