Dear Teachers,
First let me appologize for my hand writting. I am writting this standing up (for reasons I will explain later) and for the third time since my Dad insisted that I include more details. My dad has requested that you take time out from your busy lesson plans to read this letter, or have me read it to each of my classes. In any case please, please sign the bottom of this letter so that I can prove that I showed this to you, or I have been promised (and my Dad does not break these sort of promises) that what I describe below will happen to me each day until I get all of you to sign. Next I want to appologise to all of you, and especially to Mrs. White. It was very bad of me to even think such ugly and dirty thoughts and words about you, much less say them, even under my breath. I also must say that it was very wrong of me to try to leave the school grounds at lunch and that I know that pot is wrong and illegal. As a 13 year old I have no business having or using it. Thank you for allowing me to continue my education though the in school suspension, even though my in school social life will be awful, not being allowed to be on any teams or clubs and having to sit in detention all year durring activity times. My Dad says that although it is one of the worst punishments that school policy allows, he does not think that it is enough. He wants me to discribe my additional punishment for you.
When I got home from school a 3:30 yesterday my Mom had just gotten off the phone with Mrs. White. As soon as I came through the door she grabbed me by the ear amd dragged me to the bathroom. There She lectured me for about 10 minutes, asking me questions that I don't know how, or even if, I should answer. The anger and dissapointment in her voice made me feel like the most worthless worm who ever lived. She told me that she was going to punish me for my "wicked foul little mouth" but that I would have to wait for my Dad to get home before I was punished for leaving school with Billy and getting high.
She grabbed my mouth with one hand and the bottle of baby shampoo with the other. She poured what seemed like a pint of it into my mouth and then handed my my tooth brush. I had to brush my teeth with shampoo for what seemed like five minutes but was not allowed to spit any out. It started to go down the back of my throat and I started to feel sick but kept from puking. The taste was awful (I can still taste it and probably will for a long time). Then, still not allowed to spit, she grabbed my ear again and marched me to the front hall and pushed my nose into the corner. Then she grabbed my pants and pulled them down to my ankles, not even bothering to unsnap them. She told me I had to stay there until Dad got home. As if I had any doubt about what my Dad was going to do to me when he got home, Mom went upstairs and got Dad's wide leather belt (the one he uses for his jeans, not one of his thin dress ones). She told me that I had to hold the belt while in the corner so that I could think about what was going to happen to me.
Dad usually doesn't get home until about 6:30. That ment that I had to stay there in one spot for about 2 1/2 hours. After about an hour, my legs started to ache and my back started to hurt. Worst of all I felt like I had to pee. Standing in one spot is hard enough but when you have to go you really want to move around. I asked Mom if I could go but she told me to shut up and stop fidgiting. As if to make her point even more clear she came over and slapped my butt about 10x. Because I had to so bad I started to get an errection.
Just when I thought my lfe could not possibly get any worse, I was proved wrong. The doorbell rang. It was Nancy Miller, our paper girl (why did they start letting girls have that job?) collecting. I have always sort of liked Nancy, but been too shy to let her know. Anyways when she saw me with my pants around my ankles and my bare butt hanging out she started to giggle. I thought I was going to die. She asked my Mom why I was like that and Mom told me to tell her. I tried to mumble that I got in trouble at school. that was not good enough for Mom. She told me it was rude to talk with my back to someone and had me turn around and explain in detail what I had done. How could I possibly be more humilliated. There I was, with soap suds still dribbling out of my mouth, my pants down and my sort of hairy big _c_o_c_k_ pointing right at her. I don't know If I will ever be able to look her in the eye again and the way Nancy gossips I will never live this down. About the same time my little brother Peter came home with two of his friends and I know that every ten year old in town is going to make me the "butt" of their jokes. At least Nancy left soon and Mom told Peter to go out to the back yard. Then it was back to the corner to anticipate and dread my fate. I sort of wanted my Dad to get home soon, at least if He got it over with I could take a leak and then go to bed (on my belly to be sure). By this time my legs were killing me from standing. On the other hand I wanted my Dad to suddenly go on a Business trip for about a month because I knew what would happen as soon as he arrived.
Finally, I heard Dad's car pull into the driveway. I was sweating and crying in anticipation. I felt like the worst person on earth for letting my family down and was scared beyond belief. Dad of course had not heard a ting yet about what had happened. He opened the door to see his first born son, his pride and joy standing naked from the waist down, his ankles in blue jean leg irons holding his belt. I am sure this is not what he wanted to see after a hard day at the office. He asked me what I had done to find my self in this possition. I tried to explain, and offer excuses and try to minimize my plight. It wouldn't work, not with my mom there to correct every thing I thried to downplay. This only made Dad madder since he felt I was not being totally truthful. He told me that he had to calm down, and in a unexpected show of pity, he allowed me to go to the bathroom. The relief was huge, but I still felt like dirt. When I got back he had cooled off just a bit and announced my fate.
To teach Peter and his friends what could happen to them if they ever tried drugs they would watch. He told me that first he was going to take me into the living room and spank me over his knee until his hand was too sore to go on. I sobed at the thought, Dad is big, about 6'3" and 220 lbs and is in good shape. Then I would have to go over the back of the chair for 39 with his belt (my age for leaving school plus 2x my age for smoking pot). Then I would have to write this letter and have it read in at least some of my classes and signed by all my teachers I shuffled into the living room, my jeans still at my ankles. I appologized and promised that I would never do anything like this again. He told me he was sure of that. I went across his lap, he told me to keep my hands on the floor because any attempt to struggle or cover my butt would result in additional with the belt. He started in on one cheek and then the other, sometimes landing 5 or 6 in a row in the same spot. Within 30 seconds I was screaming, after about a minute snot was running down my nose. My butt felt like I sat on the stove but still he kept pounding away. After each 25 or 30 he would stop and make me promise never to do it again and then he would resume. He spanked me from my tail bone all the way down to almost my knees. Somewhere along the line I managed to kick off my jeans. He told me to spread my legs and spanked the inside of my legs as well. He spanked until the whole area must have been bright red. Obviously his hand did not get sore quickly since this went on for at least 7 or 8 minutes, probably hitting me at least once per second. By the end I was just sobbing quitely, my voice to hoarse to scream any more. The he stopped. He told me to get back to the corner and that we would finish after dinner (I was in no mood to eat, even if I had been allowed to). Peter's friends, who had sat there with big smerks on there faces were sent home to have dinner with their own families, and I sure to tell my story. I was able to look at my butt in the hall mirror as I stood while they ate. My legs from the back of my knees to the to of my butt were deep red with patches of purple on my cheeks. Dinner took about a half hour, durring which the sting and burn transfomered itself to a deep muscle ache. Dad came out and told me to go back to the living room. I could hardly move by I forced my self Once again I had to appologize, promise never to do it agian, and this time Dad told be that I had to ask to finish my punishment, and to do it politely. Somehow I forced the words out of my mouth, knowing that not doing so would only make things worse. Then I had to go over the back of the overstuffed arm chair, my butt sticking straight up, my toes just barely on the ground. Dad held the buckle in his hand and wrapped the belt around his hand about three times so there was about 2' left on the business end. The first stroke hit me on the left cheek, the end finding its way well inside my crack. Never have I felt pain so intense. The next hit both cheeks, overlapping on the left with the first. He worked his way down to the base of my butt and concentrated about five strokes there. He continued downhitting the top of my left thigh, the end wrapping well into the inside. One of these hit the back of my sack and I saw stars. Each hit felt like a knife cutting through me. Finally it was over. Dad told me to get up and that he loved me but that he had to do this because no son of his was going to ruin his life through drugs. He gave me a hug and handed me some paper and a pen. He told me to go to my room and start writing. After about an hour I came down and showed it to him. He told me that it did not have enough details and did not tell how I felt about the situation enough. I had to start over. One hour later I came back again but he told me not to leave out the part about Nancy and to add yet more details. This is my third attemt, and Dad I hope it is good enough because I really want to go to bed.
I am very sorry about what I have done. It was stupid, drugs are dangerous. Leaving school is wrong. Getting high durring school is not a good way to learn. I should never talk back or use bad language to any adult, let alone a teacher. I am very sorry. I promise never to do it again. Not only don't I want to go through anything like this again it is wrong. Please forgive me. I deserve everything that I have gotten. Dad hopes what I have gone through can be a lesson for others at school and that is why he wants it read to everybody. Please sign this letter, I don't know how I could go through another session like this one.
Sincerely,
Tommy Blake