IN 1997-98, I POSTED A SERIES OF TRUE-LIFE STORIES THAT GOT A LOT OF VERY POSITIVE E-MAIL RESPONSE FROM READERS OF THIS WEBSITE. I NEVER FINISHED THE SERIES, UNTIL NOW. IN REVIEWING THESE ORIGINAL SUBMISSIONS, I HAVE EDITED THESE STORIES AND NOW REPOST THEM WITH TYPO CORRECTIONS, ETC. THESE REPOSTINGS WILL BE DONE EVERY COUPLE OF DAYS, AND THE SERIES COMPLETED WITH NEW STORIES. THIS SERIES BEGINS WHEN I WAS 11, AND ENDS A YEAR AGO, WITH THE STORIES POSTED CHRONOLOGICALLY. ENJOY!
This particular story takes place in March, just before Matt's 20th birthday, almost ten months after he and his friends got double spankings in story "24 – Matt, Jerry & Thad Get Double Spankings". To make this current story more meaningful, suggest you read the other stories of Matt's spankings in "22" & "23"as well.
Matt was doing very well in school, and my methods of reward & discipline had changed his life dramatically. Since his severe double spanking with Jerry & Thad, he had gotten a total of three demerit spankings in ten months. All of these were mild, OTK reminder spankings, with my hand on the seat of his white BVD's. He had even found time to do some part-time construction work with a local contractor on Saturdays. He was on the Dean's Honor Roll with a 3.78. Our Midwest winter weather was getting to him, and he was looking forward to returning home to sunny California after graduation from our local JUCO. I was going to miss him and having him look after my home and the visits of his friends.
My buddy Kenny had finally gotten divorced and was he ever in a funk. He even thought of quitting law enforcement, but I talked him out that. One Saturday night he announced at my house in front of Matt that "I wanna chase pussy!"
That was easily done. We left underage Matt home, and went into the city to hit the bars. About 9 o'clock I stopped drinking, switched to coffee as Kenny continued on, really tying on a dandy. By the time the bars closed at 1 o'clock he was doing a _d_a_m_n_ed fine imitation of "knee walking drunk".
We stopped at our favorite 9th street all night Mexican diner, and had breakfast. What I do to a plate of Huevos Rancheros, cooked soft, at 2 in the morning makes most people ill. Kenny could have cared less. By the time he and I got back to my place, it was almost 4 in the morning, and I was tired and Kenny was beginning to come out of the Jack Daniel's fog.
We came through the garage and as soon as we hit the door, smelt an odor I hadn't smelled since early last summer. We glanced at the coffee table and there was a small glass pipe with it's telltale residue of ash, sitting in an ashtray....plus a small plastic bag with it's merchandise. Kenny was still feeling good, but he got pissed quickly.
"Kenny, neither one of us are gonna touch the kid tonight! I'm tired; you're still drunk. Just get me your cuffs, and I'll take care of him in the morning." I said as Kenny slowly nodded his head in agreement.
He got two sets cuffs from his car and I got a small manila parts envelope and duct tape from the garage. I took the parts out and put the glass pipe in the envelope. Just as he came back into the garage I took a hammer and pounded the pipe into glass dust. Kenny laughed as we went back into the rec. room. I then exchanged Matt's plastic bag & its contents for Kenny cuffs and keys.
"Drive safe old buddy, when do you go on duty today?" I asked.
He told me he had the late shift, starting at midnight. I told him that Matt and I would be at his apartment at 10PM to return his cuffs. He left. "God he was going to be hung over in about 8 hours.", I thought....without envy.
Matt was lying on his stomach, dead asleep....or more accurately passed out. He was spread-eagled, wearing just his white briefs and socks. I cuffed one ankle to the footboard bedpost and the other cuffs secured his wrists together, above his head. I then duct taped the envelope containing his crushed pipe to his headboard....and went to bed. He hadn't even moaned or moved.
About six hours later I heard him call out, asking for me. Since it was now almost ten o'clock on Sunday morning, I felt it was time that my 19-year-old charge got his ass whipped. I got up, slipped on a pair jeans over my briefs and went searching for the razor strap I had used on Matt last summer. Plus, in the same spot in my dresser was the whip I had last used on Geoff in story "15 - Geoff's School Whipping", over ten years ago. I carried both into Matt's bedroom, along with a handful of my dress ties.
Matt was sitting up on his bed, cross-legged, with his ankle attached to the bedpost, his eyes with tears in them. The crushed pipe envelope was in his handcuffed hands.
"I'm sorry Jason. Pplleeaasse believe me. This is the first time since last summer, and Thad had gotten some free stuff", he said ready to break down in tears. Then he saw the strap and whip in my hand, his tears did start flowing. He knew he was in for a reality check on his ass he didn't want to have. I uncuffed his ankle from the bedpost, stuck the cuffs in my pocket and pointed towards the garage. I had grabbed the pipe envelope and pillow off of the bed. He walked with his head down, softly blubbering. His tight BVD's creased up his ass crack, the leg openings uncovering about an 1" of lower white butt cheeks as he shuffled towards his punishment location.
We got to the rec. room and I had him stop as I put the ties and tools on the bar and went out into the garage and got a small, 36" stepladder. I set up the stepladder and then sat down in the middle of the couch and motioned Matt over. As he got to me, I pulled him across my lap. I ordered him to stretch out and put his legs together.
I then for the next few minutes discussed with him the whys and wherefors of this latest act of sheer stupidity. As I talked to him to, I slowly massaged his buns to put him at ease for what was going to soon be happening. He relaxed as my hands rubbed the white fabric, stretched across his arched buns. As the discussion of his deed finished, I announced his punishment.
"Matt, I am going to first give you the kind of spanking you should have gotten as a kid, then I am going to put you over the step ladder and give an old fashioned ass whipping.", I said softly.
Matt begged for me to not do what he knew was going to happen....and then he got a surprised. I reached up and slowly pulled his size 30 briefs to his knees. He was going to get a bare butt, little boy hand spanking, long over due. His arched buns & thighs were almost white, with no hair, until 6-8" down his muscular thighs.
"Splat" my right hand caught his right cheek square in the middle....hard. Matt's buns flinched.
"Splat" his left cheek got the same treatment, his buns reacted the same way as Matt groaned.
For as long as I could, I spanked him hard and rapid. I covered his buns from top to bottom, left to right....and down his upper thighs. His feet began to thump against the couch as the intensity of my hand swats got to him. He also began to cry softly between his many quiet "ouch" and "oh please". Too soon my hand wore out. (As a technique in spanking. Unless you work on an oil rig, your hands aren't tough enough to give a straight, hard punishment hand spanking, unless you pause often to lecture the spankee and rub the buns. Your hand can then go full force, for a long time....a long time.)
In Matt's case, I wanted the humiliation of the hand spanking to warm his buns for the whipping about to follow.
I pulled up his briefs, covering his light red buns, adjusting them for his whipping. He got lectured on why it was going to happen and then ordered him up and over to the ladder. I put the pillow on top of the ladder and ordered him to bend over. I had to adjust his body just right, so his buns were directly on top of the ladder. This left his hands and feet just off the floor, but his cotton-covered buns were just below my chest. I tied each ankle to the outside of the ladder, at its lowest point. Each knee got fastened the same way, leaving his buns spread open, his briefs tightly stretched across his angled, red buns. I then made him raise slightly, putting his arms through the rungs of the ladder, towards his feet. I took the second set of cuffs and hooked them onto his wrist cuffs and pulled his arms tight, locking the cuffs to a lower ladder rung. Matt was ready, his body tight against the ladder, his butt an angled tight white target.
I went over to the bar and picked up the razor strap and whip. The whip was an 18" riding whip, constructed of three sewn pieces of stiff leather, ¾" wide at the handle, tapering to 1/8" wide at the business end, unsewn for 4", with only two pieces of leather. It was a real stinger!
I walked over to Matt and rubbed his buns for a few seconds....and then I announced his punishment.
"You're going to get twelve off the best, plus two Matt, 14 total....dozen. First set will be all razor strap. Second set, 11 with the razor strap, 1 with the whip. Third set, 10 with the strap, 2 with the whip. By the 13th, it will be all whip. The fourteenth will be bare with the whip." I said quietly, stuffing the whip in my back pocket.
Matt was softly crying and begging as I took my position. I drew back the strap, it's end touching the floor and took dead aim at the center of his cotton-covered buns.
"CRACK" it landed square in the middle, full contact causing Matt to scream. I moved to his opposite side, and aimed for just above the leg openings of his briefs.
"CRACK" landing perfect, the strap's edge just grazing his unprotected lower cheeks. He really cut loose.
I alternated sides with the razor strap; the slow pace adding to the painful build up taking place in his butt, despite the protection of his briefs. Finally the first set ended and I silently watched him twitch and squirm against his bonds, as he begged for no more. I didn't listen.
The second set went the same as the first, until the final swat. I dropped the strap and took out the whip. I took dead aim at the center of his buns and came over the top with the first cut. Matt's body jerked at the intensity of the new sting and he screamed even louder, now begging and promising behavior that a 19-year-old Trappist monk couldn't live by. I silently waited for the second set to sink in.
The third through thirteenth sets got the same results, and the whip and strap began more and more visits to his bare thighs. Because his knees and ankles were secure, all he could do was flex his upper leg muscles to alleviate the terrible pain and sting of the strap and whip. In each of these sets, he got three swats from the front. This new angle wrapped the strap and whip down on his buns & thighs, instead of from the side.
With the 6th set, one swat was buried in his ass crack, the end landing square on his rectum, causing even louder shrieks of pain. The whip tip from the 8th on sent him into hysterics from the pain.
After the thirteenth I stopped and went outside to get the Sunday paper from the drive. Dave was working on some bushes in front and hollered over.
"Sounds like wacky weed and your boy got too close neighbor.", he bellowed across our yards. I waved back, not confirming or denying his remark. Inside I fixed coffee, waiting for Matt's buns to be ready for his final bare butt set. By the time I had coffee poured it was almost 30 minutes later.
Now his butt would be at its most sensitive and most tender. I went back down to the rec. room.
I patted Matt's buns and he winced and started begging me not give him anymore as I pulled his briefs down as far as I could with his legs so spread. His butt didn't look as bad as his last session with Jerry & Thad, but the whip sure stripped it. I picked up the whip again and Matt started begging and crying as I took my position.
My first swat was dead arm, not drawing it across the center of his bare buns. I didn't have to, he screamed just as if I had, because of his tender bare skin. (Drawing a whip across the target, in full arm motion cuts the bare skin. Always use a dead arm motion, letting the whip do the work.)
I waited a full ten seconds before the next one from the opposite side. He tried vainly to free himself from the new pain in his very tender buns. Ten seconds later, the next one landed in his ass crack, causing his body to buck, even in his bondage position.
Within several minutes it was finally over. I left Matt in that position until lunchtime, over an hour later. I then freed him and took him to his bedroom, where for an hour I rubbed ointment on his buns and thighs and we discussed the hold that grass had on him. He promised that so long as he lived he would never touch the stuff again. I don't think he has to this day.
At 10PM we hit Kenny's apartment. Kenny was in full uniform, looking every inch the tough MF he could be when he was pissed....and/or monstrously hung over. I think he was both because of Matt's conduct. Matt gingerly dropped his jeans and then bent over a chair and reach back and slipped his briefs down. After 11 hours, the redness was partially gone, but not the welts and stripes.
Kenny was no longer pissed, he felt sorry for Matt, but he didn't disagree with the need for it. From that moment on, for the next four months, Kenny took Matt hunting and fishing at least once, sometimes twice a week. I don't hunt for personal reasons due to my Army Intelligence stint in the Orient, and I think fishing is boring. So Matt got to do both and found new respect for men behind the badge, and got a little taste of growing up in rural Missouri.
When I get to northern California, I always visit my relatives and Matt in particular. Today he is a very successful computer nut. He lives with a man that could almost be my twin brother. Mid 50's, dominant Leo personality that occasionally spanks him when he deserves it, successful in sales/marketing, 6' tall, 190lbs, riveting blue eyes and thinning salt & pepper hair. Wonder why Matt has lived with an older man like him for so long? :)
THIS STORY IS TRUE, JUST CERTAIN NAMES HAVE BEEN MODIFIED. I TRAVEL IN MY OWN BUSINESS, AND HAVE THE FREEDOM TO SAFELY SATISFY THE SPANKING NEEDS OF INTERESTED READERS.