Author's Note: Paolo, my "houseboy" (?), and I were in Rome where Alejandro - an old friend from Madrid who is extremely well heeled and connected - had joined us (he has a huge spread in Argentina) and had brought Paolo's younger brother from Argentina to Rome. The boy's on a trial visit with me and is now in school in Bangkok. It is all factual and as it happened.
Dear James,
As you know, we returned from Italy later than planned and it took me until now to jot you this note that follows:
Paolo and I had arrived in Rome after the journey from the Far East that Friday morning. I immediately went to some business meetings so Paolo spent the day with his brother, Rual. He'd flown in with Juan, Alejandro's nephew, a day earlier from Argentina.
When I got back to our hotel, Paolo was full of anxiety over my meeting his brother and pacing the floor. I'd had a rough day and was feeling jetlag so when he said something like: "Please go easy on my brother; he's so young . . ." I cut him off, pulled down his jeans and briefs and gave his bare bottom a good tanning. I'm sure his spanking was heard through the walls and in the hall where maids were working (from their looks later), but I didn't care. Just a man spanking his boy. That's all. He needed a spanking and got one ! As he cried it out, I followed with a nice long, slow insertion of his thermometer until he was calm and back to normal. It took a long time over my knees with that tube up as far as possible, but he's beautiful getting it like that, all bare and red, finishing his crying, his hands holding my leg tightly for comfort and support. He struggles to hold so still despite his discomfort with me holding it fully in him and flicking his pucker and tries to get his tears under control, knowing what I'm doing, seeing, and enjoying. And he knows from experience that at any point I may withdraw it, spank him again, and insert it all over again. The quicker he gets himself under control and takes what he's got coming, the sooner it's over.
In the hands of a man who knows how to use it, I've never seen a more simple item, easy to transport, bring more concern to a boy's face and I've never seen a boy who won't do anything to avoid it being brought out and its insertion. This night he'd misstepped and earned it. I'm in no hurry. Especially with Paolo ! He was very uptight and it took about 35 minutes inserted fully as I talked quietly to him like that until I decided he was ready for me to remove it and take him naked into my arms. He was very docile when I finally did. He'd received his punishment and was forgiven. I don't take suggestions from Paolo.
Later when we met Alejandro and his nephews at his hotel for dinner, Paolo's bottom was red, hot, and ready under his slacks. No one mentioned his red eyes. Alejandro had left Rual in his suite saying I should go meet him privately the first time, which was OK with me; but we talked so long about his current project in Brussels, etc., El Jefe (whose wife had sent some wine !), Demitri etc., Juan Carlos, and others we both know, that by the time dinner was over I was exhausted and put off meeting Rual till the next afternoon.
Later at our hotel with Paolo, just because I wanted to, I pulled him out of the shower and spanked him again ! Let me assure you I had a well spanked boy before that first night was over. Paolo hates to be turned over and spanked (remember he's 29), but he does seem to understand he needs attention and takes it almost as assurance my interest remains in him. And it does ! He's absolutely beautiful when his bare bottom's very red, with his long hair flowing down over it and he's crying in my arms on my shoulder while my hands are down there ensuring it's still a nice, hot temperature ! If it cools down, that can easily be remedied quickly. I've come to enjoying having boys around who get it when they need it or when I choose to give it to them ! The real thing is so much better . . .
Saturday I worked through lunch and Paolo, with his bottom rosy under his jeans, again went with his brother. I don't know if he said anything to his brother or not, but I forced him to wear a tight thong to ensure a bit of friction from the denim against his buns. It's a good way to keep a boy nice and hot, reminding him whom he belongs to !
About 16:00 I went to Alejandro's suite to meet this infamous brother waiting alone in the second bedroom there (shared with Juan and Guiermo).
Entering unannounced and not bothering to knock, my first impression was of a very
young boy sitting alone on the bed with his arms around his knees watching TV. Startled,
he looked at me and bounced off his bed, falling prostrate on his hands and knees on
the rug ! Not anticipated, I pulled him up gently and looked at him. His face was
handsome, high cheek bones, well formed features, striking eyes and deep brows and an
anxious but clear smile. He had on an old
When I spoke my name and allowed my palm to graze his face, raising it so I could look directly at him, he reacted as if he'd expected me to slap him. That wasn't my intent. Rather I'd gone to meet him with no "game plan" at all. I hadn't decided to strip him and spank him then and there and set him "right", as young Chris, the American lad, had counselled, but neither had I decided not to. All I had decided was to meet this boy who would be under my authority, temporarily, until I felt comfortable one way or another. I turned off his TV and we both sat on the edge of the bed. First, let's get to know him. He was extremely nervous. What had he heard or been told ? I'm not unreasonable, as I trust you know.
So, I asked him first what Paolo had told him ? "That I should be good for you
'cause you'd be like my father and let me go to school and work too. He said I should do
whatever you tell me to do 'cause if I didn't you'd punish me like a father should but
I didn't have to worry 'cause you were fair, and he told me you'd teach me a lot and
give me a chance for a future." He seemed naively genuine, very shy,
I asked him if Paolo'd told him how I'd "punish" him ? "Yes," he replied, looking directly at me with those huge eyes, "he said you would be very strict when I needed it and would spank me, but I must listen good 'cause you had other ways but he didn't say what."
"All that OK with you ?" I asked.
"Yea, sure," he replied, "I never had a real father who could give me things or help me or anything." I was amazed his English was much better than Paolo's. "And anyway," he went on, "I've been spanked all my life anyway so that isn't any difference. I'm not old enough not to get spanked yet." I wanted to follow up that, but didn't.
Why had he wanted to come ? "It was bad on the ranch. They said . . . well, they said I was sleeping with this girl who said she was pregnant but I know I wasn't . . ."
"Don't ever lie to me, Rual," I added.
"No, but I wasn't fucking her. She was my girlfriend and I liked her a lot but
when I wanted to she never would, but she said it was me 'cause she had another boyfriend
and she didn't want him to get in trouble so she said I was the one.
He seemed about to cry, so I changed the topic. "Did your brother tell you I still punish him ?"
He looked up at me. "Yea," he answered, "he said he gets spanked a lot, but he still liked working for you." The kid sounded so genuine and nice.
I told him the basic rules and he nodded. Then I told him to stand. "What are you going to do ?" he asked softly.
"Look at you more closely," I replied while tugging at his long belt.
"Are you going to spank me, Sir ?" He seemed tense and genuinely concerned again.
"Don't ever question me like that, Son," I answered but not too sharply. "Do you need a spanking now ?"
"No, Sir."
"OK, then it's up to me, isn't it ?"
"Yes, Sir." He was biting his teeth as I unbuckled and unwound that leather belt,
pulling it out and tossed it on a chair. His slacks would have immediately fallen down
if he hadn't grabbed them by the waist. They had to be two to three inches too big !
Still I unzipped them, then took his hands and watched them fall directly to his ankles.
While his
His cock and balls were resting, almost no pubic hair surrounding them. I pushed his
It was a hard one to resist, but I turned him around, his bottom again resting on the sink, took his head in my hands and looking right at him, told him he was never to hide anything from me and never, ever to be ashamed of any part of his body. I told him if he ever was, he'd be spanked for sure.
"Yes, Sir," he responded when I asked him if he understood me.
I had him shower. I looked in his suitcase. Most of his clothes were old and none of his briefs were wearable, so I left it all and took him back to my hotel where Paolo lent him some that fit him very nicely and I lent him a few polo's (extremely cheap in Bangkok). He looked much better but seemed shocked anyone would give him anything.
So the three of us joined Alejandro, Guiermo and Juan for what was to be dinner out with Rual looking quite OK in his new clothes despite those old pants. It was Alejandro who noticed them and asked Juan how he could have come like that ? It turned out Juan had travelled Business, but put the boy in Economy. When Alejandro learned I had given him his shirt, Paolo had lent him a belt, etc., Alejandro was anything but happy. My hunch is he paddled him later that night.
Not much unusual except Paolo turned scarlet when I put him in the position of admitting to his brother I'd spanked him just last night and I forced him to show his brother his personal "punishment paddle" that he's made. (We were all in my room which had a sitting area, not a suite.)
The next morning we three made a pilgrimage to La Rinascente's second floor Men's Section to purchase a pair of jeans and slacks for Rual. It became interesting when the older male clerk produced slacks which he assured us would fit him "perfectly" and Rual went behind a curtain to try them. He came out - and came close - proclaiming: "They're too tight . . ." before Paolo cut him off in Spanish with a clear form of "cerrado su boca" before I could catch him in his first assertion that could have led him to his first bare bottom blistering over my knee upon return to our hotel. Paolo knows I like them in slacks that cup and separate the buns a bit - continental style. These ones did very nicely and made it obvious the lad's worth a second glance. Rual said nothing further as I felt them, as did Paolo, and we all agreed (including the clerk) they were perfect and bought them ! Rual's adjusting to his new assets.
So in borrowed briefs, polo, with new fitting slacks or new jeans now, Rual looks like anyone else, only more appealing !
By the way, Rual's father is a European who visited the spread and slept with Paolo's mother. The boy does not look Indian and, in person, doesn't look as much like Paolo as I'd thought from the one photo I'd seen. There's nothing wrong with this lad, except he's younger than I thought.
Nothing much happened for several days as I did business (as did Alejandro) and the boys "toured." Alejandro and I had planned to go up to his friend's vineyards near Gallese for Saturday, then his wife would meet me on the train and, as the Hollywood crowd likes to say, "do" Florence (she's an art expert apparently who also does some teaching in Art History in Madrid) with Alejandro returning to Rome. He just doesn't like art or Florence ! I was not too surprised when he asked if I'd mind if he "inspected" Paolo ? Well, I rather did, but I saw no choice. I knew he'd discipline any of the boys if he chose to anyway (as would I if I had been the one returning).
I learned from his wife - whose name is Ana, but whom everyone refers to as "La Donna" - that Alejandro is an informal advisor on EU/agribusiness to the King and holds a title ! Then during dinner one night when Alejandro somewhat abruptly took both his nephews from the table up to their suite, she said something like: "Don't look so concerned. He's not going to paddle them now." I smiled, a bit embarrassed but then she continued: "You know in past days, private schools and priests or nuns instilled discipline and rules with an understanding of repentance and absolution in younger generations, but today, though some priests will, with more modern notions ruling our society young people never learn these things. Alejandro's disciplined both of them for most of their lives, and I understand you have upon occasion as well, and look how well especially Guiermo's turned out. He's splendidly prepared for leading the Group when Alejandro's too old and Juan will get there eventually too. More parents should be like Alejandro."
Her's was a statement. I only nodded. I had no idea what she and Alejandro agreed and might not
have agreed about and, to be honest, I didn't want to know either ! About that time
waiters came, cleared some things, brought out a wonderful looking
The next day just Alejandro and I took the train up at my insistence, preferring that to the driver driven Mercedes that always went too fast for my comfort. Anyway, the train's a nice one with a very good dining car and a good lunch is about as long as it takes to get there, so why not ?
Alejandro's friend who owned the vineyard outside Gallese was an Italian,
During his grand tour as he walked with a golden handled cane, he pointed out one farm worker,
stripped to his waist and glistening with sweat over his superb body chopping fence logs.
He called him over and the lad bounded up to us. He was more
The host seemed like something out of a Fellini flick, almost stumbling along with his very
Coincidentally, it turns out the host has a connection with a vineyard in the Napa Valley in California. The guy has a real school for these workers from the place in Tunis. He's got maybe 25 boys and girls of varying ages above thirteen years, they attend mornings before work and evenings after work and includes "maids" in his house, etc. The guy sees himself as providing a good opportunity and an education for these workers' futures, and genuinely so. He constantly almost lectured about it, but is clearly a firm believer in corporal punishment and an affectionate. My hopes rose for the evening but dinner was not less than six hours away.
Parenthetically, I learned more about Alejandro's "friend" (the Greek ?) who's apparently still coming by his yacht to spend some days in Phuket. This one also apparently has a teacher on board for the crew, who I'm told come predominantly from farm or underclass French lads. (Reminded me of the "story" I scripted in those ones I sent you titled "My French Tutor" based on a true situation of an American friend where his Tutor in Paris also had such a farm lad who not only accepted the Tutor's spanking him in the kitchen when he erred but was sure the man was doing him a major favour - something I've found elsewhere as well.) Anyhow this Greek is said to favour nice tight bare bottoms with precisely defined French bikini lines on his crew's fannies, which Alejandro says he loves to work and show off. Apparently he pays his crew so well that boys compete to sign on, relishing their work and cruises to exotic places, knowing the strict requirements on that vessel and the strict discipline they all face. If the guy does make it to Phuket, it sounds like it will be interesting, to say the obvious. Tan lines do add to it all, in many ways, and all the French boys I've known have all lived up to their potential. If the guy comes, I'll tell you, if you're interested ?
Anyway, our host took a nap after our tour, leaving Alejandro and me sitting and talking until around 21:00 and dinner.
After a long, somewhat boring meal with the host going on and on, it was not until he was sipping cognac and a bit to the winds when there was a soft knock on the door and the field boy entered quietly, dressed identically as this afternoon, and, unacknowledged by the host or his even pausing in his lecture on some fine point of winemaking to look at him, the lad came and stood beside him.
Still, our host did not even look at the lad as he continued talking to us while simply reaching over, untying the cord on the boy's pants and taking, no, pulling, the boy's slacks and boxer shorts completely down to the floor as the boy stood there at the table, in front of us all. The lad, acting as if this were the most natural thing in the world, slowly and simply folded his arms in front of himself. Possibly there was a slight smirk on his wet lips as he stood there knowing the way he was standing left him completely open to view, but he showed no reaction as his "at ease" pecker and nuts came out into full view by Alejandro and myself sitting there at the table. It was impossible not to stare at him in his almost natural nakedness.
It was as if the boy was staring at some hidden spot on the wall across the room, looking at something and thinking to himself, without a care in the world that he had been completely exposed in front of two men he did not know. The boy never looked at us, just stood there with his arms crossed over his chest, then when the host touched his buns, he stepped out of his slacks and briefs leaving him only in his field shoes and socks. He stood there tall and proudly, waiting, as if he had comfortably done this before and would surely do it again, in all his youthful masculine glory, displaying a superior physique, tan above his pants but living pure with an unblemished olive glow below, with good abs and firm thighs truly etched from good hard field work. Minimal black pubic hair offered him no protection for any eyes, but he was unconcerned, proud, nature, just waiting patiently there at the table beside our host.
The display was magnificently unbelievable as he stood there quietly, arms crossed over his chest, staring straight forward, as if a guest at a dinner party waiting to be introduced and without any concern about his brash nudity showing all he had beside the host, who paid him absolutely no attention. He had been told to be there then, to present himself, so things could be taken care of. It was no big deal for him. He was unashamed, certainly showing no signs of embarrassment, and clearly used to it. More than that. He was proud of himself and his naked body. This may be the host's, the owner's, little thing, but the boy was unaffected. His mind was elsewhere. For me, it was like nothing I'd seen before.
No one paid him any attention, not even one servant who was clearing the table. He simply stood there ! He must have known how exceptionally fine he looked. Following the table's clearing and the host's pouring more cognac, the servant brought a wooden paddle and placed it on the table in front of the host. Still without looking at or acknowledging the boy in any way, our host reached over, grabbed the boy by his upper inner thigh, tugging him closer. The boy remained silent and offered no resistance. He still continued to keep his arms crossed over his chest and he still looked blankly and straight ahead. His balls were tightly constricted on his body, his cock was, if anything, shrinking.
Then the host pushed back his dinner chair a bit, took hold of the lad's bare bottom and guided him across his lap (still never looking at him or acknowledging him nor pausing in his interminable story). With the boy wiggling for balance and the man adjusting his position, only then did he stop talking and looked at the fine young male bare bottom across his lap, ran his hands over it and its upper thighs.
"He's a fine one, isn't he ?" he asked rhetorically.
The room was silent. No-one was left in the room except Alejandro and myself and the boy, naked over the owner's lap. Certainly our host was right. The boy was well packed, compliant and fully obedient as if this were the most normal thing in the world.
Then our host picked up that paddle, brought it down hard, shattering the room silence. The overweight Italian man, huffing and puffing soon, seemed to be paddling the boy very well, given the red marks left by the descending paddle, but the boy remained basically stoic every time his face jerked toward me, though a few times his face grimaced briefly in pain and he let out an "ouch" or something similar in what I think was French. His legs, still in his shoes and socks, moved around and his tight fair young bottom clenched with each swat.
After some time, maybe 15 minutes or so, the boy's full but tight bare bottom was red but he was still smiling - no serious whimpers, tears, pleas, nothing but "ah's and ouches" ! The host seemed pleased with his red bottom, in which he took great interest while commenting on its hot feel to us and the boy's learning to obey the rules. But he remained fairly unaffected from what I could see, though the host seemed utterly exhausted.
Then very surprisingly he asked me if I would like to spank him ? Sure ! Why not ? And I did as I took the lad, who walked over proudly to me still smiling and laid himself across my own lap unconcerned.
I spanked him first with my hand until whimpers and "ah"s and "oh"s began more earnestly and his long muscular thighs and legs began really dancing. I've been at this long enough to know when a boy's playing with you and really needs a good spanking from a man. As you know, this is the kind of challenge I really enjoy and I was happy to oblige. My hand gave it to him and I'm sure in places where he'd never been spanked before. His concern had increased noticeably now. When his smile left, I switched to that paddle until the tears began in earnest as I blistered his bottom with it and the real enjoyment began, then after a while I returned to my hand, taking the lad back to his childhood and providing a real lesson.
The lad was beautiful to spank, especially as he had no fear at all and clearly was not anticipating, nor used to anything like what I gave him. His bare bottom flayed wildly as I turned it scarlet and his cries turned to screams and pleas as I continued. With the boy draped over my lap in tears, the host started talking to him calling him "my fine one" and "my little one"
"Do what you want with him," our host said abruptly and then just got up and left, taking Alejandro with him, as the boy still hung over my lap sobbing openly and freely, dejected, but wiggling openly in a way that told me he'd been needing this for a long time coming. Often boys know they need their bottoms spanked but don't know how or are afraid to ask. This one had gotten it, at least for now, but while the host had left some marks when he paddled him, I had left none.
I sat alone in that dining room now with the lad hung crying over my lap, as I caressed his very red bare bottom with the paddle I'd just used on it. As we were alone and the house was quiet I just let him hang there privately. Every time I touched his bare bottom to feel the heat while I continued thinking about giving him more, he wept further. He'd be a good boy for me, I felt sure !
Accepting good fortune, I did then escort him dressed in only his shoes and socks to my room, only wishing I had a spare thermometer along. As I didn't, I stood him in the room's corner like that and later, after I'd showered, pulled him across the bed and gave him his second real spanking for that evening. I was sure he'd be a real good boy now and he was. For the next full day and until I departed for the train the following morning, the lad remained at my side, his eyes bloodshot and his bottom glowing under his loose slacks. Periodically I'd just take him aside, pull them down and spank him and he got one each morning and evening as well.
My host not only approved, but watched twice, saying it was a good object for the others who would certainly hear rumours. Fine for me !
All in all, a great time for which I thanked our host profusely. The host offered him for the rest of my time in Italy, but I turned it down regretfully. Instead, I limited myself to keeping the lad's bottom nicely red under his slacks to ensure he remembered and I left knowing I'd experienced something special. The host told me at the station he'd never seen the lad cry before. I looked at the boy when the host said that and watched his embarrassment. Sometimes youths need spanking. They need to cry. Loud. Tears. Round, red bare butts. This one did for sure. I'd spanked him soundly before coming to the station and both he and I knew he was very red. The train pulled in while I looked at him standing there. His face seemed to have a look of relief on it at my departure.
In "pre-reserved" seats Ana sat waving to Alejandro who would return later that afternoon to Rome in the car he'd had the driver come up in (there was a boy with him, too). The train didn't pause long for passengers to board, but it was long enough for me to jump in the right car and find her waiting there. I, too, looked out the window at them all, including the field boy, standing on the platform and felt a tinge of emotion, wanting to stay, yet wanting to go. Unfortunately I know absolutely nothing about wine business and thus had no reason to stay. I also had a schedule to keep. Life moves on.
Still, with that lad at the station, I hope I can return sometime, someday. Interestingly,
at least to me, he has since written to me the
Ana rather quickly engulfed me in her knowledge of the art we would see, far beyond the normal tourist stuff I'd seen several times before, she kept assuring me. She filled me in with the excitement of a schoolgirl, I don't think she ever stopped talking for the rest of the trip up there. Then, once we arrived, it was hard keeping up with her pace ! She knew her way around that place and several locals seemed to recognize her.
The next afternoon about 14:00 we entered a small plaza with a great fountain in the middle and lots of outdoor tables around the sides. We'd already had a full second day of touring and walking down the numerous small streets until we stumbled on to this place. At least that's what I thought.
Near the door of one of the cafés I noticed a young man leaning provocatively against a door frame while casually attempting smoke rings. I know, I know, you are going to write back and remind me that they all lean "provocatively" in Italy, but this one was far more so than the usual, even for Italians. At least, in terms of my experience in Italy. This young man you couldn't possibly miss, unless you were blind.
He looked about twenty-nine or so. With one arm crossing his chest to steady his elbow, and
the other high in the air with the cigarette he was flauntingly drawing on while attempting
unsuccessfully to blow smoke rings, he was wearing a loose plaid
He looked good ! And he suddenly smiled my way !
Unfortunately his smile was for Ana, with whom he began talking lively in Italian.
He clearly knew her and seemed pleased to see her, and they kissed as his hands flew around
in the air as they spoke. Closer up to him, his stark facial features, especially his deep
dark eyes, beautiful
His smile was beautiful. Who was he ? Ana didn't say. No introductions were made.
Then just as suddenly as I'd noticed him, he disappeared as Ana motioned for me to sit down at a small plaza table near the fountain. A few minutes later, though, he returned with coffee for one of the other four tables outside and two cups for us. He was working there, waiting tables.
A bit later still, a beautifully striking woman in careful makeup came up to where we were sitting and shook my hand with the level of friendship I'd have only expected of a long lost friend. She was older than Ana, had that gorgeously dressed look of a successful woman about her even though right then she was wearing a soiled apron in which she'd obviously been cutting something in a kitchen and had just wiped her hands. Now she was carrying a dish towel that she moved around constantly in her hands and used to clean our black marble table of a drop or two of water. She was wonderful, very lively, and animated. She was the owner and she and Ana were old friends.
She was constantly being asked questions by what were obviously kitchen staff but she sat there talking to us and then barked out orders, and soon more coffee of a more specialty designer type in slightly larger cups appeared for the three of us as we sat there talking. Yes, the coffee was served by the young man I'd noticed earlier and it was only at that point that I was introduced to him by the owner as Ana's "American friend".
It didn't take anyone long to figure out my Italian is only
Enjoyable for me to be left to converse with the waiter, for sure, but I focused only on the art and stupid tourist stuff with this younger man who seemed eager to try English. He got himself some coffee and sat down. Other tables were left in the care of a second waiter. Mostly I just listened. It had been a long day and I was tired.
Regardless the owner wouldn't take no for an answer. We were returning there for dinner, which
was actually fine with me though I'd have preferred just to sleep and let them talk, and so we
compromised and I headed back to my hotel, leaving the two women talking away quite happily
without me. I'd return later by cab
By the time I arrived back the small café was filled with customers, but Ana had moved inside at a table, the ashtray now filled. Pleasantries began, a few more introductions of folks who already knew her at other tables, then before I knew it, the meal had already been selected by the owner and in record time (for Italy) of my sitting down. That younger man carefully poured wine while smiling but saying nothing, and, returning a moment later, dropped off bread and butter. Ana winked at him openly and he immediately looked embarrassed though for no reason I could think of.
After he left our table and went on to others, Ana leaned over and whispered in my direction: "He's her lover of about a year or so, you know, despite the differences in their ages." I was surprised, but I could easily see why he'd be considered attractive to many people.
I watched him as I could. He was moving with flair and style among several tables, handling
things. He was still dressed the same as he had been that afternoon with the sole exception of
having twined a long
Ana and I were solving the world's problems with good wine at the late end of a great meal later in the evening when a waitress came over and said: "Please with me come." Ana nodded and started to light up again so I followed the waitress through the tables where some were still eating though most were sharing coffee, wines, and just talking. She went to the rear of the restaurant, then at the kitchen area she stopped and looked around to check if I was right behind her and motioned for me to follow her even in there. No one in the kitchen paid any attention to us.
Finally she went up a narrow, creaking, steep staircase. I followed behind. At the top and down a back narrow hallway she opened a heavy wooden door and motioned for me to enter. I did as she closed the door behind me and left me suddenly standing in a room.
It was an attractive living area, if small, above the restaurant, a feminine and beautifully
decorated room with lace curtains and lots of small things, including the
His
Over her lap, the boy's nicely bared buns were at her pleasure as he hung precariously and
unbalanced. Neither was saying anything when I walked in, though he was sniffling now as I
stood there. Instead she was caressing his red bare bottom openly with her bright
I was surprised, more like shocked.
"Ana mentioned your interest in what I prefer to call a little 'family correction' ?" she said, still not raising her eyes from the young man's bare bottom over her lap. I nodded though it really wasn't a question and she obviously wasn't looking my way or expecting an answer anyway. She continued: "I thought you might like seeing how I handle this little one's fanny when I need to ?"
I managed to stumble out a weak-sounding: "Yes, Madam, interesting." But I wasn't sure what she expected me to say or do, sit or stand, whatever ?
I just stood there feeling uncomfortable.
She said nothing further, but putting her hand between his legs while her other hand forced his shoulders down toward the floor in front of him, she forced him to extend his hands to the floor in front of his face and raise his bare bottom higher, actually completely off her lap, exhibiting his extremely firm erection she took in her right hand. Whatever her goal, he was now completely vulnerable with his buns spread open and his firm and very erect young cock and tight balls very ready for anything she might choose to give him !
The young man being very obedient to her was struggling with balance. His face was still hidden in his flopping hair. By now it was obvious he'd been spanked and for sure he was still whimpering.
"You see," she continued, "he'll perform nicely now." She paused, though continued stroking his erection, then looked up at me for the first time since I was shown in there and said: "Maybe you weren't aware that women know such things, but we do, my American friend, we do !"
With his very attractive and somewhat red bare bottom extended higher in the air off her lap like that now, her right hand forced his thighs apart as her middle finger tweaked his cherry and her other hand came up between his thighs and grasped his nuts. "Ah," he moaned as he struggled to keep his balance.
I wondered momentarily exactly what he had done or what exactly she meant by "he'll perform nicely" ?
He was struggling more with balance, but he wasn't objecting or fighting her in any way. Instead, as that red nail applied some pressure to his pucker, the young man from the afternoon moaned what had to have been the Italian equivalency of "OK, OK, I'll do it !"
"See," she said, "I have ways of seeing to it my needs are met too."
He was completely under her control. If he was focused on anything but her, it was unlikely. A small switch also lay on the floor where she could have easily reached it had she needed to.
"If you would excuse us now."
For sure ! I was happy to do so. I left the room, embarrassed as hell, quietly shutting
the door behind me, leaving them to their pleasure, and I retraced my steps making my return
to the table as quickly as I could and a bit
Ana smiled when I got to our table and sat down. "Why, my, look at you. You're so
red ! I thought you'd enjoy her. He, by the way is
I shook my head: "No." I had nothing to say.
Upstairs the boy had to be performing well. No other choice he could have had but to do so.
Downstairs, the few tables left in the restaurant around us had all finished their meals, drinking wine and coffee as smoke billowed and those few of us left continued talking. After what I'd just seen, Italian wine proved to be a great "relaxer" at that moment and I poured myself more and tried to get back into things with Ana at the table. While I'd seen many things in one place or another and a guy over a lap for a spanking is no big deal, I had never seen anything like that ! And, to top it off, I really didn't know Ana that well and had no real idea what Alejandro might or might not have told her.
Ana smiled at me again and poured her own, joining me in more wine. "As long as I've known her, she's always had a young stud, I think you call it, around here. She's an art historian by training. Quite a lady, isn't she ?"
That was the understatement of the year. Ignoring upstairs, conversation moved to other things as quickly as I could get it to something else, anything else. I did not want to talk about this. But the conversation at the table did finally change and we moved on to more usual things.
A half hour or so later I noticed him waiting on the few remaining tables now still there and drinking. He looked the same as he had earlier in the evening, though he seemed to be avoiding our table or looking at me. Later still as the restaurant cleared out almost completely and really slowed down to two tables he joined us, sitting between Ana and me. This time he came with a beer and his cigarettes, and though he didn't initially look at me, he did talk to Ana.
"Espresso ?" he finally asked me, and when I nodded he disappeared and
reappeared with it. By the time he came with it another one of Ana's friends had sat down
and was talking to her
Sitting down and giving me my espresso, he leaned over to my ear and half whispered in
basic English: "I do not let her do it often much. I know how treat a woman !"
He smirked in a
I smiled and toasted him back with my
He seemed fine now. He clasped me on my shoulder and laughed with me. I certainly had no problem with it in retrospect. It was as if it hadn't happened as far as I was concerned.
He was seductively attractive, but so Italian, almost flirting with everyone and everything, trying to be macho ! His bravado in recovery only somehow made him more attractive. He seemed unaware, though, that Ana also had heard out of the corner of her ear and, as he and I talked, had left the table.
Ana returned. This time she had a fresh wine bottle in hand, corked it herself while talking to her friend, and poured some for me too without asking if I wanted more. I didn't, but I acknowledged her, raising my glass with thanks and continued normal conversation at the table.
Not too many minutes later the owner appeared behind him, towering above him and ordering: "Antonio ! Come with me !" Pausing to speaking in English clearly for my benefit she added: "You come, too !" and after we both rose, she looked right at me. "Typical male arrogance. I've warned him about it before. He only said it because you are American !"
She pushed him into the kitchen, into a back room with an extremely
"So, you know how to treat a woman, do you, Antonio ? Well, I also know how to
treat a boy ! Take off your clothes, everything !" She spoke in English
again for my benefit, but then she was yelling at him in
Antonio also was arguing with her in rapid Italian, but his whole face had turned scarlet as he fired back as she stood there holding that paddle. Still, there in the privacy of the very back of that back storage room piled high with boxes and things everywhere, with the restaurant now almost completely empty, Antonio was also starting to take off his clothes. Arguing was one thing. Disobedience was not happening !
Antonio had almost ripped off his plaid shirt and cotton
She stood there, holding her ground. She stood there holding that paddle.
Antonio kept on talking as she forced him over a stack of boxes, adjusted his bare, still a bit rosy, bottom up high, stroking it and his thighs as he continued talking while struggling for a more comfortable position over the box's edge. Then when she was good and ready she paddled him as well as anyone might ever have done in this situation. This time he was crying and jerking violently despite his age and that bravado image he had been trying to project to me earlier. He cried openly and freely as he tried with no success to avoid that punishing paddle.
After his paddling had gone on for long enough she stopped and left him hugging the boxes there and sobbing as she felt the heat on his bare bottom. "Here," she said, "you feel !"
I did and he was very hot !
When she acknowledged that and I stepped aside, she tore into him again and paddled him furiously. I have found out before that women in a real punishment situation are much more severe in punishing a "boy" than most men might be. She certainly was !
If there was anyone left in that restaurant or kitchen beyond that closed old thick heavy wooden door, there would have been no doubt he was getting the paddle. Antonio was crying and yelling loudly and kicking and squirming to boot over those boxes as he got his bare bottom paddled but good ! The paddle reddened him everywhere, including on his upper thighs. He screamed then !
"Go to my bed and wait for me there !" Her Italian for this one, even I understood !
He paused only to grab his jeans, nothing else, holding them before him for protection, while with tears constantly streaming from his very red eyes he tore out of that store room and up those back kitchen stairs where they had been earlier.
She, in turn, returned with me to our table, poured Ana and myself an
I saw him only once again, only briefly.
Mid-morning, several days later, we had stopped by for coffee and when Antonio served us he said pointedly and openly to me in front of Ana: "I'm sorry I spoke badly. Please forgive me."
"No problem," I replied. "I understand."
He smiled and put his hand around my shoulder openly and smiled. "Thank you, my friend."
He sat down beside me again this time, reappearing with some coffee for himself and the owner, but this time when the two women went into the kitchen to look at something, Antonio spoke much more carefully and much more deliberately.
"What can say ? My life it is." Then, leaning over the table and speaking far more quietly, he continued: "But if I had job away from here I'd go."
What the hell ! I gave him my business card.
Antonio sat with the card in his hand raised off the table as he studied the words on it.
"Thailand, you live there ?!??" he exclaimed. "It beautiful there ! I saw pictures !"
Jeez, would I like to follow up with this one. He's as seductive as Hell !
The rest of the stay was uneventful. Getting to know Ana more and seeing a more human side
in Alejandro was good, but overall I spent too much time working in Rome ! Paolo and
Rual
As for Rual, I gave him every opportunity to stumble and earn his first lesson in Italy, but his conduct was fine. Paolo actually came a bit closer to getting it again there.
We returned to Bangkok the other day and Rual will be in an international school in a week
or so. Mea's great ! Niwat's still here in Grad School so the place's up to four,
though only two are working and only Mea's working on the venture. Who's been turned over
since we've returned ?
Talk to you later !
Cal
Copyright © 2003