Dear James,
Well we both knew one of these days it had to happen. It had been building up over the weeks but lot's been going on around here and then I've been doing some business travelling and there have been some visiting firemen show as well. OK, so maybe I'd let things slip, I should have yanks his jeans and briefs down and tanned his bare fanny a few weeks ago and nipped him and this one in the bud. But I didn't.
In hind sight, all the signs were there. He was holding back. Telling me a lot every day but not everything, if you know what I mean? But he's been doing so extremely good in his school work. A boy his age who been out of formal classes and school for a while, though not through any fault of his own, always has a natural fear of school stuff. In his case, writing anything in English was block. His teachers when he was in school maybe four years or so ago were obviously poor ones who never took the time to understand him or really teach. Actually no one really took the time to teach him. If he'd had had a real man back then to yank down his shorts and blister his bottom, he'd probably be in Oxford by now, but there just wasn't a real man in his life. That's not his fault.
It's like the teacher who showed up here the other morning on the way by. That teacher spoke of how the students here were "not up to par," but how "good strong constructive criticism" was the essence of teaching and that teachers pride about being able to bluntly and sharply immediately use that old red pencil on student's papers to point out their errors immediately so the student could learn and correct themselves. I listened and I came close to throwing up. Keep him away from a teacher like that was the first idea into my mind. Do they really believe a boy who's already scared to death of the process and feel's he's stupid and had been told so again and again is just going to all of a sudden sit down with a paper full of red ink and "study and try hard enough" that the perfect paper, if there is such a think, will immediately appear? Bull _s_h_i_t_! Never dawned on that one that the teacher's training should enable them to find ways to reach boy like him.
Anyway it began by his trying harder and harder and staring at the paper more and more but the words weren't coming. Then he got off on to other things he was worried about that go rather far back. But he was trying. The more he tried the more frustrated he was becoming. Sure I was helping him, but he wasn't really levelling with me! The paper arrived and his misspellings and a few punctuation errors were very obvious ones. Obviously something was up. I can't spell either, but these were very obvious ones.
The implication was clear: "This boy needs his homework supervised and some structure to make sure it's correct." It was loud and clear and hit me hard as I went over his paper myseflf.
It was time I took my own time out and settled things once and for all. We started that night.
"We're going to spend some time together," I'd said as he looked up at me questioningly but with those big puppy dog eyes, "And you're going to help me understand what's really wrong and what's bothering you that resulting in your making these kinds of stupid typo's and not catching them?"
"Ah, sorry. I really am sorry, but I just didn't catch them." He seemed sincere.
"Do you proof these things like I told you to do?" I was showing his the papers in my hand where the red marks encircled some things so obvious I couldn't believe they were his.
He looked pained at my direct question, like he was thinking fast, but he finally got it out, "No, Sir, I didn't."
We'd been over and over this before. It couldn't be that simple.
"Wonderful, but now I want the whole truth and what's really going on here. These are simple things and I know and you know you're smarter than this. Why aren't you proofing these things when you've promised again and again and told me you were?"
"Maybe I could try harder? I promise I'll do my best from now on!"
"Not a matter of trying and I don't want you to worry about doing your 'best.' All I want is for you to be yourself and we'll do it together, but not now."
He looked surprised, "But. . ."
"No 'but's,' nine tonight you and I are going to talk so finish up what else you might need to do and meet me in my study at 9."
"Ah, OK." He looked scared but he knows better than argue. Pleading and whining sometimes is more his style, besides just looking _d_a_m_n_ed scared, that is. He can melt anyone with those eyes.
But later when we talked at 9, it wasn't satisfactory. He wasn't coming clean and I knew it. I had hunches by now, even real good ones, but I wasn't into interminable questions and answers. He wasn't levelling with me and he needed to. Finally, I'd had enough.
"OK, boy, you need some time to think thing one through carefully. Saturday night at 6 you be in this room, right here. You want to play games, all this illusive stuff? Fine. You're getting spanked!
The words seemed to hit him hard, but I wasn't sure exactly why. His face turned white and he started talking a mile a minute. The only problem was nobody was listening now.
"You want me to paddle you too? Bring along the little strap for you?"
Dead it his tracks, there was complete silence. He looked down at the floor.
"No, Sir. I don't."
"Now go finish your homework and hit the sack."
He looked at me, those huge eyes open, his mouth starting to say something and then he left, having thought better of deciding at this late date to open up finally. He stood there as I looked at him. He was a beautiful guy, so full of potential, but so hung up on his past, much of which he just couldn't come to grip with. When he went off into that private world of the past, things slipped, he'd become emotional and his work suffered. I knew it and could see it. He knew it too, but he just couldn't get it out or get over it.
Finally he did speak, "Cal, can I say something?"
"Sure. Of course you can."
He looked at me, water glazing his eyes, "Please don't spank me, Cal. Please, give me one more change. I know I shouldn't ask, but Please!"
He stood there, looking at me.
"Come here, boy."
He looked very wary. We were alone in that room with the door firmly shut, but he took those steps to me. I took his head in my hands, his hair tousled and falling in it. He looked as if he expected me to slap his face, something I'd never done but it seemed others had before we'd met, but I held it a minute and then engulfed him in my arms, slapping instead his denim jeans bottom propelling him closer. I held him tightly and he threw his arms around my waist. Those arms were tighter than I'd ever felt them before. He was shaking. I forced his head down on my shoulder, whacked his ass again and we stood there like that, for the longest time. Finally in the silence of the room I reached down and started to unbuckle his belt. His eyes looked up tearfully and his whole body shivered as I unbuckled them and forced his jeans down to his ankles, his white cotton briefs soon followed and, slapping his bare bottom, I forced him back tightly against me. My right hand had taken hold of his very tightly constricted bare bun; my left hand was around his shoulder. His head moved and I felt the tears on my shirt. He was crying.
I held him like this for the longest time. I had to find some way to get him over this block. Not for me, but for him. His constantly trying harder and harder to get his homework and this English stuff correct wasn't working. He wanted so badly to do it, but he was blocked. He'd been told for years and years he was stupid, dumb, you name it. He'd come to believe it. Could I get him through it? Sure, I could whip him, force him to study, spank him every night until I forced it into him, but that wasn't going to work and I knew it.
When he settled down, he raised his head from my shoulder and looked at me, "Thank you for being here for me."
The emotions rang out in that small room between the two of us. I patted his bare bottom a few more times, letting my fingers talk for me.
"Get dressed and go finish the rest of your homework. You're to be here Saturday night for your spanking. Understand me, boy?"
He looked up with those watery eyes and nodded.
"Do you understand why you're going to get spanked?"
"Yes, Sir." He said quietly but I could hear him clearly. Bending down he pulled his jeans and briefs up in one swoop and turned to say something further, but I cut him off this time.
"Not necessary, my friend. Just go do what I told you to do." I watched him leave and close the door.
For the next several days, he was perfect, but I knew, and my hunch was he also knew deep down inside himself somewhere -- that we hadn't solved the problem. He didn't whine or beg or try much as the time got closer to Saturday, but it was obvious to me that he was concerned and trying to think of something. A boy who knows it's coming, knows he's going to get a spanking, especially when deep down he knows he needs one, well that boy's in a bind that's inescapable and his emotions only increase his tension as the days moved on.
I knew he was worried and upset. It became more and more obvious until he knocked at six that evening.
"Come it."
"Ah, Cal, can I talk with you?"
"Sure, but come in and shut the door behind you. Lock it."
He did, he was dressed in a denim shirt open in the front with the white T showing under it and denim jeans the fit him nicely, thin black leather belt with bright shiny gold looking buckle and black socks.
"Now get over here."
"Ah, can't we talk first."
"I said get over here."
He came, looking very scared this time. I took his head in my hands and raised it so he was looking right at me. He's always been good looking, nice features, wide open eyes though a bit wet now, and nicely tossing hair. My hand touched his ass and he jumped slightly.
"What it is?"
"I don't want you to spank me."
"You're getting a spanking."
"Please. . . I don't want you to spank me, I care for you too much, can't you punish me some other way. Please."
"You're getting a spanking."
"Pleeeeese, Cal!"
"You're getting a spanking. Not much sense putting it off any longer. You've been waiting for this one for a long, long time."
My hand grabbed his belt and unbuckled it.
"Please, don't spank me, Cal."
The belt buckle fell open and then I pulled it out and tossed it aside on the floor., Unfastening his jeans and pulling them apart.
He stamped his feet, "Please."
Immediately my hand shot around and slapped his still denim covered bottom forcing him to jerk forward in a startled reaction. His hands shot forward and he hugged me for dear life as his jeans slowly slipped down off his fanny and thighs and landed on a clump around his ankles as his belt clinked against the hard wood floor. I pushed him back a bit and then bending down, slowly slipped my fingers in the elastic around the top of his white cotton briefs and began to take them down. With his holding his eyes as tight as possible and his body not just about shaking, I took them down, exposing his young _c_o_c_k_ and balls in that little bit of black hair. Patting his bare bottom, I stood up and took him back into my arms.
"You're getting a spanking, but, there's no real rush here. What is it you want to talk to me about?"
"About not getting a spanking. Cal, I'm really, really trying and I've done my best. But I'm really really trying almost all of the time."
"So then why are you making so many stupid mistakes?"
He looked down, seemingly confused, shaking his head.
"Here," I said, taking his head in my hands, raising it and kissing him softly before I began to take off his shirt, slipping in town his back. He stood there naked now, all except his socks. He was looking at me pensively, not smiling not frowning, His chest was firm, erect young nipples with an abdomen nicely defined from lots of hard work, a belly button surround by a wisp of soft hair making it's way down to his _c_o_c_k_ and balls. I reached out and cupped them, and he extended nicely
"Talk to me, Baby, tell me what's wrong. I've told you about it time and time again, pointed it out, hinted joked, but I'm not getting through to you. Now I'm through talking and you're going to get a nice good long spanking to help you focus and remember. If you still don't get it, the next time it will be your paddle and we'll just go up from there until you do get it and that include your thermometer and if I have to do it every day, that's just the way it's going to be, understand?"
His eyes were very wide, his mouth open, "Please, don't. . ."
"I said do you understand?"
"Yes, Sir! I understand," he was whimpering, almost whining.
"Come here" he did, and my arms went around them, then I sat down on the hard, straight wooden chair there in that room and forced him to stand there in front of me. When I'd let it sink in enough, I took him by his left arm and guided him gently across my knees.
His _c_o_c_k_, still erect, was between my legs, as he struggled for balance. This boy's beautiful, strong, firm back, and beautiful soft buns, etched nicely and firmly. I forced his thighs apart and he automatically pointed his toes inward opening himself up. My hand rested on those buns and I looked at him. Let it sink in. He had jumped as soon as my hand touched his bare bottom, it made him edgy, and thus I continued. This one's too nice, but he's being cut down daily for these small stupid things by his teacher. He had to learn.
He seems to be into himself. At time I thought he was whispering by I couldn't hear what he was saying, at times, maybe those were sniffles?
My left hand went around his waist and then around his _c_o_c_k_ and balls to control him firmly when the time came. He was still erect but he's normally erect at this point when I spank him. He'd been here before. He knew what was coming. He was squirming for sure, but he knew better than to fight me on this one. He'd seen the paddle I had set out on the desk there before he came in for his appointment, I knew, I'd watched his eyes widen and then his attempts to pretend he hadn't noticed. He knew as he was over my knees that that paddle was within easy reach. The small strap I often travel with was there too and he seen it, but so was the razor strap and the few switchs kept in the corner in a vase there by the huge doors. They may have looked like just another attractive floral arrangement to outsiders, but he knew for sure what they were really for and that they were waiting. I wouldn't hesitate to use any of them if I needed to and he knew that for sure.
He hung there naked over my knees. His arms were providing balance as he was holding tight to my ankles, his strong broad back tapered nicely to his waist and those clear, firm, buns of his bare bottom, those buns were sculpted tightly clenched as firmly as he could manage as my fingers rested there, more intimately then he would have liked. The soft dow always makes him an especially enticing boy to have over my knees. I let my hand and fingers rest there pressing just enough periodically and moving it to keep his attention and focus him. Carefully, I'd prod him a bit more open. Boys always respond the same, they just don't want you to see and feel what you are really seeing and feeling. This young one was no exception.
I dropped his last papers on the floor by his head, "Look at those simple stupid mistakes, typo's really, that are getting you into trouble."
"I am, I am Sir."
"Can you see them?"
"Yes, yes, Sir
"Why are they happening?
"Please Sir, please give me one more chance, Sir. I know, I know I've said that before and you warned me but, please, Sir. Please. This time I really, really really mean it?
"You mean what, Boy?"
"I mean it, Sir. It will never happen again. I'll take my time and proof carefully from now on I promise you."
All of a sudden he looked over to the left and notice something he'd not noticed before. His thermometer was also sitting there, just in case I needed to calm him a bit. This time, I was taking no chances. His bare cheeks clenched even more tightly as he notice it there.
"Please. . . . .Oh. . . Pleaseeeeeeee!
I kept him there, my hand enjoying the feel of my boy's beautiful ass, that base far underneath where some pressure from my middle finger extended in just the right way, caused him both the most fear and the most pleasure, but he also knew it mean it was really coming this time.
I felt, patted, fingered a bit and cupped those buns as he squirmed and worried. I had all night and was in no hurry. If this was worth doing, this time it was going to be done RIGHT!
His emotions soon overcame him and he was crying, pleading, promising and crying all at once, though he was basically holding himself still, his legs weren't still at all however.
Time moves slow, so very slow in moments like this. Time was the one think I had for sure.
"Understand, boy?"
"Pleeeeese. . ." he squirmed more enticing ly now, still crying a bit, "Pleassssssssse just trust me one more time. AH!"
My hand landed across both cheeks and the white mark that immediately became visible turned red as he jerked violently ahead on my lap, his body turning ridged, his head flopping up, mouth open, hair tossed back, left lifting off. Each time my hand landed, he repeated it, soon sweating and crying all at once. He was getting his spanking.
It was a long time in coming, but as his bare bottom became more and more read, his tears flowed emotionally and freely. I wasn't spanking him hard, but the emotions behind all the time building up to this one, his feelings of inadequacy in all this academic stuff and his ultimate fears of trusting anyone at all . . . well it all hit him as he sobbed his heart out, apologising furiously and promising, never, never, never ever again.
I simply kept spanking this beautiful boy's bare bottom. On and on it went.
When I finally stopped and let him up, he dove into my arms hard enough that it knocked me off my feet and I landed on top of the big bed with him hugging for all dear life and crying on my chest. He seemed so, so happy. My hands stayed right where the needed to be and soon he was sleeping like a baby.
Rual, you are fine and you're going to be a hell of a lot "finer" from now on.
You know, James, he really has been a lot better since then and I don't just mean with the academic stuff. It's lik something was released from deep down in him that night. He's grown up and he's real now.
Talk to you later! I'm off to Chris' high school Graduation in DC
Cal