When I was 15 and a freshman in high school, my family moved to a small town in eastern Iowa. It was a conservative town - full of old-fashioned ideals and traditions. The school I attended was small, and paddling was commonplace as I quickly discovered.
I had never been spanked as a boy. My dad didn't believe in it. He even sent a note to the school principal, asking that I be exempt from corporal punishment.
One day, after I had been in school a few weeks, I was horsing around in the locker room when the coach walked in.
"Johnson! My office! Five minutes!" the coach yelled.
My heart began racing fiercely. I knew I was in trouble. But I didn't know how much trouble. I quickly finished dressing and slowly made my way to Coach Hendricks' office fully expecting to get a stern lecture.
The door was open slightly so I went in. That was the wrong thing to do.
"Don't you know how to knock, boy?" Coach demanded.
"Yes, coach. I'm sorry, sir," I said in a scared voice. I was trembling all over. This was the first time I'd ever been called down by a coach.
Coach Hendricks proceeded to lecture me on the dangers of rough-housing in the locker room.
"Someone could get hurt,'' he said. "I don't know where you're from, boy, but that kind of behavior WILL NOT be tolerated in my gym!''
The coach walked over to his desk. He opened the top drawer and took out a thick, wooden-handled leather strap. My eyes got as big as saucers.
Coach Hendricks then got a straight-back chair and moved it into place.
"OK, Johnson, drop 'em,'' he said.
I stood motionless not sure what he meant. Surely, he wasn't wanting me pull down my pants.
"C'mon, son, let's get this over with," he continued. "Get your gym shorts down!''
"But Coach . . . you can't. I have a note," I pleaded.
"A note? What kind of note?" he demanded.
"My dad sent a note to school asking that I not be paddled."
"A note, huh? OK, let's see it." he said sarcastically.
"It's in the principal's office, sir.''
"Well, it's not going to do you much good there now is it?'' Coach exclaimed.
"But Coach . . .''
Coach Hendricks had had enough. He grabbed me by the arm, spun me around and delivered a sharp blow to the seat of my pants with the strap. It stung even through the thick shorts.
"I don't know what kind of arrangement you have with the principal. I don't have a note from your dad, so you ARE going to be paddled! Now, get those pants off.''
I could see I wasn't going to get out of it. I quickly began fumbling to unbuckle my belt. I unsnapped my pants, unzipped them and pushed them down below my ankles. I stood there in my jockstrap.
"Bend over,'' Coach said, pointing to the chair.
I dropped to my knees and started to lay across the seat of the chair.
"No, no," Coach stopped me. "Haven't you ever been spanked before? Bend over the back of the chair."
"No, sir, I haven't. That's what I was trying to tell you. I've never been paddled.''
"Then, you're in for an experience," he said. "Now bend over!''
I stood up and took my position over the back of the chair.
"Don't bend your knees!" he ordered. "Keep your legs straight!''
I grabbed the seat of the chair and braced myself. My heart was still beating wildly. My knees were trembling. I was almost in tears.
Coach got behind me and took a few practice swings.
I could hear the swish of his leather strap as it flew aimlessly through the air. Then, suddenly, the strap crashed down onto my exposed flesh, striking my lower buttocks. It left a burning sensation.
Within seconds, the next powerful swat landed on my bottom. It stung so bad that I jumped up and began to rub my bottom.
"Boy, get back down there and don't move again!'' Coach ordered. He was furious.
I got back into position and took hold. Coach then delivered an even harder swat, hitting the center of my bottom. I winced but didn't move.
A few seconds later, another swat landed in almost the same place, then another, then another. Each swat seemed to rip a piece of flesh from my tender buttocks.
Coach laid one stripe after another across my bare backside. Each swat sounded like a huge explosion as it echoed through the small office. I wanted to scream out in pain.
After the eighth or ninth lick, I started crying. Tears began rushing down my face as Coach continued the barrage on my bottom. The swats just seemed to keep coming one right after another.
Ten . . . eleven . . . twelve . . .
Each lick was harder and sharper than the last. Coach Hendricks had a reputation for giving the hardest paddlings in school, and I had to get my first spanking from him.
The harder I cried, the harder the swats. He was unrelenting.
Eighteen . . . Nineteen . . . twenty . . .
He continued to fire swats. My bottom felt like it was on fire. I didn't know how much more I could take.
Coach swung the strap with all his might. Since I'd never been spanked before, he thought he would give me a beating I'd never forget. He said later he may have even been harsher on me than he is on others because I had never been spanked before.
Five more swats, than 10, I really thought it would never end. Finally, after one more excruciating blow, it was over. Coach walked over to his desk and laid down the strap.
I was afraid to move from my position.
"OK, Johnson, on your feet," he said finally.
I stood up and my hands immediately went to my bottom. It was so tender and soar. I could hardly stand to pull my gym shorts back up over my buttocks.
"You learn anything today, son?'' he asked.
"Yes, sir," I said between sobs.
"Good, I don't want to see you in here again."
"No, coach," I assured him.
Coach Hendricks then gave me a note to take home to my dad.
First, though, I had to face my classmates in the locker room. They all got to see firsthand Coach's handiwork when I stripped for my shower. My eyes were still red from crying, and my buttocks even redder. They teased and pointed to my striped bottom.
When I got home that evening, I was sure Dad would just be furious when I told him Coach had paddled me even though I had a note in the office asking to be exempt from such punishment. But he wasn't.
"Were you rough-housing?" Dad asked.
"Well, yes but . . .''
"Then, you had it coming, didn't you,'' he interrupted.
Dad made me show him my bottom, which still was very red.
Then, Dad took off his belt and gave me 10 hard lashes.
"When you are punished at school, you can expect to be punished at home, too," he said.