Dear readers,
This is my version of a real life spanking that happened to one of my readers that wrote to tell me about his own late in life punishment spanking from his father, he kindly consented to allow me to turn it into a story.
I paused underneath the light on the porch and checked my wristwatch--it was four in the morning! I suddenly remembered that I had promised my parents that I'd be home for supper which was at six or so, I was a little late for sure. Good thing that I'm almost twenty five years old, in my younger days Dad would have whupped my butt for me for a few months every Saturday for sure.
I guess I should explain that last statement. You see, Dad had this system for my punishments which were always a spanking on my bare backside. I'd earn so many spankings for each period of time that I was late returning home from when I said I'd be there or was told to be home, I'd also get spankings for poor grades on my report card. A's and B's were fine with Dad, spankings started to be doled out with anything from a C+ on down in increasing numbers according to the grade. For example, a C+ earned me one spanking, a C two spankings, a C- three and so on. A bad report card would keep my behind sore for a very long time.
That's not to say that Mom was adverse to applying a bit of corporal punishment herself, I will have to say that her hairbrush and switch were applied to my bottom on quite a few occasions but for more serious breaches of behavior it was Dad that saw to my punishment.
I walked into the house and started for the stairs and then heard Dad clear his throat in the darkened living room.
"Son," he said, "you're a bit late, aren't you?"
"Jeeze, Dad," I said, "I'm sorry, time just slipped away from me. I was out with my buddies and just plain forgot to call, I'm sorry." Normally I would always call home if I was going to be out late but this time I just simply forgot to.
Dad came into the dimly lit hall. "I was pretty darn worried about you," he said, "I was just about to start calling around to the hospitals in the area and darn near called the police to see if you had been arrested for some reason. I don't see why you couldn't have taken just a minute to call home to tell us that you'd be late then I could have gotten to bed at a normal hour and not have had to stay up wondering where you were."
I was stammering my apologies when Dad interrupted me. "I think that maybe a good spanking would remind you of your duties," he said, "what do you think?"
I felt an instant stirring in my pants as my penis came suddenly erect, so hard it almost hurt. I had always had some kind of love/hate thing going on when it came to getting spanked, I hated how much it hurt for Dad's spankings were rather involved and long lasting but at the same time baring my butt for punishment was a tremendous turn on for me, I'd get erect at just the mention of a spanking and stay that way all through the punishment with me still most of the time being firmly erect after the spanking was over with my balls aching from the need to cum. The few times that I wasn't hard after a spanking were because I had shot off during the spanking, something that Dad considered an 'accident'. I really hated it when that happened for although the feeling of getting spanked while you are cumming is wonderful, the slaps you get after you are done just burn like anything, they feel about a hundred times worse than normal slaps. The minute or so of pure pleasure of cumming was not balanced in the least by the sheer blazing agony of the spanking that happened after the fact for Dad never stopped my spankings until he was satisfied that I had been punished well.
This time I think that if I had refused to take a spanking nothing more would have been said about it but I had made an agreement a long time ago with my parents that as long as I was living under their roof I was subject to their discipline which included spankings so I simply said, "Yes, Dad, maybe it would." We agreed that the punishment would take place the next morning while Mom was at her hairdresser's appointment. She had gone to the hairdresser's every Saturday as long as I could remember, Dad driving her there because she didn't have a license, always at 11:00 in the morning and it always lasted a couple of hours. Dad and I had the house to ourselves at this time and it was most of the time used for spanking me.
I had still been getting spanked all the way through college though not as often due to the fact I lived on campus. The problem was that grades were always mailed to the house just before we had a break from school and there always seemed to be a subject or two that I had not done my best in which resulted in me getting a hiding. Or two, or sometimes more. Many times I had gone back to college with the marks of my latest spanking still visible on my rump which made for conversation in the showers. This led to some teasing but not as much as you might think, more than one of the guys showed signs of parental displeasure on their backsides after a break from school. It was just that it was the era in time when spankings were still used a lot for disciplining wayward or lazy boys.
I woke up the next morning about eight or so with a raging erection. Okay, I did so normally but this time visiting the bathroom didn't take care of the problem. This always happens when I know that I'm going to be spanked. I got dressed and went downstairs to breakfast.
The morning just dragged on and on, there is nothing worse than knowing that you are going to get a spanking and having to wait for it. I busied myself around the place until it was time for Dad to take Mom to her hairdresser's appointment.
The time finally came and Mom headed out the door to the car. Dad paused at the doorway and said, "I'll be right back, son, get things ready."
"Yes, Dad, will do," I said. He closed the door and I heard the car start up and back out of the drive.
I went up to my bedroom and got the belt and paddle and brought them downstairs. They hang in plain sight in my bedroom and all my friends know exactly what they are used for, heck, they mostly have something similar hanging on their own walls! Boys just got spanked a lot back in those days and most fathers seemed to find it amusing to have the implements of their punishment hanging where all can see. I went back downstairs to the living room and placed the belt and paddle on the coffee table and pulled the heavy straight chair from the wall and put it in the center of the room. I then lowered my pants and briefs to below my knees to await Dad's homecoming. This was all part of the ritual and it had gone on as long as I can remember. My boner was usual as well and had also been part of the ritual forever though I had a lot more to show than back when I was little and was in the same state, it caused no comment from Dad at all.
Dad got home in about ten minutes and locked the door once he had entered the house, this was private time between him and me. He sat in the chair and without a word I lowered myself over his knees, tucking my stiff penis down so it draped outside his right thigh. He got me positioned properly to present my bottom well for the punishment it was about to get and the spanking started.
There was never any big conversation between us during a spanking, we both knew why I was in this position. Dad had pushed my T-shirt up underneath my arms as I lay down so I was for all intents and purposes naked between my armpits and knees. He took a firm grip around my chest with his left arm and started to slap my naked butt cheeks with his strong right hand.
Now at age twenty four almost twenty five a hand spanking is not enough to make me cry but boy, doesn't it smart! Dad doesn't spank really hard, he wants to make my bum sting, not bruise a lot, but he spanks a lot. I was over his knees for a good fifteen minute of steady slapping of his hand which got my bottom pretty toasty hot all over, buttocks, hips and all, every place that he could reach in my laying down position. A single slap of a hand on a bare bottom doesn't hurt a lot but the results are cumulative and many, many swats all over a guy's behind add up to a pretty sore bottom.
After the hand part of the spanking was over Dad let me get up to prepare for the second part. I slipped my pants and underwear off from where they had been kicked to my ankles during the hand part of my spanking, I do tend to kick a bit when Dad smacks a tender spot. This time, as he sometimes does, he had me take my shirt off as well so I was stark naked for the second phase.
I moved over a bit in the living room and knelt down on the carpet, head touching the floor and my bottom up and legs spread as wide as possible. This was to expose the previously unspanked areas of my bottom for his attention but they didn't stay unspanked for very long. Dad picked up the belt and doubled it over and walked to my left side and began to change the color of my crack to match the rest of my ass. Dad's belt is about an inch and a half wide and very supple, almost tailor made to spank a boy's crack and asshole and spank both he did, many, many times. Getting your asshole whipped with a belt hurts like fury but at the same time it sent sensations through my crotch making me drool out pre-cum in a silvery stream to the floor out of my stiff penis. The feelings in my balls and boner almost canceled out the fiery pain of getting my butt hole slapped. I was sobbing a bit by the time this part of the spanking had gone on for a while, Dad spanked just about everything but my nut sack with that belt all hot and sore.
Dad finished up the belt part of the spanking by letting out just the buckle end of the belt and giving me a goodly dozen cracks with the buckle on the fat, meaty part of each side of my sore butt to prepare me for the final part of the spanking.
Dad put the belt back on the table and picked up the paddle, one that he had made just for the sole purpose of tanning my bottom for me. It didn't look like much, the business end was about a foot long or so but he knew how to use it and use it well. He sat back in the chair and I got up without being told and once more lay down over his knees, the only difference this time being I was still naked as the day I was born. His strong arm went back around my chest and the paddling started.
Dad would pretty much confine his swats with the paddle to my lower buttocks, say from my asshole down, the area of me that hit the chair when I would sit and boy, didn't he paddle that area sore! No heavy beating, just a constant slapping with the paddle again and again while blisters formed on my sore backside. This is the phase of a spanking when I start crying in earnest and this time, even at my advanced age, was no different. It is also the part of the spanking that I tend to cum but not this time, I just lay there while Dad paddled my lower buttocks raw and sore. He slapped that special spot on a boy bottom, right where your butt meets your legs an awful lot, making sort of an upward swat to insure getting the underside of that sensitive area very sore indeed. He also spanked about a paddle width or so onto the backs of my thighs to make me darn sure to remember this spanking every time I sat down. Once my entire lower bottom was blistered and sore he let me get up.
"Son," he said, rising up from the chair, "I hope that this is the last time we have to do this, both of us are getting too old for this kind of stuff." He left the room to give me time to finish crying and put the stuff away before Mom got home. That was always part of my duties when it came to spankings, too. I put the chair back and picked up my clothing and the tools, pausing to wipe the pre-cum from the carpet with the cuff of my pants, and then headed upstairs to my room, still naked. I put the tools back on their hooks and then took myself in hand and took care of my erection, spewing long and hard all over the floor of my bedroom. I cleaned up the floor of the cum spots and got into bed with just a sheet covering my sore, red backside and fell asleep.
That was the last spanking that I ever got from Dad but somehow I missed those father/son sessions in the living room while Mom was getting her hair done. I almost asked him a few times to spank me like he used to all the time but never got up the courage to do so, I have a feeling that he liked to spank me as much as I sort of liked getting spanked, why else the elaborate routine every time he did spank me? Either one of the tools would have lit my ass on fire very well indeed if just punishment was the goal of the exercise, actually getting paddled or belt whipped hurts a lot more if done on an ass that hadn't been previously 'warmed up' by hand. I don't think that he hurt me just for the enjoyment of hurting me, he was a great person when he wasn't spanking me. I do think that he got some kind of a kick out of seeing my snowy white behind turn pink and then red as he slapped and slapped it with his hand, the rest of the routine was just to make darn sure that I felt it for a while. Even when he whipped my crack and asshole with the belt I think he was just turning white skin red and using the best tool for the purpose, the belt fit into my crack a lot better than his hand would.
I guess that I will never know what motivated him to get so elaborate with my spankings, I just never got up the gumption to ask him.