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 story marks the third of a series of stories of teenage punishment spankings that took place as I was raising my family. All of these spankings took place in response to an unusual event, requiring immediate punishment. Plus, all of them involve a boy or girl, not part of our family. In our own children's daily routine, a merit and demerit system was used, with their spankings given after a specific demerit accumulation. This story involves a boy, not particularly a friend of any of my sons, or a member of any sport team I coached, which makes this story very unusual.)
Tom was a lost 15-year old boy. His mother Vi, after an ugly divorce, had married a well meaning executive named Ralph. But his stepfather was without a clue about how to raise stepchildren. Tom and his two sisters, ages 11 & 13, wound up spending a tremendous amount of time at our house, but never in an overnight sleepover situation.
Tom and his sisters really weren't buddies/friends with our kids. They tolerated them, because of me. Quite simply Tom and his sisters wanted to be around me and our family as kids, on their terms. They craved attention, attention not given to them from their own white-collar yuppie parents. I too am a white-collar professional, but I can relate to virtually any person's station in life, or their kids. That skill with people makes me a more than comfortable living each year, and has for many years.
We had become friends with Vi & Ralph through other mutual friends. My wife and I really enjoyed the adult social company of Vi & Ralph. Their children were well aware of my sport activities with kids, because of their own friends. One thing that we discovered was that Vi & Ralph didn't believe in any form of physical punishment. Ralph was a total wimp, and Vi ruled the roost. She had a bad childhood, and wanted her children to suffer no pain, mentally or physically....despite an ugly divorce when Tom was 8, and his sisters were 4 & 6. Needless to say, their kids were screwed up big time. The back talk mouthing they gave both of their parents was like the fingernails on the old chalkboard of my mind.
The funny thing was the total disbelief that Vi & Ralph had about the control I had over all three of their kids. Early on, when they showed up at our house, no smart mouth was allowed. When we arrived at Vi & Ralph's for social occasions, their kid's behavior instantly improved. At this point in history, I hadn't laid a hand on any of them....snapped my fingers and glared, but no OTK.
It has been my experience that I have an effect on almost all children that many times absolutely baffles their parents. I simply explain to all of them....I give their kids a black & white world, with no gray and no BS. In the vast majority of parental cases....right over their heads. Most parents of these kinds of kids not only don't have "a clue", they don't even suspect anything. Tom & sisters were such kids, and Vi & Ralph didn't have enough gray matter to suspect why.
Tom was a kid, that at 15 wanted to be controlled and loved by a male figure he respected. Between he and his sisters, they invented reasons to be at our house, instead of their own, a block & a half away. Tom became more and more of a pest, because he was a rock musician wanna-be, but didn't like learning the basics of music. He was no athlete, period. At the time of this story, the kid was almost as tall as I was, but with a slender build, thick black hair, brown eyes, smooth body and face, with sharp features to his face. Girls loved his look.
One day, Tom did something to get attention that changed everything. His act earned him his first spanking in life, and was the first of three spankings that I gave him over a two-year period of time. His sisters also got several along the way, for totally unrelated reasons.
I was in my office, making my appointment calls for the week, when I heard my wife and my mother-in-law holler out big time volume. The kitchen/breakfast area was right above my office, so their collective verbiage of "Tom, whatta you doing!" got my attention.
By the time I got upstairs, it was apparent what had happened. Tom was crouched against the wall, and my wife and mother-in-law were glaring at him and screaming, pointing at my mother-in-law's purse on the breakfast area dinette table. Tom's face was pale, and it turned white when he saw me. By the time all the screaming and yelling of these two enraged females was over with, it had become apparent what had Tom done. [Isn't it amazing that women can only express anger in the scream mode. By contrast, the most dangerous men I have met in my life never, and I mean never, raised their voice. Only females always scream and shout. It's gotta be a female thing. Sorry to all you "feminazis".]
He had boosted $40- from my mother-in-laws purse, and got caught with it just as he was snapping the purse shut, by my wife. Money, or loot, in hand so to speak. This was going to be the first demonstration of Tom's world class bad criminal wanna-be skills. It was also the first spanking for these skills, but not the last.
After I got the women calmed down, I confirmed their sense of history with Tom. All he did was stay slumped against the wall in his t-shirt and gray gym shorts, head hanging down, nodding "yes" to confirm their version of events. I really was puzzled at this total turn of events. But I couldn't deal with him, with the whole family acting as the Jesuit judges of the Spanish Inquisition. Since my mother-in-law had been going shopping with my kids and wife anyway, I made sure they still were going. That's when my "milk toast mother-in-law" started doing her moralistic benevolent moonwalk.
"Now Jason, you don't touch this boy. He probably didn't mean what he did. So don't be hard on him. You understand?", as she tried to intimidate me. NOT.
"Laura, don't worry, I'll treat him just like one of our kids." That really set her off. It took me 10 minutes just to get her shut up, much less get her out the door. Tom looked on in amazement. Hell, why shouldn't he. The person he just stole from, now wanted his teenage buns to remain pearly white. A couple of nasty looks from me had him convinced that wasn't going to happen. He was right. In a few minutes the house was quiet, it was just he and I.
"Tom, something is very wrong son, for you to have pulled such a stupid stunt as trying to steal from Sandy's mother, in front of the whole family. Are you brain dead son? Did the doctor cut the umbilical cord too soon? What in the hell is going on?", I said as evenly and forcefully as I could, without raising my voice.
Tom slumped to the floor. His white sneaker covered feet jammed against his buns on the floor; his folded arms formed the pillow on top of his knees that his head cradled on. He began to softly cry. I sat down cross-legged on the floor in front of him and stroked his straight black hair as he really started to cry. I let him cry it out. After a few minutes he stopped and looked up at me.
"Why don't you pay attention to me? Nobody does! Not my mom. Not Ralph. Not my girl friend. No body cares. NOBODY!", he screamed, looking at me with his tear stained eyes and face. This boy was hurting, as he rocked back and forth.
Over the next few minutes I made him understand that it wasn't my place to "pay attention to him". I was not his father, his stepfather, his mother or any other responsible relative. And I sure as hell wasn't his girl friend. I was an adult friend, but he was a teenage boy. As a teenage boy he had demonstrated the wrong way to gain my attention. The really wrong way.
"Whatta ya gonna do to me?", he finally asked.
"If you were my son, what would I do to you Tom?"
"I'd getta whippin.", he said slowly.
I then lectured him on the fact I didn't give any child of mine a "whippin." Appropriate spankings, but not "whippins".
"You deserve a hard spanking Tom. No way around it. The problem is this. Your mom & dad have never spanked you or your sisters. That in my opinion is one of the reasons you kids are so screwed up." Tom looked up, startled by the harshness of my statement. I went on.
"I don't think it is my place to give you what I think you deserve, despite our close relationship with your Mom & Dad. Unfortunately, when I call them with this problem, it will probably kill you guys spending anytime here at this house in the future, plus put a chill on our relationship with your Mom & Dad. My only other choice is to call the cops, but that would really screw up your life. You really have put me into a box Tom. If you were me, what would you do?"
For at least five minutes he just stared at me with tears slowly coming out of his brown eyes and rocked back and forth. Finally he spoke.
"If I were your son, what kind of spanking would I get?"
"Tom, I won't kid you, your butt would be multi-colored and hot....and it would be sore for at least several days. I would paddle you on your underpants and bare butt, making you scream and wish you had met my family or me. I don't really think you want that as an option, especially since your mom & dad don't believe in spanking....but if there is one thing you really need is just that!"
Tom stared intently at me for at least another minute. Then he reached down and started untying his sneakers and pulling them off, along with his white gym socks. Then he slowly stood up and pulled off his t-shirt and let it hit the floor. His upper body was hairless, except for his armpits. He then pulled his grey knit gym shorts down and off, leaving him standing in his tight, white cotton BVD briefs, his long legs were hairless He shuddered as he looked at me and then spoke.
"You're right. If you promise not to call my folks or the cops, then I will take any spanking you think I deserve, even if it means a paddling.", he said with almost a whisper tone. I got up off the floor, and put my hands on his shoulders and looked him square in the eyes.
"Tom, if I do this, you will hurt like you have never hurt before in your life. You will hate me as I paddle your butt. You have no idea what pain a paddle can do to your butt, underpants or bare. When I let you up after it is over, you will dance around my office nude, trying to rub the fire and pain out of your butt with your hands. Now, if that is what you want me to do, instead of contacting your parents or the police, then you are going to have to write that out on a piece of paper and read it into a tape recorder. Is that what you want? Are you really sure you want me to ignite a fire in your butt?"
"Can I keep coming down here if I do?"
"My God son. Your parents love you. You don't need me to paddle your butt to show my feelings for you. I am disappointed in you, really disappointed. But, getting a hard paddling, and it will be just that, is not necessary. Call your parents son. Let them deal with this."
"I deserve a spanking my parents won't give me. I will write down what I did and what you should do to punish me. Can't we get this over with? Do I need to take off my briefs?"
"No Tom, I will take them off at the right time during your spanking. You're right son, let's stop your heart from aching. Let's give you what you have needed for a long time." I still had my hands on his shoulders and he grabbed me and hugged me hard. I returned his hug and then motioned for him to go downstairs. I followed him down the stairs and was surprised at his bouncing cotton covered buns. I never realized that his slender body did actually have a set of pretty well developed buns.
Once in the office, I made him sit at my desk and write out in longhand the whole story of his aborted theft. When he was through, I put my mini-recorder in his hands and he read it back. He put the recorder and paper down and stood up. He looked at me, now with a little fear on is face, toes scrunching in nervousness. I reached into my desk drawer and got out the paddle and handed it to him. He was stunned at the sight and feel of the smooth wood. I put the saddle stool in the middle of the room and motioned him over. He held onto the paddle as he simply draped over my lap, his toes barely touched the floor. I ordered him to hold onto the paddle until I asked for it, as his slender hands held it tight against the floor.
For the next few minutes I played mind games with him, all the while the recorder kept running. I massaged his buns and thighs and made sure he wanted me to go through with his spanking. He kept confirming everything, despite being jack knifed over my lap, his buns arched and his briefs stretched tight. I told him to not reach back with his hands, but to hold onto the paddle and not let it go until I ordered him to give it to me. If he didn't hand it to me when I asked, the paddling would be totally on the bare. He nodded his head and started to cry softly.
"Tom, I am going to spank you with my hand and with the paddle. I will begin and end with my hand. In between I will give you a hard paddling. This paddling will make you scream, cry and beg. I won't listen until your butt is dark red with purple paddle marks. Do you understand?"
Tom shuddered again and nodded his head as I brought my right hand back and connected full force in the center of his butt.
"SPLAT" Tom's head snapped back and he moaned "Oh God!"
That was the first of 60 hand swats I gave him very slowly. Every 10 swats I stopped, massaged and lectured. Each stop marked new pleas of mercy and that he had learned his lesson. By the time I finished off the last swat he was sounding like a little 5 year old, instead of a 5' 10" 15 year old. I ordered him to hand me the paddle with his right hand. He did and I grabbed his wrist with my left hand and forced it down on his back.
I rubbed his warm, cotton covered buns with the paddle as I lectured him again. "Tom. You stole $40- from Laura's purse. Since this is your first spanking, I am going to make it longer than I would normally, because you have needed this for a long time. 40 on the underpants, 40 on the bare." as I raised the paddle.
"CRACK" Tom's head twisted back and he looked at me with pleading eyes and watched the next swat being delivered.
"CRACK" He screamed. "NNOO. Oh God No."
Slowly Tom got what he deserved and needed. He kicked, screamed, pleaded and bawled....just as he had been warned. I made sure that from the leg opening of his tight white briefs to 2" below his gray & white elastic waistband, nothing was left untouched by the paddle. I put the paddle in the waistband of my pants in back, and then slowly and almost teasingly pulled down his warm briefs to his knees and then to his calves. He now wanted the pain to stop and was promising the world. It didn't matter as I looked down as his crimson and pink smooth hairless buns. I pulled the paddle out of my waistband and raised it high.
"CCRRAACCKK" it landed dead center again. Tom's total body snapped horizontal and his briefs were left on one ankle.
"CCRRAACCKK" Left cheek, the bottom of his feet were parallel with the ceiling.
"CCRRAACCKK" Right cheek and his underpants landed on my desk.
37 more times I paddle Tom's twisting and heaving buns. His asshole puckered and expanded as his buns clenched and unclenched spasmodically. He was constantly screaming and bawling by the 6th swat, not ceasing at all, even though I made sure each swat was at least 3-5 seconds apart. When it was done, I purposely dropped the paddle in front of his face.
Then my hand raised again, not giving him a chance to recover from the paddling. Now his lower ass cheeks and upper thighs became the focus of the final 40 swats. His legs kicked apart at the on slaught on his tender thighs. These swats, as so many times happens to boys, sent him over the edge, almost making him hyperventilate he was so hysterical.
I quickly pulled him to his feet and then picked him up like a small naked child. He grabbed my neck and buried his face in my chest as I took him into the lower rec. room and laid him face down on his belly on the couch. Over the next 30 minutes I massaged his buns and thighs, lecturing him on not only for the reason for this spanking but his life in general, making sure that he understood that he better not back talk his parents around me ever again. He didn't, but that still didn't keep him from getting spanked in the future, nor spending even more time at our house. He also became one of Paul's best buddies in the neighborhood. His sisters were something else, but that is another story.
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.