I decided enough was enough. While we were reading the morning paper I told John he was to report to me at three o'clock, stripped bare naked, with the leather paddle and a freshly-cut switch.
"Oh, man, don't use a switch, Fred. That time you used one really hurt. I can't take it again," John pleaded.
"We'll discuss that at three. I don't want to hear any more about it."
At three I was reading in my living room chair. Exactly on time the door opened and John entered. His tall, thin body was naked and his right hand held the wide leather paddle and a stick from the lilac out back. He closed the door, crossed to the center of the room, and stood facing me.
"I'm reporting for punishment, sir."
I slowly lowered the report I was studying and looked up and down John's body.
"How many nights in a row have you gotten completely drunk, John?"
"Four, sir."
"Do you think that is being excessive?"
"Yes, sir."
"Did I mention to you yesterday that I thought you needed to take a few nights off?"
"Yes, sir."
"And last night. You not only got drunk again, but you drove home after drinking, didn't you?"
"I know, sir." John began breathing hard. "Please, Fred, don't switch me."
"Did I tell you that you would have to cut your own switch if you ever drove drunk again, John?"
"Oh, man, Fred."
"Did I, John?"
"Yes, sir. You did."
"Very well. First you are to be paddled for your four-day binge. Go to the couch and lay on your stomach with your head toward the desk." John did as he was told, and his firm, round ass cheeks and lean back and legs filled the couch.
My chair is at the end of the couch where John's feet were and I gave him instructions while seated. "Now we're going to spread you open for Daddy's paddle, boy. Keep your face where it is and draw your legs up under you." John's ass lifted into the air. "Now put your leg up on the back of the couch." John put his right leg on the back of the couch, spreading his ass open. "And now bring the knee of this other leg over the edge of the couch so you'll be spread wide open."
Now he was ready for the paddle--his ass high in the air with his legs being forced apart by the wedge created by the couch.
"Tell me why you are going to receive a paddling from your Dad, John."
"Because I got too drunk for four days in a row, Dad." John's voice was somewhat muffled from his talking into the couch.
I got up and stood beside his ass cheeks. "That's correct, John. And now your ass is going to have to pay for it, isn't it, John?"
"Yes, sir."
WHAP! I landed the first stroke good and hard, square on the juncture of his two cheeks and legs. WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! I continued to land the paddle full force in the same place and I could see him trying to pull the tender, under part of his ass away from the paddle.
"You keep that ass out here, John. If I don't want to paddle the bottom of your ass I'll aim somewhere else. Now, your ass deserves this, doesn't it boy?"
"Yes, sir."
"So you keep it out here for me to give it what I decide it needs."
WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! I worked the paddle up his right cheek. WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! and his left.
WHAP! WHAP! the top of his right leg quivered in response to the paddle and I began to concentrate on the juncture of his right leg and right ass cheek as I lectured him "you WHAP! have WHAP! got WHAP! to WHAP! start WHAP! showing WHAP! some WHAP! restraint WHAP! in WHAP! your WHAP! drinking, WHAP! young WHAP! man. WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!
He was beginning to cry out and I had to tell him to get his left knee back over the edge of the couch.
WHAP! WHAP! I caught his left leg. And again I lectured as I began full force on the juncture of his left leg and ass cheek "I WHAP! don't WHAP! ever WHAP! want WHAP! to WHAP! see WHAP! you WHAP! --I was hitting harder with each stroke--"on WHAP! a WHAP! four WHAP! day WHAP! binge WHAP! again, WHAP! boy."
John was blubbering that the paddling was painful and that he'd never drink like that again.
"Have I made myself clear to you, John?"
"Oh, man, yes--yes, I promise. Oh, man." Again I aimed square for the spread-open center of his ass. "You better make sure you remember that promise, young man." WHAP! his ass tensed as the paddle stung the underside of his cheeks, the tops of his legs, and the tender spot beneath his balls. WHAP! I put more force behind it and WHAP! even more. WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! he tried to draw his legs together but the couch prevented him.
Then I aimed for the bottom of each cheek, catching a bit of the leg in the process. WHAP! the right. WHAP! the left. WHAP! the right. WHAP! the left.
WHAP! the right. WHAP! the left. WHAP! the right. WHAP! the left. WHAP! the right. WHAP! the left.
I paused. "Now, boy, you keep that ass up there and think about your drinking for awhile."
Back in my chair, looking at John's bright red butt and legs, knowing how they hurt. His large genitals swung slightly as he sobbed and moaned and caught his breath. I returned to my report as he stayed in position on the couch, his naked butt spread wide open and sticking high in the air. Perhaps five minutes passed. John's breathing had become normal and I told him he could put his knees together but to keep his ass in the air.
"Think you need more of that paddle to satisfy your need to drink too much, son?"
"No, sir. I really don't need any more of that paddle, Dad."
"Your butt sore, boy?"
"Yes, sir. Very sore, sir. Man, you've never paddled me like that before, Dad."
"Unfortunately, that's not as sore as it's going to get. You know that, don't you John?"
"Oh, man, Fred," he was genuinely pleading now, "please don't switch me, man.
I've learned. I promise I'll never give you a reason again if you'll just let me off this one time, man."
"You were fairly warned, weren't you, John?"
"Man, please don't."
"I repeat, You were fairly warned, weren't you, John?"
"Yes, sir."
"And you did it anyway, didn't you, John?"
"Yes, sir."
"Have I ever gone back on my word with you, John."
"No, sir."
"Then what makes you think I would go back on my word now?"
"Please, Fred. I'll believe anything you tell me in the future. Just don't make me go through with this."
"You get your ass out to the woodshed, John. Sit down on the chopping block and think about things while you wait for me. I don't want to hear anything more about my going back on my word and if I do hear any more pleading out of you I will begin landing this switch on your ass right now and I'll follow you all the way out to the woodshed with it.
"Now, get your ass out there."
John softly whispered, "Oh, man," as he got off the couch. He crossed to the door and as I saw his naked body and red butt leave the room I genuinely felt sorry for him. For what he had received to get those cheeks so red, but even more for what I knew he had in store.
Again I waited about five minutes, though it probably seemed much longer to John, sitting with his sore ass on the rough chopping block. The woodshed is a bit cool this time of the year and the burning on his ass and legs, made worse by the prickly wood, must have made a stark contrast to the chill of the rest of his body. I'm sure it kept his mind on his body and what was about to happen to it.
He had cut a good switch. About 1/4 inch thick and a little less than a yard long. I picked it up and headed to the woodshed, being sure to make enough noise so he would know I was coming.
John was sitting as he had been instructed, though by the way he was leaning forward I think he was trying to hide the fact he'd been playing with himself.
"Now, John, you can get drunk until you fall down and you're only going to hurt yourself. And you and I can have some fun with me being your Daddy and giving your ass some well deserved butt-bustings for it. I like it and we both know you need it.
"But when you drink and drive, John, you can really _f_u_c_k_ both of us up. Even if you don't hurt someone, you can make it so we don't have any money to go out for dinners or to get new things for the house or to go on some nice vacations. Even though we are just room mates, if you have to pay off a DUI it will effect how well both of us live.
"I will not have it. Do you understand?"
"Yes."
"That's why this switching is not going to come from your Daddy, or the coach, or the headmaster, or the prison guard, or any other of those people you like to get spankings from. This one is going to be just between you and me. Between Fred and John. Do you understand?
"Yes, Fred. I'm sorry, man."
"And I'll tell you this, John. Any time you drive drunk--for any reason or for any distance at all, even just across the street--you will be told to cut a switch. And I promise you that each switching will be harder than the one before.
"These are not for fun, John. They are to make it so you never drive drunk again. Do you understand?"
"Yes, sir."
"I want to have good aim during this, John, and this chopping block is too low. Take your ass over to that old iron bed frame and bend over the footboard of it." He seemed resolved to receiving the switching by now, as he stood and positioned himself in the center of the end of the bed frame. He bent over and rested his head on the bare mattress.
After telling him to spread his legs, I used bungy cords to secure his legs to the iron posts running up the footboard. It was going to be a long session, so I didn't wrap the cords around his legs so they could cut off the circulation. Rather I looped the cords around his knees, being sure his legs were spread out. I hooked another bungy cord to the springs, stretched it across his back under his arms, and secured it to the springs on the other side.
"Now, John. You had to go cut a switch for your ass, didn't you?"
"Yes, sir."
"Do not call me 'sir,' John. This switching is coming from your room mate and I want you to call me Fred. It is Fred who will be giving you what will hopefully be the most severe whipping of your life. Do you understand?"
"OK, Fred. I understand."
"Now, tell me why you are going to have your ass switched like some boy on the frontier."
"Because I drove drunk."
"And what will happen if you ever drive drunk again, John?"
"You'll switch me again, Fred."
"I'll switch you hard enough to make what you are going to get today seem merely like a warm-up, John. And believe me, you are not going to be thinking of this switching as anything but the worst whipping you ever want to get. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Fred."
"Before we begin, then, tell me one more time why you have been sent to cut a switch and why you will be whipped with it."
"Because I drove when I was drunk, Fred."
"Here it is."
I don't know if you know how excruciatingly painful a switching is. I remember from having my Dad take me out to the tree stump on the homestead. I remembered the trickle of blood and scars left by the switch reaching around and biting the sides of my ass and legs, so I held the switch just long enough to reach John's crack and I landed the strokes across the tops of his cheeks.
By the time the pain from the first stroke soaked in John had already received two more and I proceeded to whip his ass fast and hard as he screamed for me to stop, that he had learned his lesson, that he would never drive drunk again, that he really didn't want to go on with it, that his ass was sore, and that he'd never doubt my word to do what I said I'd do again. I slowed my pace and gave his legs a few strokes while lecturing him on how stupid it is to drink and drive, that he can call me or take a cab, or walk home.
I changed sides and evened up the score by whipping from the other side of his ass.
There have been times in long spankings when John would become quiet and take what was coming. But not with this switching. His pleadings became louder and more sincere as his ass was laced with red welts.
"Alright, John. You can rest a bit now. Then you'll receive ten more with this switch. You'll count before the stroke, so you'll have some control over how quickly they fall. If I have to wait too long for the count, however, I will give you a stroke to get you motivated and it will not apply to the count. Do you understand?"
John begged me not to give him a final count of ten, and especially not with the switch. And I certainly did not blame him for begging. His ass was completely red and very generously highlighted with the welts from the switch. The switch had frayed on the last half foot or so, making it even more vicious. I know the last thing I'd want in his position would be more of the same.
When his begging had stopped I very calmly and firmly addressed the situation:
"Why were you sent to cut a switch, John?"
"Because I drove when I was drunk, man."
"And why have you been switched like you have?"
"Because I drove home drunk."
"Has it been the worst beating you've ever received, John?"
"Oh, man, Fred--don't ever do this again, man. I don't like this at all, man. This ain't no fun at all."
"Has it been the worst beating you've ever received, John?"
"Yes, sir."
"And who sent you to cut a switch and used it because you've been drinking and driving, John?"
"You did, Fred?"
"And who am I?"
"My roommate, man."
"Are we friends?"
"Yes."
"Do we have great times together?"
"Yes."
"Now you listen to me, John. I enjoy living with you, and I enjoy playing your daddy and your headmaster and your prison guard when you need a little ass warming-up. But I am not going to let you _f_u_c_k_ up our household by jeopardizing yourself and others by drinking and driving.
"I am not going to let you do that.
"And I assure you that if you ever drink and drive again then this whipping will only look like a mild warm-up for the beating you will get next time.
"Do you believe me when I tell you that, John?" He assured me he did.
"And when we finally do get to this point, John, you will have twenty to count."
I paused to let that message sink in, and from his whimpering I knew he was thinking about it.
Then, very quietly, I said, "You have three minutes. Then you'll begin the count "
I waited on the old chair that's against the wall. I looked at my watch very frequently. John pleaded twice for me not to go through with the count, but his appeals were short in conviction and length.
In exactly two minutes and forty-five seconds I positioned myself across from his ass, switch in hand.
"You have fifteen seconds, John."
"One, sir."
SWACK The frayed end of the switch quivered the flesh of his ass as the stroke landed square across the center of his ass. In a moment the quiver shot through his body as he registered the pain from the hard blow and let out a loud yell: "Don't, man. Don't, man--please. I'll do anything, Fred. No more, please."
"Had I already told you you would be switched if you ever drank and drove, John?"
Yes, sir--yes, sir you had, but "
"Will you get it worse if you ever drink and drive again, Fred?"
"Oh, man--please."
"Don't keep me waiting too long on the count, boy. I don't think you want any of these that don't apply to the count, do you?"
"Oh, man," he whispered, putting his hands around his head and pausing about ten seconds. "Two, sir."
The second whistled through the air with more force than the first. We may get into switching games again in the future, but I was making sure John would never get horny for his roommate to switch him for driving drunk. SWACK.
He groaned, loudly, from deep inside as every muscle tensed. It was a full minute of soft moans escaping with his breath before he relaxed a little and counted, "Three, sir."
SWACK I returned to the stroke I had used on the first count, avoiding the two stripes the counts had left. But of course it was impossible to avoid the marks from the previous beating. It was all he could do to deal with the pain but there was not the absolute terror, the absolute inability to deal with it, that the first two strokes had carried. Both he and I knew he'd make it to ten at this point. And we both knew he'd never make it to twenty. However, I trust he's learned I am a man of my word, and twenty, should he drive drunk again, it will be.
"Four, sir."
SWACK I returned to the harder stroke, landing it on the bottom, tender part of his ass, and he responded in kind. He loudly pleaded for me to go easy and a sob was entering his voice.
"Why are you getting this switch, John?"
"Because I drove drunk, Fred."
"Will it be worse if I ever have to switch you for drinking and driving again?"
"Oh, sir--please, no. Yes. Yes, it will be worse."
"Then I guess you will call me for a ride, or walk, or take a cab from now on, won't you, John?"
He blubbered something about he sure will and he'd learned already and to please just don't land the last six, at least not now.
"Don't keep me waiting too long for the count, John."
A pause. He forced out, "Five, sir "
Again, the harder stroke, SWACK about half through his ass. The sob began to back each word of his pleas, which were now resolved to the inevitability of the count and were more for leniency than for acquittal.
I waited patiently.
Then, "Six, sir."
SWACK the stroke landed as hard as any. He swore to never forget. He promised between sobs and pleas. He calmed a bit and counted seven. Again full strength. SWACK Whether because the pain was so great or because his ass had gotten beat so hard it no longer could hurt worse, he was handling the strokes better. Or at least the thought of it being over was within reach and he concentrated on getting there. In less than a minute he had forced himself to mouth the words, "Eight, sir."
SWACK I was not letting up and he knew it. Caught between the misery and the need for it to be over, he assured me he'd never need to be in this position again. Try as he might, it still took well over a minute before he could force himself to say, "Nine, sir."
It took a while before I landed the ninth stroke. I knew he'd had enough. Physically, his ass certainly did not need any more welts or bruises or tiny cuts from the frayed switch. And I was sure he'd never drive after drinking while I was a part of his life. It seemed senseless to continue. Yet I did not want him thinking I would go this far and no farther if he should ever drink and drive again.
There came a time I knew I had to either continue or quit, that it was a breach of trust for him to have counted and for me to keep him neither switched or released.
SWACK the switch landed across both his thighs. The new, unexpected, and excruciating sensation caught his breath and he writhed in the pain, held in place, spread open by the bungy cords. I commanded, "Never again, John. Do you understand me?" I was assured that he did. "We are not playing spanking games now, John, and I mean it when I say I do not ever expect to have to treat you like this again, do you hear?" I was assured his hearing was working perfectly. "If you need a switching, you let me be dad telling you to cut a switch for skipping school, or you let me be headmaster using that cane when you get caught masturbating. We'll take care of you if you get horny for the switch. But don't you ever make me, your friend and your roommate, tell you to cut a second switch because you drove drunk. Do you think that's a good idea?"
Apparently it was about the best idea John had ever heard.
"Now, I don't believe we have finished the count."
He too a deep breath, paused, let it out, and sighed,"Ten, sir."
Again, SWACK the switch landed hard, square in the tender underside of his bare ass.
It took him about three minutes to get calm enough to stand. I began loosening the bungy cords after about a minute and a half, knowing they were extremely uncomfortable by now. He probably would have preferred to stay bent over the end of the bed but I also knew his hip bones needed to rest from the hard iron foot board. He rose stiffly when I told him to get up and I rubbed him on the shoulder.
"You O K, man?"
He rubbed his ass and legs. "I've always wondered what one of those would be like, Fred." He put his arm around my shoulder. "Thanks. But I swear I will never make you give me another."
And I don't think he will. What do you think? Think that would have gotten you to quit a bad habit?
I have had stories published in Stroke and Drummer magazines and have assembled ten year's worth of my work into a 64-page anthology. If you'd like information on that I'll be glad to send it. Write to Merrill