Jake is just ten now, it was his birthday last month.
He is just as excited as Simon about being on his summer vacation at the villa.
He usually swims with my oldest son, who is thirteen, but until I called Simon in earler he was helping his younger brother with his diving.
Jake is the slimest of my sons, he still wears the small swimming shorts I got him about two years ago.
Jake is also the most active and athletic of the boys, he cannot walk anywhere and after all these years he still forgets the first rule of playing at the pool. One false move in those wet bare feet and he could have a rather unpleasant fall. This will cause all sorts of inconveience and a trip to the hospital.
I make allowances for Jake, I always have I guess, not sure why. In fact I think this may cause some annoyance to his older brother, seeing Jake get away with things the older boy would be soundly spanked for doing.
Simon is quieter now, I cannot hear him crying. I walk over to his bedroom door and put my ear to it...no...completely quiet. He is possibly lying asleep, none of the boys slept much last night and the flight has tired them a lot. It always does.
I guess their tiredness is one explanation for the way they forget so many of the rules I have had them learn over the years.
I knocok on the window. Bothboys have that ''what did we do wrong' look on their faces. I point at Jake and get his usual jaw drop look back. It is his 'I cant believe you want me dad, what have I done wrong' expression. I love it when Jake looks like that. He shrugs his shoulders and says something to his older brother. I cannot hear the words but I guess they are priceless.
Whether the boys like me as their dad or not I do not know or much carebut I will have discipline when they are with me.
I walk into my room and fetch my small rattan cane. I have been bringing it with me for about five years. It is a classic junior school cane. When I first bought it on the internet I could not beleive how thin it was...or how flexible.
I nave often wondered what would happen if, for some reason, the airport police wanted to inspect my suitcases on arrival. I am not sure how I would explain the cane (or even if I would have to) perhaps I would just point to my sons and laugh.
I meet up with jake as he wlaks in through the doors. He sees the cane and a look of complete recognition comes over the eleven year old. His hair is damp from the pool and his body still dripping with the water. I point to a towel on the sofa by the window and he dries of.
No words pass between us.
I take my place on one of the dining chairs and pat my lap. Jake walks across, looking at the cane in my right hand.
He truns away from me, as he has been taught, and I reach into his small swimming shorts and pull them back towards me, looking down at his bottom. Jake has a slim bottom, narrower that it is wide and the cheeks curve away nicely from his thin waist.
I remove his shorts slowly, revealing his pale white bottom, smooth and silky with not a blemish or mark on them.
Jake places himself over my lap. He is not that heavy and I love the feel of the boy lying submissively across my lap awaiting the first stinging stroke of my cane.
I lie to rub Jake for some thime. He is quite relaxed, even though he will be sceaching like Simon is a fwe minutes.
The skin of his bottom is smooth to my touch. His bottom has just started to develop and there is some bounce to the soft buttocks. I patt a little harder and watch as the buttocks respond to my touch.
I begin to explain to Jake that he is going to be firmly punished, as all naughty boys have to be when they run around the pool with wet feet. Jake sems to understand that the punishment is to be for his own good and that he has let himself and me down badly thru his careless behavior.
When I put the cane in my hand the boy seems to sense that his pain will arrive soon now and he starts to sob gently. I feel his body tense in anticipation of the painfull whipping he is about to receive. I place the cane on the lower part of Jakes bottom, firmly holding it so that the stick intents the fleshy mounds. I lift the cane, take aim and firmly spank it back on his little bottom. No sound for a second then an ''oweeeee', 'arrrgh' 'it hurts daddy', please daddy' 'dont use the cane pleeeeease daddieeeee' the eleven year old wails out loudly; and a thin red line appears on the boys soft white bottom. I watch closely as the line becomes seared red on the white skin. I can almost feel the line of heat on his bottom and Jake bounces in reaction on my lap.
The next seven or eight whacks are all laid on the same small arear of my middle son's bottom. The marks will be clear for some days. I gave him some really good powerful whacks. You would never imagine that such a thin cane could cause the amount of bouncing activity on my lap and shrieks of pain from Jake's mouth.
During his OTK caning I have seen my eldest son running about in the yard. I will have a little talk with him when I am done with Jake.
Jake is on his feet in front of me now though. He is holding his bottom with both hands, squeezing his buttocks to get some of the stinging and throbbing out I suppose. Not much chance of relief from those hard strokes though.
I tell Jake quietly to go into his bedrooom where he will join Simon for the rest of the afternoon.
Jake comes up to me and, still crying, puts his arms around my neck and gives me a big hugg. I hold my left arm around his upper back and gently rub the eleven year old boy's bottom with my right haned.
This is very special dad son time.
Jake walks off obediently to his room, sobbing to himself , but softly so as not to wake Simon, and I study his red stripped bottom as he goes. When he gets into the room he will be to see the effect of the fly-swatting I gave his younger brtother earlier so that will give him some consolation, and a brotherly bonding perhaps.
I am pleased with the afternoon's events to this point and decide to join my eldest son with a cold beer out in the sun.