When I was in Jr. High I won a short story contest. The prize was a trip to Orlando to attend a dinner with the other winners. My English teacher, Coach Davis, was to go with me as chaperone. In my small school, he coached all of the sports (with an assistant). He was a beefy guy, and actually was nice to look at in those horrible tight polyester 'coach shorts' and chest-hugging izod. He was stern, strict, and always quick with the paddle in school.
In the hotel room one night we were getting ready for bed. He was already in his bed wearing only his boxers. I was in the bathroom in my briefs and a big t-shirt that came down almost to my knees. I banged my shin on the cabinet under the sink and came out with a very loud "Goddammit" that changed my life forever.
"Boy!",he bellowed, "You will not use that language around me.
Knowing that this was the tone that would lead to a paddling at school, I said, "But you didn't bring a paddle did you?"
"I don't need a paddle. After you've felt the palm of my hand spanking your bottom a few hundred times you'll beg me for three swats with a paddle!"
"You can't do that!"
The only thing I remember is his large hand on my arm and then suddenly I'm lying across his lap on the bed. Then in one swift motion his left hand yanks my t-shirt up to my mid-back and his hand stayed on my back.
So with my tight brief clad butt in the air, my bare thighs on his right bare thigh and my chest on his other bare thigh, he said, "While we are here, I am your legal guardian and will punish you as I see fit. If you make one more protest I will pull down your underpants. If you continue to protest I will take you down to the gift shop and buy one of those novelty paddles and use it on you with your pants pulled down in front of the clerk! Do you understand?"
"Yes sir."
He then reached over me and took the alarm clock from the nightstand. He said, "I am going to set this for ten minutes. When it goes off, I will stop spanking one side and move to the other for ten more minutes. You'll then get ten more across your whole bottom. If at any time you move or protest, your briefs will be pulled down and we'll start over."
He then began spanking me hard. His thick arm muscles propelled his hand to my ass with such force and speed that it could barely react to a lick before the next one arrived. And he keapt spanking and spanking and spanking. Then the alarm went off.
He made me stand up, take the t-shirt completely off, and turn around. He set the alarm, laid me across his lap, and the spanking began again.
At some point I realized that the spanking was close to an end. I clearly remember the moment I made the concious decision to move AND protest. When he paused in his spanking to yank down my briefs and exposed my bare ass, I waited with a nervous anticipation for the stinging feel of the palm of his hand again. And I did.
Several times in the year that followed, I found myself called into his office for a 'private' conference and received paddlings on my briefs and bare.
But I too have an affection for spanking in briefs, though the bottom must sometimes be bared.