This is the second story of what may turn out to be a series of true stories. Reporting my punishment spankings at the hands of another MMSA Stories author. Suggest you read my first posting titled, "A Teenager's True Tale of Two Spankings." That will give the background to my spankings and me, an 18 year teenager.
It is Monday night, August 21st, and I got three spankings yesterday morning from my spanker/mentor. As I write this, I am sitting on two very tender sit spots.
Since my first true story was posted a couple of weeks ago, a number of things have happened because of that story, directly and indirectly.
First, a lot of people thought that the MMSA Stories writer "Cal" was the one who gave me my spankings. He wasn't. Geographically that is almost impossible, since I live in Missouri. He has corresponded with me a number of times since the story, and appears to be a very caring and compassionate man. My spanker/mentor lives in my state and in my hometown in the middle of the boonies.
Second, I appreciate almost all the reader responses I finally got a few days after my story was posted. It was a series of real delayed reactions to say the least. Most of the responses were from either real life Dads or guys close to my age. Thanks for your comments. tcq, this is report will answer a lot of your questions.
Third, I am going to college! My spanker/mentor has a lot of business connections. The day after my second spanking I got a call from a man who sets up financial aid programs for kids needing money for college. He has a weekend place close by, and he met with my Mom and me before he headed back to the city. Long story short, I am going to college in January. This guy waived his normal fees because of my spanker/mentor.
Fourth, my spanker/mentor had a birthday last Thursday. Boy is he a Leo. :) He turned 58. When I dropped by with my birthday card for him, I got to meet two of his three sons. It was interesting to put a face to one of the boys mentioned in the MMSA Stories story recently posted by my spanker/mentor. This son is now 33, the same skinny build as described in the story, when he was 6. Both of his sons were more openly affectionate towards their father than any of my friends ever were with theirs.
It is difficult for me to describe my conflicting emotions when I witnessed how they treated each other. Under today's standards, some do-gooders could consider how he sometimes spanked his sons, child abuse. Yet, watching their actions and speech towards each other, there were no barriers and nothing held back. His sons obviously love their father, and they show it.
Fourth, my conduct with my Mom has improved tremendously. We still got into and that is the reason for this report.
As a way of changing my behavior towards my Mom, each time she and I got into it, I had to call my spanker/mentor and discuss it. Then email him the details of what happened. Once we got to three incidents requiring attention to my butt, we scheduled a spanking session. He didn't want to go past three incidents in anyone spanking session. He calls our new meetings, "performance reviews". I haven't put a phrase to what happens in these sessions yet, but it will be different than his.
He had a number of reasons why he set up our verbal and written exchanges.
When my Mom and I got into it, he wanted to hear the emotion of the fight in my voice as I described what she did to piss me off. Then we would talk about it. Five times we did just that.
Next he wanted me to put it down in writing so that I could read for myself how my behavior looked in black & white. That was tough. Three of the five, I looked stupid.
Finally, when I reached three incidents that required a spanking for each, we scheduled my spanking session to "review" all three incidents.
To put into perspective just how far I have come since my first spankings. It would not be unusual for my Mom and I to fight two-three times a day. In the two weeks since my last spanking, we fought five times. He considered three of the five to be my fault. Therefore it was going to be my butt that paid for those fights. He says over a period of a few months, my spanking sessions will become farther apart.
Point is this. My ass was grass again. He was the lawnmower on Sunday morning.
This spanking session was a lot different that my first two, because what was going to happen was current events, versus history of past conduct. After I arrived at his house, we sat together on the couch and discussed all five incidents and why I was going to have to pay for three of them. Once we made sure there were no misunderstandings about why I was going to be spanked, it began.
He had me strip off my clothes in his living room. In a couple of moments I was standing in my white, Jockey XL boys briefs. Then came my first change. He told me to take my underpants off. I _d_a_m_n_ near _s_h_i_t_. A bare butt spanking session. This was going to be a barn burner!
As I stepped out of them, he pulled out a package of new Jockey white briefs. These were men's size 30, a Y-front, 2/3 cut hip brief. My first men's underwear, and the reason he bought them for me.
"Brent, your first two spankings were for little boys brat conduct. Since your behavior is changing so fast, I don't consider your conduct to be little boy brat any longer. Since as a man you are now voluntarily submitting for further spankings to help your conduct, you need to be spanked in more suitable briefs."
As I pulled them on they sure felt different. First thing is they didn't come up as high on my waist. Second, they fit my privates different. More comfortable.
Just as I was getting used to them, he smiled and pointed towards the bedroom. _s_h_i_t_! Now I was about to find out if they felt different when he lit a fire in my butt.
We walked into the bedroom and I saw a number of items that were the same and yet different. The _d_a_m_n_ed tawse was on the bed. Along with a big, white rubber spatula spoon with a black rubber handle. Plus an empty portable checker board. The ice water and cream on the nightstand. A printed copy of each of my three emails. All is waiting for yours truly.
Just as I was ready to lie down on the bed, he pulled me back and pointed towards the closet door mirror and my butt. As turned my head I could see why he wanted me to look. The new briefs fit my buns a lot different. The crotch mark was higher up and bigger. Since the waistband was lower on my body, it framed my backside better. No wonder he wanted me to wear these. My butt was a better target! Wonderful!
He was sitting on the bed and motioned me over his lap. Different position this time too. No OTK over his knees, sitting on a chair. Kind of comfy, stretched out over his lap on the bed. He positioned my body, so that my butt was on his right thigh, angled up in the air. He pulled my feet together and had me cross my arms and lay my head down on my crossed arms with my face turned towards him.
His right hand rubbed my butt, legs and back. His left hand stroked my hair. His voice totally relaxed me. Though I knew the same hands that were making me feel so good were going to turn on me in a few minutes. He looked me in the eyes as we discussed why I was over his lap, ready to be spanked. In a few minutes I was going to probably be crying and begging. But right now I was not a bit concerned. He was right. My conduct had been wrong. My butt was going to pay.
Just as he had me totally relaxed with his stroking and massaging, he let me know that my backside was gonna get it good.
"Brent, whenever my kids got in trouble, sometimes I had no real way of knowing the total facts about what was going to cause them to be spanked. Because I was not there to witness the incident. Just like your situation now. Based upon what you have told me, your conduct deserves three spankings. But does it deserve 6-12 dozen swats per incident with paddle or hairbrush on your bare butt? Or does it deserve one dozen hand swats on your briefs? In these instances, I normally settled on lady luck as the determiner of the intensity and length of my kids' spankings. This morning you will be treated the same way."
He reached into his shirt pocket and handed me a single, six sided dice. White in color. Black dots, 1 to 6 dots, depending upon the side.
"Each dot represents one dozen swats. Even numbered dots represent one spanking tool. Odd numbered dots represents the other tool. Since there are more dots to the even numbers, you need to designate the tool you think will give you the least pain during a spanking. So if you throw a 4, you will get four dozen swats with that tool."
During this little speech, I was looking at the innocent white object in my left hand, thinking "Oh my God. My butt is gonna want another owner after this one."
"You are going to get three spankings. The dice will determine your tool and length for each spanking. The last spanking will be on the bare butt. If you are unlucky enough to throw the same number twice, the amount of swats double. So if you throw 3 on two different throws. The second one will be six dozen. Do you understand?"
He continued to massage my back and stroke my hair as he asked his next question. "Which tool do you want to be first and second."
He handed me the spatula for me to feel. It is 12-14" long; the rubber part is shaped like a big spatula spoon, about 3" wide and 4" long. I could tell it would cup my bun with each swat. It felt a little heavy, but the edges were almost cardboard thin.
Duh, this was a no brainer. Or so I thought. "The tawse be odd sir. The rubber thing be even." Wrong choice.
He pointed to the chessboard and told me to drop the dice in the board. I did, and it hit the number "4". Four dozen with the rubber spatula spoon. He reached over with his left hand and picked it up.
I was instructed to pick up the first email copy and read it. I did and he asked me if I deserved to be spanked for that conduct. I had to agree and knew what was going to happen next, or so I thought.
He then did something no man has ever done to me. After he put the spatula in his right hand he looked at me and asked, "Ready son?" No man had ever called me that since my Dad split. I shook my head "Yes". He leaned down and lightly kissed the back of my head.
_d_a_m_n_ him! He already had reduced me to tears. And I hadn't felt one swat.
I looked back and the saw him raise the spatula to shoulder level,
"SPLAT" Right cheek. Low down, almost on the brief's leg opening. Cupped my bun. It held the _d_a_m_n_ heat in too! Talk about concentrating the pain of the swat. "Oh my God. That innocent looking kitchen tool hurt worse than Steve's hairbrush", I screamed mentally, waiting for the next swat.
"SPLAT" Left cheek. Same position as the right cheek. "That _d_a_m_n_ed thing felt heavy when it hit", as I began to pick my brain for a way of this mess my butt was going to be in.
He waited 2-3 seconds between each swat. He covered my butt from just below my waistband to right at the leg opening of my brand new briefs. By the time swat 20 landed, I gave up and started bawling. After the way he stripped my emotions bare with his soft kiss and statement prior to the start of the spanking, I was a bowl of Jell-O inside.
It took almost 2 minutes for my first spanking to be done. I was bawling and begging by the last swat. That spatula was awful! I wiped my tears and slowly stopped crying as he massaged my butt.
Then I had to pick up the dice and drop it again on the board. A "3"! Three dozen with my favorite tool, the tawse! I read the second email copy and we discussed it one final time as he switched tools and prepared to give me the second spanking with the tawse.
This time, I saw out of the corner of my eye the tawse to go high over his shoulder. _s_h_i_t_! Down it came and the familiar sting hit hard. Or did it? It stung to be sure, but not near as bad as the second spanking a couple of weeks ago.
By the time the second swat hit, I didn't try to do a blow by blow comparison. My ass was on fire! This time he really took his time with the swats. He must have done a ten count between each one. I was in agony, and back to my bawling and begging.
Did my pleading make any difference? Not one bit. In fact, he told me to stop begging and landed the next two on my thighs. No more pleading from me. My thighs asked me not to pull that stunt again!
I was getting wrung out from crying by the end of my second spanking. The tawse had really stung. But not nearly as bad as last time. Was I being given a "gentler" spanking? The next toss of the dice stopped that stupid thinking fast!
It took me a little longer to get ready for my third spanking. He gently rubbed my warm buns as he waited for my crying to stop.
I picked up the dice and dropped it. It showed "4"!
EIGHT DOZEN WITH THE RUBBER SPOON ON THE BARE BUTT! I was screwed!
I couldn't help it. I started crying again. The thought of almost 100 swats on the bare was too much for me. Then he made me do something that was a first. He rubbed my butt and then my back as he spoke.
"Brent, I want you to reach back and pull your under pants down for your final spanking. If they are not down by the time I count to ten, I will give you an extra dozen for each count past ten. One, Two"
I couldn't believe it. I had to bare my own butt! Let me explain something. It is awkward as hell to pull down your briefs in that position. Plus, you DON'T want to! My ass was in flames. And he wanted me to pull down the white fire suit that protected it. Talk about mixed emotions.
I reached back and lifted my hips up and pulled my briefs down as far as I could. Just below my butt. _d_a_m_n_ my buns felt warm. A split second later, two hand swats landed on my bare thighs.
"Down more. Now!"
I didn't need a second invitation. Raising my hips again, I am sure exposing all that nature provided me back there, I got them down to the middle of my thighs.
He leaned down again after I resumed my head in my arms cradled position, and gently kissed me once more on the back of my head as he said.
"Let's get this one done without any delays. Put your right hand in the middle of your back and put your left hand underneath my left thigh." He lifted his body slightly and I pushed my hand and wrist under his leg. My right hand went back and he grabbed my wrist firmly. I was ready, or so I thought.
We then discussed my final spanking. He left the worst to the last. I had made my Mom cry because of my language in a fight over me using her car to go out. He made very sure that I understood what kind of crap he thought that conduct and language was. My butt was going to pay, and it did.
"SSPPLLAATT" My right cheek exploded! I screamed it hurt so bad. But that wasn't the worst part. He did it five more times in the same spot, low down on my bun, just above my sit spot. Each time a swat landed it cupped my bare cheek, and made all the pain and heat concentrate in one spot. Six times in one spot! I thought I could smell the rubber beginning to melt from the heat in my butt.
Making sure my left side didn't feel ignored. It got the same treatment. I was kicking and bawling. I thought to myself, "Never again Mom!" One dozen down and 7 to go.
The second dozen concentrated on my right cheek, top to bottom. The third dozen treated the left cheek the same way. My God that thing was worse than his shower brush now! And I picked it out for this spanking!
Then my sit spot got attended to, both sides. He turned the rubber spoon over, creating a different kind of spanking surface. Instead of cupping into the shape of the inside of a spoon. It was going to flatten in the curve of the outside of the spoon. Two dozen times the curve of the big spoon landed in my crease between my buns and thighs. The pain was awful. What was worse. It was going to make sitting down the next day at work horrible.
Over halfway there, five down, three to go.
Then he got cute. All three dozen, fast and furious. I bucked, kicked, screamed and bawled as each swat cupped a bun. In less than a minute it was over with. But it was the most painful minute of my butt's existence attached my body.
I was convulsing with my sobs, snot running out of my nose and inside my head, promising to every God known to man that my Mom would never hear me lip off again.
He reached over my head and pulled the wash cloth out of the ice water bucket. I thought I heard a sizzle of steam hiss come off my butt as he laid the cloth down. For some reason, I really needed to feel his massaging the pain away. It took a lot of massaging before I finally got up to look at the damage in the closet door mirror.
I twisted my head around and looked back at my butt. Dark red. Real dark! My sit spots were splotched with purple. It was going to hurt to sit for a couple of days. It is uncomfortable as hell sitting down as I write this story.
He took me gently back across his lap and pulled up my briefs. He resumed his gentle rubbing, making me feel good again.
For almost 30 minutes we discussed the spankings and what he had intended each one to do as he rubbed by briefs, legs and back. What amazed me was this. He purposely choose my spanking position to make my spanking hurt less. He knew the rubber spoon would be more effective if it could cup a relaxed cheek in a prone position, versus a tight cheek, stretched over his knee. He also used the rubber spoon on me so that he could do extra work to my sit spot. Talk about the punishment fitting the crime. My mouth with my Mom over driving her car to go out cost my sit spots big time.
After I was back to normal we went out for lunch. My butt really hurt to sit on. He knew it and teased me about it. I felt like one of his sons. His gentleness during parts of my spanking was an incredible feeling. It made all the difference in the pain of his swats. I felt I was spanked as he would his son. Despite the awful pain during the spankings, it made me feel good. I can't explain it any other way.
This report is dedicated to a special guy in the west, tcq. Thanks for all the emails.