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!
With my marriage to Sandy, and taking on the responsibility of raising our children, I altered my business career to be home more. I became very active in little league coaching, both baseball and football. I was very good at it....very good. Both my baseball and football teams always won or shared the league championship without fail....always. Because of this success, and the way kids relate to me, our home was always filled with kids other than our own. With some of these stay over kids and their parents, my methods of discipline were accepted and expected. So some of the very same boys, who played on my teams, would wind up over my knee wearing only their white cotton briefs, as I spanked or paddled them in my home, when they deserved it.
The one thing that separated my spanking a student athlete in my home, versus the athletic field was this. I never, never ever touched an athlete in anyway except to hug him or pat his backside after a good play in practice or the game. My voice, glare and the snap of my fingers got his immediate attention when he screwed up. I wasn't even much of a shouter. I had several assistant coach/fathers who were shouters and I let them be the bad guys....but no one ever so much as grabbed or poked a boy on the athletic field.
Our little league football program was from 4th through 7th grade. In our Midwestern state, a law was passed that allowed school districts to use college graduates as coaches in athletics for no pay. The 8th & 9th junior high football program was going to be axed because our suburban/rural school district couldn't hack the expense. The minute the law passed, the program was saved, and we continued coaching the boys in 8th grade.
In the 8th grade year, we went up against the wealthy south suburban schools and kicked their butts, only having 3 touchdowns scored the entire season. The school district was elated. They had saved money. The biology teachers who had been on the coaching side of 11 losing seasons got to stay in their labs. Our kids got to experience the bonding effect of a football team locker room, and it enhanced their performance. Plus, it enabled me to have access to the school principal. Of the 27 boys on my team, 23 were on the honor roll, 7 on the principal's honor roll. My quarterback went on to gain a MBA from the Wharton School of Finance. Successful academics and football success are inseparable at the junior high and high school level.
In the 9th grade year, our group of father/coaches got hit with a surprise. The school administration thought it would be great if a student teacher would also learn from us. So they hired this teacher-in-training, our coaching skills would be part of his education. Neat idea....but it didn't work quite the way they thought it would, behind closed doors in the school board meeting.
The student-teacher was a 22 year old senior from a local small college. He had been a small college whiz bang defensive back until a knee injury ended his college career during the last game of his junior year. When he arrived for the first practice in those stupid looking polyester "coach's shorts" and midriff see through jersey, he looked life he could still play. He stood about 5' 8", 160 lbs., no body fat, coal black hair and brown eyes with almost no body or leg hair. His legs were well muscled, and he had a real humpy butt. He thought he was king of the hill, and didn't want to take back seat to any "volunteer" teacher/coaches. Nathan and I did not hit it off from the start.
The first thing that got our attention was that he wanted to be like Vince Lombardi. He screamed, grabbed and poked. There are two basic schools of football coaching, Lombardi's and men like Lou Holtz and Bill Walsh. I hated Lombardi's because it degraded the athlete, physically & mentally on the field.
First the assistants tried to get this kid to calm down. No luck.
Second, I got into the act by the third practice and privately took him aside and read him the riot act. Nathan didn't respond. Basically gave me an "eat crap and die" look.
During the fourth practice I publicly ordered him to stop in front of the kids. A few minutes later he grabbed my center by the face mask and I ordered him off the field. At the end of practice, my "Lombardi wannabe" was no where to be found.
That night the district superintendent called me at home and asked me what happened. "Christ, that little jerk went right to the top.", I thought as I detailed to Jim Thornton exactly what had happened during the first four practices. Jim let me know that he not only would back my position, but give me the sign off authority on his teaching/coaching evaluation that would be crucial to his grades, graduation and attaining a teaching certificate.
Please understand this was a small town, getting drawn closer to an expanding city, with each new subdivision....but it still worked and acted just like a small rural town. Jim's son had been one of my best pitchers in baseball, but hated the contact of football. But the kid could kick the hell out of the football, soccer style. Plus, his dad wanted his only son to be a football player, not a soccer player. So Jim was on my side all the way, since I had turned his son into a very valuable player to our team, several years earlier. I am sure his son filled him in on all the details about our "new coach".
The first game was still over a week away, and Nathan showed up for our fifth practice on Friday. He apologized as best he could to someone he really had no respect for, but I accepted it. The practice went fine, until during the tipped ball drill for the receivers and defensive backs. Nathan actually shoved a 14 year old receiver to the ground to make the play during the drill. I unloaded on him.
"Get the hell off this field and don't ever come back! And you can forget about being a coach, because I will make darned sure you don't have the chance to ever touch a student again. Now get the hell out of here....NOW!".
I had shown everyone on the field, kids included, a side they had never seen before....my temper's fuse being lit and igniting. By the time practice was over, the tension of having Nathan around was gone. The practice ending wind sprints were actually spirited. The team was back to normal, full of life and enthusiasm for the first time this season.
That night, Nathan evidently went back to Jim Thornton and got met with a response that he didn't expect. The following Saturday morning, he rang our home's doorbell wanting to talk. We stood on the front porch, as I didn't want my four children and three team members sleeping over, to hear what was going on between us. This time Nathan was sincere with his apologies, very sincere.
"Mr. Parker, I have different ideas about coaching than you. Over the past several days it has been made clear to me that the only way around here is your way. I don't understand that, but your won & loss record says it all!", he said with sincereness to his voice as he nervously shuffled his feet and tried to avoid eye contact with me.
"Nathan, my won & loss record is secondary to how I treat kids and how they relate to me in return. Right now, three students from the team are asleep with my sons. All three, at different times have been spanked or paddled by me in our home. Other students have had the same experience. I give kids a black & white world to live in, with specific rewards and punishments. All you give out is punishments. Look for a different line of work. You are going to screw up too many young lives.", I said quietly but firmly.
At this, he actually began to get watery eyes. He went on to beg me to give him another chance, but this time to learn from me and my assistants, not try to take over the team and make it into what he wanted it to be.
"Too late son. In my opinion, your conduct has destroyed any ability on your part to be a positive part of coaching this team. I do believe that you see the errors you have made. When you displayed the kind of attitude you did to me, and you were my son or a friend of my sons....the paddling I would give you would make your butt sore for a week. And you need it!", I said with a little more anger to my voice, thinking of his past actions in front of the team.
"Coach Parker, I will do anything if you will give me one more chance. I want to be a teacher and a coach. I can't be, without your approval.", he said.
I was stunned at his comment, "What and the hell had Jim told this kid?', I thought, looking at his almost begging expression.
"Nathan, you have acted like a spoiled brat 14 year old, used to getting his way and doing whatever you please. As far as I am concerned that attitude has no place in teaching or coaching. If you want to act like an adult, so be it. But, before you get that chance with me, and the team, I am going to punish you like a brat 14 year old you have been so far. The choice is yours!", I said evenly, watching his eyes widen in fear and questioning....just like a 14 year old would.
"You mean, if you punish me by giving me a spanking, you will give me another chance?", he asked with a stunned expression on his face.
"Not quite. If you choose to have me punish you, that's one thing. But you are going to have to eat major humble pie in front of the team on Monday afternoon. If you do what you are told for the rest of the season....and I mean exactly as you are told....and you establish a rapport with the kids on the team as a friend and mentor, then I will sign off. So even if you take the paddling, you have a whole season to fly right son!". The expression on his face was priceless.
"Coach I haven't been spanked since 6th grade. Can't you do something besides paddling me?", he asked, now becoming very nervous.
"No Nathan I can't, and I won't. Furthermore, you will be given a very long and hard paddling, followed by a follow up session. It is not negotiable. Get paddled or be gone....the choice is yours!", I said with a hard tone to my voice.
"I have no choice. When and where?", he asked very quietly, hands in his pockets, eyes downcast.
"My wife and kids are going to a craft exhibit in the city tomorrow at noon. Be here at 1PM sharp. T-shirt, jock, shorts and sandals are all you can wear. If you aren't here at that time, dressed that way, there won't be a second chance. Do you understand Nathan?", I put my hand on his shoulder and he looked up at me a nodded "yes". I watched him shuffle back to his car, a crestfallen young man.
At 12:30 PM the next afternoon, I went into my oldest boy's room and pulled out a pair of his white cotton briefs from his dresser. Paul wore a size 18 Carters brand brief. He was just a little shorter and 20 lbs. lighter than Nathan, and his briefs were thin from age. Perfect humiliation for a 22 year old. I set up a straight back chair in our first floor master bedroom and put the Jokari paddle and briefs on the chair seat.
At 12:55 PM, Nathan's car pulled up in front. Sure enough, he was dressed right and on time. I opened the door and watched him slowly make his way to the porch. His face was almost white he was so scared. He had reason to be. I showed him to the bedroom and closed the door behind us.
"Sit down on the bed Nathan", I ordered and he quickly complied, as I stood over him.
"Any questions about what is going to happen now and tomorrow afternoon?", I asked.
He looked up at me. "Tomorrow afternoon?"
"Nathan, I am going to paddle you twice. Just as I said I would yesterday. You are going to get 12 dozen paddle swats. This afternoon I am going to give you 8 dozen. 6 with some protection, 2 on the bare. Tomorrow afternoon, before practice, you are going to get 4 more dozen....all on the bare." His head dropped, and I sat down on the chair, placing the briefs and paddle in my lap.
"Let's get started son, strip to your jock."
Nathan stood up and peeled off his T-shirt, he pulled down his shorts and kicked off his sandals at the same time, leaving his jock as his only protection. His body was even smoother than I imagined would be. A little hair on his lower legs and pubic hair, nothing else.
"Nathan, I am going to paddle you for an immature 14 year old brat attitude. As such, you are going to be dressed like one. You are going to take off your jock and wear my son's underpants. Strip and change son.", as I tossed him Paul's briefs.
Nathan pulled off his jock, and pulled on the size 18 briefs, filling them out tight. He adjusted them, tugging and pulling, until they were in comfortably in place. He now looked life a 14 year old from the neck down.
"Nathan, you know what to do.", and he did draping himself over my lap.
His bubble butt was tightly encased in my son's thin boy's briefs. The leg openings already had creeped up his ass cheeks, exposing about an inch of white skin. I smoothed them out and then I told him to put his left arm back. I grabbed it and leaned forward, pulling it down between my butt and the chair back. I ordered the right arm back, and pulled it up tight with my left hand, forcing his head down towards the floor.
"Nathan, if you don't stay in position for this paddling, then I will order you to put your own clothes on and our relationship will be severed. This paddling is going to hurt like hell, because it will be a punishment spanking. I have no problem with crying, yelling and kicking, just so long as you stay in place. Fair enough?"
He nodded his head as I tapped his buns with the paddle. I raised the paddle back and swung for the center of the tight white target.
"CRACK!" Nathan groaned at the impact the paddle made. "God his buns are muscular and hard.", I thought as I brought the paddle back for the second swat.
"CRACK" and his right leg kicked slightly as he groaned even louder as the second swat landed right at the leg openings....dead center.
I then paddled each cheek, top to bottom with five swats, alternating from side to side. His groans got louder and his legs started kicking. At the one dozen mark I stopped, laying the paddle down and massaging the tight white cotton, protecting his warm buns.
For about a minute I lectured him on why he was in that position. Then I picked up the paddle and swung hard and fast.
"CRACK"..."CRACK"..."CRACK"..."CRACK...his legs started kicking hard with the rapid swats..."CRACK"..."CRACK"..."CRACK"..."CRACK"...now his kicking was joined by screams and crying..."CRACK"..."CRACK"..."CRACK"..."CRACK". The rapid fire swats had sent him over the edge; he was now a 14 year old boy, getting paddled for a bad attitude and smart mouth.
The next dozen caused his ass cheeks to start shaking with their constant clenching and unclenching from the paddle swats. The thin briefs became creased into his ass crack and the leg openings of the tight briefs creeped up even higher, baring even more of the now reddening skin.
Nathan was now halfway through the first part of his first paddling.
The next dozen swats concentrated on the leg opening of his briefs, catching fabric and skin....the tender skin of where his thighs met his buns. He was now openly bawling, begging, kicking and squirming....just like any 14 year old would do.
The next dozen on his underpants went up and down each cheek, alternating sides and sending his legs flying all over and his crying reaching new pitches with each swat.
Then I drove him nuts by concentrating six swats on one cheek in one spot and then switching to the other cheek and repeating the process. He couldn't shake his legs hard enough to stop the pain of that kind of swat sequence.
I stopped and put the paddle down. Then I slowly and purposefully pulled down his briefs, dragging out the procedure, to add to the agony of the situation. As I did, Nathan begged me to stop and/or leave them on. Eventually the briefs wound up just above his knees. His buns looked like two mounds of fresh pink, white & red hamburger, with touches of purple. I massaged them for a moment as I lectured him. Then the final two dozen began.
By the third swat his briefs were on one ankle and with the fourth they were send flying on top of the bed. 20 more times the paddle landed on a muscular cheek, causing Nathan to actually start bucking, trying to shake out the fire being stoked in his bare buns. When it was over, I ordered him to lay down on the bed and he quickly did so, his head buried in the bed spread crying. I softly massaged his multi-colored buns and soon his crying stopped.
"Nathan, you are going to show up here tomorrow at 2:30 PM. Bring your coaching clothes with you, and you will change into them after the second paddling. That paddling is going to hurt more, because it will be total bare butt, on a set of very tender buns....then you will be done.", I said quietly as he began to softly cry again with fear of how the second paddling would hurt.
Soon he got up and quietly put back on his jock, shorts, T-shirt and sandals. He looked at me, wanting to say something, but not knowing what and left. At 2:30 the next day, he knocked on the door, carrying his coaching clothes, dressed in his teaching clothes.
I had set up the master bedroom like the afternoon before and he went in first and I closed the door. He stripped to his white cotton FOL briefs and stopped. I shook my head and he pulled them off. I motioned to my lap and he draped himself over, placing his arms in the same position as the day before.
His bare buns were still overall red, with some distinct purple marks of the paddle. His ass crack had lines of blood blisters on both sides from the paddle landing on his clenched cheeks the afternoon before. I massaged them for a few seconds to test for lesions below the skin. There were none and I picked up the paddle and raised it over my head taking aim at the center of his cheeks.
"CRACK" and Nathan screamed and kicked both legs straight back at the intense pain of the hard bare butt paddle swat that caused his buns to clench tightly together.
Slowly I went up and down his humpy buns forty-five times with the oval shaped paddle, not pausing to stop until the final two swats. Then I unloaded with all my strength on each cheek and he fell off my lap, rolling over on his side grabbing his fiery buns, and begging for no more. I kneeled down next to him and rolled him on his stomach, and put cortisone ointment on his cheeks, gently rubbing the soothing painkiller into his purple & red buns.
"Nathan, your first test is done. Now lets go to practice in one car, mine. It is important that the kids see us arriving together, not apart. It will make your job of mending fences with them that much easier.", I said as he nodded his head in agreement.
When we arrived at practice, just a moment before the warm up lap, the kids were immediately buzzing. At the end of the warm up drills Nathan made his apology speech....and it was a good one. By the end of the season, some of the kids were spending time after practice talking to him and asking for special pointers. The kids had gone 8-0, with 6 shut outs and Nathan's defensive back skills carried over to no touchdowns by air. I gladly signed off on his course completion documents.
Today Nathan is in another school district. He is the high school head football coach and in the last ten years has always won his league and placed in the sectionals for the state finals, winning state one year. He and his wife are highly respected members of their suburban community with three sons; the oldest is named Jason.
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.