"What a horrible week!" I thought as I slammed into the house Friday evening, "I don't know what else can go wrong!" I took a deep breath, at least it was going to be a long weekend with me having Monday off as well as the other two days, maybe I'd be able to get back into the groove by then.
Everything had gone wrong that could go wrong, a new kid came into the office and seeming as I am one of the most senior people there the boss told me to take him under my wing until he learned what was going on and frankly, he is about the dumbest person that I've ever seen! He seemed to be totally unable to take any kind of instructions at all and run with them so I ended up correcting his work as well as doing my own. What made it even more infuriating is even when I was reading him the riot act he would just smile at me. Boy, could Dad make him learn to pay attention to what he was supposed to be doing! He sure taught me to.
Hmm. I wonder. It has been about six months since my last visit, I wonder what Dad's up to? I reached for the phone.
When I heard Dad's voice on the line I spilled my guts to him, telling him about how the week had been so awful. He let me run on and on, just making the usual noises that a person makes to signify agreement.
"Son," he said, "maybe you should come for a visit, I think we need to discuss this in person."
"Great, Dad," I replied, "I'll bring supper."
I threw a few clothes into a suitcase though if what happened that I thought would happen I wouldn't be needing a lot of clothing this weekend and locked the house and climbed into the car. I stopped at a Chinese take out joint and picked up all of our favorites, an appetizer platter for four, ham fried rice, beef lo mein and just about any other thing I could think of, we both love Chinese and it reheats wonderfully. We should be able to get two or three meals from what I bought.
As I tooled the Jaguar down the road for the hour and a half trip to the farm I reflected on what I was doing. Actually I was feeling better already, the Jag always does that to me once I'm outside of the city, just me, the road and one of the world's best cars snuggled around me. I was also thinking about what would happen once I got to the farm and my fanny started to itch a bit for I was going home for a spanking. Seeming as I would be there for the entire weekend there might be more than one.
Pretty silly, isn't it? A grown man, now 36 years old, driving an hour and a half to get back into the old position that he dreaded as a child, over his father's knees with his bare behind sticking up and awaiting the stinging slaps of a paddle to descend upon it. What makes it even sillier is I was requesting this to happen. I was not ordered to the wood shed, I was asking for it.
I had found out quite by accident a year or so ago that returning to this ancient ritual of childhood had a cathartic effect on me and tended to dissolve all my worries and cares about the same time I would dissolve into tears. Dad, fortunately, was very understanding about the whole thing and was a willing participant in the operation. I think he knew how a spanking made me feel and figured if he could help me cope with all the pressures I was under trying to make it in today's world by tanning my hide for me it was a small thing to do. I truly think that the few minutes that I spent over his knees was worth more to me than hours on a shrink's couch.
Okay, nowadays it is more than a 'few minutes', Dad tends to tan me for about fifteen minutes at a minimum, he figures there is more of me to spank and he wants to make sure the whole area is treated properly. A normal paddling when I was a kid usually would last at the most ten minutes of sheer, blazing agony, now as an adult I needed even stronger medicine. The end result was the same, though, I would have a very sore backside and teary face.
I reached the farm and brought all the food into the house along with my suitcase. Dad lifted an eyebrow when he saw the suitcase but told me to put it in my old bedroom. Once I came back downstairs we each fixed up a giant plate of food and popped them in the micro to reheat everything for it had gone cold on the trip, and then settled down in front of the fireplace to eat and talk. Following an unspoken rule we did not talk about my problems until after supper when we had everything cleaned up and put away and were sitting gazing into the flames while sipping a drink.
Dad once more listened to my problems and asked just enough questions to keep me talking. He had run his own business for years so knew some of the problems with breaking in a new person and trying to get him to understand what was required of him and how to make him understand. He gave me many important pointers about how to deal with the matter and I was already feeling better.
Dad got up to refresh our drinks and said, "I think that you need some of my guidance, here, but it's kind of dark to go out to the shed, we'll save that for daylight, but I think we can get a start on things tonight so you'll have something to think on while you are in bed. Why don't you get ready and I'll be right back." He left the room for the kitchen and then I heard him head up the stairs.
'Getting ready' means just one thing so I stood up after slipping off my shoes and socks and took all of my clothes off until I was standing naked in the living room. Sure enough, when I looked down my old companion was standing at attention just like he always did when I was going to get my butt tanned.
Dad came back into the room, drinks in one hand, a towel over his shoulder and of all things, his heavy brown leather belt that he used to use when he wore his jeans on weekends. He noticed my flagstaff sticking out and smiled.
"It's nice to see some things never change," he said, gesturing at my crotch, "you've gotten that way ever since the very first spanking I gave you which was quite a while before you learned why and what to do about it."
I blushed then and stammered, "You mean you know what I used to do after you spanked me?"
He laughed and said, "Sure I do, you left the evidence right there on the firewood in the corner, you know. Don't worry, I used to do the same thing when my father used to give me a hiding." The thoughts of my own father masturbating struck me as awfully strange, your parents weren't supposed to know about such things never mind do them!
It was then that it struck me, why did Dad have that old belt with him? He had never spanked me with a belt although lots of my friends got belt whippings from their dads, mine always used his paddle when I got older. I had to ask him.
"Er, Dad," I said, "what's with the belt?"
"You don't actually think I'm going to spank you with my hand, do you?" he asked, "I haven't done that for years and now I'd wear my hand out before I even got your attention."
"I can run out to the shed and get the paddle," I offered.
"No," replied Dad, "this will work just fine. The paddle has its home out there and will stay out there, the belt will serve quite well I can assure you."
Like I said, lots of my friends used to get a hiding with their dad's belt, I had seen the signs quite a few times over the years. All of us used to get spanked back in those days and in fact used to kind of brag about how hard our father could spank and show the evidence to prove it. What a stupid thing to brag about-- 'My dad spanks harder than your dad!'. The fathers seemed to be about evenly divided when it came to the proper tool to use on their son's behinds, belts and paddles were about equally used. One kid's dad used to use an old fashioned razor strop on his backside which looked pretty fearsome indeed, his bum would be all dark welts and stripes after a spanking with that thing.
There was one thing that we all had in common, whatever our respective fathers used to punish us, we all got it on the bare, no exceptions. The methods of getting it that way varied, some had to strip naked like I did, some just would drop their pants and underwear to their ankles before bending over their dad's lap, a couple of kids had to just get undressed from the waist down. It made no difference, really, rather than being embarrassing for the target was as nature intended it to be. All of us with the exception of the kid that used to get his rear end tanned with the strop got it over our father's knees, he had to bend over a sawhorse to get his whippings.
Dad put the towel on the couch and then sat down, doubled over belt in his strong right hand. I was a bit apprehensive about this having never been spanked with a belt before so I stalled a bit.
"Dad," I asked, "how come you never spanked me with a belt when I was young?"
He chuckled and said, "I almost did once, remember that Thanksgiving day at Grandma's house?"
Did I ever! Getting together with all the cousins and such brought the brat out in me and frankly I was unbearable that day, a perfect monster. Despite ominous looks from Dad and sooner or later the promise 'Wait until we get home' my behavior didn't improve at all, even on the ride home. When we finally arrived home after a large dinner, Dad didn't even pause but took me right out to the shed and paddled my butt about the same color as the cranberry sauce we had for dinner.
"The way you were behaving all day and then on the ride home almost got you a trip into the woods," Dad said, "you don't know how close I came to stopping the car and taking you for a walk off the road a piece. You should have felt my belt that day and would have except we were on the way home and I could wait to use the paddle on you instead." He paused for a few seconds and went on. "The big reason that I didn't take you for that walk was I just knew that even after I hided you with the belt I would have paddled you as well so you actually missed a spanking you should have gotten."
He then called me over to him and showed me how he wanted me positioned, laying over his lap, sure, but with my chest resting on the seat of the couch while my feet were still on the floor. My erection was pressed firmly against the outside of his right thigh and he let his left leg drop and raised his right so my butt was up in a nice position to smack. He brought the doubled over belt high and brought it smacking down on my right cheek. I heard it whistle through the air before hitting my bare rump with a sharp 'crack'.
Sting? Oh, my how that belt stung! It was a lot different than the paddle, the paddle would create a hot glow all over my buns right away, the belt was more a bunch of small, very hot stripes. Dad, for a person that had never used a belt to spank with before, was really pretty good with it, licking it all over my naked posterior and I never knew where it would hit next, sometimes high, sometimes low, sometimes several swats on the same cheek before moving on, sometimes completely random licks anyplace on my rapidly heating bum.
Dad just whipped and whipped my rear end with that belt, heating it all up to almost molten state. I learned an interesting fact about the belt as opposed to the paddle, it could sneak into all my crevices where the paddle would not normally touch, especially when I started kicking my legs around just like a little kid trying to avoid the next stinging lash, I got smacked quite a few times right inside my crack, pretty much uncharted territory before this time. Getting your butt hole slapped by a leather belt swung hard is quite a treat, believe me.
There were tears in my eyes before we got done an eternity later though I never broke down and bawled like I did when I was a kid. My fanny was scalding hot and I could feel the places where the belt had smacked many times as a sort of pulsing pain against the overall fires burning back there.
Dad put me up on my feet and said, "I want you to go to bed now and think about things, you better make a stop in the bathroom first, though, but don't make a mess." I blushed when he said that, sure I wanted to 'spank the monkey' as we said when we were kids but he didn't have to mention it.
I walked naked and red rumped upstairs to the bathroom and closed the door behind me. It wasn't that I was worried about Dad walking in on me although I wasn't sure I could masturbate in front of him, I wanted to check out my backside in the long mirror on the back of the door.
It looked pretty nasty all told, all fiery red and with raised stripes on it where the belt had bit in extra hard and lots of small bright red spots where the belt had wrapped around a cheek and nailed my hips. He had spanked me all over my backside and included my thighs and legs into the mix as well. I bent over and spread my sore cheeks with my hands and saw that the inside of my crack was just as red as the outside. My examination complete, I walked over to the toilet and lifted the seat and took care of my 'monkey', giving it a good spanking for sure. I cleaned up the stray drops and then flushed and went into my bedroom and crawled into bed, laying on my belly in the traditional post spanking position and wincing only a little as I pulled the covers over me. There were times in the past that I would spend the entire night with my crimson bum looking at the ceiling all night and heating the room for I couldn't even bear the weight of a sheet on my sore hide. I drifted off to sleep in my old bed thinking about all the times I'd done to sleep with a sore bottom.
I got up the next morning and crawled out of bed, my bottom wasn't burning any longer but I still knew that I had been spanked the night before. I went to the bathroom and checked out my rump in the mirror, most of the red had faded though there were still some small red marks on my hips and other tender areas where the belt had bitten in extra hard. It didn't stop me from sitting down and taking care of my morning's call of nature, though, some times in the past I had actually had to sort of squat over the bowl because my fanny was too sore to even think about sitting on that hard wooden seat. I finished up my potty chores and wiped and flushed and headed downstairs still naked for my clothes were still in the living room and I didn't want to bother getting fresh ones out of my suitcase.
Dad was in the kitchen cooking breakfast, the smell of bacon and coffee in the air and he didn't even lift an eyebrow when I came naked into the room. Modesty in my later life was not my long suit, I have no problems with others seeing me in the nude, I've even spent weekends at a naturist camp. Dad had sure seen every single inch of my body over the years so there would be no surprizes for him, that's for sure. About the only thing different this time was for wonders I wasn't erect for a change. I'm not sure that he's ever seen me without a woody, back when he was spanking me all the time even when he would come into the bathroom when I was showering I was erect which was just typical of all teenage boys. Get me naked and it would rise to the occasion, anywhere, anytime.
"How's the bottom this morning, son?" he asked from over by the stove.
"Fine, Dad," I answered, " no problems."
"Guess I'm getting soft in my old age," he said, "back in the old days you'd be eating breakfast standing up."
"Not this time," I laughed, grabbing a cup of coffee and sitting down at the table.
"Guess I'll just have to take care of that," he said as he brought my food to the table, "just don't seem right somehow."
Bang! Instant erection. Darn that thing anyhow! Dad's next words didn't help the situation at all.
"What did you think of the belt compared to the paddle?" he inquired, "I don't think I made you cry because of it."
"I had a few tears in my eyes, Dad," I replied, "I can tell you that it stings pretty good and if I was still a kid I would have been bawling big time while you were whipping my butt with that thing. I guess you are getting soft in your old age." I chuckled to show him I was joking when I saw his eyes narrow a bit.
"We'll see about that," he said, and changed the subject. He asked how long I could stay and when I told him I was his for the weekend he planned out some things for us to do together. He had a big old tree that had fallen across a path out in the woods.
"With your help we should be able to get that old tree taken care of today," he said, "want to give me a hand with it?"
"Sure, Dad," I replied, "why not?" This was a male chore and one he and I had shared since I was big enough to drag branches out of the way.
After breakfast was over and the dishes taken care of I went into the living room to get dressed, nudity is nice but it's a bit cold outside for bare skin today. I spied the old belt laying on the couch where Dad had left it and picked it up and took a couple of test swipes through the air with it. Dad walked in and saw me playing with it and grinned.
Something came over me then, I somehow needed to feel this thing on my buns again.
"Dad," I said, "do you remember the times that I didn't want to go and cut and haul wood with you?"
"Sure do," he replied, "somehow I always made you see things my way. It's amazing how much better you worked with a hot behind."
I handed him the belt with a grin. "Dad, I don't want to mess around with firewood today."
"You don't, huh?" he said, taking me by the arm and guiding me across his lap as he sat down, "let's see if I can change your mind for you."
It was a pretty hot whipping he gave me with that belt, bringing it cracking down again and again all over my bare backside. I think we both knew that this spanking was just for fun so I kicked and yowled and begged him to stop while he steadily heated my buns up very well. He, on his part, yelled about lazy kids that didn't want to work and how we needed the firewood to keep warm, he'd make darned sure that one part of me would be pretty hot anyhow! He hided me for about five minutes before letting me get up and ordering me to get dressed. I pretended to sniffle and sob while I pulled my clothing on over my fiery rear end.
We got out the old tractor and trailer and as usual Dad drove the tractor while I rode on the trailer, kneeling down and holding onto the headboard. I had ridden off to the woods many, many, times like this in the past for I really didn't like to do the firewood chores and most of the time I did them with my backside rather hot from getting my mind changed for me, it hurt too much to sit so I used to kneel. Now that wasn't the case but it seemed the thing to do anyhow.
We actually had a great time cutting up that old oak, Dad wielding the chainsaw and me splitting up the wood and stacking it on the trailer. Both of us took care of the branches that were too small to be bothered with, stacking them off to the side of the road. Every time I would bend over to pick something up I'd be reminded of my spanking, just like the old days. When it came to firewood, a spanking was a gift that kept on giving. It was lunch time by the time we finished and Dad drove the tractor home while I walked behind. He backed the trailer in front of the shed so we could unload it after we ate.
After lunch, still playing the game, I whined about having to put the wood into the shed.
"I don't have time for this!" Dad said, and took me into the living room. There he had me just pull down my pants and underwear to bare my butt and took me across his knees that way and whipped my tail for a while to help get me into the mood for the work. The belt did its magic and before too long I was willing and eager to off load the wood into the shed.
We continued to play with that belt for the entire weekend, Dad even took to wearing it to have it handy all the time. I can't say how many times I felt that thing across my nether cheeks, it was a lot. Of course the weekend wasn't non-stop spankings, we did lots of other things as well. None of the whippings were really hard or long lasting, this was just a game that we were playing and both enjoying a lot. I had to make quite a few trips to the bathroom during that time to relieve some pressure by administering a spanking of my own and once, when we were walking through the back woods and I got a licking out there, did it with him watching something I had never even thought of doing before.
Dad had just finished giving me a quickie spanking out there in the woods, taking me underneath his left arm with my pants down and tanning me with the belt that way, another first, and when I stood up after the whipping my hand strayed to my penis.
"Go ahead, son, you know you want to" Dad said quietly, "I won't tell if you don't". Dad got to watch his 36 year old, red bottomed son masturbate and ejaculate right out there in the woods. Another first.
I was feeling a lot better now, I guess that my spank therapy was working but there was just something missing. This long weekend I had been spanked more than any other weekend in my life, heck, it was more times than any month in my life, but none of them had taken me completely back to my youth and I somehow needed that.
I was leaving to go home right after lunch that Monday but knew I couldn't leave without a trip out to the wood shed. I told Dad so and he just nodded. Right after we ate the two of us headed out there and Dad shut the door behind us and took down the paddle. I silently stripped naked and without a word lay down across his knees.
Dad, knowing it was important to me, paddled my bare butt as if he hadn't spanked me all weekend, long and hard while I cried and wailed. It was about fifteen minutes before I got up from that position and I had cried myself dry and my fanny felt like I had backed into the fireplace. He guided me over to my corner, hung the paddle back up and left the shed, leaving me to think. I stood there crying for some time before reaching forward and giving myself relief and then stood there until I got cold. I was feeling much better now, I guess the crying was an important part of the routine.
As I got dressed I noticed evidence that once again I had peed when he was paddling me for there was a dark spot on the dirt floor. I smiled as I pulled on my briefs over my very sore backside, that was normal, too. I got dressed the rest of the way and went into the house to thank Dad for the weekend and he told me to come back anytime I felt I needed to. I promised that I would sometime soon.
Even the soft leather of the Jag's bucket seat wasn't an awful lot of help on that long drive home, my bottom burned for the rest of that day and for another besides. It took two full weeks for all the marks to go away so I could go to the gym again but I will have to say that my outlook on the job improved a lot as well. The new kid I was saddled with didn't seem quite so annoying and he finally was seeming to catch on to what I was trying to teach him. Any time that he really got on my nerves I would form a mental picture of him getting the paddle on his bare behind but the funny thing is it was always my dad that was applying that paddle, not me. I guess that my role in a spanking scenario is not the spanker, ever, that's Dad's job. Besides, I could always take that hour and a half drive to visit Dad for a little of my spank therapy anytime, I knew he would be there for me.