Date: Wed, 30 Oct 2013 10:23:48 -0400
From: Eff Del <nolitimere156@gmail.com>
Subject: Young-But Daily Growing-Part 18

Young but Daily Growing-Part 18

By Eff Del



We are called upon to make decisions every day.

While most are minor choices having very little impact upon the course of
the mightily flowing river that is life, occasionally we must select an
action or direction that will  influence our path and perhaps another's for
a considerable period of time.

When confronted by the need to make such a judgment it is important that
enough time has been taken to carefully weigh all possible alternatives.
Once a clear choice has been selected with reasonable certitude, it is
imperative that we act upon it definitively and without further influence.

To do less is to be untrue to the nature of the process and ultimately to
ourselves.

I was standing there immobile staring at the almost hysterical little boy
in front of me. I was completely dismayed and unable to process what he was
trying to tell me.

With tears streaming, he was offering me some silly bits and pieces of
brass and begging me not to send him away while professing his regret and
sorrow.

What in the hell was happening? We'd just concluded a delightful weekend in
which he'd shared his current bounty and pleasure with his friends and now...

NOW he was weeping miserably as if his life were about to end.

In the midst of struggling to understand, it also registered with me that
he was bleeding from the forehead and he had a nasty scrape on his left
knee and shin.

These I could at least react  to immediately.

I scooped him up into my arms and carried him quickly to the kitchen where
I retrieved the First Aid kit and ran a couple of towels under the cold
water.

I wiped his face with the cold wet towel while making idiotic "shushing"
noises.

He slowly stopped audibly howling but his little shoulders still heaved
with silent sobs and the tears continued to stream from his beautiful eyes.

The direct contact of the wet towel I'd been holding against the cut caused
the bleeding to stop and I had time to examine it and assess the extent of
the damage.

 It was superficial...more of a scrape than a cut.

Facial wounds tend to bleed so profusely that initially, they almost always
look worse than they actually are.

I reached into the kit withdrawing the tube of Neosporin and applied it
liberally to the injury.

While I wasn't certain it was entirely necessary, I fixed a Band-Aid over
it just in case it started bleeding again. Besides, I thought; "All little
boys are proud of their bandages when wounded."

His shoulders had ceased their intense heaving and the tears had decreased
to a mere trickle but the totality of his grief and anxiety had resulted in
a severe case of the hiccups.

I filled a glass with water and told him to drink it while I cleaned up his
leg.

He looked up at me plaintively his eyes big and moist and his body jumped
and spasmed almost violently with each "hic" attack.

I knew he was forlorn and emotionally devastated but he looked so cute I
had to fight vigorously to keep from laughing.

I kissed his bandage, kissed his nose and ruffled my fingers through his
hair.

"Now Sean, take a deep breath and SLOWLY tell me what happened."

>From his perch on the marble kitchen counter, he looked at me pitifully and
loudly snorted snot back up into his nose, swiped the back of a hand across
his moist philtrum and spoke;

"I-I was trying to read the writing on the trophy b-but it was too h-high
up for me to s-see.

S-so I got one of the stools from the k-kitchen counter and I c-climber up
on t-top of it s-so I could read the trophy a-a-an then the stool tipped
over an I fell down an I K-KNOCKED K-KYLES TROPHY ONTA THE FLOOR AN IT
BROKE INTA A M-MILLION PIECES!"

This was as far as he could get before he was once again wracked with sobs
and flooded with tears. The only perceptible benefit to this being that the
hiccups seemed to have stopped.

I ran a clean white towel under the cold water, wrung it out and wiped his
face.

I handed him the towel rubbed his back and patted his uninjured knee.

Between sobs he tried to continue to talk;

"E-e-Eric...I'm Soooooo S-sorry! I'm soooo sorry! I didn't mean to do nothing
bad.

I j-just wanted t-to see if my n-name was r-really on it that's all." And
he wailed loudly expressing all of his misery.

"Puleeeze don't send me back yet Eric! Pleeeese let me stay!

I didn't mean it an I'm soooo sorry!"

There was nothing to do but to let him calm down so I hugged him tightly to
me and patted him making those silly soothing noises that seem to work as
ridiculous as they actually sound.

When he had quieted a bit I spoke;

"Sean, if you wanted to read the trophy, why didn't you just ask me to take
it down for you?"

"I shoodah! I shoodah! B-b-but I just wanted to see if my n-name was really
on it t-that's all! I didn't think I'd fall an knock it over!"

I was a bit confused so I asked;

"What do you mean you wanted to see if your name was really on the trophy?"

He looked up at me, his big blue/green eyes swimming in tears his face was
serious and intense.

"I-I've been doing so good at the s-swim meets that Coach Riorden's been
saying the Championship Trophy's got my n-name all over it.

An...an last n-night all the guys said the s-same t-thing... t-that the
Championship Trophy's got my name on it.

I didn't know how that could be s-so I just wanted t-to see."

I looked up at the ceiling and smiled...I understood now.  He wasn't doing
anything sneaky he was curious because he didn't understand a common figure
of speech. Having been raised in the isolation of the NEST I suspected he'd
never heard that turn of phrase in his life.

"Sean that was just an expression. It means they think you're so good that
you're sure to win the championship and the trophy. It was a compliment.

If you win it though, it will be a different trophy... your very own just
like Kyle's but not the same one.

Your trophy would be just your trophy and Kyle's trophy is just Kyle's."

He started to cry again.

"I-I know and I broke it!

 I shouldn't a touched it!

I-I know you hate me Eric and I know you're gonna send me back...I just know
it... but b-b-but pleeeeze don't. Pleeeze let me stay here my whole time!
I'll do anything!"

I picked him up from the counter top and held him to me. He threw his arms
around my neck and buried his face into my chest.

"What's most important to me Sean is that you're alright.

>From the sound of things, you could have been hurt a lot worse than you
were."

He made a muffled snuffling noise and I quietly wondered if I now had snot
on my shirt. Oh well.

I walked us back down to my study and I set him back down on the floor.

I grabbed an empty cardboard box from the closet next to the credenza and
put in the pieces of broken trophy he'd brought with him.

I smiled down at him hoping my face looked as warm and reassuring as I
wanted it to.

I extended my hand to him.

"Come on; let's go straighten up down there".

He took my hand and we walked down the long hall to "Father's Alter": the
alcove where the trophies were displayed.

The stool he had climbed up on was lying on its side. Next to it was the
brassy main portion of the trophy a few additional handles and "geegaws"
were scattered on the floor.

Up on the wall, the shelf the trophy had stood on hung loosely askew- held
to the wall by one stubborn mounting screw.

"My God Sean, you could have been hurt so badly!" I said to him as I placed
the remaining bits of the fallen trophy into the cardboard box.

I picked up the fallen stool and I carried it to the kitchen. Sean followed
carrying the box. He sniffled loudly as we walked.

"Sit down little man. You need a nice cup of hot chocolate." I was already
heating the milk and laying out the cups when he climbed up on the stool
and looked at me intently.

"Are you going to send me back Eric?"

"Of course I'm not going to send you back Sean. Why would you think that?"

"Cause I did something very bad and I ruined your best thing that was
Kyle's and now you hate me and don't want me around no more." His face was
mournfully serious as he said this.

I placed a dollop of Cool Whip onto the hot chocolate in each cup and gave
one to him. I sat down on the stool next to his and peered at him across
the top of my cup as I took a slow sip.

"First off, that trophy isn't ruined. I'm going to send it out to be
repaired and in a couple of weeks it will be back here good as new.

Second, if that trophy had been smashed into a zillion smithereens, it's
NOT the best thing I have of Kyle...my memories...my HAPPY memories are the
best thing I have of Kyle and nothing can ruin them for me."

I was looking hard at him and he was watching me just as intently. His
little face had registered a slight bit of relief when I'd told him I was
not going to send him away, but it was still fraught with concern.

"Third," I took another sip of my chocolate... he hadn't touched his yet.

"I don't hate you and I DO want you around OK?"

He was chewing on his lower lip and I could tell that wonderful little mind
was working and he was trying to frame his thoughts into words.

"You say you're not angry with me but that's cause you're nice an you're
trying to be nice right now but how do I know that you really aren't mad
and hate me for being so bad? How will it ever be the same Eric?"

"What an astonishingly adult concept!" I thought to myself

I could tell by looking at him he was about to burst into tears again. I
reached out and cupped his chin in my hand raising his face up to look into
mine.

"What can we do to make you believe me Sean? I'm not going to send you
away; I'm not going to yell at you. What can we do so that it will be
alright again?"

He took my hand away from his chin and held it in both of his.  He never
broke his gaze from mine.

"You gotta punish me Eric." He was dead serious. I could tell from his look
and from his voice.

"How shall I do that Sean? Should I confine you to your room...cut out
deserts and snacks for a week...for a month?"

He shook his head vehemently.

"No Eric! Don't make fun...you gotta really punish me. You...you gotta spank
me."

I almost spit out a mouthful of hot chocolate I was so taken aback.

 I had never been spanked in my life and neither had Kyle. Corporal
punishment was something that was never done in our family it was a
completely foreign concept to me.

"Ok. Go bend over that table and I'll spank you." I said half joking.

"No!" he was, as they say, as serious as a heart attack.

"Don't fool about it Eric! It's got to be a real spanking and it's got to
be hard and it's gotta hurt... like with a belt or a paddle."

"Well Sean, I'm certainly not going to whip you with a belt and I haven't
got a paddle so..."

"I could make a paddle...in the workshop. Walter could show me. You gotta do
it Eric...you just gotta!"

"Sean...I...Sean, remember in the jet that first day? I promised you that I
would never do anything to hurt you. So I can't..."

"That was before I did something BAD...before I did something that hurt
YOU...you gotta do it Eric or it can never get better PLEASE!"

I drained my cup and carried it over to the sink to rinse it out while I
thought over what he was telling me. I needed advise and I knew where to go
to get it.

I walked over and took his cup from him and bent down and kissed the top of
his sweet head, I casually almost carelessly brushed the fingers of my
right hand down his cheek.

"I tell you what little man. Let me think about it tonight and we'll make a
decision in the morning.

For now, why don't you go get a nice hot shower and hop into bed with your
book?

I'm going to be a little late coming up tonight; I've got to talk to
someone...so if you get sleepy, just turn the lights down OK?"

"You're being true Eric...right?" He asked with a serious face. I nodded
affirmatively.

He hopped down from his stool and was headed out of the kitchen.

"Hey!" I called softly.

"You can still give me a goodnight kiss can't you?"

He spun around and rushed over to me. I bent down and we kissed lightly and
tenderly.

He turned and left- but not before I saw that he had tears in his eyes
again.

I walked over to the telephone mounted on the kitchen wall and punched in
the proper internal extension.

"Hello Doc? Break out a bottle of that scotch I sent over there. I'm on my
way...we've got to talk."

I rushed out the back door and jumped into one of the waiting golf carts.

The Professor was pouring me a second drink by the time I had finished
relaying the strange set of circumstances that had occurred this evening
and told him of Sean's bizarre request.

He handed me my glass and I watched as his large bulk sank into and was
almost enveloped by one of the overstuffed chairs in the cabin.

"Doc it's the strangest thing to me. What put such an idea in his head...
spanking?

 What does he know about spanking how would he have even heard about it?
They don't practice corporal punishment at the Academy."

"Tcch." He clucked at me

"Eric, he has probably heard about and read about spanking his entire life.

Children's literature is full of it..."The Old Woman Who Lived in a
Shoe"...Beatrix Potter's "Benjamin Bunny"...the Elephant's Child in Kipling's
"Just So Stories"...He loves Mark Twain, how about "Tom Sawyer" and "The
Prince and the Pauper" then there's Charles Dickens: "David Copperfield"
and Oliver Twist" just to name a very few off the top of my head." He was
waving his glass of Jack Daniels at me as he spoke.

"And that doesn't take into account television and movies he's seen and bed
time stories he's been told.

Believe me Eric that just because Sean, like you, has never been subjected
to a spanking he certainly knows what one is and what it is for.

He's very aware that it is for punishment and that it's supposed to hurt.
Don't kid yourself about that.

Now then what are your feelings about this proposal of his??"

"Well Doc, as you well know it's foreign to me- almost repugnant.

 I can't see any justification in hurting a little boy even though the
Bible tells us; `Spare the Rod and Spoil the Child"..."

"Nonsense and Drivel!" he interjected fiercely as he extricated himself
from the embrace of his chair and leaned forward towards me waving a finger
almost in my face.

"The Bible says no such thing!

I don't know how that misconception ever got started. That horrible adage
is found nowhere in any of the 31,103 verses in a Standard English language
Bible!

There are four places where the Bible does mention using a "rod " in
conjunction with disciplining a child... these are all found in Proverbs and
they NEVER allude to beating or smiting the poor little things.

Eric remember that loveliest of Psalms;

"Thy ROD and thy staff they comfort me." COMFORT... not beat not punish!

It's a problem of sloppy translation I'm afraid.

Remember how many languages the Bible was translated from before we ever
got our first version in English.

Our current English language Bible comes primarily from translations from
the Greek which are in fact really translations from ancient Hebrew.

Many of those translations were done poorly and words were incorrectly
inserted which has led to a myriad of misconceptions regarding what the
Bible ACTUALLY has to tell us.

For instance to this day, in this country and a lot of the rest of the
English speaking world, millions of people believe that the Bible tells us
that Moses parted the "Red Sea" when he and all those Hebrews were fleeing
from Pharos's army.

The fact is he didn't and the Bible never intended for us to think he did.

What the Bible actually says is that Moses led the people through an
opening in the "Sea of Reeds" or "Reed Sea" which probably means he found a
more or less solid path through a marsh or swamp.

When translating the Bible either from Hebrew to Greek or from Greek to
English, the words "Yam Suph" meaning "Sea of Reeds" or "Reed Sea" were
miswritten as "Red Sea" and the mistake has been printed in the pages of
Exodus and taught to the faithful ever since.

Moses never parted the Red Sea but don't try to tell that to millions of
people who read the Bible in English.

Imagine that...one of America's favorite Bible stories and Cecil B. DeMille's
greatest movie scenes is based upon a lousy spelling error!

Our English language Bible is packed with such mistakes, I could go on for
a week but most importantly to you right now is this...

While the Bible never says anywhere "Spare the rod and spoil the child" it
does say in  Proverbs four different times that children should be led and
disciplined with the "rod" but here again someone took the Hebrew word
"shebet" and mistranslated it.

"Shebet" means guidance and leadership it is also the name of the "rod" or
"staff" carried by a leader so that he can be recognized in a group.
Essentially it's a walking stick or ceremonial pole... interestingly, it is
also the name given to a shepherd's rod or staff that he uses to keep his
flock in place.

Some bad or lazy translator carried only the "stick" meaning of "shebet"
and none of its greater and more significant implications.

The Bible in no place suggests beating or striking a child as a means of
discipline AND the shepherd NEVER uses his rod to strike his sheep...only to
guide them. The Bible tells us to discipline our children with guidance and
leadership not beatings.

That false Biblical "spare the rod" quote has been responsible for hundreds
of thousands of poor children being savagely beaten in the name of God...some
even beaten to death. And it's not even in the Bible to begin with!

So, Eric let's leave God out of this decision, God is not a child beater
nor does he encourage the practice.

Let us however, examine what is really happening here."

He paused and handed his empty glass to me indicating the ice bucket and
bottles he'd placed on the table...obviously it was my turn to make the
drinks.

"As we have already discussed, the boy loves you. I think by the way that
he is coming closer to understanding that for himself and in fact he may be
close to articulating it if he ever feels brave enough or comfortable
enough to do so."

I thought about what I was certain Sean had almost said to me outside of
the solarium last night and I nodded my head.

"Sean is also very aware of your deep love for your lost brother. Kyle has
become an almost mystical figure for him...an ideal he strives to emulate
despite your agreement in that regard months ago.

Sean loves you in ways and degrees that are almost beyond definition...you
are to him Father, Brother Friend and...I suspect at least to some
extent...Lover." Here he raised a bushy eyebrow as he stared at me.

"He hopes to live up to what he thinks were your expectations for Kyle. He
doesn't want to be Kyle but he wants to at least share the great love he
knows you have for Kyle.

Sean is also very unsure what your feelings are for him.

Although you've told him that you love him, that word...that phrase is a
concept that is still formulating in his mind.

While he recognizes and relishes your affection, he still won't allow
himself to feel like more than a temporary thing in your life.

In his mind, whether intentionally or no, he has damaged...he believes
destroyed... a beloved object, a relic if you will, of Kyle. To him, this
transgression is worthy of banishment from this life of temporary but great
happiness.

He knows his time here with you is finite. We need to discuss that further
by the way, but not tonight.

The idea of leaving is already sorrowful to him and so the idea of being
made to leave prematurely is horror incarnate.

You have benevolently withdrawn the specter of that feared punishment and
have even verbally absolved him from any sin involving the broken trophy
but you see Eric, you don't have the power to do that...not verbally you
don't.

He feels he's committed an offense worthy of severe punishment and until
you actually mete out that punishment, he cannot believe your forgiveness
is genuine and therefore your relationship will be tainted.

I know that all sounds quasi-religious Eric but after all it is upon just
such basic moral strictures that many so called sacred rituals are based."

I drained whatever was left in my glass in one pull. I stood back up and
reached for his glass. He tossed back its contents in a single deep swallow
and handed it to me.

I moved to the table to build two new drinks.

"So then Professor, what do I do?"

"If you care about your relationship with that little boy...whatever
direction you eventually decided to let it evolve, you must do him the
courtesy of accepting the validity of his perspective of the situation.

You must respect his moral concepts...you must allow him his honor and
therefore you must administer his punishment as he perceives it.

You'll never convince him he deserves less Eric.

You are being tested you see. This is how you will demonstrate that you
value him despite his frailties.

That you care enough to punish his transgressions is an ultimate indication
to him that he is important to you."

He accepted the new drink from me and peered at me over the top of his dark
rimmed glasses which had typically slid down the length of his nose.

"So...I spank him?"

He smiled gently and raised his glass to me in salute.

Nodding affirmatively he replied;

"You spank him."

As I suspected he would, Sean had fallen asleep reading. I gently lifted
the book which lay open across his chest, marked his page and laid it on
the bedside table.

He had obviously showered as I'd suggested. His dark hair was still
slightly damp as it spread upon the pillow.

His lovely face: washed clean of the tears of sorrow and remorse and
relieved by sleep of the stress of his grief- was heart stopping in its
youthful beauty.

I lowered the lights to almost dark and crawled in beside him.

I was awake for a long time just thinking about how complicated one little
boy had made my life...but then again, I thought; how very wonderful as well.

I woke in the morning to find he was sitting on the bed next to me legs
crossed in what we call Indian style. He was staring at me intently.

I was not greeted by his customary smile this morning. Instead, his face
was grave reflecting anxiety and concern.

Seeing I was awake he spoke to me softly but earnestly;

"Did you think about it like you said Eric?"

I raised myself up on one elbow.

"Man! Don't I get good morning kisses anymore?"

His face dropped instantly but quickly broke into an almost shy smile. He
leaned over and kissed me.

"Sorry Eric...Mornin.  Did you decide?"

I sighed deeply and got up from under the covers and sat down on the bed
next to him. I suppose that deep down I'd been hoping that after a good
night's sleep he would have forgotten all about the spanking but obviously
he hadn't nor had it lessened in importance overnight.

I scooted over and leaned back against the headboard and pulled him to me
so that he was sitting between my legs leaning back against my chest as I
wrapped my arms around him.

He smelled and felt so wonderful, I lowered my head and ran my nose through
his thick black hair and softly kissed the top of his head.

"I have thought about it and I have decided." I felt him tense in my arms.

"I don't agree with it and I don't like it but I understand that it's
important to you that you pay a price for last night's...mistake."

He seemed to relax as I spoke these words.

"As I told you last night, I will not hit you with a belt and you don't
seem to think spanking you with my hand would be punishment enough so...

After breakfast, go find Walter and explain what you need to do and ask for
his help. Then go and ask Doctor Swaim for the morning off so that Walter
can work with you in the shop.

When you've made your paddle, bring it to me and I will administer your
spanking. It will be up to you to decide how many swats you deserve by the
way."

He sighed deeply and relaxed against me. I just closed my eyes and shook my
head.

"Now Sean, you have got to promise me that when this is over...it is OVER.
You'll never worry about it again, you'll never question how I feel about
you again...it's OVER, done... finished. There is no further punishment, no
debt to be paid. OK? "

He twisted his head around and looked up at me.

"Kay." He said so softly that I almost couldn't hear.

"Promise?"

"Uh huh." He turned around in my embrace and threw his arms around my neck
and hugged me tightly and silently.

As we were finishing breakfast, Walter walked into the kitchen to speak
with Martha about some household matter.

Sean jumped up from the table.

"Scuze me please." He muttered as he ran up to Walter and pulled him aside
by the pantry door.

I watched him speak gravely and intently to the older man his hands moving,
almost painting a picture as he spoke.

I could not hear the conversation but it became obvious when the question
had been asked because Walter turned and looked at me. His face required no
spoken inquiry his expression was enough.

I simply nodded in the affirmative to him and he turned back and looked
down at Sean. He said something briefly to the boy and then held out his
hand. Sean took it without hesitation,

I watched through the window as they walked together down the gravel path
to the large building that housed the wood and metal shop.

I filled my cup with coffee and hurried down the hall to my study. I'd
completely forgotten I had a meeting with Phil.

It was late in the afternoon when he appeared in the doorway.

"Hi Sean. I haven't seen you all day. Where have you been?"

"Workin in the shop with Walter.

He was REALLY nice.

 He helped me pick out the right wood an he helped me make the design and
he helped me with the jig saw and the sanders and everything and...well..."

With a serious and slightly worried expression he handed me his wooden
creation.

It was actually quite beautiful in its own way.

The wood which I guessed to be hickory by its straight tight grain and
rigidity had been cut neatly in the shaped of a fairly standard paddle with
a generous handle and a wide base.

It was light enough to swing with force and rigid enough and hard enough to
create a substantial impact.

The edges around the blade had been planed and sanded to an almost knife
like taper which allowed it to cut neatly through the air and, I suspected,
intensify the result of impact upon flesh..

It had been sanded to a beautiful smoothness and sheen that almost begged
for a light stain and coat of varnish that it would never receive.

Despite its beauty, it had been created for a more dire and utilitarian
purpose.

I nodded at my boy determined to take the entire manner as seriously and
with as much dignity as he did.

"Have you decided how many wacks you are to get?" I flinched inwardly
wishing that I had come up with a more serious sounding word than "wacks".

"I think a hundred Eric." He said quite seriously.

"Absolutely not!" I scoffed. "That's far too many for ANY punishment...maybe
except for murder.

 You didn't murder anybody as well as break a trophy yesterday did you?" I
was smiling but he was having none of it.

"Eric! Seriously!

How `bout 75?"

"How about 10?"

"That's not enough. How about 50?"

"Twenty five...and that's my last offer AND I still think that's too many."

He gave it a few seconds of serious thought.

"Alright. Twenty five... that's good. I guess that'll be enough."

"Oh, I promise you that will be enough Sean. Now, should we do it after
dinner?"

He nodded.

"In the bedroom?"

He nodded again.

"Pants on or off?"

"It's gotta be on my bare butt Eric. That's how it's supposed to be done."

I was about to say something about that but decided to remain silent. This
was after all his idea and his plan.

"OK then, leave this paddle with me and I'll see you later on at dinner."

He nodded once again and left the room.

I turned around and built a drink. This would be my first one of the day
and I decided the last until the deed was over.

Glass in hand, I took the elevator up stairs and looked around the room
trying to work out the logistics of the thing.

In the kitchenette, I noticed a straight backed armless chair. It was oak
and very sturdy.

I carried it over to the large open floor space between the dressing area
and the bathroom door.

I would sit here and have him over my knee I decided.

In the cabinet in the bathroom I rummaged through my creams and ointments
and selected a tube of cooling pain relief cream. I placed it and a couple
of hand towels on the top of the low chest against the wall near where I'd
positioned the chair.

I hefted the paddle a few times until with a good hard swing I slapped it
against my thigh. Even through my jeans it provided a considerable sting.

"Twenty five of these on a bare ass will provide something to remember" I
thought and then I snorted at the thought of his original proposal of a
hundred. "He'll get more than he bargains for out of twenty five I thought."

Satisfied, I placed the paddle on the seat of the chair and headed down to
what I knew was going to be a somber dinner.

He'd left the table early to go upstairs and get ready, while I sat sipping
my coffee and playing with my second piece of pie.

Martha had been shooting me "looks" all evening and I tried to ignore them
but now that we were alone I knew that they couldn't continue to go
unacknowledged.

"What?" I finally said. "I swear to you this is his idea not mine!"

"How could you even consider such a thing Eric Tucker!" she countered
fiercely.

"You father hardly ever even raised his voice to you let alone his hand and
now you...you're going to beat that poor child...that precious little angel!"

"I'm not going to beat him Martha...I'm going to spank him and I didn't want
to do it...he insisted that I HAVE to do it. Don't be mad at me...be mad at him
for heaven's sake!"

She blew out a breath in total exasperation and returned to her kitchen
huffing and tsking and I realized that I had no excuse for lingering at the
table any longer.

I got up and took the slow sad walk to the elevator.

He was sitting on the edge of the bed, his hands folded on his lap and his
little legs swinging.

He'd stripped down to just his black boxer briefs.

As I entered the room he looked over at me with large sad eyes.

I didn't say anything. I walked across the room, took his hand and led him
to the chair I'd positioned earlier.

I put my hands gently on his shoulders and looked down into his face. His
eyes were wet and wide; his lips were drawn and taught.

It was obvious that now that the moment was at hand his resolve was
beginning to fail and he was afraid.

I couldn't blame him. He'd never experience real sustained pain in his life
and while I knew he still trusted me, he also knew that at his own
insistence, I was about to hurt him...probably a great deal.

I gently stroked and rubbed his arms and shoulders. I could feel he was
trembling slightly and I didn't want to embarrass him. Above all I wanted
to help him maintain as much dignity as he could.

"Sean...You know we don't have to do this.

I'm impressed enough that you're just willing to do it.

It will be fine by me if we call it off."

He shook his head vehemently. He was swallowing hard. He didn't want to
cry; at least not until he'd actually been spanked.

"N-no. We have ta do it!" he was looking right at me.

"An Eric...I'll know if you're not doin it for real.

If you don't do it hard as you can it won't count for nothin' Kay?"

"OK." I nodded and I let him go. I reached down and picked up the paddle
and took my seat.

With one last forlorn gaze at me, he reached his thumbs into the elastic
waistband of his shorts and pulled them past his thighs. They fell down his
legs on their own and he stepped out of them.

He moved to my right side and laid his body across my knees. I guided and
helped slip him forward and over so that his little pecker was lying
pressed against my right thigh and his sweet round ass was raised pertly in
perfect position for striking. I could tell every muscle in his body was
tensed up and he was now trembling despite his attempts not to do so.

I stroked his back and his buns with my left hand and whispered to him;

"I think it will be better if you can try to relax. I'll count them for you
so you'll know how many are left. Are you ready?"

"Y-yeah."

I swung the paddle down upon his ass without giving him further warning.
The noise of the impact was astonishing; He let out a loud gasp in pain and
surprise.

I watched in morbid fascination as the area of impact on the skin of his
white butt instantly turned a bright red.

He had jumped and wiggled after the blow and I reached down with my left
hand grasping his torso to hold him in place and quickly swung down with
the second blow.

This time he articulated his pain with a loud "Owwwwww!"

"Two" I said and immediately swung down a third time. His body jerked and
his legs kicked and his expression of pain was louder and more heartfelt.

By the tenth blow he was howling and crying in pain. His little body had
given up trying to outmaneuver the paddle, He lay limp and sobbing across
my knees and his legs no longer kicked when he was struck.

My paddle had turned the previously lily white real estate that was his
lovely ass a bright red. I was silently cursing myself for having let him
negotiate me up to twenty five strikes.

I steeled myself with the conviction that as unpleasant as this was, I'd
made a commitment to him and I owed it to him to carry through with it.

By the eighteenth stroke it was obvious that he was lost in the pain and
the trauma of it all. He was crying almost silently now and the force of a
new blow by the paddle hardly seemed to increase the intensity of his
weeping.

He'd been surprised by the pain and he was defeated by it but through it
all he didn't beg for leniency or request that I stop. He'd taken it all
bravely.

At the twentieth stroke I made a conscious effort to drastically reduce the
force of the blows barely tapping his buns loud enough to issue a slight
slapping noise as I loudly called of the numbers.

"21! 22! 23! 24! 25! And...finished!" I said this as loudly as I could
because I wanted him to pay attention.

I threw the paddle to the floor and let him lay across my knees sobbing
softly while I stroked his back being careful to avoid touching the red
flesh that had been abused by the paddle.

Eventually he seemed to have calmed down enough and I helped him to his
feet. I hugged him to me tightly and kissed him and murmured reassurances
as his breathing became close to normal and his weeping had diminished to
infrequent but deep felt sobs.

I wiped his face with a towel that I'd run under the faucet and then guided
him over to the bed laying him carefully on his stomach.

I fetched the cream from the top of the cabinet and gently applied it all
over his red ass. I could tell from his reaction that it was helping with
the pain.

I stroked his back and neck and whispered to him.

"It's over little man. It's all over. You took it so bravely. I'm so proud
of you. You should be proud of yourself."

I continued murmuring such inanities to him as I rubbed him
reassuringly.

After about a half an hour he had calmed down to just occasional soft sobs
and the cream seem to have really eased the pain somewhat.

"Feeling a little better?" I asked as I continued to stroke his back and
neck.

"Uh huh." He half cried into the pillow.

I waited a few more minutes and then;

"You know little man; your ass looks great with some color on it. Maybe we
should do this more often."

"Noooooooooooooo!" he wailed and then realized I was joking and despite his
pain and trauma he began to giggle.

He rose up on his elbows and looked at me with a half serious half smiling
face.

"That's one thing we're NEVER going to do again...I PROMISE!"

I handed him a glass of water and two children's Tylenol and then walked
into the kitchenette to make him a cup of hot chocolate.

When I returned with the steaming cup I saw he had fallen asleep.

I lay in bed alongside him trying not to make contact with his painful
little ass.

Just before sleep overtook me I thought to myself;

"What a remarkable little guy. He did all this to make me proud of him and
want to keep him..."

If I finished that thought, I didn't remember when I woke up in the morning.

(to be continued)

Thanks for all your comments and encouragement. I've got to admit this was
a hard one to write.

Please consider making a contribution to NIFTY in order to keep all of this
coming to us for free. Thanks!

-Eff