Five weeks ago, the only two people who had ever spanked me were my Mom and older brother. This summer I went to work for a traveling exec type and discovered the "joys of spanking" on the Internet when he was out of the office. (I did the surfing on my time, not his clock.) Now, my punishment spankings will never be the same.
I started surfing and found two sites. MMSA Stories and GUYSPANK. Because of the stories I read on MMSA Stories and the ads I saw on GUYSPANK, I have been punishment spanked twice in the last few days. I am writing this story because of being inspired by a current story series by the MMSA Stories author named "Cal". His series appears to be true, and so is my story now.
My name is Brent. I am an average 18-year guy who graduated from high school a few weeks ago. My home is in a rural area of midwestern state that would qualify as the "sticks".
My Mom is a single mother, raising me and my brother Steve since I was 6. My dad left home and we have never seen him since. She works two jobs to make ends meet, and we had it rough financially from time to time. No high paying jobs for single Moms in the boonies.
But our rural area was a great place to grow up without drive by shootings and gangs. The closest gang to us was 85 miles, and they came in from L. A.. That rural city put them all in jail under Federal racketeering laws.
My Mom is a screamer. So are most of my friends' mothers. They usually don't do anything to their kids but scream at them and threaten them. Until I was 9, my Mom spanked me when she got tired of screaming. Can't ever remember my dad spanking me. Her spankings were divided into three types. Warning. Pissed. Really Pissed.
A warning spanking from my Mom was being sent to my room, stripping to my underpants and waiting. She came in when she cooled down and hauled me across her lap and hand spanked my brief covered butt. Not many swats. Just to let me know not to cross the line.
A pissed spanking was a big black plastic hairbrush spanking on my briefs and then sometimes bare. Most of my spankings were given to me by my Mom that way. Sometimes they were really long. These always hurt, some more than others.
A really pissed spanking, she took me out into the living room and bent me over the arm of the couch and wailed away on my briefs and bare from a standing position. Those hurt bad. She didn't do more than a couple of those in my whole life. I would feel those for a several days afterwards.
After a couple of years, with her working two jobs she got tired of coming home to spank Steve or me. As Steve got older he got spanked less. As I got older I got spanked more. One day when I was around 9 she stopped spanking me and turned that job over to Steve who is three years older.
Steve was under some pretty strict rules about spanking me. He couldn't spank me in public. Never in front of my friends or his. He couldn't use anything other than the hairbrush or his hand. Steve wasn't cruel about spanking me. But instead of a spanking every 2-3 weeks, I wound up getting one about once a week, sometimes more. He was strict with me, but it also put him on a different level. The responsibility of spanking me kept him from screwing off and getting in trouble.
He followed Mom's pattern and sent me to my room for me to strip to my briefs and wait. Then he would basically spank me the same way as Mom. The big difference between him and Mom is simple. He doesn't spank like a loving Mom. Just a pissed off older brother. His spankings last longer. His swats are delivered a lot harder. His spankings have not ended, but he joined the Army at 20, and therefor he doesn't have access to my butt as much. I was just completing my junior year in high school at 17 when he joined.
Since he joined the Army I have gotten only three spankings from him and they were long, hard butt beatings over the couch when he was home on leave. Now he is part of the UN peacekeepers in Kosovo, so I haven't been spanked by him since just before Thanksgiving last year. My just completed senior year was a disaster. It hurt my Mom, and she cried a lot. When Steve called home a couple of times I knew my butt was toast when he did get leave.
The only reason I graduated was because of sports and our school newspaper. I am small at 5' 6", weighing in a mighty 136 lbs. I have a 29" waist, but I am fast for a short kid. I was good at soccer and track, and have a sprinter's butt and legs. The girls loved to baby me with my small size, thick brown hair and dark brown eyes.
My brother says I have the body of a 12-year-old from the back because I have little leg hair and no body hair, except for pubes and underarms. Hell, I don't even have to shave each day if I don't want to. And that was another one of the things Mom bugged me about.
I hated Mom screaming at me all the time, but I also knew she was right a lot. I did my senior year in cruise control. If it weren't for my English comp courses and my work on the school newspaper, I probably would have dropped out. Just before graduation I even shouted at her to shut up and just spank me. For the first time in her life she slapped me in the face and went into her room and didn't come out until the next morning.
When I was on the Internet, I began to wonder what it would be like to be spanked by a man who was like a father. At that point, I had almost zero physical contact with men outside of school or work. My grandpa loves me, but he has never spanked me, hugged me, messed up my hair or even tickled me. Not only had no man ever spanked me, no man had ever shown me any fatherly love. The man I work for pats me on the back or shoulder when he tells me I have done a good job. Even that felt strange when he first started doing it.
After three weeks on the net, I picked two men to email my request for a spanking, and hoped for the best.
The first one was a guy 5 years older than I, who said he was a schoolteacher and spanked guys my age and older. I really wanted to meet him, since he was so close to Steve's age. He and I have not been able to establish any kind of meeting of the minds through our emails. For a schoolteacher he can't spell or write any better than a 5th grader.
The second guy was old enough to be my grandpa, but his ad stated he had a lifetime of experience with kids and adults, and his mid-state area sounded close to where I lived. I hit the lottery jackpot with this man.
We exchanged emails and I really got comfortable with what his emails were saying. Then he hit me with a bomb. Not only did he live in my area of the state; he lived in my town. He knew Steve, because his daughter was a year a head of Steve in high school. He has dealt with my Mom in one of her jobs. He knew of me, but had never met me. We agreed that I needed to be spanked, but that we better meet in a restaurant first for my safety and his comfort. On a fateful Sunday morning, July 30th we met for a late breakfast. My Mom thought I was going to church. Hah!
He recognized me and motioned me over to his table and my mouth dropped. This man was famous with the kids in our town because he had gotten a junior high principal fired for abusing a friend of his' son. Our school district allows kids to be paddled, but this principal did other things to kids. The now ex-principal is a real big guy and he had people scared of him. Didn't matter with my breakfast date. By the time he got through with the school board in its public meeting, the private personnel session cooked the ex-principal. And this was my possible spanker!
We spent almost two hours at breakfast. I had never talked to any man one on one for that long a period of time, except my new boss. He totally understood my reasons for asking to be spanked. I can't say I was comfortable with the idea of him giving me a punishment spanking. I was scared of the unknown. But I really liked him as a man and father/grandfather figure. He is super easy to talk to.
When he asked if I wanted to get my spanking out of the way now or later I said "Now". My butt cheeks were now in a full time clench as we got into his car and drove to his house.
His house showed me how the other side lives. It was decorated with antiques and really nice furniture. We sat in his living room and talked for another 30 minutes or so and then he said the words I needed to hear, but hated to hear.
"Brent it is time to get ready for your spanking. Go to that bedroom, strip to your briefs son, and wait for me laying down on your stomach on the bed."
I wanted to run, but the sound of his voice and the look on his face created a fear that I better obey him or else. And I did. I stripped to my briefs. I pulled down my briefs and looked in the closet door mirror. White buns, with tan legs and back. Then I laid down on a twin bed that obviously had been his son's room. He kept me waiting for at least 10 minutes and it was terrible, lying there in only my underpants in a strange house not knowing how bad his spanking would hurt.
He came in a sat down on the bed and started relaxing me by rubbing my back and then my butt and legs as he lectured me. His voice put me at ease and his hands relaxed my tenseness. He has great hands. Then he peeled over the waistband of my briefs and laughed.
"Do you always wear Jockey brand XL boys briefs?"
"Yes sir. My Mom has always bought them at the mall." (We have a manufacturers outlet mall in the next town over. Mom always bought our family's underwear at the Jockey store because it was almost a cheap as the stuff Wal-Mart carries and lasts a lot longer. At my size, the Jockey regular white boy's XL briefs fit me just fine, and boy's underwear is a bunch cheaper than men's.)
He smoothed out my briefs, tugging at the leg openings, covering my butt cheeks. He patted my buns and told me to get up.
As I did, he pulled out the chair from his son's student desk, sat down and patted his lap. I spotted a paddle and wooden shower brush on the desk and stopped dead. The head of the long handled shower brush was smaller than what Mom and Steve used, but I had never felt a paddle before. His paddle was kinda narrow, light colored wood, but it was thick. What in the hell was I doing here?
Getting ready to be punished for mentally and emotionally hurting my Mom.
I stepped over to him and quickly lay across his lap. Ready to accept whatever he was going to give me. Without a word he started.
"SPLAT" His hand gave me a moderate, stinging swat on my right cheek, at very base of my butt.
"SPLAT" Left cheek, same area as the right. Same force.
Ten more times he spanked me with the same kind of swats. He covered my butt completely, with most of the swats landing on or just above the straight-line crotch mark on my Jockey brief's seat.
Then he stopped and gently rubbed my butt and lectured me. Making sure that I knew why I was there and what needed to be done.
Another dozen, a little harder this time. Still not up to Steve or Mom's intensity, but it still hurt. Another rubbing session and lecturing.
Then I got another two dozen, even harder. Now his hand swats were getting close to Steve's and passed Mom's. I was beginning to squirm. Another lecture and rubbing.
Two more dozen. He just past Steve's swat level. I was beginning to kick and squirm with each swat. I counted six dozen so far. This is where Steve and Mom stopped a hand spanking. He didn't.
The next three dozen lit up my butt. I was kicking, squirming and now squealing as his left hand pressed down on my back and his right hand did its work.
I was glad for the rubbing and lecture, as I wiped a couple of tears from my eyes. He hadn't even paddled me yet and I was already starting to drip tears.
The final three dozen with his hand did it. The tears started, but not the crying. I wasn't going to cry over a hand spanking. But his hand swats were really heating up my butt. I was very glad that he stopped and rubbed my now warm briefs with another lecture. But his final sentence was the 'cherry on the cake of my day'.
"Brent. It's time to give you the kind of paddling that you have missed out on the last 9 months. Same number as the hand son, but I will divide between the paddle and the brush."
I couldn't believe it. Another 12 dozen with a paddle and brush. This was going to be a lot more than Steve or Mom ever gave me.
"CRACK" Oh my God! His first paddle swat covering both cheeks was an eye opener and my legs and hands shot back as I cried out. He grabbed my right wrist with his left hand and pressed it into my back.
"CRACK" I was in for it.
Ten more and I was ready to cry. Couldn't believe how grateful I was for his rubbing and lecturing. Then he picked up the shower brush.
I got 12 real fast swats all over my butt and I was kicking and begging now. His shower brush swats stung so much more than Steve's hair brush spankings. His lecture and rubbing was the only thing keeping me from crying like a little kid. He upped the ante.
2 dozen with the paddle did it. I was crying for real now. I really didn't care. Emotionally and physically he had reduced me to a little boy, not an 18-year-old high school grad.
He rubbed and lectured, as the paddle was put down. Then he asked me if I understood he wasn't swatting me hard. Just as I started to scream at him, I realized I actually hadn't felt him put any body movement into his paddle or brush swats. Most of the time I could feel Steve's body move as he paddled me. Not this spanker!
2 dozen with the brush became unbearable and I tried to get up. I then learned a valuable lesson. He gave me a dozen quick swats on my bare thighs with some very loud warnings about moving. I was screwed!
By the time he finished with my paddling I was full scale bawling. Even during his rubbing between switching from the paddle to the brush and back. I was so grateful it was over with. But it wasn't. He quickly yanked my briefs to my knees.
I begged for no more, especially not on the bare. He gave me a choice.
"Paddle or brush. Which do you choose to finish this?"
Not thinking I hollered "brush" and was dead meat.
He peppered my bare butt and legs with the brush with rapid-fire swats that totally broke me. My briefs went flying with all my kicking and he finished with two swats. One to each cheek. And for the first time I realized that he hadn't been hitting me hard at all. It just felt like it had been hard swats. The final two I felt his body move and my buns exploded in final pain. Those were most painful swats I had ever felt in 16+ years of getting spanked. But it was over.
He lifted me off his lap and I fell to my knees rubbing my butt. He guided me back onto the bed and told me to stay put and he would be right back.
When he came back he showed me how much he cared about how I had gotten spanked. He had a bucket of ice cubes and water with a couple of soft terry cloth hand towels. My God did that wet cold and his hands feel great! He must have worked on my butt for close to 30 minutes. But by the time he was finished there was almost no pain, just a dull warm feeling back where my buns had been pearly white less than an hour ago.
During his rubbing we discussed my spanking and what I had felt. This man created some very strange emotions in me as well as some physical reactions with all his rubbing. Then he rubbed some cream into my buns that initially stung a little bit, then felt warm. He showed me the jar; it was Udder Cream from Wal-Mart. Cow's teat cream was now making my butt feel better. It had been a hell of a morning. But the surprises weren't over with yet.
He told me to get dressed when I was ready and meet him in the living room. He had some things to show me. The first thing I did was get up and view the damage to my butt. It looked awful, but not bad, if that makes sense. I expected worse. A real dark red with some marks, but that's all. Pulling on my briefs was a new experience with my buns being cold from the ice. By the time I was dressed, my eyes didn't look quite as red and blood shot.
When I came back into the living room he motioned for me to sit on the couch and let me know we were going to have a couple of other spankings to view this morning. The first video came on and I found out just how lucky I had been with my spanking.
He had taped a spanking of a guy 2 years older than me at the time of this video taped spanking. It was student he spanked through his junior and senior years of college. What I viewed was a double spanking for drug use and bad grades. The kid was a few inches taller than I was, but with the same kind of build in his butt and legs. He got a really long over the lap paddling on his briefs and bare with the same brush. At the end his butt was purple! But this kid hadn't made a sound and only a little movement as his butt got scorched. Then he got a razor strap whipping on the bed. I couldn't believe the guy didn't move! I would have passed out at the intensity of his brush paddling. A cast iron butt is what this guy has.
The second tape was a high school senior my age. Tall kid, a basketball player with big legs and buns. His paddling wasn't nearly as bad as mine. But he had never been spanked in his life and it got to him. Just like mine had gotten to me. He cried, kicked and squirmed. His butt didn't look as bad as mine.
Then we discussed both spankings and my spanking and why the differences. I never realized that someone could put so much thought into carefully giving a guy a spanking, but this man does. Mine had been the worst I had ever gotten, but I wasn't hacked off like I would have been with Steve.
He asked me if I wanted to see his stories on MMSA Stories. We went to his index in MMSA Stories and I was amazed at the number of his stories. I asked them if they were true. He said, "Yes", and he wanted my reaction to them the next time we met. That started me thinking. Why would I want or need this kind of spanking again?
He must have been reading my mind because he said, "If I spank you again, it will be totally different, and for another purpose. So don't worry about the paddle or brush."
I wondered what he might use as we drove back to the restaurant.
The after church lunch crowd was thinning out and we ate lunch. I was starved, despite the discomfort of sitting on the chair. As we left he warned me that my butt would look worse tomorrow. By Wednesday or Thursday it would be back to normal. He was right again. The next morning my butt did look worse, but feel better. By Thursday morning it was back to normal and I had made a decision because of what my Mom said.
"Which church did you go to young man. Your attitude is much improved." She gave me a peck on my cheek and swatted my rump. I jumped and she teased me about having a tender butt. Little did she know.
His stories on MMSA Stories were very meaningful to me, because his vivid descriptions brought back memories of how he spanked me. For the first time in my life I realized what it must be like to have a father who would love you, teach you, stand up for you and spank you when it was needed. His kids and all the kids he helped were lucky.
When he answered the phone, it was like he knew I would call and ask to meet again. But this time it would the kind of spanking he would give me, not what Steve should or could give me. I agreed. He gave me an assignment. Since Steve's last spanking, write down the times that I had caused my Mom problems. Oh man, what an assignment.
I drove straight to his house on Sunday morning, August 6th. We sat down on the couch and we discussed my list at length. He made different notes by each statement about my Mom on the list.
At the end of our talk, he pulled me across his lap and I didn't fight him. He reached underneath me and undid my jeans and slid them down to my thighs. He pulled down my briefs and examined my butt closely for any after effects from the last spanking. There was none and he pulled up my briefs and I silently said 'thank you'.
"Brent. Today you are going to get an old fashioned butt whipping. By the time we are through today your ass will be on fire, but it will only be red in color, no other marks. During your butt whipping, you experience an entirely different kind of pain from the paddle or brush. Do you understand me?"
I nodded my head 'Yes", but I couldn't tell you why.
Then he said the horrible words, "Let's get this over with." My butt was gonna be red hot peppers!
He got up and pulled out a barstool from his kitchen counter breakfast bar and moved it to the middle of the living room. He told me to leave my jeans around my ankles and come over to the stool.
I followed his instructions and bowed my knees out. He tipped the barstool back and in between my knees. He had me lean forward and grab the lowest rung between the two front legs. He pushed up the stool upright and I was almost upside down.
"Brent, this is called a wheelbarrow position. It will allow you to read each of your statements about how you have hurt your Mother this past year. I will then address your statement from up here."
"SPLAT" His hand landed hard in the middle of my rump.
He pulled up my feet to the back of the chair and undid a couple of loops of my sneaker laces. He tied the laces around the chair back, locking my sneakers to the chair, and my legs and butt on the chair seat courtesy of my bunched up jeans.
Then he let me know what I was in for as his fingertips went back and forth across the straight-line crotch mark of my brief's seat. In this position, the crotch mark had ridden up an inch or two. I could tell my butt was really hiked up in the air, and spread wide from his wheelbarrow position. As he rubbed this line he gave me a warning,
"This is my target for today's punishment. I am going to use a leather five finger tawse for the entire spanking. You won't like the feel of it. That is why it will be so effective."
He then reached up underneath me and pulled my _c_o_c_k_ and balls out of harm's way. No man had ever touched me there. But I was glad he was careful. Something told me this was going to be worse than the paddling last Sunday. I wasn't wrong.
He laid the paper with my statements on it on the floor in front of my face and asked me to read the first one. I did, and he simply said, "Two dozen"
Where the tawse came from I don't know. When it hit I thought I was going to hell on Sunday morning. Nothing could sting that badly! But it did, over and over. He gave me one dozen standing to one side and the next dozen from the other side. No hand warm up, no butt rubbing before he asked me to read the next statement.
I tried to plead with him about the first spanking and got two cuts across my bare thighs for my comments. I quickly read the next statement.
"One dozen"
I looked down at the paper and saw his feet. He was standing, facing my feet, and on top of my butt. Then I felt and new sensation. A stroke of the tawse coming down from on top. It caught underpants and bare thigh at the same time. I screamed, but the next one landed the same way on the other cheek. Four landed on one cheek and thigh. Four landed on the other side. Four landed on my crack and hole. A totally new pain sensation, and I started to get tears with this new sting.
Then a horrible thought dawned on me. How many incidents had I written down? THIRTEEN! My butt was going to disown me when this was over. He ordered me to read the next one. I did.
"Two dozen"
I got this set from each side, twelve to the side. I was now crying and begging. When I didn't read the next one on the list fast enough I got four cuts on my bare thighs.
When I was finished with ten sets of swats I was constantly crying. I had gotten 17 dozen and my butt was literally burning up. I know it was, because I felt the fire and heat. I just couldn't smell the smoke! There was a longer period between each spanking as he allowed me time to calm down, before trying to read.
Then he did something I was hoping against hope he would not do. He bared my butt. My Jockeys were pulled up, not down. He wedged the seat of my white briefs into my ass crack. Easy enough to do with my legs spread wide and my ass cheeks spread tight.
The next three sets were the worst. He landed them on my thighs and buns. 5 more dozen in all. 22 dozen for the entire spanking. He was right. I got an old fashioned ass whipping.
He let me cry it out in my upside down position. When I was finally quiet he undid my shoelaces and tilted the barstool back. He had to hold me up as my shaky legs failed me. Once the barstool was up, he picked me up like a little boy and carried me into the bedroom and laid me down on the bed. The ice, towels and cream were already waiting for me.
My briefs were tugged down to my ankles and the cooling off process began. Now I was lectured about each one and why I had gotten the various swats for each incident. His rubbing was even better than the first time. When he was done he told me to lie there for a couple of minutes. He brought back in the tawse to show me. It looked so non-threatening. It was thin, not thick, like it felt when he was spanking me.
He told me to stand up and look in the mirror. I looked back at my butt and I was amazed. It was ONLY red. He had just given me a stingy, painful, horrible ass whipping. I had nothing to show for it but a red butt and pink thighs!
He left the bedroom and gave me privacy to put my clothes in order. I went to him in the living room and sat down with him and asked him if I could put my head on his chest. He nodded his head and I did. He stroked my hair and made me feel good.
We then went to grab a bite to eat and wound up discussing politics. This guy is a conservative Republican who might vote for Nader! He voted for Perot in 1992. He hates the hypocrisy of politics.
Several observations about what has happened to me.
First, I got lucky. From a purely physical safety standpoint I was lucky I met this man on the Internet the way I did. At my size, someone who didn't care about kids could have really hurt me.
Second, I now understand why I felt I needed to be punished over my conduct. He helped me understand that side of me, verbally.
Third, I may need it again, but not anytime soon. I hope! I have learned my lesson. My Mom is sure much happier. BUT, I have to write down each time my Mom and I get into it. We are supposed to meet once a month to review my list, unless I call before hand.
Finally, be careful for what you wish for. It may come true. :)
{ Thank you "Cal" for giving me the idea to write down what happened to me over the past couple of weeks. Thank you all for reading my report. }