Richard Youngman was 17 years old. His family were close neighbours of the Dawnays. Francis Dawnay was 11 years old. He looked on Richard as an older brother. Richard, inevitably, had many interests which occupied his time (his main one being girls), but he was always happy to chat to Francis and kick a football around with him.
Richard was a handsome youth. He was tall, slim and strong. He was immensely popular with the girls, but was also well liked by his male peers. His prowess on the sports field undoubtedly helped, but he also had a natural kindness and an unusual (in a teenager) ability to think of others before himself. So far as Francis was concerned, Richard was little short of a hero.
I have to go back a year in order to set the scene. Richard was 16 and Francis 10. At that time Richard and Francis could not be said to have become friends. Indeed, the Youngmans had only recently moved to the town and, although Richard and Francis had met a couple of times, they had done little more than nod to each other. But Richard had formed a good impression of the younger boy. Francis had the great advantage of good looks. Although of average height for a ten year old, his slim and athletic physique gave him an impression of tallness. He had one of those open faces, usually smiling, which immediately endear a boy to others. Richard guessed that he was probably a keen sportsman.
The Youngmans had been invited to lunch by the Dawnays. Richard fully understood that, as the one closest in age to Francis, he would be expected to play with the boy while the adults were having their pre-lunch drinks. But, when they arrived, there seemed to be no sign of Francis. Richard was introduced to Mr and Mrs Dawnay and immediately asked after their son.
"He's sulking in his room", said Peter Dawnay, "but I'm sure he'd welcome a knock around with a football in the garden. Do go up and try and get him to be sociable. It's the first door on the right at the top of the stairs."
Richard was surprised to be told that the boy was sulking. He had never looked like the sort to grumble. The older boy hoped that he wasn't going to have spend the next few hours trying to be nice to a child who was determined to nurse his bad mood. But, ever the kind lad that he was, he set off up the stairs. He knocked on Francis's door.
"Who is it?", Francis called out in a decidedly grumpy voice.
"It's Richard, can I come in?"
"OK".
Richard opened the door. He saw Francis, dressed in jeans and T shirt, lying face down on his bed. The boy turned his head towards the door and Richard immediately saw that he had obviously been crying.
"Hey, what's the matter?"
"Sorry", Francis got off the bed and stood by its side. He rubbed his red eyes with his hand. "I'm just being a wimp. It's ok, I'll be all right now."
Richard walked towards the boy and gently put an arm round his shoulder. "Don't worry, I'm sure you're not being a wimp. Tell me all about it." He guided Francis down to sit on the bed and sat beside him.
"No, I really am being a wimp. You'll think so, anyway, when I tell you."
"I'll be the judge of that Franky. Tell me. It can be our secret, whatever it is."
Francis thought for a moment. Then, having obviously come to a decision, he drew in his breath and started speaking.
"Ok, well it all started this morning. After breakfast Mum kept on at me about how she wanted me to mow the lawn and tidy the play room. But I've got this well cool new gameboy and I just wanted to play on that."
Richard grinned, "I know the feeling. So what went wrong?".
"I s'pose I was just being stupid. Well Dad was out and Mum said she was going shopping. She did say I'd better have done the chores by the time she got back 'or else', but I reckoned I'd be able to talk her round. So as soon as she'd gone I started on the gameboy. I really did mean to do the chores before she got back, or at least start on them. But the game was just so wicked I had to go on with it."
"Bit addictive aren't they? So you got a bollocking when she got back?"
"Yeah, that would have been ok. I mean I wouldn't cry about that. But then Dad came back when she was yelling at me and he asked her what the trouble was and she told him and he went sort of ballistic like he sometimes does. So he sent me up here. Then just before you got here he came up and punished me."
"So what was the punishment?".
Francis looked surprised at the question. "He smacked me of course."
Richard had guessed that that was probably the answer, but his own parents had never used corporal punishment on him when he had been younger and so he had genuinely thought that some other penalty might have been imposed.
"That's such bad luck Franky, I'm really sorry. Did it hurt a lot?"
"My bum was well sore, but I was a wimp to cry. Please don't tell anyone."
"Of course I won't. I'm sure if my dad had ever smacked me I'd have cried as well."
Francis looked incredulous. "You mean you never got smacked when you were my age?".
"Nope. Not because I didn't deserve to be, just my parents never went in for that sort of punishment. I used to get grounded and stuff all the time."
"That's gross, getting grounded I mean."
"I don't s'pose getting spanked is all that cool." It has to be reported that Richard was actually rather enjoying the conversation and hoping it would continue. Although he had never been punished in that way himself, he was conscious that thoughts of boys being spanked had, for some unaccountable reason, a rather pleasurable effect on him. Actually talking to a boy who had only just been smacked was an opportunity not to be missed. "How does he do it? I mean, is it like in comics, you know with him sitting down and you over his knee?".
"You never even seen anyone getting spanked?".
"No, I've led a sheltered life it seems."
Francis was now much more cheerful. Not only was this heroic sixteen year old chatting to him like a real friend, but he had discovered a lacuna in the hero's knowledge which he was in a position to fill.
"Wow", he said, "would you like me to tell you what happens?"
"Yeah, that'd be cool."
Francis jumped up. "Ok, we can act it out. You be the dad and I'll be the boy. Stand up to start with."
Richard stood up.
"Well, first you come in and give me a bollocking. No need to do that bit. Then you say something gross like 'I'm going to give you a hiding you'll never forget'. Go on, say it."
Richard tried to put on a stern voice. "Right my boy, you're getting to get the hiding of your life."
"Cool, that's just the sort of thing. Well, then I start sort of edging away from you but you grab me before I can escape". He started moving towards the door. "Come on, grab me round the waist."
Richard did as he was told.
"Next you've got to get me in a position to be able to undo my jeans but I keep struggling all the time. Best way is to pull me right up to you and hold me tight round the waist with your right arm and then use your left hand to undo the jeans." He started struggling and Richard again followed the directions, pulling the boy close to his body.
"I'd probably be struggling a bit more than this and kicking your legs and stuff as well, but you probably got the idea. Ok, see if you can get my jeans undone."
Richard could not believe his luck. He had assumed that this play acting would miss out that part of the ritual. He was not going to complain. He tightened his grip round Francis's waist and managed, very quickly to undo the belt, the buttons and zip. As he did so, he could feel the warm, firm flesh of Francis's small round bottom pressing into his own thighs.
"That's pretty cool. Usually takes Dad longer than that. So next thing is to drag me to the bed. You sit down on it with your legs apart and still holding me so I don't get away."
Richard again followed the instructions.
"Wicked, you're a natural. Even if I was kicking and all that really hard I reckon you'd still be able to do it really well. Ok, this is the important bit. Before you get me in the final position you yank my jeans down with your left hand while you're still holding me with your right arm."
"Do you really want me to do that?"
"'Course. You got to see it properly. You'll need to know when you've got your own kids."
With one tug Richard managed to pull the jeans down to Francis's knees.
"Next thing is you position me between your legs with my face towards your left leg and my bum towards your right one. I'd still be struggling and stuff in real life but you've got that idea so I won't bother now."
Richard carefully guided the slim boy into the required position.
"Cool. Now you use your left hand to push me forwards so I go over your left knee and you clamp your legs together to squeeze mine so I can't kick any more."
Richard once more followed the expert's instructions. He found himself looking down on the slim, round outline of a bottom (clothed in blue boxer shorts) which seemed to him to be better suited to spanking than any he had imagined when alone in his bed.
"Next thing is you have to grab my hands with your left hand 'cos otherwise I'll use them to stop you pulling down my boxers. When you've got my hands tight you sort of hold them against my back." Richard held the hands in a tight grip against the small of Francis's back. "There, see, you've really got me now. I can't kick any more 'cos you're squeezing my legs together and I can't use my hands to protect myself 'cos you're holding them so tight. From now on it's well easy. Use your right hand to pull my boxers down."
Richard gently slid his hand beneath the waist band of the boxer shorts and, as he slipped them down, he felt the naked flesh beneath. Then he gazed down at what was, to him, a sight of extraordinary beauty. The firm young buttocks were rosy red from the recently administered paternal punishment.
Francis laughed as he spoke. "There's no need to do the actual punishment, but what you would do is rest your hand on my bum for a moment and then lift it as high up in the air as you can and then smack my bum as hard as possible. Usually, you'd probably give me 10 smacks like that, 'cos I'm ten you see. As it's just a game you can just give me ten pats."
Richard took a deep breath and then gently placed his hand on the incredibly inviting bottom. The previous spanking had clearly heated the flesh and he felt its warmth with a kind of thrill.
"Your dad must have really given it to you. You're bum is practically scarlet and it feels well warm."
"That's normal after a proper spanking."
Richard then proceeded to give Francis his ten pats. The target was so perfect. He felt only the slightest give in the muscular buttocks as each pat connected. It had to come to an end, of course, but it was something that would remain in his memory for ever.
Reluctantly, he released his grip and Francis stood again. But he did not immediately pull up his boxer shorts and jeans. Instead he shuffled over to a wall mirror and looked in it at his red bottom.
"Yeah, he did a good job I reckon", he said with a grin, before dressing again. "You will be wicked at spanking when you've got kids. I could feel that your hand covered the whole of my bum and I bet you're well strong."
And so the friendship started in, it has to be said, a rather unusual way. Francis was, by now, fully recovered from his earlier distress. The two boys went downstairs and outside to play football together. From then on, mainly in the school holidays because Richard was at a boarding school, the older boy would often turn up at the Dawnays' house to offer to take Francis out for a knockabout, a game of tennis or a swim. But you mustn't get me wrong. Although Richard would often think to himself about Francis being spanked (and he always made sure to be told when it had happened), he had no desire to do anything improper with the boy. Apart from the strange spanking fantasies which he occasionally played out in his mind, his _s_e_x_ual interests were entirely of the hetero kind.
We now move on a year to the incident with which this history is chiefly concerned. Peter Dawnay was working in the Middle East on a long term contract. Francis and his mother, Sophia, were left in England together. Richard's school had broken up for the Summer holidays. Francis was not due to break up for another week. It was the day after Richard's return home. His new girlfriend had gone away with her parents for a week's holiday. He was at a loose end. He rang Sophia Dawnay during the morning. I should warn you that Sophia, who had been an actress before giving birth to Francis, was inclined to use the sort of extravagant language often favoured by thespians.
"Hello Sophia", Richard said as the telephone was answered, "I was just wondering if it would be OK for Francis to come over for a game of tennis after school tomorrow. I don't suppose he's got much homework this late in the term, and we could give him supper as well if you wanted."
"Oh darling Richard, what a total and absolute angel you are. I've been absolutely tearing my hair out trying to organise someone to look after him tomorrow evening. I've been invited to the absolute must see play at the Royal Court. I was just about to ring to say I couldn't go. It would just be so gloriously kind of you to have him over. With any luck I can get my usual babysitter to come in later in the evening."
Richard could take a hint. "Don't worry Sophia, he can stay with us tomorrow night. Then you can get back whenever you want."
"Darling, you can't mean it."
"We'd love it. He'll be no trouble. Anyway, Mum and Dad will be out most of the evening so it'll be cool for me to have some to chat to. Tell you what, I'll go and meet him from school. We can walk back together. And I'll walk him to school again the next morning."
"I'm blowing you a thousand kisses down the telephone darling."
Thus was the arrangement made.
At just after lunch on the following day Richard was alone in the house. His parents had gone out and were not due to return until late at night. The telephone rang.
"Darling Richard, I am just so glad I caught you. There's been the most dreadful disaster. It's just too bad for words."
Richard knew Sophia well enough not to be too perturbed by her opening words. But he was still concerned that something untoward might have happened to prevent his young friend coming over later.
"I'm sorry to hear that Sophia, I hope Francis is all right."
"Oh there's nothing wrong with that little minx darling. Quite the contrary. I've just had a call from his headmaster who is normally just the sweetest man you could ever hope to meet", Richard smiled as he thought of the less than flattering accounts of Mr Talbot which he had been given by Francis. "He says that Francis has got into the most appalling trouble. He's really cross and I'm not at all surprised."
"What sort of trouble?".
"It's just too awful to think about darling, but I've really got to tell you. Apparently another boy annoyed Francis at break today. Instead of just ignoring it, Francis physically attacked him. They got into a frightful fight and the other boy ended up with a an absolutely gushing nose bleed."
"That sounds like Franky", said Richard with a grin, "I can't imagine him losing a fight."
"Oh darling please don't be flippant about it. I just can't believe that my own son could behave like that. Mr Talbot is absolutely spitting with rage and I don't blame him at all. He was even thinking of suspending Francis, which would just be the worst thing imaginable because I have incredibly important commitments every day till the end of term". Richard could imagine the shopping and hairdressing commitments to which she was probably referring. "Anyway darling I've talked him out of it. I've promised that Francis will be severely punished for his crime and he's said that, in that case, he won't take the matter any further."
"Well that's a relief then."
"Yes darling, it is. But he's still got to be punished. That's why I'm ringing you. After all, I'm not going to be seeing the little rascal till after school tomorrow and by then it'll be much too late really. Anyway, he's got to an age when that sort of thing is just too embarrassing for a boy."
"I'm sorry, Sophia, but you've lost me."
"Well darling what I'm asking you is if you would be just the sweetest kindest person ever and smack Francis's bottom for me after school. His father will be absolutely livid if he doesn't get a spanking for this. Peter just swears by bottom smacking when Francis is naughty. And I just know that you'd do it so well."
Richard's pulse was quickening. Was Sophia really asking him to spank his young friend? This was an invitation that could never be refused. But how would Francis take the news? Would those few moments of delight lead to the end of a friendship which Richard really did value? He was silent as he gathered his thoughts. Then he spoke.
"Well, I don't know Sophia. After all, I'm only seventeen. It can't really be appropriate for someone my age to spank a boy. Anyway, he's a pal. I just don't think it would feel right."
"Don't be silly darling. I think of you as being incredibly grown up. And so does Francis. He'll probably kick up a tremendous fuss about it, but he'll know he needs it and he certainly won't hold it against you. Oh do please say you'll do it. It would really put my mind at rest."
He thought again. Then he came to his decision.
"All I'll say, Sophia, is that I will talk to Franky about it. You know, get his side of the story and so on. If I come to the conclusion that he really does need a spanking, then I might give it to him. But I just can't promise anything."
"Well darling, I'm sure he needs it. So would you be if you'd heard Mr Talbot on the telephone. Just please bear in mind, when you are deciding what you're going to do, that I will be mortified if I have to do it myself tomorrow afternoon, and he will be even more upset because he thinks it's what he calls 'gross' for a boy his age to have his bottom smacked by his mother."
"Sophia, I promise you that I will do what I think is right."
"Darling I know you are always right about everything, so I will expect good news."
There were two hours to fill before Richard was due to meet Francis at the school gates. He had intended to do some of his holiday course work, but his mind could never concentrate on that. All he could think about was whether or not he would be giving a real live hard spanking to Francis later in the day. He sat in an armchair and rehearsed in his mind how he would play it. The time seemed to be dragging past. He looked at his watch at least once every five minutes, but the hands seemed to be almost stuck. At last, although there was still half an hour to the end of the school day and the walk would take no more than ten minutes, he set off on his journey.
He felt a little silly pacing up and down outside the school gates for so long, especially when one or two mothers arrived to pick up younger children. But the wait did finally come to an end. He heard the bell ringing inside and, in a few moments, a crowd of chattering children emerged into the playground. In their midst was Francis who, despite the trouble he was in, was looking reasonably cheerful at the thought of spending an evening with his hero. He rushed to the gates and the two of them set off on their walk. After a few minutes of silence, Francis spoke.
"I rather messed up today."
"I've heard."
"How come? Oh I can guess, Mum told you."
"Yes she did. She was a bit upset."
"I can imagine. I s'pose she wants me to go home later, so she can bollock me and give me my punishment."
"No, she's still going to be in London and you're still spending the night with us."
"That's cool anyway. But you know the really gross thing Richard". He stopped as he prepared to impart the appalling news. "She told Mr Talbot I'm going to be spanked. I mean, I'm 11, not 5. Boys of 11 just don't get smacked by their mums. It's disgusting."
"Well, I suppose she might say that boys of 11 shouldn't go round giving bloody noses to other boys."
"You're not on her side are you?"
"I don't know Franky. I've only heard one side of the story. Maybe you've been wronged. Why don't you tell me."
Francis thought for a moment. "It's not that. I know I deserve to be punished and probably a spanking is about right. It was my fault. I started it. But it's just so gross getting spanked by Mum. You can't think that's right."
Richard had decided that he was not going to mention Sophia's request until they were safely inside the house. He didn't want to have spend the rest of the day trying to find a runaway eleven year old. So he now tried to change the subject.
"I see your point. Anyway, let's think of more cheerful things. How's your serve been coming on?".
"Not bad. I've been playing tennis twice a week all term. I still won't be able to beat you, but I'm getting better and better."
They chatted on about tennis and other sports until they reached the Youngmans' house. Once inside Richard said he would take Francis up to his room, so he could unpack and change. They climbed the stairs together. The moment was fast approaching. Richard felt his hands getting sweaty and his pulse beginning to race as he thought about what might be about to happen. Francis, unusually for a boy who was on his way to a bedroom for the treatment that Richard had in mind, was entirely content with life.
Once inside the room Richard walked over to the bed and sat down on it. He patted the bed and gestured to Francis to sit with him.
"We've got to have a chat Franky. Come and sit down."
Francis was surprised by the serious tone in his friend's voice. But he walked over, took off his school blazer and sat next to him.
"Ok, cool, what's our chat about?"
"This fight you got in at school."
"Can't we forget it for today? I mean I'm going to be punished, I know that. And I'm going to have to think about it all day today and throughout school tomorrow."
"That's the point Franky, you may not have to wait that long."
"But you said Mum was going to be in London tonight, and I've got to go to school tomorrow, so I don't see how I can avoid waiting that long."
"Ok, I'll tell you straight Franky. I don't like this, but the reason your mother told me about the fight was that she was asking me to punish you for her. She asked me to spank you." He looked down at the amazed expression on the boy's face.
After a moment of taking this information in, Francis spoke. "Wow. Are you going to?"
"I don't know. What do you think?"
Despite the possible imminence of a very sore bottom, Francis still managed a smile. "I s'pose I think I shouldn't have shown you how to smack a boy last year." The smile disappeared as he thought things through. "So what happens if you don't spank me?"
"Well, I imagine your mother will do the job tomorrow afternoon."
Francis grimaced. "Couldn't you just tell Mum you'd spanked me, and let me off?".
Richard smiled kindly. "I've promised your mother that I will do what I think is right. Tell me, absolutely honestly, do you think it would be right for you not to be punished?".
Francis was surprisingly quick to answer. "When you say it like that, no. I know I need to be punished.".
"Exactly. Look, I'll let you make the decision", Richard was taking a risk, but he really did value his friendship with Francis and he didn't want to do anything to destroy it, "if you say you'd prefer to be punished by your mother, we'll just leave it there. If you say you'd rather I did it, we'll get it over and done with and then get on with having some fun."
Francis thought for a moment. "It's not easy Richard. Ok, so I've got to be spanked by someone. If it's you, it'll be well hard. Probably harder even than Dad. If it's Mum it won't hurt much but it's just so gross getting a bare bum spanking by your mum.". He paused to think some more. "If you do it, will you have to give me a bollocking as well?".
"Personally, I don't think that is called for. You've already told me you deserve to be punished. I can't see the point in bollocking you as well. Anyway, I'd be hypocritical. I used to get into fights myself when I was your age."
Francis took a deep breath and then, standing as he did so, gave his decision. "Ok, you do it."
There was no logical reason for it, but Richard was, by now, extraordinarily nervous. His heart had been beating at twice its normal rate. His hands were clammy. He even had that feeling of butterflies in his tummy which is so familiar to other boys when waiting to be punished but which is not normally to be expected in someone who merely has to administer the punishment. He managed to suppress the sigh of relief which almost escaped as he heard Francis's decision. He wiped his sweaty hands on his jeans and slowly rose to his feet. He stood beside Francis and, very gently, put an arm round the younger boy's shoulder.
"You're a brave boy Franky. Shall we get it over and done with now?"
"Yes, I think that would be best. And I'll try not to be a wimp this time."
Although Francis made no move to try to escape, Richard decided that he would still carry out his task in the manner his young victim had taught him a year before. He moved slightly, so that he was standing behind the boy, and put his right arm round his waist. There was no resistance, but, even so, Richard held Francis tightly and, once again, felt the warmth of the small bottom pressing against his thighs. With his left hand he slowly undid the school belt and then the clasp beneath it. He slid the zip down.
Next, Richard guided Francis back to the bed and sat down, legs apart. He turned the boy, so he was facing him, standing between his legs and, just as gently, eased the tight grey trousers down to his knees. Francis's only protection now was his green boxer shorts. The boy was breathing deeply, as was Richard, and, for a moment or two, both remained still, contemplating what was about the happen. Then, with the slightest movement of his hand, Richard turned Francis so that he was facing his left leg and, almost in slow motion, pushed down on the lad's back. In a moment, Francis was over his knee in the classic naughty boy position. Although there was no need to do so, Richard gently squeezed his legs together to keep Francis in position and, with his left hand, held the boy's small hands together, away from his bottom. The final act of preparation was to slip the boxers down and reveal the slim, firm, round and pale cheeks. At that moment, Richard could not help sighing at the sight. Fortunately, Francis interpreted the emotion as being distress at having to spank him and, despite all that was about to happen, once again told himself that Richard was the most remarkably kind older boy.
Richard laid his large hand on the small bottom and felt its firmness and its warmth. Francis shuddered slightly but, and this was something he could not explain at all, he also felt that this was as it should be. He had been naughty. He needed to be punished. He hated being punished. But, if it had to be done, and it did, Richard was the person to do it. He had no misconceptions. He did not believe for a moment that Richard would go easy on him. It would, as he had already acknowledged, hurt a lot more than a spanking from his mother. But eleven year old boys should not be spanked by their mothers, of that he was certain. And the funny thing was that he actually felt that it was more appropriate for Richard to be doing it even than his father.
Richard's gentle voice interrupted these thoughts.
"Would I be right, Franky, in thinking that now you're eleven it's got to be eleven smacks?".
Francis did not hesitate. To say that he could be given fewer would lead to less pain, but honour required that he tell the truth.
"Well, eleven is the lowest number I get now. If you think I deserve it, you can give me more."
"I think eleven will be enough. Are you ready?"
"Yes", and he tensed his buttocks as he felt the large, almost comfortable, hand rising away from his bottom.
Richard remembered that Francis had told him that the smacks had to be as hard as possible. Although he had never seen a real spanking before, he had once, when he had been about Francis's age, stood outside a friend's bedroom door and heard the boy's father's hand hitting his friend's naked flesh. He had realised then that the smacks being administered were very hard indeed. When he had seen his friend's bottom afterwards he had marvelled at the scarlet colour it had gone. Later that night, when he had been at home in his own bedroom, he had taken his trousers and underpants down and, with his back to the mirror, tried to emulate the smacking which had produced such a vivid colour. He had put all his effort into smacking his own bottom, but, at that age, he had not had the strength to obtain nearly such dramatic results as his friend's father had done. The only other time he had seen such a thoroughly well spanked bottom had been that time the year before when he had seen Francis's bottom after a paternal spanking. He had no doubt that he had to hit as hard as he could.
He drew in his breath deeply. His right hand was as high in the air as he could raise it. He looked down on the, as yet, unmarked bottom. Then, letting out his breath as he did it, he smashed the flat of his hand, as hard as he could, onto the firm flesh. And it was certainly firm. His hand almost bounced off the round cheeks. A split second after the crash, Francis let out an involuntary "ouch". But he gave no other sign of the pain he must have been in. Richard watched for a moment as the skin turned pink. The outline of his hand was clear across the whole of the small bottom. He raised his hand again. He smashed it down again. He felt Francis's legs jerk a little. He watched the colour deepen. He waited a moment or two, then he gave the third. With each smack Francis was feeling sorer and sorer. He had been right, the strong teenager was harder even than his father. But he was determined not to cry. After the sixth his hands twitched, as if to fly to soothe his stinging bottom, but Richard's grip tightened momentarily and the temptation was overcome. The last five smacks rained down in rapid succession on an already bright scarlet bottom. Richard's natural kindness was such that he was very tempted to make the last few softer, but some other, deeper, instinct made him keep up the same force throughout. By the end, he realised, his young friend's bottom must have been throbbing with pain. He gently rested his hand on it and felt the heat his spanking had generated. Then, understanding that Francis must have been desperate to stand and try to soothe the pain away, he gently released his grip.
Francis leapt from his friend's knee and clutched his bottom, which was indeed throbbing, with both his hands. He rubbed furiously. He was still blinking to fight back, successfully, the threatening tears. Gradually the pain started to reduce. After a few moments he spoke.
"All I can say, Richard, is that I must be a wicked teacher. That's the most awesome spanking I've ever had. Mr Talbot will be well pleased."
Richard smiled. "If you're bum is half as sore as my hand is you must be in bloody agony."
Just then the telephone rang. Richard reluctantly left the room to answer it (he would rather have stayed gazing at his handiwork for as long as possible).
"Hello", he said as he picked up the receiver.
"Oh darling Richard", Sophia's familiar voice came through the wires, "I'm so glad I caught you. I just knew that my evening would be completely ruined if I had to go on worrying about having to punish Francis tomorrow. Do tell me that you're going to smack his bottom for me."
"It's all right Sophia. I've just done it. I hope it wasn't too hard, but he took it like a man."
"Oh darling you are just so perfect. I don't suppose I could have a word with the little rascal could I?"
"Of course, I'll get him".
He put the receiver on the table and went back to Francis's room. The boy had just changed into his tennis shirt. But he had not yet put on his shorts and his bright red bottom was still proudly on view.
"It's your mum. She'd like a quick word with you.
Francis looked round for his shorts.
"Don't worry, there's no one else here."
Francis grinned and went out to the hall telephone.
"Hi Mum".
"Hello my darling boy. You were really so dreadfully naughty at school. Still, I gather Richard has very kindly smacked your bottom for you so it's all over now. I hope he did it properly."
"It was awesome Mum. I'll never be naughty again if I have to be spanked by Richard for it. It was miles harder than Dad."
"I'm so pleased darling. I don't mean I'm pleased that it hurt. I just mean I'm pleased you've learnt your lesson. And your father will certainly be relieved that I've found someone who can deal with you in the way he would want. I do hope you won't hold it against Richard darling. He really didn't want to do it, I know, and he only agreed because he knew it was for your own good."
"Mum, Richard's the coolest guy ever. 'Course I won't hold it against him."
Richard was watching from Francis's bedroom door. He was still marvelling at the small, bright red bottom, but he felt a great surge of affection for its owner as he heard the boy's description of him. To be described by an eleven year old boy as being "cool" was, he knew, the greatest praise possible.
Francis said goodbye to his mother and returned to his room to change fully for tennis.
"Sounded to me like Mum wants to appoint you as spanker-in-chief from now on."
"Well, if that's the case Franky just do me one favour will you?"
"What's that?"
"Stay out of trouble".
"I'm certainly going to try. I don't want a spanking like that one again, but the problem is that I sometimes don't think too straight. So I'm afraid you'll have to do it again some time. Just hope it's not for ages."
"Me too", lied Richard.
That night Richard lay between his sheets longing for his current girlfriend to be with him. He had a strangely puritanical streak in his make up. He knew that he would not be able to resist doing it on his own, thinking all the while about Francis's punishment, but he knew he would also feel guilty afterwards. Somehow, if he had been helped by a beautiful girl, it would not seem so evil.
AUTHOR'S NOTE
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