Johnnie M.

by Eddie Knapps <>

Johnnie M. was a younger, neighbor boy who spanked me regularly when I was between the ages of 12 and 14. In that sense, given he was not an adult but rather my contemporary, I guess he was my first MAN WHO SPANKS! That is, I submitted to getting spanked by him voluntarily (well, as you'll see, "more or less"!), and he certainly is somebody that, I have to suspect, has remained a committed disciplinarian all his life!

Johnnie was 2 years younger than I was and went to Catholic school instead of public school. The reasons were, perhaps, obvious. He was the kind of kid who, even at 10, had girlie magazines from someplace hidden under his mattress (and we're not talking PLAYBOY!) and would steal his mom's cigarettes to smoke down in the woods. He was an only child and lived with his mom (his dad was somehow mysteriously out of the picture) and was terribly spoiled. As such, he wasn't the most popular kid. He was thought of as "bad," though, at least when I knew him, he never really got into serious trouble, and even later, when I'd occasionally hear about him, it didn't seem like he'd turned into some kind of criminal type.

In a lot of ways, he was a very typical Southern boy of the time--trim with a blond "burr" and a powerful drawl. He was good at sports, especially baseball (he liked shortstop) and was a good swimmer, too (as was I). He was not that big a kid--average-size, I guess, perhaps slightly taller than most, with a sinewy, hard, boy's body. Even at 10, he was strong, as I was to find out to my grief, and had certainly grown stronger by the time my family moved away. Even though his grades weren't that good, he wasn't stupid. Indeed, as you will see, he had a VERY vivid imagination, and he certainly knew what he wanted from a very early age. If he lacked a "man's hand" around the house to keep him in line, he certainly, thanks to me and my poor bottom, DEVELOPED one at an early age!

Though I didn't know it at the moment, my relationship with Johnny was defined one August day not long after we moved into the neighborhood. Since I was new and lacked playmates close by, the 10 year old down the street would do until school began and I met boys my own age. The move had not been an entirely happy one, and the house we were renting was smaller than our old one, so my dad's emotions in those first days as we were settling in were maybe not the best. In any case, my new friend Johnnie and I were in the backyard simply hanging around, playing catch or throwing the football around or something, when my dad came out to ask me to help him in the garage. I really wasn't in the mood and wanted to play instead. I don't remember exactly WHAT was said, but my dad interpreted it as "sassy," and then, needless to say, the fat (of my fanny) was in the fire!

Sassiness was something my dad had NO patience with.

"WHAT as that, young man!" he roared. "You get over here RIGHT NOW!"

No need for that! He came stomping across the grass, grabbed me by the arm, propelled me across the back yard, and sat down on the back stoop. I knew what was going to happen, and was in a complete panic. My dad was going to give me a spanking, right there in front of my new playmate! And when my dad spanked me, it was ALWAYS on my bare bottom.

With one powerful yank, my dad pulled down my shorts and my underpants and flipped me across his lap. I shot one quick, frantic glance over my shoulder, and there was Johnnie! He was standing not even 10 feet away, a very slight grin on his face, while I was upended over my dad's knees with my bare bottom in the air!


Lecturing me all the while about my sassy mouth, my dad proceeded to use his calloused palm to administer a good, old- fashioned SPANKING to my squirming and very bare 12 year old behind-- all this under the watchful gaze of 10 year old Johnnie M.!

You must remember that, in the South in the early 1960s, pants down spankings were not at all uncommon for boys and even teenagers. Times changed rapidly in the decade, but early on, this kind of discipline was probably more the rule than the exception. At best, punishment occurred in the privacy of your bedroom or the basement or something like that, but sound and public blisterings weren't that unusual, especially for those younger. Certainly, I had seen playmates with their pants down kicking and wiggling over their dads' knees, and certainly they--like Johnnie in that moment--had seen mine!

There is no question that my dad KNEW how to spank, and in no time at all, my legs were windmilling in the air and I was WAILING my tearful apologies for being sassy. His big and experienced hand packed a real whallop, and though, by then (the summer between the 6th and 7th grade) I was just crossing the line into puberty, he could still cover a good deal of my still baby-smooth tail with a single smack. I got a real WHALING for my disrespect, and was bawling and bucking like a 5 year old. There's no doubt that I put on quite a show for Johnnie, kicking and crying and bouncing there across my dad's knee, and he remained there, rooted, watching the whole thing, start to finish. If anything, having my new playmate (and one 2 years younger at that!) present only made everything worse, and, sniffling in my room later, I could imagine how he would tell all the other kids of all ages in the new neighborhood what he had seen (which he, of course, did). I'm sure my little fanny one VERY ripe cherry by the time my dad was done and he sent me inside to stand in the corner, pants down, of course.

Mad as he was that afternoon, I was probably lucky I didn't have to stand on the porch like that!

In any case, there from the first, Johnnie got quite an eyeful of the kind of discipline I was subject to at home, as well as every embarrassing inch of my 12 year old backside. When I saw him next day, much to my horror, what he had observed was ALL he wanted to talk about--"Golly, you really got a spanking!" and "Does you dad always pull down your pants?" and "Boy, were you kicking!" and "Does your butt always get that red?" and "Gee, you were bawling like a 6 year old!"

He couldn't seem to get enough details. He questioned me about everything. ("Golly, it must hurt!"

"Do other people spank you too?"

"What do you get spanked for?"

"Does your dad spank you in front of your mom? Your brother? Your sister?"

"Do you get spanked a lot?"

"How often?"


"When was the last time he spanked you?"). In part, as Johnnie revealed to me, this was because he essentially NEVER got spanked. Maybe he got it at school, and he later admitted an uncle of his had spanked him a couple of times. But he never got it at home. I was soon to discover, however, that Johnnie's interest in bare bottom spankings, and particularly in MY bare bottom spankings, was not purely academic.

Not much long after, Johnnie took the blame for something so I wouldn't get into trouble, and for which I would have surely gotten blistered. That evening, we had been riding our bikes and had gone through a freshly seeded patch of lawn, and one of the neighbors complained to my father. When my dad called me on the carpet about it, there with Johnnie present, he said I hadn't done it, that I had stayed on the street, that it was he who "accidentally" wandered into the neighbor's yard. I don't know that my dad believed him, but, in any case, nothing more was said, and I was off the hook, or so I thought.

I was really relieved, AND grateful. Too, I may have been a bit surprised, in that, even then, I figured Johnnie would not have minded in the slightest watching me take another pants-down trip over my dad's knee, probably in the FRONT yard this time. From all his questions, he obviously had ENJOYED what he had seen the first time.

After my dad walked away, I said, "Wow! Thanks a lot!"

Johnnie replied, "Sure. Boy, I bet your dad would have REALLY given you a spanking for THAT."

And (stupidly, maybe) I said, "He sure would have."

At the point, Johnnie said, "Well, it'll cost ya." And then we went on playing.

Stupid me. I should have guessed right then the "price" he had in mind! Johnnie's mom worked at the pharmacy just a couple of blocks away, only part-time in the afternoons. Given her job was so close and everybody knew she was there, even at his tender age, Johnnie was left alone at home for four or five hours every weekday, usually from between 2 and 3 to between 7 and 8. The very next afternoon, we were down in the den of his house after his mom left for work, playing checkers. Johnnie started to talk about the previous day's events, how he had taken the blame, how the damage was at least as much my fault as it was his, how much trouble I would have gotten in if he hadn't lied, how my dad would have probably called the irate lawnowner and spanked me right there in front of the whole neighborhood, especially if he knew that I was letting Johnnie "take the rap" for something I was involved in, and so on.

"Boy," he said, "I bet you'd have gotten it even worse than you did the day I saw you get a spanking!"

He then went into shivering detail about that blistering, which he seemed to remember every moment of--the expression on my face, how I was crying, how my legs were flailing, what my bare bottom looked like spread over my dad's lap. ("I've never seen somebody so big bawlin' like that!"

"You should have seen your face!"

"Your rear was as red as a square on this checkerboard!"

"I could even see your butthole!"

"He sure makes you wiggle a lot!"

"You looked like a complete spaz!"

"I thought you were gonna kick your pants off right there!").

It was obvious the incident was a full, Technicolor feature in his memory! And from his giggles and grins, a COMEDY at that!

The whole discussion, of course, was making me squirm with shame. I kept trying to change the subject, but Johnnie would have none of that. If anything, he seemed to be ENJOYING my embarrassment, sitting there with a big smile as he described what my own pink and jiggling bottom looked like when I got a spanking.

Finally, he said, "Ya know, you STILL ought to get spanked for what you did."

So, the die was cast. It had finally occurred to me that the "cost" that Johnnie had mentioned the previous day was that HE was going to spank me instead of my dad! I played stupid, though I'm sure my voice was shaking. "Gee, what do you mean?"

Johnnie just smirked and drawled, "Well, since I got you out of it, I should get to spank you for it."

You know, when you're a kid, a year's different in age seems like a decade. Third graders lord it over second graders. Sophomores lord it over freshman. So, you can image that I was APPALLED that a rising seventh grader, almost in Jr. High School, a BIG boy like me, should get a SPANKING from a rising FIFTH grader!

But Johnnie, of course, had his ace in the hole. "Whew! I wouldn't want to be you if I told your dad what REALLY happened!"

"NO!" I squeaked.

Johnnie smiled wider and pulled one of the chairs into the middle of the den. "Well, then. Come over here for your spanking, Eddie," he said delightedly.

He sat down. I hesitated a minute, but what was I to do? I went over to stand by him with the humilating realization he planned to spank me just like he had seen my dad do it--over his lap. I wasn't that much bigger than he was, so I'd certainly fit there. I felt TOTALLY embarrassed. How could things get worse!

They got worse.

"Pull down your pants," Johnny said cheerfully.


"Pull your pants down!" he repeated.

"Please, Johnny!" I whined.

"Pull down your pants!" This time, he wasn't smiling.

Right then and there, Johnnie M. took command of me, and he would remain in command of me for the next two years. "Bad" Johnnie M. had recognized a very unique opportunity, and he wasn't going to let it get away from him. Quaking and with great resignation, I opened my trousers and let them slip down my legs, standing there beside Johnnie in my jockey shorts.

Johnnie looked up at me grimly. Looking back, it was OBVIOUS he had determined what he wanted, and that he was going to get it. Who knows, from the first time he saw me get a spanking, maybe he had planned how he would get me over his lap, and then KEEP me over his lap for as long as he desired.

All he said--flatly--was: "Pull down your underpants or I'll tell."

Well, that sealed it. Two years older or not, I was going to get a spanking from Johnnie, and a BARE BOTTOM spanking at that! Trembling with shame, I lowered my undershorts to mid-thigh. Twelve is an age when, for whatever reason, a boy is VERY self-conscious about his body, and here I was, having to expose my most secret parts to another boy younger than I was. A boy who was going to SPANK me! What's worse, for some reason, finding myself in this position had somehow excited me, which SURE wasn't the case when an adult was going to blister my bottom! As my jockeys came down, my hard little pecker was sticking straight out from my (at that time) still virtually hairless crotch. I was just beginning to get the first down above my pecker at that point, of which I was vastly proud. And now, this!

Johnnie let out a little yip of laughter at the sight, but that didn't deter him for the business at hand. "Get over my lap," he said simply.

I did. At that time, I don't think I had ever been more humiliated in my life, though it was merely a taste of humiliations to come! There I was, 12 years old with my pants and underpants down, across the knees of a 10 year old, who was going to give me a spanking.


That first time Johnnie spanked me, it was pretty perfunctory. He only used his hand, and it did sting some, though not nearly as much, of course, as my father's powerful and experienced palm. That afternoon, Johnnie didn't spank me all that long. It may have lasted only a couple of minutes, but, of course, to me it seemed like hours. Johnnie popped my rear again and again, and, though I tried, I couldn't help but wiggle a bit

"Okay. Get up."

As soon as he was done, I instantly snapped off his lap with a VERY red face and yanked up my pants and said I had to go home. All in all, thinking about it that night, I thought, in the end, I had gotten off easy.

Little did I know that first trip over Johnnie's knee was the beginning of two years and a little more under Johnnie's control.

You can imagine how it worked. After the first time I had submitted to a spanking from Johnnie, he had me exactly where he wanted me. All he had to do was THREATEN to "tell" others (his mom, my friends, ESPECIALLY my parents) about spanking me to spank me some more, which he did whenever he felt like it till we moved away two years later.

And Johnnie "felt like it" pretty often!

Less than a week later, I found myself in precisely the same position across Johnnie's lap for a bare bottom spanking as before, and likewise the week after that. Later, it was sometimes two and even three times a week! Since he had the run of the house in the late afternoons, he could spank me pretty much whenever he pleased. I thought, hopefully, that after school started, this would put an end to our little games, but far from it!

Essentially, Johnnie had discovered that he LIKED being a disciplinarian and having a boy (especially an older one) he could pretty much dominate any way he pleased. It got to the point that I had beg off playing with other friends to sneak off to get spanked by Johnnie. If I ran into him and he had decided he wanted to spank me that day, that was that! Given the circumstances, going across his lap had to be my FIRST priority.

He got out of school earlier than I did, and, often, he would wait at the shortcut in the woods I used to take home for me to pass by. All Johnnie would have to do was show up and tell me he wanted to "play basement" and I knew what was up. He would do this even in front of my parents or my brother or sister or if I was walking home with other friends. Needless to say, people would wonder what "play basement" meant and I would have to come up something like playing darts or chinese checkers or Monopoly. If they only knew! Even so, they couldn't really understand why it was fun for me to play with somebody two years younger who didn't even go to the same school, and I'd have to say that Johnnie had some really neat stuff or something, at the same time I had to discourage anybody else from ever playing with us.

You can see the hole he had me in, and it just kept getting deeper and deeper!


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