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Most of the events in this story did indeed happen... they just didn’t necessarily happen in the order and proximity told here.\n \n\nI’m not sure, but I think I have a problem.\n\nI think I might be a... well, I’m not sure exactly what. I guess I need to explain it.\n\nI didn’t come home in the best of moods. The sales trip was a complete waste of time and money. Sixteen hours in the air, and in the limbo of terminals and concourses. Overpriced lousy food. The sales team made an utter disaster of my careful planning. They had only one job, and I doubt they even read any of my emails. My luggage got lost on the way there, and I spent almost a week’s pay on a suit and shoes, forget per diem. And it was obvious from the start that the customer wasn’t interested in hearing what I had to say on the best of days. Then when I landed at 5am I had to stand around until six to meet someone in the baggage claim to be reunited with my clothes. On top of that the shuttle was broken down. And it was raining. And when I finally got to my truck, I had a flat tire. So it wasn’t until seven-thirty that I was finally pulling into my driveway, having made and lost the gamble that AAA would be quicker getting to the airport and more convenient than changing my own flat in the rain.\n\nThat was when I saw the broken window. And the curtains all tangled up in the cedars.\n \n\nI left my suitcase and laptop bag in the truck, and walked through the unlocked front door, fully defeated. Looking around, I could see that someone had grabbed all the easily portable stuff. The Xbox, the camera, a few bottles out of my liquor cabinet. Who knows what else. The kitchen had been tossed as well. I didn’t even want to look upstairs before phoning the police, but I just wasn’t ready yet. I sat down, bewildered, just shaking my head. What a perfect end to a perfectly miserable week.\n\nI was jarred out of my fugue of frustration and self-pity by the sound of the doorbell. It sounded a second time before I was able to stand up and walk to the foyer. I wasn’t sure how to greet a guest in my given condition so I just opened the door and stood there dumbly. It was my nextdoor neighbor, Robert, and his son Nathaniel.\n\n\"May we come in, Albert?\" asked the tall, dour husky. His expression was precisely the same as every other time I’d seen him. His gangly teenage son seemed different, though. Instead of his usual vacant, \"whatever\" stare and relaxed contrapposto, the pup stood rigidly upright, his still-awkwardly-large paws folded in front of his waist. In his grip was a leather sack.\n\nTo be fair, I didn’t really know much about the Talbots. Mom was, well, I don’t know if I’d ever seen her. The older sisters, I think they might have been in college somewhere, and the last time I’d spoken more than a \"hello\" to Nate he was truly a pup, hardly standing up to my knees. I wondered when it was he’d grown so tall. Not that I didn’t have regular contact with my neighbors. Each Sunday morning, on my way to breakfast with my band mates, I would share an awkward visit with them on their way to church, dressed formally, Bibles in hand. I never spoke much to them, because I felt like what I was doing was pretty much the opposite of church. I’ve always hoped Robert would remain unaware of the sort of music my band performs.\n\nAs I sensed myself beginning to worry about the condition of my guitar, I shook my own problems aside and managed a feeble smile.\n\n\"Of course, Bob, come on in. I’m afraid I, uh...\" I trailed off as I took their coats and hung them on the hook near the door.\n\n\"Yes, I know. That’s why we need to talk.\"\n\n\"Excuse me?\"\n\nRobert cast a disdainful glance toward his son. \"You might as well let Mister Black know what happened to his home while he was away, son.\"\n\nThe boy looked back at his father with pleading eyes, but the look the old man returned certainly was not one of sympathy. He swallowed hard, his eyes flashing white as they searched the room for any source of comfort. Finding none, he bravely looked into my eyes and spoke, his adolescent voice cracking as he made his stammering confession. \n\n\"I b... I broke into your house, Mister Black. I took your things. I’m s-sorry, sir.\"\n\nI collapsed again into my spot on the couch. \"What?\" My voice came in a gasp. I wondered for an instant who had spoken the word.\n\n\"I have no excuse. I sinned against you and I’m very sorry. I still have your things, and I’ll bring them back tonight. P-please forgive...\" and here his father cut him off.\n\n\"We will get to that, Nathan. Take a seat.\" His booming voice had a visible effect of subduing the boy. I watched as his ears and tail drooped and he padded solemnly to the lounge chair in the corner. I was pretty sure that he was known as Nate most of the time, and that this form of his name was reserved for unpleasantly formal matters. \"Al, may I have a word with you outside?\"\n\nFor a second I wondered if we shouldn’t all have stepped out, then I realized that the police probably weren’t going to be needed. I’d forgotten how religious the Talbots were. As Nate sank into the chair, looking much like I must have looked a moment earlier, his father and I stepped out into the drizzle. He grabbed his coat. I did not grab mine.\n\n\"Al, I’m going to be frank here. We are a family built on faith, you know this of course. I know your mom and dad well from church, when you were young, and I realize your values are not the same as ours. But Nathaniel needs to see this through to the end. You have every right to contact the police, and I won’t discourage you from doing so, but I do have one request to make. The boy must be disciplined. He knows what to do. In addition, I’ve instructed him to spend the next month at your home after every school day, and every Saturday as well, helping you repair any damages he might have caused, or anything else you need assistance with.\"\n\nI just stared, gaping.\n\n\"I realize that you may not be... comfortable with this, and I understand if you aren’t. Rest assured that Nathaniel will be punished for his sins, whether by your paw or my own, but he has sinned against you, and by our teachings, it is you to whom he must make his penitence.\"\n\n\"I,\" I began, and then just closed my mouth.\n\n\"Please consider my request. And if you do decide to call the police, please do me the favor of letting me know in advance so that I can prepare some things for the boy.\"\n\n\"Oh Bob, I’m not calling the cops. You’re a real straight shooter, I’m confident we’ll get through this,\" I finally blurted out. I didn’t want the police here any more than Nathaniel did.\n\nBob smiled, his confidence eerie, almost unfitting for the occasion. I tried to return a neighborly grin but I could tell without seeing it that it was pathetic by comparison.\n\n\"Thank you, Al,\" he said, turning. \"We’ve had breakfast. Send Nate home when you’re done with him.\"\n\nAnd with that, he was off. I stood there in the rain until I came to my senses, and then went back inside. I shook the drops off of my ears and slicked my fur back with my fleece jacket. When I reached the living room, Nathaniel stood, snapping to attention. My mind was still drawn in a thousand directions by the events of the past week. I struggled to imagine some sort of penance I could set the boy to.\n\n\"Well, I suppose I’m to,\" I began, but as I spoke, the boy reached out, his paws offering me the leather satchel. I took it from him, quizzically. Inside, not surprisingly, was a Bible, which I set on the end table. There was more. A broad, flat object, a larger book perhaps. And something else. My paw closed next on a folded note. As I withdrew and uncreased the paper, Nathaniel flinched at the sound and averted his glance, blushing. It was a note Robert had written for me.\n\n\"Mr. Black,\" began the note in formal script much tidier than my nearly-illegible scrawl.\n\n\"I regret the shameful acts of my son, and bear the responsibility myself for not teaching him the respect he should have for his neighbor. As Nathaniel and I work through his anger and confusion, I vow to you and God that I will stand by his side and show him the right path, so long as there is breath in my lungs. You do not owe me this favor, but I feel it best for the boy if his punishment comes from you.\n\n\"This instrument is the traditional method of punishment that our family has relied on for generations. I believe that our success and righteousness comes in part from a healthy mindfulness of the consequences of our actions. As good deeds are rewarded, giving pleasure, transgressions should be punished, bringing shame and discomfort.\n\n\"I do not know the depth of your understanding of corporal punishment, so I will give you some basic guidance. Nathaniel will know what to do. Please strike squarely on the buttocks, and do not withhold force for worry of injuring him. Our Maker lovingly and thoughtfully created the body to bear this indignity without damage. Nathaniel has undergone many paddlings, and he will let you know if you he cannot tolerate the pain.\n\n\"I suggest you take a grip of the base of his tail to ease the placement of your blows. The boy will remain still, and he will show you sincere contrition when his penance is done. If he is dishonest with you, he knows what consequences await him on his return home.\n\n\"I am ever grateful to your understanding of, and respect for, the traditions of our faith. I know that your parents have done a finer job raising you than I have thus far with Nathaniel. Sincerely, Robert Talbot.\"\n\nThat last part was weird. After reading the note, I wasn’t sure who was in trouble, Nathaniel or myself. I set the note aside, and reached into the sack, no longer curious about what was inside. I looked up at Nathaniel, who was blushing even more fiercely than when I’d found the note. Tears were welling in the corners of his endearingly puppyish blue eyes. When I withdrew the paddle from its carrier, Nate’s breath caught briefly, and his lower lip quivered. I wasn’t sure what to do next.\n\n\"Well, Nate, it sounds like your dad has his expectations,\" I said, pointlessly. Nate replied silently, deliberately, but without hesitation. He calmly stepped to the side of my couch, fumbled with the clasp of his shorts, and carefully lowered them to the floor. Then he rolled his red briefs down to his ankles, placed his paws on the arm of the couch, and arched his back, raising his hips so the natural curl of his tail revealed his snowy rump.\n\n\"Oh,\" I said, awkwardly. I wasn’t expecting that at all, but knowing Bob, it was de rigeur for the Talbots. It was apparently instrumental to the punishment that he feel the shame of being exposed. The ridiculousness of the whole situation was beginning to compound. There I stood, the heavy metal burnout masquerading by day as a corporate sales nerd, tired, frustrated, defeated, amid the wreckage of my house, with the rain still pattering in through the broken window onto the tile floor; while the teenage son of my highly religious nextdoor neighbor was bending naked over my sofa waiting for me to spank him.\n\n\"Let’s get it over with, then,\" I sighed. Perhaps I am just too open-minded sometimes. I carefully grasped the base of Nate’s tail, and raised it just slightly more before bringing the paddle down hard against his backside.\n\nThe blow fell with what I felt was an impressive slap across the young husky’s cheeks. The paddle raised a small breeze in the humid air, and Nathaniel’s musky scent mingled with with it as it reached my nose. I paused, ever so slightly shocked at the sensation of it. I never thought of Nate as anything but a playful, innocent child. I remembered playing with him in earlier years, feeling his silky fur beneath my own paws, and recalled the scent of his juvenile, puppy-sweet breath and skin. But it was clear to me now that Nate already had three paws across the threshold of adulthood, and he was no longer just a child. Nate was growing up, probably... no, certainly capable of taking a mate, fathering a pup, and raising his own fanatical clan of zealots in the very near future. He must have realized that I’d scented him, because he shifted uneasily, as if to try to contain it.\n\nI realized as I reflected on the complex aroma of the boy’s scent that his father had fallen short in his obligations. This young man, ready to step out into the world and relieve my generation at the helm, was breaking into houses and stealing shit. My shit. I felt my digits tightening around the shaft of his tail. And I struck again, harder. The blow landed a little low, falling mainly across the backs of his thighs.\n\nMy first smack had admittedly been nothing more than a love tap. I knew by the way he hung his head that I’d been light on him. The kid probably has had to do this before, I thought to myself. Easy gig, take a couple light swats, dad gets out of doing cardio, he goes home and pretends to have a tough time sitting down for a few hours, everybody prays, and it’s all good. But this time he really pissed somebody off. The sound was significantly louder this time, and it reverberated harshly in my sparsely-furnished living room. Nate’s eyes snapped open, and his muzzle lifted in surprise. His tail twitched in my grip, instinctively trying to lower in submission, but remaining erect with his conscious effort... and my help. He inhaled sharply through his teeth. Apparently I’d gotten through to him this time. I struck again, aiming a little more carefully. And again, and again.\n\n\"That’s for my window, you little shit,\" I thought to myself as I brought the paddle down again and again on his bottom. \"That’s for my curtains. I’ll probably have to get a whole new set. And my Xbox. And my camera you probably screwed up.\" I was getting into it. And I was getting more forceful. Nate was now gripping the arm of the sofa with his claws. His nails were drawing light scratches in the cheap fabric, but I wasn’t really concerned about it. It’s an old couch. What caught my attention was the wide-eyed, gaping expression on the pup’s face. He had obviously not been expecting a real beating, and was now concentrating in earnest on keeping his tail up and out of the way. He was breathing in halting gasps, holding his breath in anticipation, and at each blow, he would cry out involuntarily. Tears were now streaming from his eyes. The room was now filled with the scent of the young dog, and beneath it, I could tell that my aggressive canine behavior was triggering my own body’s natural response. It fueled my passion. I was going to break this child. He was not yet ready to be a grown-up.\n\nI could tell that it was becoming difficult for Nate to maintain discipline. His lower lip was tucked in as he bit down on it to remain silent. His puppylike whimpers escaped anyway. Droplets of saliva and tears clung to his face and fell, leaving dark spots on the fabric. Each time I raised the paddle, I paused, and his entire body tensed until he began to quiver. When I swung the paddle toward his backside, his eyes squinted shut, and the sound of each blow was a combination of wood falling on flesh, and the surprised yelp that Nate couldn’t keep inside; no matter how hard he tried. His claws raked across the upholstery with loud pops, and his elbows and knees shook with visible effort. He had lost the ability to keep his tail raised, and I was now holding him and his tail up whilst delivering his punishment.\n\nI lost track somewhere around twenty-five, and soon after that, the lad finally broke. He opened his mouth wide and let loose a shrill, bawling cry of defeat, so loud I jumped at the sound of it. He collapsed against my sofa, pleading for mercy.\n\n\"Aaaaaoooohhh, please, please, Mister Black! I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m sorry,\" he began repeating, like a prayer of contrition. \"Pleeeeeease forgive me, sir! I’m sorry I took your stuff! I’m sorry I stole from you! Please forgive me! Please forgive me! Please.. forgive...\" His words faded into rolling moans punctuated by gasping breaths.\n\nSeeing him like this... and hearing him.. evoked a bizarre emotional change in myself too. I felt the paddle slowly lower to my waist, as if it suddenly weighed fifty pounds and my arm was reaching exhaustion. I released the boy’s tail, and it snapped protectively down, covering his backside and tucking neatly between his legs. I could see through his snow-white fur that the skin of his rump was bright red. He hung his head, eyes closed, and his whole body bucked and trembled with the rhythm of his racking sobs. I watched as he made the last few steps of our journey alone... bound to his guilt by the embrace of pain and shame. He cried freely, shamelessly, just as that knee-high pup had done when he fell and skinned his elbow or lost a favorite toy. Not yet ready to be a responsible adult, he’d strayed too far from the path of righteousness, and I could already see that my guidance had shown this little pup the way back to safety.\n\nI carefully placed the paddle down on top of its sack, and intended to step to the boy’s side, place a paw on his shoulder, and offer my comfort... and forgiveness... when I noticed a sharp new scent in my nose. When I turned, I understood. Nate’s body had responded to his punishment in yet another unexpected way. Unexpected by me, for sure. His penis was fully erect, glistening with his semen; a gleaming filament of which still hung like a spiderweb from the dark glob that had hit my sofa arm and dropped to the floor. I stood, my maw agape, completely at a loss for words or actions. At length, Nate realized what had happened, and his eyes grew wide with surprise. He looked at the couch, then at me, then at his bulging member, and all at once attempted to blot the couch dry with his sleeve, cover his erection, and dress himself. His eyes pleaded silently with me. I could sense his panicked urge to run out my front door, or perhaps even leap out through my broken window.\n\nI stood, very slowly. \"It’s okay, Nate. I forgive you,\" I said softly. I waited for the boy to jam his stiff member uncomfortably into his shorts with his paws, and then I gave him a warm hug, resting my paw on the back of his head. \"I forgive you,\" I said again, and I felt his body melt in my arms as he sobbed softly into my shoulder,\n\n\"Thank you, sir.\"\n\nSilently, I watched as Nate gathered up the instruments of his discipline, donned his jacket, and sheepishly left through the front door. I actually hoped his dad wouldn’t be too much harder on him over this.\n\nThen I got a roll of duct tape and a few trash bags, and set to crafting an expedient repair for my damaged window. The curtains, I wadded up and tossed outside. They were ruined anyway. As I positioned the plastic film over the opening, I hung the duct tape roll over my snout, and when I reached for it with my left paw, I caught the full scent of Nate’s musk on my pads. All the time I’d been gripping his tail, his scent was working into my fur and skin. I was dumbstruck. The trash bag slipped from my grasp and floated dreamily out the window. Suddenly I realized that I wanted nothing more than to hold Nathaniel once more, to feel the warmth of his soft body and feel his halting sobs grow softer and softer until his wounds were all healed. I regretted not having pups of my own.\n\nBut it wasn’t until the next day, when he showed up at my door after school, that I realized I was in over my head. He was carrying that damned bag again. I was really hoping that we’d moved past the corporal punishment. But this time, I could tell when he handed it to me that the bag was lighter, and contained no crinkling paper note. The boy stood before me once again, head bowed submissively, and once again begged for my forgiveness.\n\n\"Mister Black, I’m sorry I made a mess on your couch,\" he muttered. I reached into the bag.\n\nInside, there was only a strip of condoms.","writing_bbcode_parsed":"I sincerely hope the Talbots don’t ever read this. Most of the events in this story did indeed happen... they just didn’t necessarily happen in the order and proximity told here.
I’m not sure, but I think I have a problem.
I think I might be a... well, I’m not sure exactly what. I guess I need to explain it.
I didn’t come home in the best of moods. The sales trip was a complete waste of time and money. Sixteen hours in the air, and in the limbo of terminals and concourses. Overpriced lousy food. The sales team made an utter disaster of my careful planning. They had only one job, and I doubt they even read any of my emails. My luggage got lost on the way there, and I spent almost a week’s pay on a suit and shoes, forget per diem. And it was obvious from the start that the customer wasn’t interested in hearing what I had to say on the best of days. Then when I landed at 5am I had to stand around until six to meet someone in the baggage claim to be reunited with my clothes. On top of that the shuttle was broken down. And it was raining. And when I finally got to my truck, I had a flat tire. So it wasn’t until seven-thirty that I was finally pulling into my driveway, having made and lost the gamble that AAA would be quicker getting to the airport and more convenient than changing my own flat in the rain.
That was when I saw the broken window. And the curtains all tangled up in the cedars.
I left my suitcase and laptop bag in the truck, and walked through the unlocked front door, fully defeated. Looking around, I could see that someone had grabbed all the easily portable stuff. The Xbox, the camera, a few bottles out of my liquor cabinet. Who knows what else. The kitchen had been tossed as well. I didn’t even want to look upstairs before phoning the police, but I just wasn’t ready yet. I sat down, bewildered, just shaking my head. What a perfect end to a perfectly miserable week.
I was jarred out of my fugue of frustration and self-pity by the sound of the doorbell. It sounded a second time before I was able to stand up and walk to the foyer. I wasn’t sure how to greet a guest in my given condition so I just opened the door and stood there dumbly. It was my nextdoor neighbor, Robert, and his son Nathaniel.
"May we come in, Albert?" asked the tall, dour husky. His expression was precisely the same as every other time I’d seen him. His gangly teenage son seemed different, though. Instead of his usual vacant, "whatever" stare and relaxed contrapposto, the pup stood rigidly upright, his still-awkwardly-large paws folded in front of his waist. In his grip was a leather sack.
To be fair, I didn’t really know much about the Talbots. Mom was, well, I don’t know if I’d ever seen her. The older sisters, I think they might have been in college somewhere, and the last time I’d spoken more than a "hello" to Nate he was truly a pup, hardly standing up to my knees. I wondered when it was he’d grown so tall. Not that I didn’t have regular contact with my neighbors. Each Sunday morning, on my way to breakfast with my band mates, I would share an awkward visit with them on their way to church, dressed formally, Bibles in hand. I never spoke much to them, because I felt like what I was doing was pretty much the opposite of church. I’ve always hoped Robert would remain unaware of the sort of music my band performs.
As I sensed myself beginning to worry about the condition of my guitar, I shook my own problems aside and managed a feeble smile.
"Of course, Bob, come on in. I’m afraid I, uh..." I trailed off as I took their coats and hung them on the hook near the door.
"Yes, I know. That’s why we need to talk."
"Excuse me?"
Robert cast a disdainful glance toward his son. "You might as well let Mister Black know what happened to his home while he was away, son."
The boy looked back at his father with pleading eyes, but the look the old man returned certainly was not one of sympathy. He swallowed hard, his eyes flashing white as they searched the room for any source of comfort. Finding none, he bravely looked into my eyes and spoke, his adolescent voice cracking as he made his stammering confession.
"I b... I broke into your house, Mister Black. I took your things. I’m s-sorry, sir."
I collapsed again into my spot on the couch. "What?" My voice came in a gasp. I wondered for an instant who had spoken the word.
"I have no excuse. I sinned against you and I’m very sorry. I still have your things, and I’ll bring them back tonight. P-please forgive..." and here his father cut him off.
"We will get to that, Nathan. Take a seat." His booming voice had a visible effect of subduing the boy. I watched as his ears and tail drooped and he padded solemnly to the lounge chair in the corner. I was pretty sure that he was known as Nate most of the time, and that this form of his name was reserved for unpleasantly formal matters. "Al, may I have a word with you outside?"
For a second I wondered if we shouldn’t all have stepped out, then I realized that the police probably weren’t going to be needed. I’d forgotten how religious the Talbots were. As Nate sank into the chair, looking much like I must have looked a moment earlier, his father and I stepped out into the drizzle. He grabbed his coat. I did not grab mine.
"Al, I’m going to be frank here. We are a family built on faith, you know this of course. I know your mom and dad well from church, when you were young, and I realize your values are not the same as ours. But Nathaniel needs to see this through to the end. You have every right to contact the police, and I won’t discourage you from doing so, but I do have one request to make. The boy must be disciplined. He knows what to do. In addition, I’ve instructed him to spend the next month at your home after every school day, and every Saturday as well, helping you repair any damages he might have caused, or anything else you need assistance with."
I just stared, gaping.
"I realize that you may not be... comfortable with this, and I understand if you aren’t. Rest assured that Nathaniel will be punished for his sins, whether by your paw or my own, but he has sinned against you, and by our teachings, it is you to whom he must make his penitence."
"I," I began, and then just closed my mouth.
"Please consider my request. And if you do decide to call the police, please do me the favor of letting me know in advance so that I can prepare some things for the boy."
"Oh Bob, I’m not calling the cops. You’re a real straight shooter, I’m confident we’ll get through this," I finally blurted out. I didn’t want the police here any more than Nathaniel did.
Bob smiled, his confidence eerie, almost unfitting for the occasion. I tried to return a neighborly grin but I could tell without seeing it that it was pathetic by comparison.
"Thank you, Al," he said, turning. "We’ve had breakfast. Send Nate home when you’re done with him."
And with that, he was off. I stood there in the rain until I came to my senses, and then went back inside. I shook the drops off of my ears and slicked my fur back with my fleece jacket. When I reached the living room, Nathaniel stood, snapping to attention. My mind was still drawn in a thousand directions by the events of the past week. I struggled to imagine some sort of penance I could set the boy to.
"Well, I suppose I’m to," I began, but as I spoke, the boy reached out, his paws offering me the leather satchel. I took it from him, quizzically. Inside, not surprisingly, was a Bible, which I set on the end table. There was more. A broad, flat object, a larger book perhaps. And something else. My paw closed next on a folded note. As I withdrew and uncreased the paper, Nathaniel flinched at the sound and averted his glance, blushing. It was a note Robert had written for me.
"Mr. Black," began the note in formal script much tidier than my nearly-illegible scrawl.
"I regret the shameful acts of my son, and bear the responsibility myself for not teaching him the respect he should have for his neighbor. As Nathaniel and I work through his anger and confusion, I vow to you and God that I will stand by his side and show him the right path, so long as there is breath in my lungs. You do not owe me this favor, but I feel it best for the boy if his punishment comes from you.
"This instrument is the traditional method of punishment that our family has relied on for generations. I believe that our success and righteousness comes in part from a healthy mindfulness of the consequences of our actions. As good deeds are rewarded, giving pleasure, transgressions should be punished, bringing shame and discomfort.
"I do not know the depth of your understanding of corporal punishment, so I will give you some basic guidance. Nathaniel will know what to do. Please strike squarely on the buttocks, and do not withhold force for worry of injuring him. Our Maker lovingly and thoughtfully created the body to bear this indignity without damage. Nathaniel has undergone many paddlings, and he will let you know if you he cannot tolerate the pain.
"I suggest you take a grip of the base of his tail to ease the placement of your blows. The boy will remain still, and he will show you sincere contrition when his penance is done. If he is dishonest with you, he knows what consequences await him on his return home.
"I am ever grateful to your understanding of, and respect for, the traditions of our faith. I know that your parents have done a finer job raising you than I have thus far with Nathaniel. Sincerely, Robert Talbot."
That last part was weird. After reading the note, I wasn’t sure who was in trouble, Nathaniel or myself. I set the note aside, and reached into the sack, no longer curious about what was inside. I looked up at Nathaniel, who was blushing even more fiercely than when I’d found the note. Tears were welling in the corners of his endearingly puppyish blue eyes. When I withdrew the paddle from its carrier, Nate’s breath caught briefly, and his lower lip quivered. I wasn’t sure what to do next.
"Well, Nate, it sounds like your dad has his expectations," I said, pointlessly. Nate replied silently, deliberately, but without hesitation. He calmly stepped to the side of my couch, fumbled with the clasp of his shorts, and carefully lowered them to the floor. Then he rolled his red briefs down to his ankles, placed his paws on the arm of the couch, and arched his back, raising his hips so the natural curl of his tail revealed his snowy rump.
"Oh," I said, awkwardly. I wasn’t expecting that at all, but knowing Bob, it was de rigeur for the Talbots. It was apparently instrumental to the punishment that he feel the shame of being exposed. The ridiculousness of the whole situation was beginning to compound. There I stood, the heavy metal burnout masquerading by day as a corporate sales nerd, tired, frustrated, defeated, amid the wreckage of my house, with the rain still pattering in through the broken window onto the tile floor; while the teenage son of my highly religious nextdoor neighbor was bending naked over my sofa waiting for me to spank him.
"Let’s get it over with, then," I sighed. Perhaps I am just too open-minded sometimes. I carefully grasped the base of Nate’s tail, and raised it just slightly more before bringing the paddle down hard against his backside.
The blow fell with what I felt was an impressive slap across the young husky’s cheeks. The paddle raised a small breeze in the humid air, and Nathaniel’s musky scent mingled with with it as it reached my nose. I paused, ever so slightly shocked at the sensation of it. I never thought of Nate as anything but a playful, innocent child. I remembered playing with him in earlier years, feeling his silky fur beneath my own paws, and recalled the scent of his juvenile, puppy-sweet breath and skin. But it was clear to me now that Nate already had three paws across the threshold of adulthood, and he was no longer just a child. Nate was growing up, probably... no, certainly capable of taking a mate, fathering a pup, and raising his own fanatical clan of zealots in the very near future. He must have realized that I’d scented him, because he shifted uneasily, as if to try to contain it.
I realized as I reflected on the complex aroma of the boy’s scent that his father had fallen short in his obligations. This young man, ready to step out into the world and relieve my generation at the helm, was breaking into houses and stealing shit. My shit. I felt my digits tightening around the shaft of his tail. And I struck again, harder. The blow landed a little low, falling mainly across the backs of his thighs.
My first smack had admittedly been nothing more than a love tap. I knew by the way he hung his head that I’d been light on him. The kid probably has had to do this before, I thought to myself. Easy gig, take a couple light swats, dad gets out of doing cardio, he goes home and pretends to have a tough time sitting down for a few hours, everybody prays, and it’s all good. But this time he really pissed somebody off. The sound was significantly louder this time, and it reverberated harshly in my sparsely-furnished living room. Nate’s eyes snapped open, and his muzzle lifted in surprise. His tail twitched in my grip, instinctively trying to lower in submission, but remaining erect with his conscious effort... and my help. He inhaled sharply through his teeth. Apparently I’d gotten through to him this time. I struck again, aiming a little more carefully. And again, and again.
"That’s for my window, you little shit," I thought to myself as I brought the paddle down again and again on his bottom. "That’s for my curtains. I’ll probably have to get a whole new set. And my Xbox. And my camera you probably screwed up." I was getting into it. And I was getting more forceful. Nate was now gripping the arm of the sofa with his claws. His nails were drawing light scratches in the cheap fabric, but I wasn’t really concerned about it. It’s an old couch. What caught my attention was the wide-eyed, gaping expression on the pup’s face. He had obviously not been expecting a real beating, and was now concentrating in earnest on keeping his tail up and out of the way. He was breathing in halting gasps, holding his breath in anticipation, and at each blow, he would cry out involuntarily. Tears were now streaming from his eyes. The room was now filled with the scent of the young dog, and beneath it, I could tell that my aggressive canine behavior was triggering my own body’s natural response. It fueled my passion. I was going to break this child. He was not yet ready to be a grown-up.
I could tell that it was becoming difficult for Nate to maintain discipline. His lower lip was tucked in as he bit down on it to remain silent. His puppylike whimpers escaped anyway. Droplets of saliva and tears clung to his face and fell, leaving dark spots on the fabric. Each time I raised the paddle, I paused, and his entire body tensed until he began to quiver. When I swung the paddle toward his backside, his eyes squinted shut, and the sound of each blow was a combination of wood falling on flesh, and the surprised yelp that Nate couldn’t keep inside; no matter how hard he tried. His claws raked across the upholstery with loud pops, and his elbows and knees shook with visible effort. He had lost the ability to keep his tail raised, and I was now holding him and his tail up whilst delivering his punishment.
I lost track somewhere around twenty-five, and soon after that, the lad finally broke. He opened his mouth wide and let loose a shrill, bawling cry of defeat, so loud I jumped at the sound of it. He collapsed against my sofa, pleading for mercy.
"Aaaaaoooohhh, please, please, Mister Black! I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m sorry," he began repeating, like a prayer of contrition. "Pleeeeeease forgive me, sir! I’m sorry I took your stuff! I’m sorry I stole from you! Please forgive me! Please forgive me! Please.. forgive..." His words faded into rolling moans punctuated by gasping breaths.
Seeing him like this... and hearing him.. evoked a bizarre emotional change in myself too. I felt the paddle slowly lower to my waist, as if it suddenly weighed fifty pounds and my arm was reaching exhaustion. I released the boy’s tail, and it snapped protectively down, covering his backside and tucking neatly between his legs. I could see through his snow-white fur that the skin of his rump was bright red. He hung his head, eyes closed, and his whole body bucked and trembled with the rhythm of his racking sobs. I watched as he made the last few steps of our journey alone... bound to his guilt by the embrace of pain and shame. He cried freely, shamelessly, just as that knee-high pup had done when he fell and skinned his elbow or lost a favorite toy. Not yet ready to be a responsible adult, he’d strayed too far from the path of righteousness, and I could already see that my guidance had shown this little pup the way back to safety.
I carefully placed the paddle down on top of its sack, and intended to step to the boy’s side, place a paw on his shoulder, and offer my comfort... and forgiveness... when I noticed a sharp new scent in my nose. When I turned, I understood. Nate’s body had responded to his punishment in yet another unexpected way. Unexpected by me, for sure. His penis was fully erect, glistening with his semen; a gleaming filament of which still hung like a spiderweb from the dark glob that had hit my sofa arm and dropped to the floor. I stood, my maw agape, completely at a loss for words or actions. At length, Nate realized what had happened, and his eyes grew wide with surprise. He looked at the couch, then at me, then at his bulging member, and all at once attempted to blot the couch dry with his sleeve, cover his erection, and dress himself. His eyes pleaded silently with me. I could sense his panicked urge to run out my front door, or perhaps even leap out through my broken window.
I stood, very slowly. "It’s okay, Nate. I forgive you," I said softly. I waited for the boy to jam his stiff member uncomfortably into his shorts with his paws, and then I gave him a warm hug, resting my paw on the back of his head. "I forgive you," I said again, and I felt his body melt in my arms as he sobbed softly into my shoulder,
"Thank you, sir."
Silently, I watched as Nate gathered up the instruments of his discipline, donned his jacket, and sheepishly left through the front door. I actually hoped his dad wouldn’t be too much harder on him over this.
Then I got a roll of duct tape and a few trash bags, and set to crafting an expedient repair for my damaged window. The curtains, I wadded up and tossed outside. They were ruined anyway. As I positioned the plastic film over the opening, I hung the duct tape roll over my snout, and when I reached for it with my left paw, I caught the full scent of Nate’s musk on my pads. All the time I’d been gripping his tail, his scent was working into my fur and skin. I was dumbstruck. The trash bag slipped from my grasp and floated dreamily out the window. Suddenly I realized that I wanted nothing more than to hold Nathaniel once more, to feel the warmth of his soft body and feel his halting sobs grow softer and softer until his wounds were all healed. I regretted not having pups of my own.
But it wasn’t until the next day, when he showed up at my door after school, that I realized I was in over my head. He was carrying that damned bag again. I was really hoping that we’d moved past the corporal punishment. But this time, I could tell when he handed it to me that the bag was lighter, and contained no crinkling paper note. The boy stood before me once again, head bowed submissively, and once again begged for my forgiveness.
"Mister Black, I’m sorry I made a mess on your couch," he muttered. I reached into the bag.
Inside, there was only a strip of condoms.","pools_count":0,"title":"I Think I Have a Problem","deleted":"f","public":"t","mimetype":"text/plain","pagecount":"1","rating_id":"1","rating_name":"Mature","ratings":[{"content_tag_id":"2","name":"Nudity","description":"Nonsexual nudity exposing breasts or genitals (must not show arousal)","rating_id":"1"}],"submission_type_id":"12","type_name":"Writing - Document","guest_block":"f","friends_only":"f","comments_count":"0","views":"156"}