I grew up in a small town in Kansas, the youngest of two boys. My brother Mark is four years older then me, and the two of us got into trouble quite often. Our mom spanked us, but nothing like our dad. When we got a spanking from dad we knew that it would be long and hard and leave us blistered for some time, even when he only used his hand.
When Mark was 14 and I was ten I had the pleasure of having him watch me one evening while our parents were out. Actually it was more his pleasure then mine. I was out in our garage minding my own business when he came out. I had been working on a model ship for days and was nearly finished, and Mark couldn't wait to get his hands on it. Of course there was no way I'd ever let him near it, but at this particular time we were alone and he took full advantage of the situation. He walked over to the work-desk where I had been working on the model and immediately picked it up.
"Don't!" I yelled in my whiney, ten-year-old voice.
"Chill-out," he said, swinging the model through the air as if to tease me.
"Let go!" I yelled, grabbing the model out of his hand. That was a big mistake because it broke in half as the two of us tightly pulled on it away from each other. I stood there for a minute in disbelief. All my hard work destroyed.
"Don't be a crybaby. It's just a model," he said.
I flew into a rage. We had several bricks on the floor near the work-desk and I picked on up and heaved it at him. I just wanted to kill him, and would have if he had let me. I'd had enough of his constant torture and wasn't taking anymore. Unfortunately he ducked out of the way and the brick sailed into the thin wall of our garage.
"Boy are you gonna get it when dad sees that!" he said. I knew it too, and it was all because of him.
Mom and dad came home about an hour later and the hole in the garage wall was very noticeable. Mark and I both ran up to them to give our version of the story, and it seemed as though dad was more furious with Mark. "You're older, and I'm sure you instigated him. If you had left him alone this wouldn't have happened," he angrily told Mark. He then grabbed Mark's arm and gave him three good whacks on the seat of his pants. "Go outside and cut a switch. You're getting a whipping for this."
"But dad, Michael...," he began.
Dad whacked the seat of his pants once more. "I said go!" he demanded. "You don't worry about Michael right now."
So Mark went out to cut a switch and soon returned. Dad walked us up to the bedroom the two of us shared and stood there holding the switch. He turned toward Mark. "Pull your pants down and bend over!" he demanded. Mark knew he was in for it and knew better than to hesitate. I watched as he unbuttoned his pants, unzipped them, and then pulled them below his knees. He then pulled down his underwear and bent over his bed with his bare butt sticking out. Dad usually took his time metting out our punishments. He set the switch on the bed next to Mark and stood beside him, slowly raising Mark's shirt-tail. Dad placed his hand on Mark's bare butt and began to rub it while smacking it lightly and lecturing him. After a few minutes or so dad picked up the switch and was ready to administer the real punishment. He raised the switch and brought it down swiftly. It whisped through the air and then landed with a sharp crack.
"Aaaahhhh!" Mark yelled. A thin strip which soon turned angry red appeared across the center of his white buttocks.
Dad continued to whip Mark, spreading out the lashes so he would feel each one to the fullest. Mark screamed in agony. Welts appeared all over his bottom and blood ran down his bottom. Dad really tore him up with the switch. When the whipping was over dad pulled him up from the bed. His bottom was mass of red weals. Dad got the lotion out and began spreading it all over Mark's buttocks and between his crack. Dad also rubbed lotion on Mark's penis and balls, which was customary for him to do so after a spanking or licking.
"Okay Michael, I know that your brother instigated you into throwing the brick, but you still threw it, so I am going to spank your little fanny until you can't sit for a week," dad told me.
He sat down on the bed and called me over to him. He pulled down my pants and underwear and pulled me far over his lap so my little butt was sticking right up. Dad rubbed my bottom for a long time and I began to get restless over his lap, knowing what was to come. His hand was big enough to almost cover my entire butt, and he could really spank hard too. The spanking finally began with a heavy smack that echoed the room.
"Ooowwwww!" I cried and the smacks fell across my tiny bottom again and again. I kicked and howled, but dad did not let up. My buns felt as though I had sat on a hot grill. He took some time to rub my hot bottom for awhile and then resumed the spanking. I had been used to getting some pretty hard spankings, but this was by far the worst one. After what seemed like years he finally pulled me up from his lap. My little weenie had gotten hard from rubbing against his knee and it stuck straight out toward him. He got the lotion out, turned me around and began rubbing it on my burning bottom and up between my crack on my hole. He slid his finger up and down my hole a few times. He turned me around and tended to my little pee-pee which did help to calm me after a good spanking. I saw my butt in the mirror, totally purple and blue and knew it would be some time before I would sit comfortably again. He then took me into the bathroom and gave me a soapy enema which we were used to getting as extra punishment.