Tuesday, October 18, 2011



I can do this. I argued for this.

Got to complete that paperwork tonight.

Should I have shaved? I should have shaved. God. What must she be thinking?

Breathe in.

My shirt is riding up. Oh nooo, she can see my belly. Should've waited until I reached goal weight.

Am I hurting her?

What was that? Oh god oh god, workmen outside. If I can hear them, then they'll hear us…

Is she hating this? She hates this. I should never have said anything.

Am I clean? God, she can see everything.

What is she waiting for?? Say something!



Sunday, October 16, 2011

Not our Fault - Part 3

Not our Fault - Part 3
by Randy Williams 

Dressing quickly, I left the bedroom and made my way down to the kitchen, remembering what Art had said and making just enough noise to let Peter and Alan know I was on my way.

Listening carefully, I heard the sound of Peter rushing back to his corner. I grinned.

Usually I was pretty strict about the corner time, however tonight I was showering and they had been down here about half an hour. Far long enough. I set the paddle on the kitchen counter and made myself a cup of coffee.

As I opened the refrigerator I stopped and looked around the kitchen. It was spotless; the floor gleamed and counters were wiped down. The cupboards were polished? The entire room smelled clean and homey. The clean smell was pleasant; the homey smell was coming from a couple loaves of bread. I had to grin at that. Alan was discovering the joys of baking. Peter was quick to roll his eyes at first however when a supply of cookies and brownies kept appearing, he quickly saw the advantages and was happy to help eat.
I glanced at the clock: 35 minutes. Too long!

Picking up the wooden paddle and my coffee, I walked to Alan. I turned on the table lamp on the other side of the room and set my coffee down on the end table opposite the light. As I bent to set down my cup on the coaster I caught the smell of lemon. I glanced around the room again, and I was greeted by the clean smell of a polished and well- tended home, with the exception of the 23 year old man standing dejectedly facing the corner. His hair was dishevelled and he legs were trembling.

“Go get Peter, Alan”, I said in a firm voice.

Alan turned and saw me, and I saw the tear streaks and the whites of his eyes.

Too long; way too long.

I wanted to kick myself.

“Hey Babe”, I said gently.

Suddenly I had my arms full of a worried young man. Alan was always the first to break, also the one that could plan the most inventive plans. His mostly naked body pressed against me, his arms around my neck. Damn he smelled good. Gently I disengaged him. I wiped his face with my handkerchief, turned him around by his arm and gave his boxer briefs a firm Swat!

“Get Peter please, and if you have to go to the bathroom you best get that out of the way, both of you”,

I said in that firm Top voice, still wanting to kick myself for making this young man I loved so much wait so long.

‘With any luck they both will go to the bathroom’, I thought as I picked up the hot mug with slightly shaking hands. Taking a deep swallow I willed the caffeine to get moving though my jet lagged system.

They had a party. Remember that. A party they knew better than to have.

Then the room was full of two worried, half naked young men.

I sat back in the slipper chair. ‘Silly name’, I thought, ‘Except it is a great chair wide and comfortable but has no arms. Perfect for taking guys over my knee.’

I saw both sets of eyes glance to the wooden paddle on the end table.

“Okay, Peter, tell me what happened please. Why is there a keg floating in the pool?”

“Santa Ana Winds”, replied Peter in a defensive manner.

“Peter! We can start with a spanking and then get an explanation if you wish!”

Peter drew himself up to his full height.

“What does it matter? You are going to paddle us anyway!”

His hand went to the waist band of his briefs and yanked them down; he practically threw himself over my lap.

“Peter! Stop it!” Alan cried.

My arm went around the small of his back and held him there.

“Settle down young man, this happens on my time frame not yours and you can stop trying to protect Alan!”

I barked, as my hand cracked down on his bared butt hard.

“Get up! You are not in charge here young man.”

My arm slipped under his chest and lifted him to his feet.

“Now sit down and behave!”

Peter was in full protection mode. His love for Alan and me was powerful he always wants to throw himself on the grenade.

‘Thank God for brats,’ I thought. Peter's words and actions spoke to me far more than just the surface.

Looking at him still pacing like a young lion, his butt displaying a nice red hand print, Alan standing there looking at the floor, my Top sense snapped into effect.

Here were two bad brats. Yes, the house was clean and spotless. Yes, as Art pointed out, they busted their butts cleaning and making our home beautiful. I didn't check the refrigerator but I would wager my favorite dinner was in there. So yes, they did what they thought they could do to feel better, they did clean and they did shop and bake and all the rest.

However they had a party. The guilt was eating them both alive. We have a way to deal with that.

I stood up, in charge now and in full Top mode. My jet lag was gone. My exhaustion was gone!! Most importantly, my indecision was well and truly gone.

At my movement Peter stopped in mid stride and sank to the floor. Alan let out a small yelp of surprise and sat as well.

I stood, hands on my hips, my eyes raking over these two men I loved. Yes, I could see it still there: guilt, worry and in Alan’s case, beginning panic. It was time to be in control.

I held my hand out to Alan. His face paled and tears started to fall. He stood.

I pulled him to me and I hugged him tightly. Then, sitting down, I pulled him over my knee. I peeled down his boxer briefs, my mind now sure and clear. That fine male ass was not causing me any arousal.

Down came my hand on the bared cheek. I wanted this to make an impression. I continued spanking his butt, holding his body against mine, my one arm keeping him is place as my other hand landed again and again across those bare cheeks now beginning to glow pink.

Alan was not a stoic. His crying increased. I know that it was not because of the pain. Hell he wasn't really sore yet.

This was the emotion, the outflow and inside the crying was a release. His legs kicked and I held him tighter, my hand spanking those cheeks farther down on the lower parts of those cheeks. The hand cracking across his pale to now becoming red butt echoed off the walls.

Peter was cursing a blue streak under his breath. He hated to see Alan get spanking as a punishment. I landed a harder swat causing Alan to gasp and Peter glanced up.

“You both did it, Peter eyes right here”, I said in a firm tone.

His young male face, almost a fully formed man's face, still had the lack of an edge. He eyes were haunted as he watched my hand descend on his lover/ partner/ buddy/ best friend’s bare backside, wincing as each lick landed.

This was my job. I wanted both to know I knew they did it together. When they do get a spanking usually it is together. I have found that Alan draws strength from both of us there. I also know it drives the punishment home more fully to Peter. I swear he would not say a word, but when Alan is in pain he cannot control his eyes or his emotions.

Yet his inner feelings of our agreement and our rules make his presence a good weather vane for me. He is not resentful; he is not hiding any hidden anger. Alan, my lover, my heart, would take a spanking from me if I thought he needed one. He would pull down his pants and his briefs and willingly lay over my knee, whether or not he thought he deserved it.

Peter would rather take a beating from a stranger than let Alan come to harm, so when I have Alan across my knee I am trusting my Top instincts. I trust them fully but it is a great side boost to know where Peter's head is at.

It is also a mercy for Alan to get it over with. I love Alan and I love his sense of humor and fair play. He is inventive but very rarely mean in his ideas. I feel we have come some distance because he is no longer mean to himself. When we were a new three some, and I was just learning my boys and my boys were just learning me, I thought his self-deprecating humour was a shield. It was. It was fear basically. Over the years he has discovered that he is a good man and he doesn't need to do that anymore.

I know, I know, I have a man across my knee. I am whaling on his bare butt. Yet I am talking about loving him and his feelings. I'll share with you a Top secret: we don't like spanking or hurting our lovers. Now don't get me wrong, a night of hot sex with a good side order of erotic butt warming is something else altogether. But I didn't fly a zillion miles today, be gone for three days and two nights, and rush home to hurt the boys I love. Yet as hard as Alan might deny this, it does hurt me more than it hurts him. Yet I am the Top. I am in charge and sometime that means I have to take steps. It can't be all fun and games. Sometimes it is just plain something I know I have to do. Please don't get me wrong. I love Alan's butt and I think it is the sexiest thing in the world when it is wiggling over my knee, all hot and stinging, and he is pleading and begging for me to stop; when his front is hard and erect and we are playing. But having his bare butt over my knee like this hurts me. Yet it is something that we need to do.

I stopped spanking and rested my hand, stinging slightly, on the burning flesh of his bared butt cheeks. He was sobbing and crying. He was hurting. He’s a well spanked young man. I rested my hand on his burning butt and fixed Peter with my best Top look.

“Tell me about the party Peter”, I said in a commanding voice.

He ducked his head and I could see a tear fall to the carpet.

“Look at me!” I snapped.

Out it came. It was a party. He and Alan had met up with some of their friends. It was a warm day and the pool beckoned. It didn't take long to make it happen. They had done good things as well; they kept the good liquor locked up. They had beer and pizza. It didn't even get out of hand, according to Peter’s slow, monotone voice. Alan’s sobs were a counter point to this tale of boys being boys. Alan was calming down a bit, his crying had started to quiet down to sniffs and hiccups. Just a stupid, spur of the moment thing that escalated.

“We have rules. I am as close as my phone. You could have called and asked. You didn't have to try to hide it. All I wanted you to do was show me the respect we have for one another.”

Alan’s tear strained voice muttered that it was done and set up before they even thought about that. Peter added that after the party got started they both met in the kitchen and just wanted it over and done with. The guilt was setting in even before the party ended. They knew! They knew!

God I love them so.

“Then let’s finish this”, I said.

I picked up the wooden paddle and rested it on Alan's hot bare butt.

With a crack I landed it across both cheeks. That paddle is light weight but it packs a sting. Using mostly my wrist I landed ten good solid licks to my boy’s bare backside. His tears started almost at once and he was kicking and begging after the third strike.

Then it was over. I sat the paddle on the table and gathered my boy in my arms, holding him and rocking him as he cried into my shoulder. Alan's butt was glowing red. It wasn't a spanking spanking. It was a good spanking, enough to remind them that I was a part of this. I wanted this to underscore the party. The party itself and most importantly, a party given without permission. I wiped Alan's face with my handkerchief. I stood him up and pointed to a place in front of the chair. Alan knelt, his feet keeping his sore bottom off the floor.

“Peter,” I said.

Peter stood he looked at Alan and his hand touched Alan's shoulder. I sat back down pulling him with me until he was across my knee. Peter hated this part. He was stiff. My arm went around his middle and my other hand rested on his bared butt. I started, my hand landing hard across his bare cheeks. Harder than with Alan. Don't let anyone tell you it is always the same because it isn't Peter is bigger and stronger. He has a mental toughness Alan has not. Peter's head was down and there was just the sound of my hand landing across those hard male butt cheeks. He was reddening nicely. Still Peter was the stoic one. When we played he was all laughter and groans, gasps and giggles. He loved the sex play spankings as much as we all did. They were different, he was vocal. He would wiggle and kick and beg.

One soft curse. His hard young man ass was tense. He was feeling this and I knew it. He knew I knew it and we both knew Alan knew it. I glanced at my other boy, his eyes on Peter, tears running down his cheeks.

I stopped and picked up the paddle. Taking a firmer grip I began to lay that paddle across Peter's butt with hard, crisp cracks. After a few I stopped. Peter's ass was glowing red and the heat was pouring off it. Still not a sound. I knew he was feeling it and it was normal. Peter was always harder to spank. He would clamp down his feelings, bury them.

“Peter! Do you control your punishment? Do you tell me who I am going to spank or not spank?”

I landed the paddle down hard.

“No!” he yelped.

I landed five more good solid licks to remind him. They made the difference. He was gasping now. Dropping the paddle on the carpet I pulled him into a hard embrace. His arms went around me his head against my chest, my chin resting on his head.

“I decide the spanking around here my man”, I said.

I felt his head nod then then dam broke. His gripped me tight his head nodding his voice thick with tears.

“Aww, Russ, I love you.”

I pulled him to his feet standing with him my arms around my lover, my brat. my life. Then Alan threw his arms around Peter and I. We were locked together. We stood there for a minute. My arms around my boys, their arms around me.

I was home.


by Randy Williams 

My nose is stuffed up. My face is stiff. My chest hurts.

I am resting where I belong. My head on his shoulder, pressed into his neck. Breathing in his scent. My ass is on fire and I don't want to look. I am at peace. I snuggle into his neck and whisper , "I love you."

His hand cups my still burning bare butt.

"I love you, too", he replies.

Safe once again, I drift off to sleep.

Saturday, October 8, 2011


Just a drabble jotted as I listen to a fave song. 


"...the children of the earth, they looked like two girls rolled up in one..."
-Origin of Love

"Where are our fairytales? Our Creation stories?"

She rolled atop me; legs fitting around mine so I could feel the warmth of her, curls of hair damp, pressed against my thigh. She always felt safer this way, with her soft, giving belly covered and I liked the heat of her under my hand, fingertips idly tracing her body.

I felt her chin lift from my chest as she looked at me.


I bent my knee, bringing her closer to my mouth and increasing the pressure against her. Kneading her stinging cheeks with a stinging hand, I had my answer.


Sunday, October 2, 2011

'Not Our Fault' Part Two

'Not Our Fault' Part Two
by Randy Williams

I followed Peter to his corner and watched as he stripped down to just his briefs. He gave me a look and his eyes went all smoky with concern.

"Russ we didn't mean too..." Peter started the whine.

I was fading fast and didn't have the time, or right now with all the warm thoughts of what I wanted our welcome home to be, the patience to listen. I took his jeans with me and left him facing his corner.

Down the short hall, Alan was standing near his corner. His eyes filling, his face looking miserable.


"Now, Alan!"

He too stripped down to his boxer briefs.

I gave him a curt nod and he turned to face his corner. I left the room with two pairs of still warm jeans.

I know, I know. Separate corners in separate rooms can seem to be a bit, well, excessive. However these were my brats and they were - if nothing else, besides that is, looking so damn cute and so hot - endlessly inventive. I had the pants and left them in just their briefs because it was what, just last month I caught them TEXTING while in the corners? No pants, no phones. That night a new rule was written in stone along with a warning they stop that nonsense or they would be doing corner time naked!

Grabbing my two- suiter in the other hand, I trudged up the stairs to our master bedroom. Frankly I just wanted to cry. I know. I know I'm a Top we don't cry. We maintain order. We hold crying brats. Hell, we make brats cry; I can, with just a LOOK, not to mention the paddle hanging on the back of the bathroom door. I was muttering as I stripped off my clothes, "I'm a Top. I'm a Top." That lasted until I was in the bathroom and had the shower running. The trouble is I don't feel like a Top right now. I let the hot water sluice over my head and sighed deeply, thinking back to my brat days. I loved my Top and he was good. We were good together. He took this confused kid off the junk heap. Showered me with firm, stern love. Let me rest. Let me become the man I am now.

Right now I was exhausted. I hurt and really, all I wanted to do was curl up in His arms. I didn't want to be the bad ass. Hell, I had thrown a few parties. Hell, I had been right where those two were! Standing on starting-to-ache legs; worried about the condition of their butts. Alan would be sure by now that I would become the ogre and throw him out. Peter would be outwardly stoic but I could mentally see him running his fingers though his dirty blonde hair repeatedly; a sure sign of inward stress. Do they know? Do they have any idea? Can I make them understand?

My life was so empty after Art died. We had been together for years. Then BAM! A damn drunk driver. My life was over.

I did good, I did. With help from a few other Tops and friends of Art I became what I am.

I am a Top. But what is a Top without his brat? Or in my case, as a grin flashed across my face, my brats? I leaned against the shower wall. I wanted just to stay there. But there were two men downstairs.

I turned the water to cold and stood there until I was shivering. Then I was out groping for a towel. I felt one and dried my head.

"Well boy, you have a small problem don't you!"

I dropped the towel to my shoulders and there was Art, standing there with that damn grin on his face. The first time this happened I thought I was going mad.

I resumed drying my chilled body. "Yeah, old man, I do and it's your fault!!" I snapped.

He chuckled. Bastard! He actually chuckled.

"Russell, if I were here and alive I would put the paddle to good use. Dead or alive, you don't talk to me like that. Now keep drying, you are going to catch your death. I have told you and told you, cold showers like that can really mess you up. Keep rubbing. Harder! Get warm, you idiot boy!"

Then he sat on the sink chuckling.

"You feelin' a bit sorry for yourself?"


"Those two butts, hmmm, to spank. Nosiree, I don't feel sorry for you one bit! Rub, boy. Get dry, they are waiting. I hope I taught you better than to keep a brat waiting too long."

"Art", I whined. Yes, I actually whined. God if those two downstairs knew I was whining to the ghost of my old Top...

"Russell, they are good brats, mostly. Hell boy, better than you were. Did you see what they did yet? They busted their asses to get this place clean. Yeah I know, mostly for their behinds but for you, too. Right now Peter is holding Alan who is sobbing in his arms. My boy, you do know how to pick good lookin' young men. Damn if you don't!"

When he said Alan was crying my arm reached for the door. It is automatic: my brat, my lover, was crying.

"You old softy!" he chuckled

"Now get some clothes on, make a cup of joe and settle those two men down! They love you, man. As much as you love them. Damn iffin I didn't raise a good one here."

I wrapped the towel around my waist and started for the bedroom.

"Russell, ain't you forgettin' something?"

Art said grinning at me with pure mischief in his eyes as he nodded toward the paddle hanging on the back of the door.

I reached up and took the paddle in my hand and headed toward the bedroom. I Am A Top.

As I left the bathroom I swore I heard a soft, "I love you, bub."

I turned quickly to see just an empty bathroom.


I Wish You'd...

Look at him, sprawled across the bed; those gloriously tempting dimples in the small of his back just made for my tongue…

"I wish you'd wear pyjamas to bed."

Tim twisted to face me, looking, well, slightly put out.

"Something wrong?" he demanded, before scurrying out the far side – awkward bugger- and wrenching open bottom drawer for those items kept on hand for when parents and siblings stop over.

"Happy now, M'lord?!"


I reached out, hooking thumbs in the waistband and doffing them to his knees in a move I just love.

"Nothing like undressing a naughty boy first thing."

Saturday, October 1, 2011

Back to Normal

by Randy Williams

He bent me over his hard lap; his arm trapped me in that position at all brats love to hate. His deep dark voice rumbled above me about not cleaning the patio and going out with Chris instead. I squirmed as I felt his hands pull down my white briefs. Then felt the cool wooden back of the bath brush......