I had long dreamt of having a son like Ben, he was adorable. A cheeky grinning seven year old. He was a good looking boy and it was his bright blond, almost bleached hair that always attracted the attention of others. I had often seen him in the summer in his parents garden, splashing about in one of those plastic pools designed for young chidren. His tanned body and bright blond hair made him the star of any chidrens party. If his mother had other friends around their kids never seemed as happy and playful as Ben. He was a confident boy.
Being confident was sometimes Ben's undoing.
I remember the first time I saw his dad punish him. My wife (now ex wife) and I were among the several gusets at Jane and David's home for a formal lunch. Ben was about four years old at the time but Jane had gone to a great deal of trouble over the lunch and David was angry that Ben would not eat at the table in the proper manner.
I thought that Ben was entertaining but after a while David simply rose from his chair and took Ben by the hand, moving him carefully but firmly from his chair and out of the room. Jane looked embarrased and someone started a conversation about the price of property in our neighborhood.
We all continued our converastion politely, all the adults ignoring the event but we knew that Ben had been taken off for a good telling off by his dad.
When father and son returned to the dining room again there was no comment about the absence but I looked at Ben and it was clear he had been crying. His eyes were still red and he seemed to be a very sorry little fellow. He ate the rest of the meal in silence.
As my wife and I drove home that evening I brought up the subject of bens behaviour. To my surprise my wife informed me that David was always strict with the boy and often smacked him. Its interesting how much the women know about what goes on in other peoples lives.
Armed with this new found knowledge and agreeing with my wife that smacking young children was not the way to bring up model adults ( this was her view and certainly not mine but I wanted a quiet life)I found myself thinking about the incident often over the coming days.
If I had a son, I decided, I think I would spank when necessary. Every time we visted Jane and David's I would study the lad's bottom and wonder if he had a spanking recently. I bagn to become quite fixed on Ben, I knew I was drifting off down a line of thinking that may not be right but I just decided to let go and to hell with it. I wanted a son but my ife and I were falling out and their was little prospect of a child with her.
From that time I had become excited about the prospect of becoming a dad and having a young boy like Ben to spank when he needed it or when I felt that I might enjoy it.
Two years passed by during which time my wife and I became more distant, we ultimately divorced. I maintained my freindship with David and Jane and was often a visitor to their home. Of course I heard but never saw David punishing Ben and enjoyed the sound of the boy crying and the sight of his red, tear- stained face afterwards. I longed for an opportunity to see the spankings but of course an opportunity never arose.
David died in a car crash.
Jane and I became friends and I moved in with her and Ben about six months ago.
I moved a lot of my things into their loft.
I was astonished to find a collection of canes and small whippy riding crops in the loft.
I decided not to speak to speak to Jane about these items at the time and began to imagine applying any of them to young Ben'cute backside. I did not want to bring up the subject of discipline so early into the relationship.
In the end it was Ben's behaviour which was to make Jane, in her desperation, beg me to take control of Ben.
Boys of eight and a half should know not to run across a busy road without looking.
It upsets their mothers beyong words.
The first time I had Ben across my lap, had pulled his white underpants off over his smooth white young buttocks and rested my hand on the boy's bottom I had a feeling of excitemnent. It was like the first time I rode a bike or made love. I just had to raise my hand and bring it down on the waiting surface. I felt nervous and excited.
While my hand had been on his bottom , rubbing his warn white skin, feeling the surface and the moving slowly, he had been relaxed but as I raised my hand Ben clenched his bottom so that each of his buttocks gripped tightly together. I watched and waited. He relaxed.
I brougth my hand down as fast and hard as I could.