By the end of the week Brad was trained. He knew that when I sta down and patted my lap he was to come and get into position. Sometimes I would just tell him that he had been a good boy and that he could get up after only a few minutes.
Brad and I were getting on fine and in that first two weeks I had no reason, nor wish, to punish him. Of course I enjoyed the fact that I had become a dad some years before I had planned to be but Brad was such a great kid. I had taken him to the hairdressers to have his hair cut but could not bring myself to order his beautiful blond locks taken too short. He had a styled 'mop' cut, so that his hair still fell seductively almost into his eyes when he bent forward.
he was generally well behved and responede to my firm look or 'you had better behave' glare and nothing more was needed.
This came to a swift end on a staurday when Brad and I were out in the woods. Brad decided it would be fun to run off and hide. After a while of looking for him I could not find him so I called his name. It was a fine sunny day and there were few other walkers in the park but I suddenly panicked when Brad failed to respond. I called his name louder and then again even louder. 'Brad, I am not pleased....where are you?' I cried out. No reply.
I bet Brad thinks this is a clever game, I thought...well wait until I catch him.
You know how you get more and more angry when you panic. I felyt angry with the boy now, and sacred of what may have haoppened to him.
''Brad'' I shouted ''you are being a very naughty boy....now come here this minute''.
''Brad'', I repeated, ''I will smack your bottom very hard if you do not come here right now''.
Just then, and to my embarrassment, two older youths of about 16 came around a corner. They looked at me and smiled and I must have blushed.
''Have you seen a small boy with blond hair and red shorts?'' I asked.
One of the boys replied that Brad had been seen about two hundered meters away by a small stream and pointed in the direction. As they passed me they muttered something under their breath and laughed.
When I caught up with Brad I looked at him and angilly asked why he had not come to me when I called. He looked up innocently and siad he had not heard me. I grabbed him by the arm over to a nearby bush from which I broke and then strpped a whippy branch. Brad started to cry, he had never seen me so angry. I got all the usual pleas and promises that small boys give out with such sincerity in these circumstances but I was so angry I was unmoved. I sat down on a nearby broken tree trunck and pulled down Brads shorts and underpants, exposing his small bottom to the elements.
I cracked the switch down hard on his white bum and a thin red stripe rose immedietaly. Brad screached loundly in obvious pain. I delivered some more stripes to his small bottom and decided he had had enough for now. I stood him up and pulled up his pants and shorts, all the time he was wailing. His hair was clinging to his forehead and his blue eyes were red. He stood there rubbing his bottom hard to remove some of the pain.
I thought to myself how wonderful that nature had provided all I required to teach Brad his first leeson. I held the switch and realised that a part of me had enjoyed giving Bradley's bottom its first real whipping. I swished the stick in the air in front of Brad before throwing it into the nearby bushes. Brad had to hold my hand all the way home. I held his right hand and noticed that, from time to time, for the remainder of our walk he would use his left hand to reach back and rub his left bottom cheeck.
This intiation was to mark the beginning of my use of the plastic spatula that I had bought to punish Brad, and I did not think it would be long before he would be feeling its first sting.