Kent Guillam O'Gunning, member of the State Bar of Oklahoma. Kent read and reread the certificate of his admission to the Oklahoma bar, as he sat at his desk in the judicial center. Just today he had received his official certificate, after being formally sworn in three weeks earlier, in late August. Having taken the bar exam in July, in late August, he learned that he had successfully passed it. Then he acted rapidly to become officially admitted.
Today was his birthday, and Kent felt really pleased to get this certificate on his birthday. Just now 25, he was a lean 6'1", 175 lbs, with sandy hair and clear blue eyes. He had graduated from law school three months earlier, and began working as a judge's legal clerk. It was a prestigious job, and it was also a neat job. He worked for Judge Kenneth Marshall Martin, and besides doing whatever the judge told him, he had a huge caseload to manage, supervise, and about which to do research as it became needed.
On top of that, he had ample opportunities to chat with the judge, and to observe legal proceedings that Judge Martin presided over. In just three short months, he had been readily received into the judicial family of secretaries, bailiffs, court reporters, and deputy clerks. Furthermore, Judge Martin evidenced that he increasingly had confidence in, and trusted him, to do what he was assigned, and to contribute his own thinking and analysis. What a life for a brand new law grad!
Then, just this morning – on his 25th birthday – the judge and "courthouse family" had surprised him by administering the oath to be sworn into the particular court for which Judge Martin was a presiding judge. The judge had been hearing evidence on a motion for injunction, when the buzzer under his desk had rung, summoning him to the courtroom. This was standard protocol for Judge Martin to call him, when the judge needed or wanted something while he was on the bench.
Jumping up, he had grabbed his coat and, putting it on hurriedly, he opened the heavy oak door and walked into the courtroom. He had walked immediately to the side-bar area of the bench, expecting the judge to tell him what it was he required. Judge Martin surprised him, however, by waving him around to the front of the bench, near the lectern where attorneys usually gathered. The parties, witnesses, and other lawyers, had sat down, and Kent was alone at the lectern.
"Mr. O'Gunning," the judge's voice boomed, "it is appropriate to administer the ceremony to observe your attaining the mark to become an attorney admitted to the bar of this court. Raise your right hand, please. Mr. Clerk, please administer the appropriate oath."
Kent's head had swirled and raced through the surprise ceremony, scarcely taking in the details, as he quickly repeated after deputy clerk George Jones the oath as he recited it.
"Congratulations, Mr. O'Gunning! The Court looks forward to, and expects, you to conduct yourself in the manner that always will be deemed worthy of, and honorable to, this Court. You are now a counselor of this Court."
"Thank you, Your Honor." He blushed as he responded still stunned by this unexpected accolade. "Thank you, Mr. Jones," he added warmly. Then he quickly made a hasty retreat from the courtroom, while the other lawyers, and their clients and witnesses, began to prepare to resume the hearing.
At 2:30 in the afternoon, the hearing had ended about 30 minutes ago, and Kent was relishing his certificate of admission to the state bar, and daydreaming about his unanticipated admission to the bar of this court about five hours earlier.
BUZZZZZZZZZZZ!! The judge's buzzer broke his elated reverie, pulling him down to the reality of the judicial offices. BUZZZZZZZZZZZ!! Judge Martin was calling again!
He jumped up from his chair, behind his desk, and hopping over a stack of law books, broke into a near-sprint. He knew Judge Martin was in his own office, so Kent did not need to put on his coat. Hurrying out of his office, past Mrs. Carlson, the judge's secretary, he pushed open the heavy oak door walking into the judge's ceremonially adorned office.
To his surprise, there sat two of the bailiffs, Glen and Roy, along with deputy clerk George (who had administered the admission oath earlier this morning). The bailiffs were sitting on the left side of the long conference table that was pushed perpendicular to the judge's desk – like a long-stemmed T. George was standing near the judge's desk on the right side. A law book was open on the table.
Kent began to walk to the right side of the judge's desk, where he usually received his information and instructions from Judge Martin. He got as far as the right side of the table.
"There's something you should look at in that lawbook, Kent," Judge Martin spoke, gesturing toward the lawbook on the table. Kent turned and walked up to the right side of the table, and resting his 175 lbs on his left hand, he bent down to view the book on the table, and stooped over to peer at the page. There, on a slip of paper placed in between two pages was a note: "It's your birthday! Happy 25th!"
"Gosh, guys, . . ." Kent hardly began the words, when Glen grabbed Kent's left arm, almost dropping him onto the table, and Roy grabbed Kent's tie and right arm. Together, they pulled him towards them, forward and laying across the table with his face off the other side.
"Uh. What's going on?" Kent began, changing his words at once.
"No need to speak, Kent," the judge interrupted. "Mr. Clerk, at this time it's appropriate for you to administer the ceremony in keeping with observing this occasion."
Held down, flat across the table by Glen and Roy, he turned his head to the left, to try to see George. Glen's left hand immediately pushed him further down flat on his back just below his neck. Out of eyes' corners, he saw George take out a thick fraternity-like paddle from a lower drawer in the judge's desk. Kent's eyes gaped wide! What was going on? What was this?
Quickly George stepped behind Kent stretched across the table, and with sudden swiftness reached under him, unbuckled his belt, unhooked his pants, unzipped the zipper, and pulled the pants down, falling to Kent's shoes.
"HEY, GEORGE! . . .AAAAUGGHH! OH NOOO!!"
With the same quickness, George grabbed Kent's briefs and pulled them down to fall on his pants surrounding his shoes. At that moment, Glen lifted his hand off Kent's back and, reaching down his back, grabbed his dress shirttail and t-shirt, pulling them up over Kent's shoulders and head and holding them there. He felt the cold of the wood table against his almost naked body and his thighs, as he lay stretched across the top and sides.
"WAIT A MINUTE! WHAT'S GOING . . ."
WHAAAMP! George swung the paddle hard and fast to connect with Kent's backside!
"OUUUUUMMMPHH!!" burst forth from his lungs and vocal chords.
"One," Glen counted matter-of-factly.
WHAAAMP! George was a big man, 6'3" now at 58, weighing about 240 lbs, and mostly muscle from many years of marine duty and physical work outdoors. He could wield that paddle like an wood-splitter.
"AIIIUUUUMMMAAAAH!" Kent erupted with another wordless outburst.
"Two," Glen commented.
WHAAAMP!
"OWWW-AH!" Kent was wiggling and quivering a bit, as the two bailiffs held him tightly across the table, and his pants and briefs restricted his leg movement. Whoa-whew! After so many years, he had forgotten what it felt like to be blistered with the reddening torch of smacks cumulating against his behind.
"Three."
WHAAAMP!
"OOO-WOWWW!" Kent's waist and butt were pumping and bumping up and down, as he tried to jump up and down with his feet; but his pants and underwear kept him from doing so.
"Four."
"WAIT!! . . . " Kent tried to interject.
WHAAAMP!
"YEEEOWWWW!!" He couldn't help that shout!
"Five."
WHAAAMP!
"OOO-AAAH-YOWOWWWW!!! STOP!" The shout and plea just burst out together.
"Six."
"WAIT! STOP!! . . . "
WHAAAMP!
"NO! NO! GEORGE!! STOP!! STOP!! PLEASE!!"
"Seven," Glen closed the latest round of shouting and pleading.
WHAAAMP! WHAAAMP! WHAAAMP! George delivered that series harder and faster than Kent had expected.
"OOOOOAAAAH!! YAIIIPES-A-OWWEEEE!! STOP IT!! AIUGH!
"Eight, nine, ten," Glen fired off.
"WOW-UHHHH-AAAAAHHHH!!" George's exercise of the big wooden paddle was scorching Kent's behind. For a birthday spanking at 25, they weren't even half-way through! And his bottom was on fire! The paddle was searing and igniting his butt and upper thighs.
WHAAAMP! WHAAAMP! WHAAAMP! WHAAAMP! WHAAAMP!
"AAYUAAAH!! UH-YAIIEEEKS!! OOOOO-UH-AAAEEEE!!! YOWU-OWUU!!!
Those came so hard and so fast he couldn't anticipate them, and he couldn't catch his breath fast enough to avoid gasping.
"Eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen. C'mon, George, you're getting too far ahead of me," Glen joshed.
At this point, Glen and Roy held him down by his arms and tie, his arms and head covered with his shirt and T-shirt. He tried to shift, twist, swivel, push, and turn from side to side, from the left to the right, along the side of the table where his feet stood, in an effort to avoid the inflaming bite of the paddle. Each flaming swat continued to blister his bottom further, and he feared he could not last to 25!
"OKAYYY . . . , GEORGE!! ENOUGH!!" he called out.
WHAAAMP! WHAAAMP! WHAAAMP! WHAAAMP!
"AIIEEYOWWW!!! OWEEEYOWWOWOWWWW!!! GEORGE!! ENOUGH!! UH-AUGHHOWWWW!!! IT HURTS!!! UH-UH-OWWEEE!!! IT HURTS! IT HURRRRRTZ!!! AAAAAEEEEEAAAAAAH!!!! NO MORE!! UH-AIUGH-OWWW!!! NOOO! MOOOOR!!! P-PLEASE!! NOOOOO-UH-UH!! MOOOR-UH-OWWWWOOOOAAAAH!!!"
"Sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen," Glen clipped off.
"Pull him further over there," George directed.
Glen and Roy jerked Kent up and across the table farther, so that his chest and still-covered arms and head were hanging down the right side of the table, as they held his arms and tie fast, and Glen kept his left hand pressed down on Kent's upper back. His feet and legs were now up off the floor, and his thighs were resting on the table top.
Then he felt George's big, strong left hand on the bare small of his back, steadying him still for aiming the paddle.
WHAAAMP! WHAAAMP! WHAAAMP! WHAAAMP! WHAAAMP! WHAAAMP! WHAAAMP!!
"YAIIIEEEOWWW-UH-OOOOOH!!!! EEEYAIEEEOWWWW!!! UH-UH-OOOOOO-AAAAAYOWWW!! OOOO-AH-OWOWOWWW!! OOOO-UH-YOWEEEOWWEEEOWWW!! OOOO-UH-NOOO-UH-OWWWEEEOWWEEEOWWW!!"
Furiously and violently, he bucked and kicked and bounced as much as his pants and briefs, tangled and encircling his shoes and ankles – and George's firm, strong hand on his low back – would allow. He was at the edge of breaking down into sobs and weeping. But he heard Glen count to 25 and knew he had made it!
"Nineteen, twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five."
He relaxed a little, and strained a feeble effort to get up – but neither Glen and Roy, nor George, released their holds on him.
"H" Judge Martin called out.
WHAAAMP!
"OOOONOOOO-UH-YEEEOWWW!!" He screamed. What? More?
"A"
WHAAAMP!
"AI-UH-UH-OOOOO!!! UH-UH-AAAAA-UH!!" He suddenly collapsed into crying. "PLEASE!! PLEASE!! UH-UH!! NO MORE!!! I'LL BE GOOD!! I'LL BE GOOD! PLEASE!! I WON'T BE BAD AGAIN!! PLEASE!!! OOOO-UH-UH-AAAUH-OWWW!!!" From many years ago those words came up and out, and he couldn't believe he heard himself saying them.
"P"
WHAAAMP!
"UH-UH-UH-OOOOO-UH-UH-AIUGH!!":
"P"
WHAAAMP!
"YEEE-UH-UH-UH-OWWW!! UH-UH-OOOO-UH-UH!!" Now he was sobbing, gasping, and choking, as each fresh application of the paddle branded his bottom with singeing, burning flames.
"Y"
WHAAAMP!
"OOO-UH-UH-OOOOO!!! UH-UH-AAAAAOOOOO-UH-UH!!!" His body twitched and jumped -- and he shrieked -- with each new swat.
"B" WHAAAMP!
"I" WHAAAMP!
"R" WHAAAMP!
"T" WHAAAMP!
"H" WHAAAMP!
"AAA-UH-YOOOO-UH-UH-AAAA!!! AAA-UH-AAAAH-OOOO-UH-UH!!" He no longer could holler and scream words, as he howled and bawled amidst choking and gasping sobs.
"D" WHAAAMP!
"A" WHAAAMP!
"Y" WHAAAMP!
"UH-AAAA-UH-UH-OOOO-AAAAAH!!! AAA-UH-OOOO!!! UH-UH-HUAGH-OOO!!!"
"And one for the coming year!" suggested Roy.
WHAAAMP!!!!! George really leaned into that one.
"AAAHUM-UH-UH-AAAOOOO-UH-UMMAAAA!!"
"And one to grow on!" Glen chimed in.
WHAAAAAAAMP!!!!!!!!!! A red hot "tail-ender" from George!
"AAUH-AAUH-OOO-UH-UH!! AAOO-UH-UH-AAAUMM!! OOO-AH-UH-UH-OOOA-YUH-UH-UH-OOOOAAAAAH!!!"
Kent lay limp across the table, sobbing and gasping, and choking in his weeping -- but without moving otherwise. It took a long while for him to recapture his breath, and then cease his sobs. As he lay there, Glen, Roy, and George all released their grips on him, and Glen actually put his right hand on Kent's head, resting it there while he wept.
Finally, he stopped.
"Alright, Kent. Pull your pants back up, and straighten your shirt and tie. You can use my bathroom to wash your face off, and as soon as you're ready, Mrs. Carlson has a birthday cake that she baked and is waiting to bring into you."
He cringed realizing that Mrs. Carlson must be right outside, hearing and knowing exactly what had taken place. Pulling up his briefs and suit pants over his thighs and sizzled bottom with gingerly care, he tucked in his shirt, fastened his pants and zipper and buckled his belt, and straightened his tie. Stiffly and painfully, he hobbled out the side door that led from the office into the judge's private bathroom.
Once inside the bathroom, he broke down into soft sobs again, before he could recover and halt them. Then he turned on the water, washed off the streaked, salty streams of tears from his face and dried it; and he combed his disheveled hair. Then, looking directly at himself in the mirror, he forced a smile, and limped slowly back into the judge's office where Mrs. Carlson had set up a three-tier birthday cake, and Rose, the court reporter, had baked brownies that she brought – all to celebrate his birthday.
"Well, birthday boy!" Judge Martin boomed. "I bet you didn't expect all this fuss for your birthday, did you? From the bottom – or, maybe I should better say from the depth – of all our hearts, Happy Birthday!! Next year you won't be so surprised -- you'll know what to expect!" he added. Kent could only blush and say "Yes, sir. Thank you."
But he stayed standing during the entire party. He was glad that he had taken the bus to the courthouse, from his apartment, this Friday, as he would need to stand throughout the trip home, since his backside burned and throbbed with the inferno kindled by his birthday spanking.