(excerpted from "SWAT PATROL: Pledge Paddling On Fraternity Row")
(used by permission of the publishers by Rick Mathews of Santa Barbara Paddle Co)
(c) 1994 A.D. Thompson & Co., Publishers. All rights reserved.
Prepare your butt for punishment, the sergeant-at- arms intones solemnly. Greg, standing in front of the punishment horse, trembles involuntarily as he realizes that the moment is here for the ultimate embarrassment: a public paddling in front of all his bros. Greg decides to tough it out and he reaches for the top button of his Levi's. He unbuttons the pants quickly and then hooks his thumbs in the waistband of both his pants and his boxers, lowering them to his knees, then to his ankles and finally off. He hands the pants with boxers inside to the Sergeant-at-Arms, Phil, who in turn hands them to Drew, his assistant who puts them on a table. Greg takes a deep breath and reaches for the top of the punishment horse. He moves forward feeling the carpeted crossbeam of the horse touch his thighs. He leans forward slowly putting his weight on his abdomen which is now against the padded top of the horse. Over he goes, grabbing the lower legs of the horse. Drew walks forward and attaches the black restraining straps to Greg's ankles. He then pulls the left ankle sideways attaching the strap to the leg of the horse. He does the same with Greg's right ankle. Drew walks around to the front of the horse and secures Greg's wrists in the same manner. Drew stands and looks at Greg to make sure he is ready.
Greg's long T-shirt is partly covering his ass so the assistant pulls it up completely exposing his butt. Greg is now in position, body taut, legs spread, muscular Chi Delt ass ready for punishment.
The Greek CDT initials which are emblazoned on the cross beam of the horse can be seen between Greg's legs, just below his exposed _d_i_c_k_ and balls. The brothers, seated and facing the front of the room, are waiting for the punishment to begin. Some of the guys are restless, having been in Greg's position themselves.
The president mounts the podium and stands to the right of Greg. He unfolds a document and begins reading.
"The Disciplinary Tribunal, Chi Delta Theta Fraternity, Beta Chapter, John Miles, Judge Advocate, Presiding. Be it known by all brothers and pledges that on this day, Greg Norris, Initiation Number 1034, brother, has been found guilty of violating Rule 46 of the Chapter Rules to wit: 'brothers are strictly prohibited from selling, removing, or otherwise disposing of Chapter property without the written approval of the Chapter Council'. Said Brother Greg Norris did willfully remove and give away one leather sofa formerly installed in the Game Room of the Chapter House. The Disciplinary Tribunal, having heard the evidence and finding said Brother Norris to be guilty as charged, does hereby sentence Brother Norris to formally receive ten swats of the Chi Delta Theta Punishment Paddle across his naked buttocks. This punishment will be carried out Friday evening at the conclusion of the Chapter meeting and in front of the assembled brothers. The punishment will be forcefully applied by the Sergeant-at-Arms attended by his able assistant in the manner prescribed in the Chapter Rules. Signed, John Miles for the Tribunal."
The President refolds the document and looks toward Phil. "Carry out your duty, Sergeant-at-Arms!"
Phil turns to Drew who presents the fraternity Punishment Paddle, handle first. The Punishment Paddle is many years old and is a sentimental item.
Many, many brothers have tasted its sting in just this way. The punishment ceremony is one of the traditions of Chi Delta Theta which brothers hand on from year to year, decade to decade.
Phil walks across the podium to a spot to the left of the horse and slightly behind it. He places the large, wide blade of the oak paddle against Greg's buttocks. Greg feels the cold, hard surface connect with his butt and feels goose bumps rise on his ass.
He opens his eyes and looks backward and sees seventy of his brothers watching his butt intently.
His face is flushed, partly because he's bent over but also because he's acutely embarrassed. Phil slowly draws the paddle blade back and forth across the butt. In one swift movement, he pulls the paddle back and slams it forward into the muscular, white buttocks of Brother Greg Norris. The assistant announces "One!" in a loud voice. Greg's body heaves as the searing pain of the swat registers. His knees pull together and his ankles strain against their restraints. Greg emits a low groan which is heard in the first few rows of brothers. The Sergeant-at-Arms removes the paddle blade from Greg's ass and the brothers see the immediate effect of the first swat: a large, pinkish red stripe, at least four inches wide, from one side of Greg's butt to the other.
Phil looks at the second hand of his wristwatch and waits for ten seconds to pass. As the time approaches, he places the paddle blade against Greg's ass for the second time. Swat two cracks the silence as Greg's sore butt contracts in more pain.
Greg is tightly grabbing the front legs of the horse as his knees move back and forth and he sucks in air. The brothers solemnly observe the result of the second swat: the buttocks are a little deeper shade of pink and rivulets of perspiration can be seen running down the inside of the subject's trembling legs.
As the second swat is applied, Greg feels his butt explode in fire. Never has he felt the electric burning of this kind of swat. His swats as a pledge were nothing compared to this. He wonders whether he'll be able to take all ten without begging for mercy. He grits his teeth and tries to think about someplace else -- the beach, the mountains, someplace other than the Chi Delt house on Friday evening.
The Sergeant-at-Arms develops a tempo as he delivers the next four, hard swats. Crack after sharp crack of polished wood connecting with taut butt skin is heard. Greg's butt is fairly numb now and he is able to tough-out the swats. His grunts are getting louder but he has not yet cried out.
The last four swats are delivered at a faster tempo without the ten second rest period between each swat. The butt jumps with each stroke and Greg's legs are uncontrollably straining against their restraints as his knees shoot back and forth in contraction from the pain. The final swat hits with somber finality. As Greg's chest heaves and sweat runs down his legs, the brothers observe a butt that is deep red with the beginnings of a few blisters on the skin. Greg's knees are still moving back and forth and his body gives an occasional tremble.
Phil hands the Punishment Paddle back to Drew and approaches Greg. He faces the assembled brothers, places his left hand on the lower back of the punishee, looks at the just-beaten ass and then looks at the President. "Punishment carried out according to sentence."
"You may release Brother Norris. Good job, Sergeant- at-Arms."
Phil walks around to the front of the punishment horse and unties Greg's wrists. Drew does the same with Greg's ankles. Phil puts his hands under Greg's shoulders and gently lifts. Greg grasps the legs of the horse and tries to push himself up. His arms feel weak but he manages to struggle to an upright position. As his body straightens, the taut butt skin relaxes and a new, throbbing sort of pain takes over in Greg's ass. Greg winces and gingerly brings his legs together. Phil helps Greg walk to the edge of the podium where Drew hands Greg his Levi's and boxers. Greg reaches down to put the pants back on but the action of bending over sends waves of pain through his ass. He decides to forget putting the pants back on and he slowly steps off the podium and makes his way through the center of the room to the far door. As he goes by, several brothers notice that his face is glistening and realize that big, tough Norris probably shed a few tears while he was over the horse. Spontaneously the brothers give Greg a round of applause as he carefully makes his way out of the room.