regretable

A Regretable, But Necessary Correction

KNOCK! KNOCK!

Jack heard his son's knock on his study door. He put down the book he had been reading and responded.

"Sanford, is that you son?"

"Yes, dad. Uh, can I come in, please."

"Come in, son."

Sandy opened the door slowly and edged into his father's study. His head was downcast and his father could see tears glimmering in his lowered eyes.

"Dad....daddy...can I talk to you?"

"Of course you can, come over by me."

Sandy walked up to the small sofa where his father was sitting. The walls of the room were filled with bookshelves, many volumes of which Sandy remembered his father reading to him. He loved when his dad read aloud.

"I....I need to tell you something, dad."

"Go ahead, son," his father said.

Sandy's lower lip trembled and he looked up at his father. The boy and the man looked very much alike. They both had the same look in their eyes, thoughtful and introspective, with more than a touch of hurt. However, there was also more than a touch of humor there as well.

"I did something that wasn't very nice, daddy," Sandy said. "and I don't feel good about myself."

Jack reached out and took the boy's hand in his. The man's fingers rubbed the back of his son's hand.   "Tell me, Sanford, tell me what you did," he said.

"I let someone down," the boy said. "I didn't mean to,but I did."

"Did you tell the person about it?" Jack asked.

"I'm trying to," Sandy said.

Jack lifted the boy's chin with his hand. "Me?" he asked. "You let me down?"

"Ye-es, daddy," Sandy choked and had to leave off.

"You mean about yesterday? When you didn't ask me before 'borrowin' that money from my wallet?" his father asked.

Sandy nodded and a tear fell from his eye.

Jack nodded. "You did let me down, son. It's true. You weren't honest, and it hurt me. It hurt my feelings. What do you think we ought to do about it?"

"I want to apologize," Sandy said.

"Accepted," his father replied. "Do you think that makes everything better?"

Sandy shook his head. "No, because I hurt your feelings."

"And what should we do about that?"

Two more tears coursed down the boy's cheeks.

"You...(sniff)...you could sp-spank me," Sandy said.

"That wouldn't fix my hurt feelings," his father said. "I don't want to hurt you just because you made a mistake and hurt me."

"B-but, dad, I want ya to. I really do!"   Sandy twisted the front of his pants with his hands. He was petrified of spankings, but he desperately wanted to win back his father's respect.

The boy looked at his father with tears running down his face and his father understood.   Sandy needed to pay a penalty and, at the same time, restore his closeness with his daddy.

Jack got up from the couch and went to the mantle over the fireplace.   He took down the wooden hairbrush he kept there for special sessions in the study.

"Well, then, son. I guess I do need to give you a spanking. A good spanking! You understand that this is going to hurt, hurt a lot!"

Sandy nodded and held on to the seat of his pants.

"Put your hands down, Sanford," his father said sternly.

He sat on the couch. "Come closer and stand between my knees, son."

Sandy obeyed, and shivered a little with fearful anticipation as his father's hands went to his belt.

Jack opened the boy's belt and unbuttoned the front of his britches.

"I'm going to have to take down your pants and tan you, Sandy. Tan you good."

Sandy began to cry a little.   "Y-es, daddy."

Jack pulled the boy's pants down to his ankes and then slipped his fingers into the boy's briefs. His son looked so vulnerable with his bare legs that the man could hardly perform the next part of the job, but he steeled himself and took down his son's underpants.

Sandy immediately covered his crotch with his hands, but his father pretended not to notice.   He simply took hold of the boy, lifted him up and placed him in his lap. Jack placed his left arm over his son's back and tucked him close to his body, so the boy would feel his father holding him even when the spanking began.

Jack hefted the hairbrush in his right fist. "I'm going to paddle you till you can't sit down, Sandy, and I want you to tell me why."

The boy was trembling, but he stammered a response, "Be-because I was thoughtless," he said.

"Because you were thoughtless and because all actions have consequences," his father responded.

He tried to put his hand back as a rear guard, but his father's left arm across his back blocked that effort.

The spanking was not rapid, but it was very firm and measured. Each wallop was a resounding one and there was enough space between smacks for Sandy to both react and think about things.

"Does it hurt?" his father asked.

Sandy chortled, "Ooh, yes, daddy!"

"Good," his father said not unkindly, "a proper spanking is supposed to hurt. That's how a boy learns."

There was about one solid minute of steady unbroken spanking and when the minute was over, Sandy was bawling loudly and his bottom was quite red.

"Oh, daddy. Oh, daddy," the boy repeated through his tears. "Oh, daddy, I'm sorry, daddy. I'm sorry, daddy."

"I know you are honey," the father said, "but the spanking isn't over yet." The hairbrush continued to punish the boy's bared bottom.

"PLEASE! PLEASE, DADDY! NO MORE!" Sandy sobbed.

"Yes, honey, daddy has to spank you until he knows that you've learned your lesson."

The brush continue to raise and fall and Sandy wept and offered his sincere apologies.

Finally, when the boy appeared pretty exhausted, Jack stopped spanking his son. He lifted him up and walked him to a corner of the room.

"You need some reflective time, my dear son," Jack said. He put Sandy in the corner, pulled up a chair close behind the scarlet fanny, and sat while the boy cried it out.

Jack didn't object when his son rubbed his sore bottom, or did a little dance in the corner.   He felt for the boy's pain and didn't want to make it any worse.

After fifteen l-o-n-g minutes.   Jack told his son to turn around.

Sandy turned his tear-streaked face to his father and his father held out his arms.   In a moment the boy was esconsed on his father's lap sobbing as though his heart would break. Jack embraced the boy and felt, through his own trouser leg, the heat of his son's well-tanned backside.   He rubbed the boy's head and they talked through all the events that had lead up to this moment in a father's study.

When all had been resolved, Jack rubbed some Johnson's skin cream into his boy's hopping, lobster-red posterior and helped him to puton his underpants. They both decided that it would be more comfortable, and a lot cooler, to leave the pants off for awhile.

Sandy looked at his father with adoration. "You're the best dad in the world," the boy said from his heart.

Jack embraced the boy again and kissed the top of his head. "Oh my totela, I love you and I love your tush, but sometimes a papa has to spank. You understand."

Sanford nodded and his father kissed his head again.

"Alright. Now it's all over. Let's have supper."

And with his arm around his boy's shoulder, the father took him in to supper.

The end