On a day in May in my senior year in high school, two senior friends, Dave and Mike, and I decided to not attend or better known as cut our afternoon study hall. It was Dave's idea, but it took no time for Mike and I to take Dave up on such an interesting idea and head out to Dave's car. "Cutting" was not a normal thing for us. We generally were pretty good students and had a good reputation among other students and teachers.
In no time, there we were in Dave's car, all slumped down so we couldn't be seen and having a good old boys chat. It wasn't long before Dave suggested to Mike to look under his seat for a surprise. Sure enough Dave apparently had done some preplanning for our escapade and provided us with a bottle of apricot brandy from his parent's collection. Soon the three of us had several turns at nipping at the bottle and were having a very good time. Mike was busy getting another sip when we heard a little knock on the back window. We quickly turned around and saw the face of our favorite teacher, Mr. Clark, with a clown like grin on his face. As might be expected from this usually friendly guy, he was waving his right hand at us. We knew it was his way of gesturing that we had just "scrambled our eggs".
Mr. Clark hand motioned us to put the back window down. After we did so, he just said in a very calm manner, "Walk down to my room and wait by my door."
Without questions we got out of the car and began to walk toward his room. We surely knew better than to do anything that might piss him off at this juncture. Mr. Clark began to walk off in the direction of the main office. We immediately appealed to his reason that he not report us as we were normally good kids and that we had never been in any major trouble before. He returned the appeal with a point in the direction of his room and the word "GO."
We all knew Mr. Clark as a very fair, but not a guy that anyone wanted to piss off, so we quickly headed in the direction of his room again. We quietly talked to each other as we walked. We questioned each other as what we thought he might do about the situation. We guessed he was probably going to tell the principal. That would mean suspension, parents and a whole lot of ugly thoughts. Mr. Clark was our Wood Shop teacher, We hoped that instead of telling the principal, he might make us do something in the shop. Keeping us after school and making us clean up the shop or build something for the school surely would be better than the principal's office. At this point though it didn't look like things were going that way.
As we waited by the locked classroom door, my hands felt clammy and cold and I was even getting some sweat around my hairline. My stomach began to feel odd. I even began to feel a twitch in my ass like I used to get when I knew I was in for a spanking. I knew that wasn't possible, as I was too old and furthermore, the school frowned against it. As I said before, I wasn't used to getting into trouble at school. We were basically good kids who never got into any real trouble. As a matter of fact, I was an honor student and was considered by many to be the best basketball player in the school.
The other guys were "clean cut" too. Dave was a six foot wrestler with a V back and narrow waist that had to be an envy to many. He was a fun guy to be around and had hardly a mean streak in him except when he was on the mat. Mike was a 5' 10" tall blond honor student. He looked every bit of the fantastic gymnast he was even with his street clothes on. He was great on the bars and could do the classiest Iron Cross that I had ever seen. It was great to see such a "cut" body doing such a muscular intensive move while wearing a pair of revealing gym shorts.
Soon Mr. Clark arrived without anyone else. I was somewhat relieved by that sight. He unlocked the door, let us in and directed us to take a seat in the chairs in front of the room. It took him no time to begin asking the tough questions. Questions like where were we suppose to be, why were we in Dave's car and the toughest question of all. Why was Mike drinking from a Brandy bottle? In the next breath he let us know that he could smell the Brandy emanating from each of us. Mr. Clark wasn't dumb and we weren't either. We knew he had to be able to smell the boos on each of us so we all owned up to drinking it and hoped that our cooperation would mean he might go easier on us.
Mr. Clark let us know in no uncertain terms that such behavior in school was unacceptable. The Code of Behavior for the school required a "number" of suspension days, parent contact and the attending of a course on drinking. I watched Dave's eyes bulge at the "Number of suspension days" quote and I'm sure mine did the same.
We wasted no time in pleading with Mr. Clark to find an alternative to the main office. Put us to work we asked. All week if it had to be. More than a week would be all right with us. Just please give us a break. We all knew we had too much to lose to be suspended and suspension might even have an effect on our college athletic scholarships.
Very calmly Mr. Clark said that he understood our positions and at the same time what we had done was very serious and we deserved to have our heads handed to us. Then he went on to ask, "What if I allowed you guys to make your own decisions on what is to happen to you"?
Our eyes lit up at that comment. We quickly said we would come in after school as many days as he wanted. Mr. Clark quickly replied that he didn't have time to stay after school during the next few weeks and went on to give us a choice. We were quietly told that the choice was relatively simple. Have the office deal with the situation or ASK Mr. Clark to robustly paddle our backsides. A PADDLE! Ah _s_h_i_t_! I thought I had outgrown that, I hadn't been spanked in almost two years and was far too big and strong to be forcibly paddled by my dad. I also was well aware that some of the alternatives at home could be far worse than a butt warming. No car or insurance, no extra funds at college, no vacations etc. Life would definitely change for the worse.
I could see by the faces on Mike and Dave that their minds were churning overtime as mine was. Most likely coming to the same conclusion that I was coming to. We had no choice but to opt for a paddling. Mr. Clark wasn't finished with the bad news as we all elected sheepishly for the paddle. We were to have to build it to his specifications in his shop and get swatted with it later in the week. Not only did we have to make the thing, but we had to wait for it too.
The bottom line (excuse the pun) was that we had to admit to the cutting and drinking in writing. We had to write a request to be paddled and sign it. He reminded us that we were all eighteen and our signatures were legal. We were to build the paddle during the next couple of days during our study hall period and we would be paddled later in the week right after dismissal.
As Mr. Clark described the specifications, I got a boner and my ass twitched. Building that paddle would be a real bummer. It was to be made of maple, 6" wide; 5/8" thick with the blade 10" in length plus a 6" handle. I suppose it could have been worse. It could have been a little thicker and longer, but we knew Maple was about as hard as you could get especially as we had to cut and form it. After we completed it on Tuesday, we were told to drop around after school on Friday so that Mr. Clark "could test it out". The wise crack wasn't even funny.
The three of us got together later that day and talked about how bad we expected the paddling to be. We had never heard of Mr. Clark paddling anyone before, so we suspected it would probably hurt, but wouldn't be too bad...we hoped.
Thoughts of what I should wear ran through my mind for the days leading up to Friday. It didn't take me long to decide on a pair of Jeans. I finally decided on a light tan pair of corduroys. I thought about wearing two pair of underwear, but decided against it. My LEE cords already fit pretty tightly and as a matter of fact, all my cotton cords did, especially when I first put them on after being washed. The cords would then stretch out during the day and become looser. To stop them from becoming too loose, I bought them one waist size smaller than blue jeans. I figured overall, that the jean cords would give me the most protection of any pants I owned.
When Friday came around, Mike, Dave and I met in Mr. Clark's room after school. I was interested to see what the other guys wore. Dave was wearing a new pair of very stiff Levi Black jeans. With his big leg muscles, they fit pretty snug in the legs. For new jeans, they fit pretty tight in the butt too. When I saw Mike wearing a pair of summer weight cotton dress pants, I couldn't believe it. I would have thought he would have been smarter than that.
It didn't take long for Mr. Clark to get the paddle out. It looked as ominous as it had several days before. Mr. Clark took no time in calling Mike up to a student desk and asking him to lean over on it. Mike put his chest on the desktop and grabbed the front legs of the desk. His Gymnast upper arm muscles showed off well as they protruded out of the armholes of his snug fitting knit shirt. His ass was a round shapely sight as it lay over the desk at a 45 degree angle. Suddenly I could see something I was sure Mike didn't want to have happen. His snug knit pullover shirt had come out of the waistband of his slacks and what was revealed I was sure Mr. Clark could see.
Mr. Clark wasted no time in asking Mike what those TWO waistbands under his slacks belonged to. It was easy to see that one belonged to long johns with its waffle fabric attached and the one under it probably was a pair of briefs. After a short pause and stammer, Mike owned up to the Long Johns and briefs. Mr. Clark wasted no time in making fun of Mike wearing long johns on a sunny 80 degree day. He also didn't waste any time telling Mike about his gambling comparison theory. Mr. Clark explained that when you gamble with a dollar and win, you might then have two dollars. If you lose you would of course not gain any money and would lose the original dollar. It didn't take Mike long to understand and sweat that comment. Mr. Clark then gently said, "You lost. I suggest you go into the stock room, pay off your debts and come out with just your slacks on. Mike thought about pleading to keep his briefs on, but decided pleading would serve no purpose.
It didn't take long for Mike to do as he was told and lean back over the desk. His butt looked even more defined now as the back seam of his slacks now fit easily into the crack of his ass. As the paddle was tapped lightly on his lower backside he was told to put his feet farther apart. His armpits under his large shoulders began showing large sweat stains. WACK! The first shot landed with vigor, but Mike produced no sounds. WACK! WACK! This time he let out gasp that continued for a second or two. WACK! WACK! WACK! After those three shots, tears came pouring out of his big muscular teenage body. That maple paddle had proved very effective on Mike, and his thin pants certainly didn't help much I was sure. I certainly hoped my corduroys and briefs would do a little more for me. Mr. Clark told Mike to go over and stand on the other side of the room and watch Act Two and Three. That comment was one reason why we liked Mr. Clark. He was always making interesting comments.
To my chagrin, I was next. Leaning over the desk I could feel my snug fitting Lee cords tighten around my muscular butt. I had never been spanked wearing corduroys and briefs before and it had been quite a while since I had been spanked while wearing pants and regular fruit of the loom briefs. I was hoping that the clothing plus being older would help me deal with the paddle better. With one thought about how Mike's face looked after his go-around, I wasn't very hopeful.
Mr. Clark stood over me and tapped the paddle lightly on the middle of my ass. He wasted no time in laying the first shot on me. WACK! I couldn't believe the sting. Instead of laying the paddle on the middle of my ass where I expected it, it landed across both cheeks on my lower ass right where my ass meets my thighs. I couldn't believe how a change in contact location affected me so much. I also was dismayed at how little protection my LEE jean cords and Fruit of the Loom's seem to offer to one simple swat. WACK! WACK! YOOOOOOOOW! I was doing everything I could do not to cry, but I could feel my lips quivering and tears coming to my eyes. Where the hell did Mr. Clark ever learn to swing a paddle up into the bottom globes of ones ass so effectively? WACK! WACK! WACK! The floodgates of tears opened and I sobbed away like a little kid. I was glad Mike had gone before me so I wasn't quite so humiliated, but that gave me very little consolation. I couldn't believe how badly my butt stung and throbbed.
I was told to stand back and watch the third act. It seemed to take forever for me to stop sobbing. As I stood in the back of the room, I put my hand back on the lower butt area of my jeans. What a tremendous amount of heat seemed to be coming through. I suddenly realized by feeling through my jeans that my brief's leg bands had ridden up on my muscular ass cheeks and the paddle had landed below the openings. I assumed that might be one reason why my lower ass cheeks were stinging so badly though I really doubted that the briefs would have had much of an effect one way or another. My pair of jean corduroys certainly seemed to provide little protection.
It was Dave's turn. Dave, wearing a pair of black jeans and white T-shirt pressed his body over the desk. It wasn't long for Mr. Clark to ask why he could see a short's waistband under the white T shirt. I'm sure Dave never thought about wearing a darker or heavier shirt that couldn't be seen through. Dave delayed, but soon admitted he had his gym shorts under his jeans. He was reminded like Mike about gambling. Mr. Clark suggested that Dave go into the stock room, remove his jeans and briefs and come out in only his gym shorts. Dave quickly tried to plead his case, but soon decided it was no use and did as asked.
Dave soon came out of the stock room in only his shorts and bent over the desk again. Dave's narrow wrestler waist allowed him to wear shorts with their waist relatively relaxed, yet his muscular bottom filled the rest of his shorts in full bloom. There was no question that those thin snug shorts without back pockets were not going to give him much protection at all.
Mr. Clark stood to Dave's left. WACK! Dave let out a gasp and began raising and lowering his right leg. It seem to sting more than his left cheek...probably since by leverage the paddle was coming at more speed on his right side than his left. WACK! WACK! The tears came. WACK! WACK! WACK! Dave stood up and sobbed like his two friends before. He pumped his legs up and down seemingly to reduce the sting in his rear. I am sure he was relieved it was over.
"Dave...get back over here!" Mr. Clark expounded. "Now for the car and brandy bottle".
Dave pleaded for leniency as he gingerly leaned back over the desk, knowing full well that Mr. Clark was correct in his request. WACK! WACK! WACK! WACK! WACK! WACK! Six shots in a row! Dave was gasping for breath between his sobs. I couldn't believe that Dave was able to hold on as he lifted his legs off the ground and kicked wildly. Please! Please! Please! was all that could be heard between his gasps for air and convulsive sobs.
After about five minutes when Dave finally calmed down, he changed back into underwear and jeans and Mike into underwear and his dress pants. Mr. Clark had a final chat with us and then we all left his room. On the way out of the building we made a pit stop in the boys room.
We each dropped our pants. It was then that I confirmed how my Fruit of the Loom leg bands had ridden up on my cheeks. I had an old pair of briefs on and the elastic was no longer useful. The bands had probably fit snugly when I first put them on because of the freshly washed shrunken cotton. When the bands stretched, the leg openings rode up on my cheeks and left the sit area of my butt covered only by the one thickness of jean material. I again realized that the cotton briefs material probably would not have helped much with that Maple paddle, but I needed to be able to blame my outright sobbing on something other than that I wasn't able to stand up to a paddling in my Senior year of high school. We then dropped our underwear and checked out the paddle's effects. When looking back in the mirror, all we could see were six beet red cheeks. We pulled up our clothing, rinsed our faces to try to diminish the tear effects and headed out to Dave's car for the ride home.
When arriving home and entering the house I found my parents staring at me. Then an unwelcomed question came out of nowhere. "Did you have a good discussion with Mr. Clark?" my mother asked?
My face probably turned as red as my ass. "I guess we need to have a little discussion tonight", said my father.
It turned out that Mike had mentioned to a friend what was to happen to us. Through a friend of a friend, it got to my little sister that then squealed to mom.
It didn't take long before I was sent to my room and had a chat with dad. To make a long story shorter, I was asked to decide between the car and prom or the hairbrush. Like Mr. Clark's choice, there wasn't much choice here either...hairbrush by default after a heated pleading discussion. Dad told me to take off my clothes and wait for him in my briefs as he left the room. I should note that I changed into a clean pair of almost new Hanes briefs.
One HOUR later Dad re-entered to the room with my plastic hair brush. The sight of the brush caused my body to have the overall feeling of blushing with an added amount of quivering.
I knew it was going to be no picnic getting hit on my already red, brief covered bottom and I really feared for my bare thighs. I requested my dad to hit my butt and not my thighs, as marks would show on my thighs while wearing shorts in gym the next day. I also sheepishly tried to confirm that I was going to be able to keep my underwear on even though I had never been hit bare with an implement. Dad politely let me know he understood my concerns and that he'd let me keep my underwear up.
As I sat on the bed, Dad asked me to hand him my right foot. I had no choice but to do as I was told. I raised my right leg up and knew exactly what was going to happen. Dad's left hand held my muscular leg by my right ankle and held it tightly to his left shoulder while my ass hung out over the edge of the bed. The brush was in his right hand. Grabbing the right leg band of my Hanes briefs with the hand that held the brush, he pulled the band into the crack of my ass leaving my right cheek fully exposed. Yup, he was leaving my underwear up all right, but this was to be a bare bottom spanking, the first one that I had ever had with an implement.
Fifteen shots landed, about one a second, covering every part of my right cheek and a couple of shots to my left cheek as well. The sting and pain was indescribable and plum wore me out. I felt like a limp weakling and didn't feel like my old self for two days.
My only comment is that that F_ _ _en brush worked more effectively on my bigger and more muscled eighteen year old butt than when I was sixteen and I came to the conclusion that I would always be my dads boy as long as I ever lived at home. That brush RULED.
Did anything happen to Mike and Dave you ask?
Dave ended up with no car for a month and a butt and thighs that looked like a barber pole. Good thing it wasn't wrestling season.
Mike had to wait till his dad got home TWO WEEKS LATER. After the day finally arrived and passed, Mike didn't say much. He was definitely a little horse and had red or bloodshot eyes for several days afterwards. I also noticed a little different movement in his ass as he walked. His dad usually wore a belt with metal grommets in it. I suspected the belt had done multiple duty the day of his dad's homecoming.