A Visit to the Spank Club


by Jeffrey R Keller, Md <Pedprac@yahoo.com>

The Spank Club is a bit like co-op with its own clubhouse. Several years ago, The Church of the Holy Redemption acquired part of the old Hayden farm located directly behind their parking lot here in Winslow County. It is for future expansion. Nestled on a corner of that acquired property adjacent to the rear parking lot of the Church is a cinder block building about the size of a 3 car garage but taller. At one end are large wooden doors you might find on a barn as well as a door within those doors. It was once used as a storage shed for the farm because this parcel was isolated from the rest of the farm. Reverend Sloan told me that one day one of his congregation members approached him and asked if he could use that shed to counsel his sons. At first, he didnt understand, but once Elmer Petersen explained how his own home was too close to the neighboring houses for proper counseling, he realized exactly what Petersen wanted to use it for. And that is how the Spank Club was born. Being a strong advocate of Corporal punishment, Reverend Sloan located the key to the shed and gave it to the resident custodian, Josh Nelson to hold for when Mr. Petersen wanted to use it. The shed, though adjacent to the church parking lot was considerably isolated. There was a dry creek bed that formed a gully between the Church parking lot and the Hayden property. Just to the North of that was the railroad tracks and power company right of way and the shed itself was nestled in among a group of trees and some fairly substantial vegetation that had grown after years of not being used. Access to the shed from Frontage Road which ran on the East side of the Hayden property was very difficult because it was nothing but an unused dirt path for nearly a quarter mile, some of it very marshy that required use of an SUV with good ground clearance and no inhibition about getting the truck dirty. Isolated and hard to get to. Soon however it was made much easier to get to much to the chagrin of many boys.

Elmer Petersen, was the son of Swedish ancestors who came to the States and had started a cheese factory. He has four sons, aged 6 to 16 and apparently his neighbors found his counseling sessions disruptive. He found the farm shed quite suitable for his needs because when there were no church functions, there was nobody around who might be disturbed by his sons cries and screams. He had put his sons to work fixing up the shed, sweeping out the dirt and rodent nests and cutting away the vegetation from the front. But, as Fall set in, he began to realize that the chill in the shed was going to be too much once winter set in even for his sturdy sons. Elmer counseled his sons with them naked. The shed had no electricity, therefore no heat and while there was a toilet set in the corner of the shed probably for the farmhands to duck in to use, the water had long since been turned off and the sewer line clogged with nests.

Soon, others in the congregation heard of the new use for the shed and before long, about a dozen dads were frequenting the shed with their sons on a regular basis. In fact, the custodian got tired of constantly loaning out the key and simply unlocked it for a 4 hour period each day starting at 4pm each weekday and all day on weekends. The men soon had their sons fixing the shed up, putting a fresh coat of white paint on the outside cinderblock walls, creating a clear path by putting down a layer of road gravel to help keep the undergrowth in check and building some utilitarian cabinets and shelves on the inside. As the popularity of using the shed increased, Petersen formed a Spank Club with modest dues of $50.00 per year to join. That money was put to running a power line to the shed and installing a light inside as well as some flood lighting outside. In addition, a small space heater was added to ease some of the chill in winter. It was still pretty _d_a_m_n_ cold as the shed was not insulated and had some finger sized holes in its exterior. But, at least now there was a difference in temperature between the outside and the inside.

Today, the front entrance has a sign. It looks like a Fraternity Paddle and simply says "Spank Club" etched into the wood with a soldering gun. The building is very clean and neat looking with a strong, sodium vapor light outside brightly illuminating it and the pathway. And a wooden bridge was built over the drybed creek to permit ease of entry from the church parking lot. In keeping with its religious roots the bridge has a archway type sign that reads simply: Your Penance starts here. The Club estimates membership at about 300 families. Most, but not all are members of the Holy Redemption Church. And applications for membership are growing each month.

Reverend Sloan and Elmer Petersen took me on a tour of the Spank Club headquarters on a Friday night. We arrived around 5pm which was just dusk and it was already a beehive of activity. Outside there were about 10 fathers, a few male guests there either out of curiosity or to observe and 13 very nervous boys aged 10 to 15 years. More than half of the boys I saw there were patients of mine. The boys were all standing along side the building facing it nose to wall. Three of the boys were already undressed shivering either due to the evening chill or the pending punishment. The sounds of crushing gravel underfoot announced our approach and we were greeted by two of the Clubs board members who brought us inside for a quick tour.

The shed was much more foreboding on the inside than on the outside. The room was lit by a single bare bulb dangling from the center of the peaked ceiling. The interior walls were unpainted, unlike the exterior and were a dull gray cinderblock which absorbed much of the illumination. The floor was poured concrete of a rough texture that must be hard on bare feet when scraped along it. Hung on hooks on the walls were various implements, from paddles to straps. There were some very serious looking implements of Corporal Punishment including multi-tongue tawses, canes and what appeared to be special use type tools of the trade. In addition, there were many candid Polaroid type photos of boys getting counseled. There was an old steel desk with foam padding taped to the top. A few straight-back wooden chairs and a wooden horse with several coarse woolen blankets rolled around the top portion. In one corner was a bucket with several paddles of differing shapes at the ready. Also on hand was a box of ping pong paddles, though no table in sight. In one corner was a table sized shelf about 3 feet square attached to the wall. In the distant corner was a toilet though still not working and by it was a small, portable space heater making a perceptible groan as it glowed orange. Just outside was another path that led to a cluster of birch trees and one could see that this path was also well maintained and obviously well-used.

Dads and their sons drove to the church lot, parked at the far end away from the Church and closest to the shed and walked the final 100 yards across the wooden bridge over the dry bed creek and down the gravel path to the Clubhouse. The boys waited outside. The men tended to congregate on the inside except for those smoking or chatting outside, keeping tabs on the lineup of boys. On this night, the counseling sessions were being held up waiting for our arrival. Once inside, we were properly introduced and the first boy was called in. His name: Ben Larsen, 14, son of Joe Larsen. Ben had the misfortune to bring home a report card with 3 Fs which included very negative comments by his teachers regarding attitude, attendance and attentiveness. I will relay the events as they occurred with Ben.

Ben was summoned and stepped inside the room, visibly nervous. Wearing jeans and a school rugby shirt, white socks and Nike Cross trainers, his dad, Joe proceeded to introduce each of the 6 men standing inside (me, Reverend Sloan, Elmer Petersen, two dads and a John Ridenhauer, identified to me as a Marine recently returned from Iraq who has volunteered his services for spanking if and when needed and tends to hang around the clubhouse on many evenings. Ben properly, if nervously, shook hands with each of us as we were introduced by his dad. Upon completion, he was told to prepare for his spanking. I was pleased with this approach. He did not tell Ben what to do specifically. Ben knew what was expected of him which is a good sign of submission. Of course, Ben was not pleased to have an audience and proceeded to beg his dad to be allowed some degree of modesty, tears cascading from his eyes. His dad simply looked at his watch and said: "Thirty seconds and counting or your punishment doubles, Ben....." Enough said. Ben was soon peeling off his clothing, piling it on the table like shelf in the corner, pausing only briefly before he had to shed his Mickey Mouse boxers but seeing his dad counting "7.....6......5....." he quickly shucked his last article of clothing. In addition to the six of us in the room and Bens dad, standing at the still open door were three dads. Ben had quite an audience, indeed.

Joe sat on one of the straight back chairs with his son standing before him, hands at his side after being warned about his posture and his dad proceeded to rattle off his numerous offenses: Ben was a good looking adolescent. He appeared to be at Tanner Stage 3 from my observation. His pubic hair had spread across his entire pubis and appeared well filled-in and curling. He had what appeared to be two good sized orbs that looked to be size 16 or larger on the orchidometer scale and suspended nicely in a developing but surprisingly low hanging scrotum that showed some hair follicles. His penis, while still thin as it usually the case in Stage 3, was approximately 2 inches, dangling over his testes. He was well-tanned still from a summer spent at the county pool though his snow white buttocks and abdomen made it clear he never was outside naked. He was a rather tall boy, 510, maybe 130 lbs and a modified skater haircut, so short on the sides, you could not tell his hair was brown. His dad proceeded to lecture him about why he was being punished. He moved his size 10 feet in a nervous twitch while being lectured. Three unacceptable grades, bad attitude, poor attendance of which his dad was not aware that he missed school, and daydreaming in class. Added to that was his poor motivation at home, failure to do chores when asked and bending curfew with increasing frequency. In short, Joe felt it was time to take Bens punishment to the next level. Joe had spanked his son as he was growing up but had not done so since he had hit puberty. This was Bens first visit to the Club. It was also the first time that Ben had been naked in front of his dad since the onset of puberty. Ben and his dad joined the club upon receipt of his bad report card, the dues paid out of Bens own allowance. Nice touch, I thought. Ben was asked what he had to say for himself but though he tried to say something that would perhaps spare him some of the punishment he feared, he was so upset, so nervous and so! embarra ssed standing naked in front of his dad and an audience that what came out of his mouth was more blubbering. Adolescents are easy to break and this one was about to find his new path to obedience.

Joe was starting to rattle off his list of offenses that he had found his son guilty of when his son asked to use the toilet in a quiet whisper. "Speak up son!" came Joes response: "Please Dad, I need to pee...." Joe looked at the toilet but Josh said it was not working. Someone said: " Let him go outside and use the tree.... Of course that meant going out to where his fellow miscreants were waiting, seeing him naked while he stood in the Autumn chill, but there were no other options for the boy. Joe agreed and sent his son to relieve himself.

Once he returned, Joe finished his lecture, telling his son that he was going to receive "seven sets of 10" He had his son bring the covered wooden horse to the center of the room and assume the position, legs spread. The horse had two bicycle handles on one side for the boy to grip. Another nice touch, I thought. Once in position, Joe slowly removed the belt he was wearing, while the boy not so silently wept, quivering over the horse. He told his son to spread his legs wider and further out and reached under to move his penis in a downward position "to avoid harm from slamming into it." His ass cheeks seemed to quiver like Jell-O. Joe then folded the belt over in half, stepped to the side of his son, placed one hand on his boys lower back and: THWAP!......five seconds........THWAP!....five seconds....... THWAP!......five seconds........THWAP!...... five seconds......THWAP!......five seconds........THWAP!......five seconds...... THWAP!......five seconds........THWAP!......five seconds...... THWAP!......five seconds........THWAP!.......

Ben took his first ten but with loud screams in response to each lash. During each pause, various observers would be heard making comments: "Good one" ..... "Yeah!....he felt that one!"

"I think that caught a bit of his scrotum"

"That one is going to leave a nice welt: .....and on and on. This was an audience that appreciated a proper spanking much like spectators appreciate good tackles at a football game. And maybe they also felt a dose of added humiliation might help Ben avoid future visits to the Clubhouse.

After his first ten across the horse with the belt, Joe told his son to get up. Joe obediently stood, red-faced, eyes already swollen, mucous oozing from his nose almost imperceptibly saying "please dad.....please, no more....."

Joe told his son to lay over his knees and grabbed a ping pong paddle. His now carefully welted , meaty backside was about to get an even distribution complements of a broad-surfaced ping pong paddle. Once he bent over his dads knees, he started to cry with much more gusto. These were cries of mercy.....soon to be replaced by screams of misery. This was turning into a far more painful punishment then he dreamed. Joe said firmly as he placed one hand on his sons back and pressed down: "Spread those legs, son and keep them that way or I will add to the ten....." Before he resumed the punishment, Joe carefully surveyed his sons reddened ass, carefully feeling the welts and running his fingers all over even down his sons perineum to the back of his scrotum. Was he checking for damage.....heat.....or just adding to his sons humiliation is hard to say. But as soon as his fingers traveled down his sons crack on to his perineum, his son said outloud: "Please dad, no....." His dad simply responded with a soothing tap of his left hand that he had placed on his boys back. Once he had completed his survey of the damage, he picked up the paddle: SMACK!........five seconds........SMACK......five seconds......SMACK!......five seconds........SMACK!......five seconds......SMACK!...... at this point, Ben was squirming so much, screaming so loud he started to try to get himself up. Joe would have none of that as he pushed his sons head down. When Ben tried to push up one more time, Joe leaned over and whispered in Bens ear. I could not hear what he said but Ben let out a plaintive scream passively resumed his position with legs splayed wide and cried a deep, heavy bawl. I thought to myself......Joe just got total submission from his son. Victory at 15 strikes which meant the final 55 would deliver a powerful message indeed to this boyish looking 14 year old. SMACK!........five seconds........SMACK......five seconds......SMACK!......five seconds........SMACK!......five seconds......SMACK!......

These five whacks with the paddle had Ben squirming as he tried desperately to maintain his position for his father. No longer was he trying to resist or beg for mercy. Now, his sole motivation seem to be one of facilitating the completion of his punishment and his wailing showed that sign of giving in. The comments from the witnesses were also recognizing the transition from a boy protesting to one of acquiescence. " He is really feeling those swats over the belted weals....."

"He is settling in now and accepting his punishment nicely....."

" that last one really got him good....."

"that ass of his is already red and he has 60 more to go......"

"I wouldnt want to be him trying to sit any time soon."

Joe had Ben get up but instead he fell to his knees. His crying was now constant and he was almost gasping for air. One can only imagine the thoughts racing through the other boys just outside listening to this fullback on their school rugby team screaming as loud and as long as he now was...... When Ben did climb on to his feet, he was now sporting a considerable erection. I heard Reverend Sloan comment to Mr. Petersen: "Look, he got aroused by his punishment.....look at that....." Joe also noticed his sons engorged member and said to him loud enough for him to hear over his wails: "That hard on son better be gone after your next set of punishments or we will address that directly, do you hear me?" Ben looked down and in a wailing response simply said....."sorry Daddy......I cant help it .....I was rubbing against your leg...."

Joe moved his son back to the horse again and once again grabbed the belt. This time, he delivered the belts to his thighs and lower buttocks which he had not assaulted in the prior sets. THWAP!.....five seconds......THWAP!.....five seconds......THWAP!......five seconds......THWAP!......five seconds......THWAP!......five seconds......THWAP!......five seconds.....THWAP!......five seconds.....THWAP!......five seconds......THWAP!......five seconds......THWAP!

Bens voice was now hoarse. His hair was disheveled....his face reddened and swollen and he was gulping for air as he screamed and grabbed hold of his lower buttocks. All I could think of was that Ben was not even half way done with his punishment.

Joe walked over to where there was a water jug and poured a cup of water to give his son to drink. It was time to settle him down. Seeing a pause in the action, I stepped outside. Witnessing this punishment had been intense even for me as an observer. I needed to get some air and calm down. Of course, as soon as I stepped outside, I saw the boys, all of them shivering and quivering like they were about to meet the Devil. Ben wasnt meeting the devil, but he was getting the devil beaten out of him. I was thinking that his skin was not going to tolerate a whole lot more of that punishment before the skin started to break.

I heard Joe say to his son who was now settled down to a calmer sobbing: "Come on son, we need to get this over with.....you earned it and youre gonna get all of it......" I stepped back inside and resumed my place as Joe moved Ben over to the padded steel desk. The desk was positioned with its narrow sides against the wall, jutting out into the expanse of the room. The surface was covered with a foam cushion and that with a tarp-like covering. Nothing fancy, but nevertheless effective. Ben guided his son, still sobbing and visibly red over most of his body from the stress and elevated blood pressure caused by his punishment. One thing I observed, any modesty that he had earlier was now long gone.

Joe laid his son flat on his back, and told him to raise one leg so his foot was flat on the surface. Ben immediately reacted as he knew what was coming next and started to cry and beg. I too knew what was coming. I use this position on my sons when I am preparing them for inner thigh slaps. Once he had his boy with his right leg bent, he had him spread his legs and tilt his body to the left maximizing the surface exposure of his left inner thigh. He then took the belt, shortened the length by grasping it high up and proceeded to give his son five whacks in rapid succession to his inner thigh: THWAP....THWAP....THWAP....THWAP....THWAP.... Once again, Ben was screaming though the hoarseness of his voice made it sound more like a guttural rasp. Quickly, Joe moved to the other side, helped to reposition his sons legs, left one up, foot flat down, tilted towards the right he once again took the belt: THWAP....THWAP....THWAP....THWAP....THWAP.... His inner thighs were now a brilliant red.

He then returned to the other side of the desk and once again started to reposition his son. His son begged and pleaded but while he was begging, Joe was once more getting ready to tenderize that most tender of areas on a boys body, getting his left leg ready for the next set: THWAP.....THWAP....THWAP....THWAP....THWAP.... and quickly moved back to the other side to get his right leg back into position......THWAP....THWAP....THWAP..... and suddenly, Ben dropped his one leg and went bolt upright screaming at the top of his lungs. Joe had caught his scrotum with that last belting and did Ben react to that with a blood curdling scream. Joe didnt apologize but merely put his boy back into position for his remaining whacks: THWAP....THWAP..... Once again, Ben was screaming in pain.

Still on his back, Joe looked at his son and said to him: I know you want this to end but you need to understand that your punishment was earned and I am going to give you all that you earned and maybe this will be the last time you and I have to visit the Spank club. That said, he lifted Bens legs and pushed them all the way back by his head. He asked John Ridenhauer, the recently discharged Marine, to comer over and hold Ben by the ankles and John did, splaying his legs wide. Joe proceeded to give Ben 20 hard hand slaps to his stretched buttocks and thighs: SMACK! ......ten seconds......SMACK! ......ten seconds......SMACK!......ten seconds ......SMACK!......ten seconds...... SMACK......ten seconds...... SMACK! ......ten seconds......SMACK! ......ten seconds......SMACK!......ten seconds ......SMACK!......ten seconds...... SMACK......ten seconds...... SMACK! ......ten seconds......SMACK! ......ten seconds......SMACK!......ten seconds ......SMACK!......ten seconds...... SMACK......ten seconds...... SMACK! ......ten seconds......SMACK! ......ten seconds......SMACK!......ten seconds ......SMACK!......ten seconds...... SMACK......ten seconds......

Joe signaled to John who let go of Bens ankles. The boy laid there spread across the desk....crying hysterically. The ordeal was over ....for Ben anyway. His lower body was a mass of red. Joe helped Ben off the desk, grabbed the boys clothes and simply said to us: "Gentlemen...." as he steered his still naked and crying son out the door by his shoulder, holding his clothes in his other hand. Ben learned a very public lesson and whatever stature he had before that day in school, on his team or in the mirror for that matter changed. Hopefully, his attitude also changed.

And there were still 12 boys waiting for their punishments. This was way more than I bargained for when I agreed to a tour of the facility. Everyone decided we needed a break and stepped outside. And we watched the 12 boys , knees shaking as they waited their turn inside the Spank Club headquarters.

.....to be continued. Questions to: Pedprac@yahoo. com


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