Andy’s Gift

Part 4: You're a Mean One, Mr. Grinch

Finally, the door closed and Andy and Chris found themselves alone. The silence fell hard on Andy’s ears, and he nestled closer to Chris. His crying became audible and as he started to sob, Chris held him closer, rubbing his back soothingly as he worked up the resolve to do what he had to do. He had been so hoping there wouldn’t be a need for this today, and he was cursing himself for allowing such a late night last night. As wonderful as it had been, it had clearly not been good for Andy. The late night combined with the early morning wake up call and the overall frenzy of the last week had left his partner in a state of complete emotional exhaustion, and an incident of this kind had almost been bound to happen.

Chris sighed, “Go on Baby, get your book,” he whispered finally, and with a dramatic, shuddering sigh of his own, Andy turned back into the dining room. It didn’t take him long to retrieve the required item, and Chris took it from him, wordlessly. He transferred it to the same hand that held the fly swatter, and then taking Andy’s hand in his own, he led his weeping partner towards the stairs.

Chris’ heart ached as they climbed the steps and made their way down the hallway to their bedroom. Andy’s plaintive sobs continued to fill the air and Chris wanted nothing more than to turn and take him in his arms, but they had to get this over with. Spankings were always hard of course, but something about this right now just seemed extra hard. ‘Well to begin with, it’s Christmas,’ Chris pondered miserably, ‘and he’s so tired!’

He let go of Andy’s hand as they entered their room, and as a precaution, went to the windows, drawing the curtains shut. He did not think it likely that the neighbors would be able to see, the way their house was situated, and they had more than two hours left before they had to worry about guests arriving. Still, Chris was an extremely private person. He was very protective of Andy and particularly sensitive to his partner’s feelings ever since the incident involving Douglas had occurred. It had been over four years ago now, but the memory was still fresh and though Andy had forgiven him long ago, he had not forgiven himself.

He turned from the windows and was touched to see his distraught partner fretfully pushing his jeans down and off. He didn’t intend to spank Andy very hard, and had chosen the fly swatter for that reason. When applied briskly, it delivered a pretty good sting and Andrew would be sore for a couple of hours, but then the sting would fade, leaving a vaguely warm reminder in its place. It was enough given Andy’s sensitive heart. The process of the spanking was what undid his partner, Chris knew, and the flyswatter would therefore be a more than affective way to get his point across. The last thing he wanted was to cause any lingering discomfort that would lead Andy to feel anxious around their guests this afternoon.

Chris continued to watch in tender amazement as Andy, now wearing nothing but his new Christmas boxers, hung his jeans and turtleneck neatly over the beat up old armchair in the corner of the room. Andy under normal circumstances never hung anything anywhere except at Chris’ insistence. He settled on the bed, placing the notebook and flyswatter beside him, and looked at his partner with wistful eyes as Andy turned to face him. “Come here baby,” he called softly and Andy burst into tears again as he crawled across the bed and into his partner’s arms, burying his face on his shoulder.

Chris held him close and stroked his hair, just letting him cry for a while, and when at last Andy began to calm again some, he picked the black notebook off the bed and opened it. Keeping one arm around his partner, he began to thumb through it until he found where this theme of interference had started. Andy pressed his tear stained cheek against his partner’s chest and looked with him as Chris flipped through page after page: The blue pen (first warning), the yellow pen (take heed), the first set of red lines signifying his third and final opportunity to avoid a spanking, and finally the lines he had written earlier today. Typically, there would not be a second set of red lines. Three warnings were all he got.

Today, however, Chris had found himself in a predicament. Jim and Eliza’s presence in the house had prevented him from administering the spanking immediately, and he had needed a way to distract his partner. The act of writing lines was as good a way as any to minimize the anxiety he knew would otherwise eat at Andy until the punishment occurred.

Chris sighed. It helped both of them to see from a visual stand point how much conversation had taken place on the topic, and in this particular case, there had been a whole lot of discussion. Chris glanced at his partner’s face as he continued to flip the pages. Andy had definitely grown calmer. It was time to get this over with. He turned the next page and paused, staring down in surprise and then shifting his eyes to his partner once more. Andy was looking up at him now, a slight blush in his cheek. “It’s a remarkable drawing, Love,” Chris whispered affectionately without a single hint of facetiousness. It always took him by surprise what Andy could do artistically with the most limited resources imaginable. He looked back at the page now, noting the careful detail and loving attention that had been paid to every feature. Andy had drawn himself bottom up over Chris’s lap, tears gushing, his partner’s hand poised and ready, and he had definitely used the red pen to its best advantage. Chris felt tears burning his own eyes, and he brought his fingers up to brush them away. Obviously, Andy’s anxiety had found another way to manifest itself, a way that Chris had not anticipated.

“It’s an unbelievable drawing,” he repeated gently. “It’s not exactly what you were supposed to be doing, though is it?” This time there was just a hint of scolding sarcasm as Chris dropped his hand lightly to Andy’s bottom.

“You were going to spank me, anyway. I didn’t think it mattered,” Andy sobbed turning his face into his partner’s chest again. Chris didn’t deny it; he just pressed his lips to Andy’s forehead and brought his hand caressingly to his shoulder, hugging him close once more.

“Tell me why a spanking is necessary, Love,” Chris whispered, pressing his cheek against the top of Andy’s head.

“Because I interfered, again, between Jim and Jake,” Andy sobbed.

“Ugh huh and . . .,”

“. . . and we’ve already discussed this . . .,”

“Many times,” Chris agreed. “What else?”

“I’ve had three warnings,” Andy clutched at his partner, knowing punishment was imminent, now, and Chris rubbed his back soothingly.

“Yes you have,” Chris acknowledged again. “Stretch out!” Chris patted his bottom lightly, and Andy clung to him, starting to sob once more. Chris waited patiently and finally Andy did as he was asked, stretching his legs out diagonally on the bed and pressing his face into Chris’ legs.

“Come on you,” Chris chided with fond amusement, “get up here.” Andy inched closer and with a sigh Chris gripped his torso and hauled him over his lap.

“Chris, please!” Andy sobbed as his hands flew back to cover his now vulnerable hind end.

“Hands, Caro,” Chris commanded quietly. Chris used his pet name for Andy in moments when he was feeling especially tender, and the sound of it now had a much greater affect on his partner than a reproof would have had in its place. Andy instantly removed his hands, clutching the comforter instead and hiding his face as Chris gently tugged his underwear down to rest just below his bottom. “I know how fond you are of Jake, Baby,” Chris laid his hand lightly on his partner’s bottom as Andy cried, “and he is a wonderful kid, but he is head strong and obstinate at times. He doesn’t always think before he opens his mouth, like someone else I know,” Chris chided, giving his partner’s bottom an affectionate squeeze. Andy was not amused. “He needs limits, Andy, and he especially needs consistency. You may not agree with all the decisions Jim and Eliza make, but they are his parents, Sweetheart, and they love him. It is not up to us to question them. Every time you step between Jake and his father, you chip away a little at Jim’s authority. Does that make sense?”

“Yes,” Andy sobbed, “but it’s Christmas!”

“That is besides the point, Caro. Do you understand what I am saying to you?”

“Yes,” Andy cried, “yes, I understand and I’m sorry!”

“All right then, Love,” Chris gripped Andy’s waist and held him snugly. “Hopefully, this is the last conversation of this type that we will have to have.” With that Chris raised his hand and brought it down smartly on Andy’s bottom.

“Oww!” Andy yelped. “Oww! Oww! Oww!” Andy squirmed as the rain of smacks continued, but Chris gripped his waist and held him fast, continuing to burn his bottom with his hand. “Oww! Oww! OWWWW!” Andy wailed. “I’m sorry, please, please! Ok, I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” he choked, bucking and twisting to get away as his partner’s hand continued to fall.

Chris’ heart was full, but he was determined to teach a firm lesson and he applied his hand in a quick, rhythmic manner until his hand began to tingle. He pushed his partner’s hands out of the way twice, and the third time Andy reached, Chris pinned his wrist to his back. By the time Chris finally stopped, Andy’s bottom was glowing a bright, healthy shade of pink, and he was laying contritely over his partner’s lap as he sobbed into the comforter.

Chris stroked his partner’s hair and rubbed his bottom soothingly for a couple of moments, but then he started quietly, “Andy, it was more than your interference that upset me today. Your interference was certainly impertinent to begin with, but the tone you used with Jim was downright rude, Young Man!”

“No, Chris, No!” Andy panicked, sobbing harder as his partner pulled his underwear lower and picked up the fly swatter. “Please! I didn’t mean to be rude! Please!” Andy’s hands shot back in an attempt to protect his vulnerable bottom.

“You might not have meant to be rude, Andrew, but you were, nevertheless. Take your hands away!”

“Please, I’m sorry!” Andy sobbed, and he continued to clutch his bottom.

“I’m going to count to three, Caro, and then we’re going to the study,” Chris warned. “One . . .,” Andy pressed his face into the comforter, and his stomach heaved violently. His bottom was already so sore. “Two . . . .”

“No Chris, please!” Andy definitely did not want to trade their room and his comfortably, intimate position over Chris’ lap, for the colder more austere setting of the study. All of his most severe discipline sessions had taken place there; his bottom clenched involuntarily. No, he definitely did not want to visit the study right now.

“Move your hands, Caro.” Andy lay for another minute, indulging himself in his last millisecond of self pity. “Two and a half . . .,” Chris voice warned and at last Andy jerked his hands out of the way.

“OK!” he sobbed.

‘Thank God,’ Chris breathed an inward sigh of relief. He did not have it in him to visit the study today either. “Never again, Andrew,” he reprimanded, “will you ever address a guest in our home the way you addressed Jim today! Is that clear?”

“Yes,” Andy choked in a small voice.

“Good!” Chris responded and Andy screamed as the flyswatter snapped briskly into his already blazing bottom.

“Owwww!” Andy howled. “Ow! Ow! Owww!” He tried to crawl away, but Chris pinned him, holding him still and swatting his bottom vigorously. Slowly his bottom went from pink to red and Andy’s heart rending sobs filled the air. Still, Chris continued to spank, until once again his partner lay still, weeping in exhaustion.

Andy clutched the comforter and sobbed, balling his fists as the spanks continued to rain down, and letting all the emotion of the past several weeks go. He trusted his partner implicitly to know what he needed and as sore as he was he began to feel comforted by the warmth in his backside. Spankings from Chris provided what he felt he never had otherwise, an outlet for all his pent up emotion; emotion that he under other circumstances found it difficult to express. Finally, the spanking stopped, and a moment later Andy felt his partner’s warm, soothing hand on his bottom. Andy just wept, and wept and wept. It was several long minutes before he began to grow calmer. Finally, however, the vehemence of his distress lessened, and he laid completely still, rubbing at his eyes and pressing his face into the blankets. He was exhausted.

Chris, without a word, gathered Andy in his arms and cuddled him close, stroking his hair as he cried. He pulled Andy’s barely clinging boxers all the way off in an attempt to make his partner more comfortable, and reached for the spare blanket at the end of the bed. Andy pressed his face into the soft fuzz of Chris’ sweater, and as Chris pulled the blanket up over him, his eyes began to droop. Chris pushed the hair away from his hot forehead once more, planting a gentle kiss, and alternately rubbing Andy’s bottom and lower back until, finally, lulled by the quiet of the room and the warmth of his partner’s hand, Andy fell into the kind of deep, impenetrable sleep that only results from complete and utter exhaustion.