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Help Growing Up

by Graham

Copyright on this story text belongs at all times to the original author only, whether stated explicitly in the text or not. The original date of posting to the MMSA was: 23 Aug 2003


 One night in late July, I checked my e-mail after supper and found an unexpected message from an old college friend, Roger Beckham. He lived about 3 hours away from the same town where we had gone to school. I had remained there and eventually became a consulting engineer, often doing projects for the old alma mater, as well as for clients in different locations across the country. I had been widowed for more than a dozen years, and now had my two-story house to myself, since my own two sons had graduated from college and were now busy with careers.

Roger's e-mail inquired about how and what I was doing, and whether I might be willing to help with his nephew who would be starting college in the fall. He explained that his nephew, Daniel, had grown up without a Dad, as Roger's brother had been killed in a freak boating accident when Daniel was 6. His mother had raised him and his two older sisters by herself, but when Daniel was in his senior year of high school, he had signed up for the navy when he turned 18. During two, four-year tours in the navy, his mother had died unexpectedly. He had just been discharged in late June. "Since his older sisters are married and have kids of their own, I'm his only living family that can take him in, and lend him some help," Roger wrote.

"He has been accepted to the college where we went and graduated many years ago, and he's been living with us since he got out of the navy. I know that apartments and rooms in private houses are at a premium in a college town," he wrote. "If he can help it, he doesn't want to live in a dorm and share a room with an eighteen-year-old. I wonder if you would be willing to rent him a room? He's very polite, accommodating, and a hard-worker, and I think you two would get along very well."

I sent back an e-mail to Roger and told him I'd consider it, but wanted to wait to make a decision until after meeting and talking with Daniel. Two days later Daniel rang my doorbell. He was tall, lean, and uncommonly handsome. His shoulders were broad, waist narrow, with long legs and a nicely rounded butt. He had short, sand-colored hair, bleached blond by the sun, and beautiful brown eyes. He spoke with a slightly noticeable southern, and was extremely deferential.

"Mr. Stephens?" he asked. "I'm Danny Beckham, sir Uncle Roger's nephew."

Although I was surprised to see him standing there and so soon after e-mailing Roger, I invited him into the parlor-living room, and we sat down to talk. He seemed nervous, but quietly enthusiastic. He said he was looking forward to starting college finally. We talked about the special time and circumstances that college offers. Then, I turned to the matter at hand.

"Your uncle wrote me, asking if I might rent you a room, and I wrote him back," I said.

"Yes, sir. I know. . . . Thats why I'm here," he answered.

Rnnnng. Rng. Rng. Rnnnng. The telephone interrupted us, and I got up and walked down the hall to the kitchen, where the portable phone was. When I answered it, Roger's voice addressed me.

"Andy? This is Roger. I just wanted to follow-up on our e-mails and speak with you about my nephew, Daniel," he began.

"He's here, now, " I interrupted.

"Oh, I kind of thought that's where he might be going when he left here this morning. I'm sorry, Andy, 'cause I wanted to speak with you about him before he showed up at your doorstep."

"It's alright, Roger," I reassured him. "He seems like a very polite and responsible young man." Then I added, "Of course, Roger, I'm used to living alone since my own boys graduated and moved away. As you know, I've got rules and standards which I have always lived and operated by, and I'm going to be careful about bringing in a stranger that might create problems."

"I understand completely, Andy. Let me say this, too. If you do go ahead and rent him a room, you maintain the same rules and standards. Don't take any crap from him just because he's my nephew. And if he should give you any problems, let me know, and I'll be there in less than 3 hours. He'll be out of your hair, and I'll take it out on his hide. He's a good kid, but somewhat immature really, a young man lacking, and in need of, a lot of guidance and training. I've already had to introduce him to our old fraternity paddle. It wasn't anything bad, he just acted irresponsibly; but believe me, he straightened up immediately. We didn't have any repeat of that."

"Really? Well, okay, thanks, Roger. That's a big reassurance," I replied, while thinking to myself: I've already raised two boys, and I'm not looking for somebody else's delayed boy to raise now.

I hung up and returned to the parlor where Daniel remained seated.

"That was your Uncle Roger," I announced.

"Really?" he asked.

"Yes. He's very concerned and interested in what you do, how you develop, and in your future that's obvious."

"Ah, yes, sir. I'm lucky to have him, that's for sure with Mom gone for a few years now."

"Yes, you are. You probably know that your Uncle Roger doesn't put up with any disobedience or disrespect." I didn't let on what Roger had just told me.

"Uhmmm, ah, yes, sir, I know. I mean, no, sir, . . . he sure doesn't."

"And neither do I," I stated flatly and coldly.

He paused, then responded slowly and flatly, "Yes, sir."

"Okay, back to the matter at hand. I've been living here alone for a few years now, and I hadn't planned on turning the place into a rooming house," I cautioned. "I can't live with noise," I told him, "and I can't live with a mess."

"I'm very neat, sir, and I won't even bother setting up my cd player. That way I won't be able to make any noise."

"That's not necessary, but if it becomes a problem, then it's gone and no complaints, whining, haggling, or wheedling is going to get it back. Understand?"

"Oh, yes, sir. But it won't. I promise."

"I don't want the telephone ringing at all hours, or tied up for long periods of time. And the same goes for tying it up with your computer on the Internet"

"Thats no problem, sir. You can tell me the hours when its okay to use the phone, and for how long. And I'll check with you before going on-line, and you can tell me if you want me to get off. It won't be any problem for me to comply with your rules, Mr. Stephens. I promise you that, sir," he replied.

"Another thing: I'm not going to contend with your coming in at all hours," I said. "I'm a light sleeper, and, frankly, a bit of a worrier. I need to know that everyone for whom I have any responsibility is in the nest, safe and secure, when I retire for the night. I was the same way when my own two boys lived here. And, one more thing. I won't stand for a lot of people running in and out, male or female. This isnt a motel or a sports bar, so you'd better let me know ahead-of-time if and when you want to have somebody over."

"That's fine, sir. Just tell me what time I have to be in," he replied. "I'm used to living with a curfew and rules, so that won't be anything new for me," he assured me.

"Like I said, I really never planned on running a rooming house. I'd only be doing this as a favor to your Uncle Roger. I sure hope you don't give me any trouble."

"Sir, if I give you the least bit of trouble, you can take it out on my hide," he countered. The exact same words that Roger had just used, I thought to myself. Interesting, and surprising, after what Roger just told he had had to do to this kid.

"All right, then, young man." I interrupted my thoughts. "I'll take a chance on you, and take you at your word; and you'd better take me at mine. I've still got a big, old, oak hairbrush upstairs somewhere that my boys were real acquainted with. If you're a problem, you can count on my using that on your hide."

"Yes, sir," he answered softly, but looked down and then away embarrassed.

In August, Daniel moved in. He was neat, quiet, organized, mannerly and respectful, cooperative and helpful. He turned out to be pleasant to have around. He began his studies with a vengeance, and showed a diligence that reflected the maturity from his past military experience.

Everything went well for several months. He ate his dinners with me, and we sat and talked for short periods of time before he returned to his room to study. In late October, we celebrated his 27th birthday, by going out to dinner, and returning home for a cake and present. He seemed astonished to receive the sweater that I gave him for a birthday gift.

Over the months, he began to associate with a group of guys who were students, but were about 7 to 8 years younger than he. However, I didn't think too much of it, even when he went out with them, because basically he continued to obey all the rules we had agreed to, and he was courteous and respectful. He came in on time, and was neat, quiet, and studious.

Then, in January, I went on a short business trip out of town. I had expected to return on Saturday, but came back a day earlier than I'd told Daniel I would. When I walked into the house about 2:30 Friday morning, I walked into an horrible, shocking mess. I found dozens of empty beer cans, open vodka bottles, pizza boxes with leftover pieces in them, as well as evidence of two kinds of smoking. Instantly, I was angered; but I walked softly up the stairs and down the hall to peek in on him. His bedroom door was wide open, and he was stretched out on the bed on his stomach, in only his boxers, his face buried in his pillow, sound asleep. I determined to wait until the morning to confront him.

After the late-night traveling, I was not an early riser; but Daniel was still asleep when I woke up at 9 a.m. I made a pot of coffee, and set about cleaning up the mess that surrounded me everywhere, As I did so, I began planning what I would say to him. Words like "sneaky," "underhanded," "betrayal of trust," "irresponsible," "childish," and "adolescent" came to mind. I was enjoying my mental speech writing, as I picked up trash, put dirty dishes in the dishwasher, and swept and vacuumed and put furniture back in its usual places.

During all this, I recalled what Daniel had said when we first met, about taking out his transgressions on his hide and I remembered what Roger had told me about him. So, after I had finished cleaning up, I went up to the attic, looked around and found the old, oak hairbrush, packed away in a box of items relating to my own boys. Retrieving it, it brought it back down to the kitchen with me.

I was having a belated breakfast, about 11 a.m., when Daniel came downstairs, barefoot, wearing only his boxers, his eyes red and hair disheveled. He looked surprised, then sheepish, and finally wary to see me sitting there.

"Ah, mornin', Andy, er, Mr. Stephens, ah . . . sir." he stammered. "Ah, I thought you were comin' home Saturday."

"Good morning, Daniel," I answered. "My work finished up early, so I came on back late last night. By the way, aren't you supposed to be in class right now?" I took delight in pinning him right off the bat.

"Ah, . . . ah, yes, sir, ah, but, . . . ah, I don't feel so good, and, ah, I overslept. Ah, I feel kinda sick," he fumbled his reply.

I bet he did feel sick, indeed, seeing I had come home and not only found a mess, but caught him breaking the rules we had laid down and agreed on before he ever moved in. And he was going to be feeling a lot more not "so good," since it was obvious that I had cleaned up the mess before he ever awoke.

"Ah, Mr. Stephens, . . . ah," he stammered.

"Yes, Daniel," I waited.

"Ah, um, I'm, ah, really sorry about the mess and, ah, everything."

"Well, Daniel, I truly hope you are, but I know for sure that you're going to be. You know there's a price to pay when you misbehave like you've been doing, don't you, young man?" I used my most austere, iciest tone.

"Ah, yes, sir, but I'm really sorry, and it'll never happen again . . ."

"And besides price of punishment, I'm supposed to call your Uncle Roger, you know that, don't you?" I cut his haggling excuses off.

"What?! No-no, please! Don't call Uncle Roger, Andy, ah, I mean, Mr. Stephens. I'm really, really sorry, and I promise it'll never happen again. I promise."

"Well, I'm not making any promises, other than what we both agreed on back in August. You remember that, don't you, young man?" Again my tone was stern.

"Ah, . . . ah, sort of, . . . ah, sir." He was clearly scrambling for a way out. I gave him none. "Your Uncle Roger is a good friend, and I took you in as a favor to him. He gave me directions that I was to call him if you caused, or got into, any trouble. . . ."

"But, ah, Mr. Stephens, . . . ah, can't we handle this just between you and me? We can take care of it. Ah, I'll, ah, shape up I promise and, ah, it'll never happen again, and that'll be the end of it. Okay?" His soft voice carried an undertone of pleading.

"As I said, Danny boy," I deliberately shifted into a diminutive form of appellation "your Uncle Roger gave me instructions as to what I was to do if you misbehaved, and I can't just ignore his orders. Besides that, you also gave your word on what should happen if you disobeyed, didn't you, Danny?"

"Ah, sort of, . . ." his reluctant answer trailed off timidly in the face of being spoken to and treated like a disobedient child.

"I believe your exact words were 'take it out on my hide,' weren't they, Danny?" I drilled.

I watched his eyes widen and dart from side to side as he gulped. He stood frozen, barefoot by the kitchen table, in only his red-white-and-blue-striped boxers, but didn't speak.

"Weren't those your words, Danny boy?" I pressed.

"Ah, ah, yes, sir, ah, but, ah, . . . yah, ah, didn't think, . . . er, I mean, ah, ah, didn't mean, ah, . . . ah, I mean, Andy, . . ." I stared him directly in the eyes with my own narrowed eyes "ah, I mean, Mr. Stephens, ah, I didn't mean it, ah, I'm, ah, truly sorry. It, ah, . . . won't, ah, happen again. I promise, ah, I'm sorry. Please believe me."

He sounded panicked, and I noticed his respirations were deeper.

Projecting an attitude of both nonchalance, and yet deadly seriousness, I replied. "You should be and you will be. Now, go back up to your room and wait for me there, young man. Oh, and Danny, stay just the way you are, it'll expedite things. I'll be up as soon as I finish my breakfast."

"Ah, okay, er, yes, sir," he answered resignedly, and turned around and slowly made his way, trudging back upstairs.

I decided to let him sit and think for a while, stewing in the mess he had made for himself. When I had finished my second cup of coffee and had put the dishes into the dishwasher, I picked up the worn, old hair brush and slowly and deliberately trudged upstairs.

Daniel's door was ajar, and he was sitting on the side of his bed, his head down in his hands, against his chest, still in only his boxers, as I had instructed him. He was the plain picture of dejection.

I walked with sturdy steps up the stairs, down the hall, and into his room. "Alright, Danny boy," I announced, "it's time to face the consequences for your bad behavior."

His head jerked up and his eyes peered into mine with a frightened, desperate plea. "Stand up, young man," I ordered. He nearly shot up off the bed. As he stood there I detected him shiver, and realized that it wasn't solely because he was chilled in only his boxers.

Taking his arm, I led him forward a step or two from the bed, and then turned him around to face it. Then, still holding his arm, I sat down on the bedside, and steered him over to my right. He was maneuverable, if hesitant. I pulled him close to me, and then lowered him down, draped across my legs and over my lap. He hung over my left leg, with his head only inches from the floor.

"Pleeeeez, sir," he spoke. "This isn't necessary. I'm sorry. Really, I am. I won't do it again. I won't, I promise."

He sounded like a pathetic little boy, about to be discipline for bad behaviour. I took my time. "Danny," I continued to address him diminutively. "I'm more than just disappointed in you. I'm very disturbed about the kind of behavior, and attitude, that has been growing in you over the past month-and-a-half. I'm concerned about what is going on with you, and what your Uncle will think of you, and of me for allowing it to happen."

"Noooo, ah, Mr. Stephens. Pleeeez. Don't tell Uncle Roger," Daniel begged, dangling over my knees.

"I have to, Daniel. That's part of what your Uncle laid down when he told me about you and asked me to rent you a room here. So, that's not negotiable, young man."

"Ooooo, nooooooo," he whined.

Enough dilly-dallying around, I thought. It's time to teach young Daniel a memorable lesson in the penalties of disobeying. I picked up the hair brush and instantly began a downpour of rapid, hard swats against the upturned seat of his boxers.

Immediately, the stinging, smarting pain, and the shamefulness of being spanked, registered in Daniel's brain. His head jerked up, and he gasped and groaned with each new smack to his rearend.

His legs were reacting, kicking up and down, he bounced up and down, squirmed and twisted around, on my lap, trying to escape the bouncing, incessant fires of the brush peppering his behind.

He gasped and began voicing painful reactions. "Auuuh, uh, yow! Ow! Ow! Uh, uh, yow!" His right hand flew back to cover his backside and fend off any more swats on it. I grabbed that arm, twisted it upward firmly against his back, securing him in place across my knees. He cried out from the pain to his arm, but I determined to override that with the fiery pain to his butt.

In the course of his movements, he had wriggled himself around so that his legs were astraddle my right knee and leg, and his torso, shoulders, arms, and head were hanging down at a slant behind my left arm and hip. In this angled position, his bottom was aimed better for me to administer the treatment of the hair brush.

After more than 40 smacks with the brush, all over his seat and exposed thighs, he was desperately begging, pleading, vowing, promising, anything to make me stop. Not a chance. Not this soon. He was going to learn an unforgettable lesson. He called out to me to stop, telling me how much it hurt, how sorry he was, how he would be good and never, ever do anything like this again. He would do whatever I said. He had learned his lesson, it hurt so bad.

I did stop for one moment. Grabbing the waistband of his boxers, I jerked them down over his warmed up, glowing rearend, past his smarting thighs, down his legs and knees, to his ankles. He kicked and shrieked with protest like he was gravely wounded. "Nooo-aaaah-n-nooooooo! Mr. Stephens! Nooooooo! Not baaaare! Please. I've never been spanked, uh, bare before at least not until, aaaaaagh! last summer, anywaaaay!" he wailed. "Uh, pleeeez! Pleeeeez! Nooooooooo!"

I knew he was referring to the session of discipline administered by his Uncle, that Roger had told me about. This is exactly what this delayed, young brat needs.

He got my answer, initially, against his bare behind. "Well, you're in for a new experience. If any boy ever deserved to get a spanking on his bare behind, you sure do," I said. I knew that this whole experience, including the way I spoke to him, would reduce him to the naughty, disobedient boy that had this coming.

"Oooooo-aaa-noooooo-aaaa-ow-ow-OW! YOW0-OW-OW!" Daniel screamed with outrage, but mostly pain. I made that brush dance all over every part of his bottom and thighs, inner and outer. He bucked and bounced furiously up and down, pinioned over my right leg. His legs thrust up and down, and fully outward, off the floor, as he rode on my right leg on which he was pinned. His boxers flew violently off his feet across the bedroom. Then, he broke. His head arched up backwards, his body stiffened rigidly, and he howled and collapsed. Despite being 27, a naughty, small, punished little boy suddenly emerged from deep inside Daniel. Sobs and tears came bursting forth, cascading from deep within him, out his mouth and eyes, as he bawled and sobbed.

I decided not only to prolong this punishment, but forcefully intensified the swats hopping all over his bottom and upper legs. He screamed and wailed, sobbed and bawled, as he could expel them through his choking, coughing, and gagging. This boy is going to learn a BIG LESSON, BIG TIME, TODAY! I determined.

He bumped and jolted up and down, back and forth, along my right leg as I applied the hairbrush to his glowing, hot bottom and especially the low buttocks where they meet his thighs. Hysterically and unintelligibly, he was calling out through his overwhelming, gagging, choking, and sobs.

"Aaaaa-yuh-aaaaa-uh! Uhmmaaa-uh-augh-uh-um-sorreeee! Oooo-uh-waaaaaa-uh-please! Aaaauggggghhh-uh-uh-waaaaaa! Aaaaaaeeeeyaaaaa-uh-waaaaaa! Ah'll-uh-beee-uh! Goooood! Aaaaaugh-uh-knoooow-uh-uh-waaa-uh-aaas-uh-baaaad! Oh, uh, pleeeez! Ah'llbegood! Uh-aughuh-aaaaa-yuh-waaaaaa! Stopit!! Stopit! Please! STOPIT! Uh! Don't-uh-spaaaank-uh-uh-meeeee! Aieaugh-uh! Waaaaaaa! Puh-leeeez, Dadeeeee! Uh! Uh! Unghaugh-uh! Pleeez-uh-waaaaaa! Ah-uh-won't-uh-beee-bad-uh-uh-aneeee-uh! Moooor! Ooooo-aughuh-waaaaa! Dadeeee! Dadeeee! Ah-uh-yuh-uh-waaaaaaa!"

It was immediately obvious that this young man was long overdue, not only for a good, sound spanking, but for the security and comfort of a father taking him in hand and providing firm, no-nonsenese, but caring guidance. With his defenses completely dropped from having been humbled and reduced to a bad little boy whose behavior was asking for a spanking, it was obvious that he needed the sheltering safety of a firm hand taking charge in his life.

I felt sorry for this overgrown young waif. His whole life and soul were obviously suffering from the lack of a Dad. Well, I'll give him the supervision and the care, but also the discipline and that's what he sure needs right now!

In time, I did stop, of course, now convinced that Daniel had probably just received the spanking of his life. He continued to wail and bawl, as he convulsed pivoting against my knew, leg, and thigh. I let him cry it out, long, hard, from deep down and within. I was quite surprised at how long he continued to wail and weep and squall, riding up on my leg. No doubt about it. This is a boy who has needed someone to care enough to take him in hand, for a long, long time.

Finally, he began to subside and grasp for some composure. At that point, I reached around with the same hand that had just blistered his bottom, and smoothed and patted his head. He broke down and resumed sobbing again. It was another 10 minutes before he could abate his excruciating sobs. This time, gently, but firmly, I lifted him up off my leg and lap, onto his feet. "You can get up now, Danny," I said.

At his age, if he had not been such a forlorn, despondent sight, it would have been humorous. Immediately, he bent over, both hands flew back to clutch and massage his flaming, smarting rump, as he danced, jumping up and down, up and down, still whimpering. His eyes and face were almost as red as his bottom. His hair was disheveled, and his face streaked with tears.

"Aaaugh-uh-uh-that-uh-hur-urrrt, uh, so baaaaad! Way worse than Uncle Roger's paddle!" he said. So, he's going to admit the spanking he got last summer from Roger. That's a sign this kid is beginning to open up, and accept authority and supervision.

"When you've regained control of yourself, and cleaned up, we're going to call your Uncle."

He uttered a wailing moan, "Uh-ooooooo-uh-noooo."

"And you're grounded for this weekend, too, young man," I announced. "I've got plenty of work you can do around here, and you'll need to call and get your assignments and notes that you missed today, and do that work over the weekend."

"Uh-uh-waaaaa-uh-y-yes, sir, aaa-uh-waaaaaa!" he continued squalling.

"One more thing, Danny boy." I deliberately kept him in the diminutive state. "You're getting another one of these tomorrow night, for skipping school, and cutting classes today."

"Noooooooo!" he shrieked. "Not another one! Nooooo-aughuh-waaaaa! Puh-leeez! Uh-uh-awaaaa-uh! I can't-uh-taaaak-uh-uh-it-uh-aneee-uh-mooooor!"

"You remember, I know, that not cutting classes and laying around exactly what you did today is one of the conditions we agreed on when you came here."

Now he was sobbing openly again. "Aw-uh-uh-waaaaa! Uh-waaaa-ya-waaaaa-uh-uh! Oooo-uh-uh-nooooo-uh-waaaaaaaa! Uhnnnaaaaeeeyaaa-uh-uh-waaaaaaaa!" It was like the long, tight, dry dam had broken, and there was no end to the river of deep-seated sobs bursting forth from inside this humbled, remorseful young man.

I stepped forward, in close to him, and put my arm around his shoulder and said, "It's okay, Danny. In a few days, you'll be fine and a better boy for it. But for now, and tomorrow night, you'll be relearning an important lesson. And for the next week or so, every time you sit, walk, or bend over, you'll remember over and over again that you were bad, and what has come from it. After a while, your bottom will recover, Danny; but I want you to remember this experience, and how much you really need to grow up."

He was trembling, and his sobbing increased again, as he leaned in towards me. Draping his arms around my neck, he laid his head on my shoulder, and leaned into my chest as I hugged him close, and patted the back of his head. He cried and cried and cried.

Eventually, he regained some power to subdue his sobbing, and slowly, he unwrapped his arms from around my neck, lifted his head off my shoulder, and back out of my embrace. I held his arms down at his sides, and looked straight and deep into his dark eyes.

"Now, you go get in the shower and then get dressed in clothes to work around outside and in the garage for the day, Danny boy. I'll be waiting for you downstairs."

In slightly over 20 minutes, he was showered, shaved, hair combed, and dressed in jean and a turtleneck shirt. I had put a pillow on the seat of one of the kitchen chairs, and made him sit down on it and eat breakfast. Afterwards, we got up, went down the hall to the telephone, and I called Roger. I made sure Daniel was standing right there beside me.

"Hello, ma'am. This is Andy Stephens, for Mr. Beckham." A long pause filled the time until Roger answered.

"Andy, how are you? Where are you?"

"I'm fine, Roger, and we're here at my house. Danny is standing right here next to me," I was sure that my choice to call him "Danny" would not go unnoticed by Roger.

"What's wrong, Andy?" he asked.

"Well, we've had some trouble that has taken place here with Danny, and you made me promise I'd let you know if a problem developed. So, we're both calling you to be good on our word."

"What?!" he shouted. "What has he done?!"

"Here, Roger, I'm going to let him tell you." I handed the phone to Daniel, who took it as reluctantly as if it were a scorpion.

"Ah, Uncle Roger. This is Daniel. Ah, Mr. Stephens wanted me to talk to you because, . . ."

Roger wouldn't hold still for this stalling. "What has happened there, Daniel?!"

I watched the young man gulp and turn deep red. "Ah, yes, sir. But . . ."

"But nothing, unless it's your butt, young man. Now, tell me the truth, and get to the point!"

"Aaah, Uncle Roger, Mr. Stephens went away on business for a few days, and I had some guys over and kinda partied in his house, when he'd told me not to. He, ah, came home early and found everything, and, ooooo, ah, it's awful. I'm really sorry. It was so bad of me."

"Boy, what are you saying?!" I could hear Roger barking at him over the phone. I asked my friend to go out on a limb for you, and do you a favor, and this is the respect and gratitude you show for it?! You remember what I told you, and what you said, don't you?"

I couldn't believe it. Daniel's eyes were widening and squinting, just like they had when I was paddling him over my knee, and his face turned deeper crimson still.

"Y-yes, sir, ah, . . ."

"Let me talk with Andy again, Daniel. And you stay right there!"

Daniel handed me the phone, but remained frozen in place. "Tell me the whole story, Andy, and don't sugar coat it, just because he's my nephew, or because he's standing right there."

"Well, Roger, we went over the conditions for living here last August, and Daniel agreed to them all then. He knew that one of them was that no one was to be in the house when I'm not here and certainly no drinking. He threw a big, old party while I was gone, and I came back a day early and found the mess. On top of that, he was so smashed, he slept through his classes today and he knows that was another one of the conditions."

"I hope you straightened him out pronto, Andy," he replied.

"Oh, yes, Roger. I'd say were in the process of doing that this weekend. He's already had a rough, rude introduction to the hairbrush on his rearend, and he's got another one coming tomorrow night. In the meanwhile, his wings are clipped and he's grounded. He'll be helping me around here today, and then working hard to make up the work, notes, and assignments he missed from today's classes."

"Goooood!" Roger roared. "Good for you and, really, for him, Andy," he concurred. "However, as I promised you, I will be there tomorrow to dispense the second taste of the brush or, maybe the belt to young Daniel, myself."

"That's really not necessary, Roger," I returned. "I think the situation is well in hand, and I'm not worried at all."

"I'm sure glad to hear that, Andy. But he's my nephew, and charge, and I gave you my word I'd take it out on his hide if he caused any trouble. He knows I told him that this was a great opportunity, and favor, and if he screwed it up, he would know that he would have to answer to me. So, I'll bring Helen and the boys, and we should be there by 3 tomorrow afternoon."

"Okay, Roger, if you insist. We'll see you then. Plan on spending the night, and we'll have a pleasant evening together."

"Sure thing, Andy. See you. Oh, and tell young Daniel I'll be expecting him to be ready for his punishment when I get there." I didn't have to tell Daniel, as he could easily hear, and he just dropped his head and stared dolefully at his feet on the floor.

The day passed quickly after that. I kept Daniel busy with work in basement. About mid-afternoon, I called him upstairs for a snack. "We'll eat dinner around 7 tonight, but you need to get on the phone and find out what you missed and have to make up from today's classes, to be ready for next week."

"Yes, sir," he replied, then got up and walked to the phone. I heard him make a few calls, ask some questions, and write down some notes. After that, he returned to complete cleaning up the basement.

After supper, I had him help me clean up and put things away. Then I directed him, "Okay, Daniel. It's time for you to get busy and work on your studies. I'll see you after 11, but 'til then, you're to be studying."

He quickly agreed, walked up stairs, and went to his room. Sometime around 9:30, I went upstairs for a moment and spied him sitting studiously at his desk, working. Around 11:20, he came downstairs, poured himself a glass of milk, and stood chatting for a while. Then, he excused himself to return to his room and go to bed.

Saturday morning, I was up at 7, and awakened Daniel at 7:30. He got up quickly, showered, shaved, and dressed, and came back downstairs. I told him I wanted him to spend Saturday morning studying, and after lunch would have some work for him to do out in the garage.

Around 3:10 Saturday afternoon, Roger Beckham, his wife, and two boys, ages 16 and 14, arrived. They came to the door, I ushered them in and showed them their rooms upstairs. Roger and his wife had the guest bedroom, their boys had the other bedroom that had been one of my sons. When they had settled in, I offered them all a light snack, to tide them over until dinner.

Roger asked where Daniel was. I told him he was in the garage, doing some cleaning up work there. "You sit down and have a snack. There's no use wasting time. I'm going to find him in the garage. I'll be back in a while." Then, he put his jacket on and walked outside towards the garage. We all went into the kitchen, sat down, and chatted and ate.

Daniel was wearing a sweatshirt, jeans, and a jacket as he moved things about, cleaning up and organizing the garage. Roger walked silently in on him, and stood watching the lanky, lean young man for a minute or two. Then he spoke. "Well, Daniel, I don't really expect there is anything for you to say for yourself, young man."

Daniel whirled around with fright, startled to find someone else present. "Oh, ah, Uncle Roger. You scared me. I didn't know you were there. Ah, I just screwed up bad, um, Uncle Roger. I'm sorry. If I weren't anyway, Andy, er, Mr. Stephens, has made it so I'm really, really sorry."

"And that's why I'm here now, too, Daniel. You know what we talked about before Andy agreed to allow you to move in with him here; and you know what I told you would happen what I'd do if you got out of line with him, don't you?"

A look of resigned fear was evident in his eyes and on his face. "Yeah, Uncle Roger, ah, I know."

Roger looked around and saw and old, wooden crate. As he walked over to it, he pulled the wide, leather belt out of his pants loops, and folded it over in his hand. Then, he sat down on the crate and called Daniel over to him. "Peel those jeans, Daniel, and get over here immediately."

Daniel froze at the order. Roger was in no mood to tolerate hesitation or delay. He stood up, marched rapidly over to his nephew, and pinched his left ear with his right hand.

"Owwwwwchhhaaa!" Daniel cried out as his Uncle bent him forward and led him over to the crate. Then, Roger reached down, unbuckled the young man's belt, unzipped his jeans, and tugged them roughly down over his buttocks and hips, to drop at his feet. He then sat down, and with absolutely no sympathy, grabbed his nephew and hauled him quickly and forcefully across his lap.

"Uhhhmmmmaaaahnoooo," Daniel moaned an objection. Roger ignored it, and yanked his young nephew's boxers off his behind, down his legs, to gather with his jeans at his feet. Wow! Andy really laid into the kid good! This weekend sure ought to teach him an unforgettable lesson! Roger thought to himself, on viewing his nephew's darkened red, battered butt. Roger paused, wondering if he should try to discourage his friend from administering a second dose, in light of this afternoons session.

The pause was too much for Daniel. He fidgeted and squirmed lying draped across his Uncle's legs. "Uh, ah, Uncle Roger, ah, please. This isn't necessary, um, I know I was wrong bad and Mr. Stephens already punished me plenty, and, um, . . . he's gonna do it again tonight!" He sounded as desperate as he was.

If Andy is intent on punishing Daniel some more, maybe he should hold off until tomorrow night. This boy is already going to have a hard time sitting for a few days, Roger thought to himself. Then, he resumed his focus on why he was here.

The pattern was varying staccato, and it brought sharp, inhaling gasps from Daniel as the belt struck again and again on his already raw bottom and thighs.

Daniel really had no reserve to resist and almost immediately plunged into wailing, screaming, sobbing, kicking, bucking, and bouncing as each bite of the belt launched him forward across his Uncle's lap. His begging, pleading, confessing, vowing, promising, and negotiating were short-lived. His head, neck, and shoulders jerked upward a few times, he stiffened and arched, then collapsed and succumbed. He had no choice but to accept and endure the discipline being administered by his Uncle.

When Roger finished, Daniel was unable to speak or stand, but hung dangling over Roger's knees, racked with shuddering, gagging, unintelligible sobbing. Roger allowed this to go on for about 10 minutes. Then, firmly, he pulled his nephew up to sit on his right leg. Daniel could scarcely sit still, he was in such agony.

"Aaaughaahwaaaaaa-uh-I'm-uh-uh-sorreeeee, Uncle Roger. It-uh-uh-hurtzzz-uh-so-uh-baaaad!"

Roger read him the riot act. "You bet your rearend it hurts, young man! You know better than to behave like this, Daniel. On top of that, you took advantage of my friend, and a man who genuinely has your best interest at heart. Then, for a young man who waited long and hard to be able to go to college, you blow off classes like it was a chow line at mess hall. You ought to be hurting -- and deeply ashamed. If I had you back home with me, you'd be getting a reminder of this every night for a week! Understand me, young man?!"

Of course he did. He was just so miserable and humiliated that he could scarcely think, much less talk. "Yea-ah-uh-un-I knooooow!" he cried. "I'm-uh-suh-arrreee, Uncle Roger. Realleeee, uh, I-uh-aaaam!"

Roger stood him back on his feet. "Pull your pants back up, and then come in and say hello to your Aunt Helen, and to your cousins," he directed his nephew. He noticed that Daniel's face and eyes were still quite red, his face streaked with tears, and his hair disheveled. "Come on, Daniel. Put on a game face, and let's get going."

Daniel hated the idea of going in to see his Aunt and cousins, all of whom knew exactly why they had come here, and what his Uncle was doing out in the garage. They have got to think I've really done something awful to get this kind of treatment at my age, he thought to himself. Still, there was no getting around either the duty of good manners, or his Uncle's direct order, to go in and greet everybody.

He sucked in deep breaths, trying to calm himself and regain composure. He walked over to the garage window, used it as a mirror, combed his hair and wiped his face, and then fell in behind his Uncle. They walked into the house, and Roger pretended he had gone looking to find Daniel.

"Here he is, guys. I found him," he called out. They walked into the kitchen where the boys and Helen and Andy were snacking.

"Hi, Daniel!" the boys called out enthusiastically. He smiled at them through reddened eyes, and replied softly, "Hi, Ryan, Hi, Michael. Hi, Aunt Helen," he added.

"Hello, Daniel. You sure look like a college student now," she complimented him.

His already reddened face blushed further, from both the compliment and the embarrassment of a college student of his vintage being punished like a young boy.

"Pull up chairs and join us," I interjected. Daniel's face looked apprehensive with dread. "I'm not hungry right now, Andy, ah, . . . er., Mr. Stephens. I think I'll go on up to my room and study for a while until dinner, okay?" he tried.

"Well, Danny," he winced as I addressed him with the diminutive name again, "I think your cousins would like to spend some time with you while they're here."

"Oh, that's right, of course. Sorry, guys," he apologized freely. "I was thinking too much about classes next week but I can get that done tomorrow afternoon and evening," he quickly added.

"Great, let's go up to your room, Daniel," they called out. Stiffly and woodenly, he walked up the stairs with them. As they ascended to the upper floor, I heard one of the boys ask, "Did Daddy spank you, Daniel?"

An embarrassed gap of silence was followed by a soft, "Ye-es, guys, he did; and, boy, it hurts."

"We know it," both boys replied.

Later that afternoon, they went out into the cold for a walk with Daniel. Dinner was enjoyable. Although Daniel summoned powerfully stoic strength to sit on the hard, dining room chair throughout dinner, he could not do so without squirming some. No one mentioned the universally known fact that his discomfort was the consequence of the whipping he'd received earlier that afternoon from his Uncle.

We sat and talked for quite a while Saturday evening. Then everyone turned in relatively early. The next morning we had a big, leisurely breakfast. By 11, Roger, Helen, and the boys had gone, and it was just Daniel and I again.

That night Sunday night I took Danny boy over my knees again, and administered another discipline session. He was easily and immediately penitent, and didn't even try to resist the tears and incoherent sobbing that being spanked again on his upended, overturned, bare bottom. Then, I steeped the shame and disgrace of his punishment deeper, by helping him to undress, redress in sleep clothes, and crawl into bed.

As he lay on his stomach, with the side of his face sunk into the pillow, he smiled weakly up at me. "I'm truly sorry about all of this, Mr. Stephens. It, um, never should have happened, and, um, never been necessary for you to have to do this. But I'm going to do better, I promise. You'll see, I swear it."

I leaned down, tousled his hair, then with left my hand resting gently, cupping the back of his head, "I know, Danny," I responded. "But you really need to grow up, buddy."

"Yes, sir," he said, "I will. But I know that I've got you, and Uncle Roger, to help me and, um, make sure I grow up right over the next few years. Thank you, sir," he said, staring up at me as he lay remaining in his supine position.

"All right, then. Progress made, and to be made," I answered. "Good night, Danny," I called out as I turned of his light.

"Good night, Daaa, uh, Mr. Stephens," he stammered his rapid reply.

"Sleep tight, don't let the bed bugs bite," I teased him as I turned and walked out of his room.

"Okaaaaay, right," I heard him manage a strained, jocular response as I walked away down the hall.

The next four years were mostly my enjoyment, as Daniel matured and achieved a solid academic record. There were, it is true, occasions when it still became necessary to re-enlist the hair brush to enlighten Daniel from his bottom to his brain. It never failed to achieve success; and, overall, he was the pleasure and rewarding experience that his Uncle had predicted.


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