"Dad...."
Dave looked up from the column he was working on, an assignment he found himself emotionally attached to because it had to do with the past, his past mostly. It was a nostalgic look into the days when he was a boy and the memories flooded through as if released from a dam, broken only by the high pitched voice of his 11-year-old son.
"Yes Tommy?"
The dark haired boy gingerly stepped over to his dad's desk and hesitantly extended a sheet of folded paper. His brown eyes were downcast and it was an indication to Dave that his son had gotten himself into trouble.
"Are you in a good mood dad?"
Dave took the paper and unfolded it and read. After a few moments of silence, he refolded the paper and turned to the boy who was thumbing through some of the stuff Dave had found in the closet, a box of nostalgia as he called it.
"This is the third time Tommy." Dave stated, frowning as he balled the note up and tossed into the hoop above his trash bin.
"I know," Tommy responded, pulling a teddy bear from the box and eyeing it curiously, "I'll do better I promise."
Dave said nothing. He studied the boy for a few moments and realized the promise was a bit lost on his son. He was too deep into what was in the box, and the things he had just spoken were mere words. Dave drew in a breath and slapped his legs as he stood to his feet.
"I don't believe you this time Tommy." He said and pulled the boy from the box. Tommy looked up with puppy brown eyes crowned with his mothers long black eyelashes and repeated, "I promise I'll try harder."
Dave didn't say anything at first. He stared at the boy for a moment, then gave him a serious, hard case look, "You better!" Then he brushed the boys baby soft hair and turned to the box.
"Lots of neat stuff in there huh?" Dave said, and pulled out a stuffed bird, a crow. "My dad hated that bird. Said he'd stuff and mount that bird if he could ever catch it. Well, I guess he did." He grinned.
Tommy pulled a long slender piece of wood from the box and looked at it curiously. "What's this dad?"
"That?" Dave lifted the board, which was about two inches in width and a foot long and nearly as thick as two floppy disks stacked. Crudely engraved on one side were the words "Getting to the bottom of things."
"This, Tommy, is what my dad used to get his point across."
"He used that on you?" The boy asked, studying the slender slat of wood his dad turned over in his hand.
"Yup," Dave responded, recalling the past encounters he had had with this little piece of nostalgia. He and his wife had decided when they had married that they wouldn't spank their kids, and they had stuck to that creed. But there were times....
"You get into trouble again my boy and this might find its way across your butt," Dave grinned, tapping the boys shoulder with the board. Tommy grinned, but stared at the menacing piece of wood before rummaging through the rest of the box.
It was two days later that Tommy came sulking into the office again, holding another note from his teacher and a sorrowed look on his smooth cheeks. Dave stared up, then sat back in the chair, folding his arms behind his head.
"Trouble again?" Dave stated, turning up his lips.
Tommy said nothing at first, staring at the floor. When he spoke, it was a quick remark, "She doesn't like me."
"Why?"
"Cuz, she's always getting me in trouble." Tommy simply stated, his eyes roving the stuff he had seen in the box a couple of days ago, now all lined up about his dads desk as if on display.
"I don't believe it Tommy!" Dave growled, reaching for the note. He read it, tossed it, then returned a glare at his son. "You have gotten into trouble more times then you should be."
Tommy said nothing, still looking downcast.
"What am I going to do with you."
"I won't do it again." Tommy responded.
"You said that last time!" Dave growled. Then his eyes fell on the paddle his dad had 'gotten his attention' with when he was a boy. It lay across the desk as if prepared for such a moment.
"And what did I say last time?"
Tommy looked up uncertainly. The boy truly didn't recall.
Dave reached for the paddle and turned it over in his hands. "I said you'd feel this across your butt if you got into trouble again."
Tommy's brown eyes went wide, his lips parted and he stood staring at the paddle, then at his dad as if waiting for the punch line.
Dave remembered how his dad had punished him. It was ritual, every detail. And they had served their purpose with each encounter. He would never again do whatever he had gotten the paddling for. He knew now that he had a choice. He could follow his wifes wishes and find another method to instill in Tommy's mind that he had to be less of a trouble at school. Or he could do what his father said was 'the only way to reach a boy'.
After a great deal of thought, he decided on the latter.
"Go close the door," He said and watched as the boy scuffled over to the door. When he returned, he knew from the confused look on the little boys face that he was afraid of what his dad was entertaining to do.
"I'm going to do what my dad did to me when I was bad Tommy," Dave said as he stood to his feet and pulled back the chair from the desk.
"Wha....what'd he do?!" Tommy's voice came out cracked and seized with emotion.
Dave said nothing at first, clearing a portion of his desk. When the desk was clear he turned back to Tommy and simply said, "He paddled my butt."
Tommy looked up questioningly, his eyes softening to a boyish plea, "Are....are you going to do that to me?"
"Yup." Dave said, "And, like my dad would do, I'm going to make sure you don't forget and that you don't get into trouble again."
Tommy stood nervously, fiddling his fingers and gazing at his dad and the paddle, his eyes dampening.
"And he would paddle my bottom bare," Dave stated, "So pull your pants down Tommy."
"HUH?!" Tommy whined, dancing from one foot to the other. The eleven-year-old gazed up at his dad with eyes ready to burst into tears, his soft cheeks red with the intention. "Mom would be mad at you!" He stated, a last ditch effort to avoid the possibilities.
"Mom's not here son," Dave gazed at the boy, his mind fighting second thoughts. "Besides, I'm your dad and I'm telling you to pull your pants down, so do it."
Tommy felt a tear escape the corner of his eye. His fingers hovered at his front for a few seconds, then with a great deal of frustration on his face, the boy pulled up the front of his shirt and reached to unsnap his blue jeans.
Dave watched while the boy fumbled with the front of his pants, the youths face a slice between glowering and crying. He felt sorry for the youngster, but he knew somewhere deep that he had to go through with this before things got worse.
Tommy lowered the zipper then tugged his jeans down a few notches before releasing them.
"All the way Tommy," Dave demanded, "To your ankles."
Tommy slapped his thighs with his fists and pulled his shirt back up and pushed his jeans to a pile at his ankles. Afterwards he stood glowering, his arms folded at his chest, refusing to look at his dad. "Underwear too, son,"
Tommy gave a frustrated heave from his chest, staring angrily at his dad before reaching to pull up his shirt again to pull his cotton briefs down. Dave saw the tears flowing freely now and it hurt, but he grit his teeth and waited while the boy pulled the briefs to his ankles. When the boy straightened up, Dave gave a tug on his shoulder and maneuvered him to face the desk and bend across it. Then he pulled up the boys' shirt to his shoulders.
Tommy's bottom was pale white up to the brief line, untanned until the curve of each cheek met the boys' upper leg. Dave lifted the paddle, his left hand holding the back of the boys shirt up to his shoulder blades. He heard a sob from Tommy before he brought the paddle down.
It struck with a clack. Tommy jerked his legs and hollered. Dave could see the impact of the first stroke forming a pinkish imprint across the boys' smooth buttocks.
WHAP!
The boy shoved himself up against the desk and yelped.
WHAP!
The small boyish cheeks gripped against the sting, the skin a darker shade of pink.
WHAP!
WHAP!
Tommy was hollering now, sobbing freely while his prone body gripped itself up against the wooden desk.
WHAP!
"I won't get into trouble!" Tommy pled, reaching to the other side of the desk with his fingers.
WHAP!
His legs bounced at the tips of his toes.
WHAP!
"Please!" The boy sobbed, his fingers turning white.
WHAP!
Dave watched the boys body writhe against the desk, one hand reaching back to protect his stinging buttocks. He pulled the arm against the youngsters' back and held it there firmly.
WHAP!
WHAP!
Tommy squealed, shoving his knees against the side of the desk, his head bobbing back with the impact of the wood against his bare cheeks.
WHAP!
"Are you going to pay attention to what the teacher says Tommy?" Dave asked, raising the paddle again.
WHAP!
"YES! YES! Daddy I will!" The boy slobbered the words from lips wet with tears.
WHAP!
"Are you sure?"
WHAP!
"OWWW!" Tommy hollered, bouncing on his slender legs, his buttocks squirming against the fire Dave knew had to be pretty excruciating by now. "I WILL I WILL! PLEASE!" The boy pled, squirming against the desktop.
WHAP!
WHAP!
Dave aimed the paddle against each cheek, striking first the right, then the left. Tommy hollered at the top of his lungs, his head whipping back and his free hand gripping the side of the desk with all his might. His face as nearly as red as his buttocks, cheeks wet with tears, his nose running free across his howling lips.
WHAP....across the center of the boys reddened cheeks....
WHAP!
The paddle struck just below the boys' buttocks, across his leg. Tommy squealing, jerking against the desk and fighting to reach back to rub out the burn. Dave watched the impression of the paddle rise in a white puff of the boys' flesh.
WHAP!
"Promise me!"
WHAP!
"I PROMISE DADDY! I PROMISE!" The boy squealed between sobs.
WHAP!
The final stroke of the paddle creased the center of the boys punished bottom and Dave released his son. Tommy jerked to his feet and grabbed at his bottom, rubbing the heat from his flesh. He danced a few moments, not caring that his shirt still clung beneath his arms and he was exposed from the belly to his ankles. His penis bobbed in the frenzy, jutting innocently from between the bouncing legs. Dave then recalled the final statement his dad would make, to 'instill' into the boys mind.
"Take off your shirt Tommy," Dave said.
"Your not going to spank my again are you?!" The boy sobbed, his face in the contortions of crying.
"Nope," Dave said, "Just take off your shirt and I want you to stand on your toes with your hands on your head until I say you can move."
Tommy reluctantly did as he was told, grimacing with each movement until his shirt was off and he was standing, now bare chested, with his hands locked against his dark brown hair and struggling to hold his balance on the tips of his toes. Dave moved around to see his work on the boys small bottom. Welts crisscrossed a couple of spots, livid against the crimson red of the boys flesh. When he was through inspecting his sons punished bottom, he sat back into his chair.
"Now tell me why I spanked you." Dave questioned, studying the boys wet cheeks.
Tommy heaved a sob and swiped at a tear rolling across his lips. Dave couldn't help but notice the small penis sticking like a javelin from the boys clenched legs.
"Because I kept getting into trouble," Tommy stated, not looking at his dad but at some point on the ceiling.
Dave watched the boys' smooth belly heave between sobs, his legs readjusting ever so often.
"And what would make me spank you again?" Dave asked, watching the small penis bob when Tommy adjusted his footing, the small sack hard and clenched up beneath the thumb sized circumcised organ. The tiny opening gulped like a fish as if the boy had just cum.
"If I get into trouble again." Tommy responded, wiping his face with his elbow.
"Okay, you just stand there for the next few minutes and remember that." Dave said.
Tommy began sobbing, his legs rippling young muscles to hold his position, his feet struggling. In a few moments, Tommy's penis began to shrink and settle against the sac and clenched legs. Dave made him stand for ten minutes, just as his dad had, before he let him pull up his briefs and pants and go to his room to finish his crying. Then Dave turned back to his writing and entered the new segment that he would eventually rip out, the memories of his father's discipline.
"The paddle that my dad used, I still have in my possession, a legacy of memories I have just passed down to my own son for the first time....and probably not for the last...."