(This is part of a group of true stories, taking place throughout my life, childhoold to present day. Like all others in this series, this paddling took place as written here. This particular story takes place 10 weeks after story "T - Matt's First Paddling." Read that one first.]
Matt's whole course of conduct had dramatically improved after he got his first actual paddling of his 18 years. 92 punishment paddle swats to his cotton covered buns got his attention big time. He sulked around for about a day, typical of a spoiled brat, but that soon changed when I warned him either get with it or get out. He became his usual self in short order.
Several weeks later he brought up the demerits he had accumulated, and when he was going to have to pay the penalty for the 7 demerits. (With him and future boys I made it clear that they could wind up wearing only their briefs after they accumulated 8 demerits, and Matt was getting worried.] He offered a compromise to his impending date with the paddle.
"Jason, if I will take my demerit spankings without you having to tie me down, can I take them with just your hand? If I move, you can start over again with the paddle. PPLLEEAassEE let me have it with your hand. I will not move during the spanking....if I do, start over with the paddle. Please?", he said with his best pleading look on his face.
"Matt, that is one hell of a gamble. You could wind up getting alot of extra paddle swats. Are you sure you want to take that chance?', I asked, focusing on his blue eyes, making sure of his intent.
He then went on to explain that the paddling was the worst thing he had ever felt, and he would do anything to avoid that. He wanted to risk it with the hand. We then discussed at length for the first time why I had paddled him and what he felt it accomplished, now that the pain was gone. He was candidly honest. It had refocused his whole mind. Now there was alot of pain to consider if he _f_u_c_k_ed off in school or didn't take care of his chores around the house. He just did not want to feel the paddle again. It had hurt too much. I agreed to let him try to take his first demerit spanking without the paddle.
The next week he got to 9 demerits. I ordered him to get his demerit/merit book and bring the dice. After he handed over the two items, he stripped to his white cotton fashion briefs quickly. Without any hesitation he immediately went over my knees, up on his toes, feet spread apart, elbows on the floor, head lowered. I pulled his Jockey Poco briefs tight, smoothed out the white, thin fabric and tugged on his brief's leg openings. He was ready, his humpy buns tightly framed in the stretched white cotton. Over the next few minutes he got a total of 37 hard hand swats on his butt. To my amazement, he stayed in place and even counted out each swat. Each swat had been a hard one, so I had to admire his ability to accept what he got, without so much as a leg kick. Tears were on the floor, but he counted out each swat and read each demerit before the dice were dropped.
During the next week, Matt brought a three pack of Size 30 white BVD regular briefs. I was kind of surprised and asked him about his change in underwear style.
"Jerry's Dad still spanks him. He told me there was a big difference, real big, in pain between bare butt and briefs. He even said my briefs didn't offer any protection compared to his. He gave me two swats on my left cheek with my briefs and then I put his on and got two on my right cheek. He was right, there was a big difference.", he said almost too casually.
"Christ, what is planning now that would cause him to be that worried about his butt?", I thought as he unwrapped the package and took the three new briefs to his bedroom. The next morning at breakfast, he had them on. It made him look younger than his almost 19 years. No longer did he have his California tan. His hair had darkened under our winter weather. He almost looked like a midwest teenager, getting ready to go to school. He was.
Matt's birthday was in late March, about ten weeks after his first paddling. We went to a really nice restaurant in the next town over and I gave him his present, a $250- gift certificate to the best men's store in the city. He was estatic and reached across the table and gave me a hug. When we got home, several of his friends dropped by to wish him happy birthday and to see if he could got out on a school night. Since his first class wasn't until 11AM the next day, I agreed under several conditions. Where were they going.....and who with. Once Matt explained his desitnation, a friend's house, I gave my blessing, with a warning.
"Be home around midnight. None of you boys are 21, don't drink to celebrate Matt's birthday. If you want to drink to celebrate his birthday, do it this weekend, in this house, under my supervision and care. Nobody drinks tonight! Understand boys?", I barked. I got a bunch of "yes sirs & no way man's" replies.
Just before midnight, I had cleaned up the kitchen after watching Bill Cosby sub for Johnny Carson on the Tonight Show, when Dave knocked on the back door.
"We got get your kid. Let's go.", he growled as he turned around and went to his pickup, engine running in my drive. I grabbed my coat and ran after him, just making it to the truck before he started off. We went off into the night and Dave told me the tale. Matt and his friends were not where they were supposed to be. They instead had gotten drunk in a local beer joint, using fake ID cards, playing pool. Matt had gotten into a fight and the cops were called. He was being held at the police station, along with the others.
Matt had called Dave, hoping that he would pick him up, without telling me. It hadn't worked. He was sitting on bench in the front area of the station, actually weaving. He couldn't even sit up straight. I went over and put my arm around his shoulder and he started to cry....a drunk's beer crying as he laid his head down on my shoulder. God his breath stunk! With Dave's help we made all the arrangements with the on duty officer. He explained to me that he didn't want to file charges....he just didn't want the kids driving in their condition. Plus, Matt hadn't started the fight, and the other guy was a local trouble maker. Matt had cleaned the guy's clock.
He sat between Dave and I all the way home, with his head on my shoulder, already passing out. When we got home, Dave wished me luck as I got Matt headed to the front door. Once inside I laid him down on my bed, pulled off his shoes. His jeans framed his buns tightly as he passed out on his stomach. I slept right outside the door on the couch. Twice in the very early morning I heard him pray to the Porcelain God. About 6:30 he started moaning pretty good, as the Milwaukee Beast from the night before caught up with him.
I went to my closet and got out two ties. I then got his demerit book out and picked up the dice. I went to the kitchen and grabbed a large wastebucket and dumped the contents on the counter. I went back to the bedroom and put the wastebasket next to the bed on the right lower corner, right below his gym sock covered feet. I wrote down two entries for the previous night....10&9. It seems as though Matt had set up the whole deal from the beginning to go directly to the beer joint. It seemed that the waitress had the hots for Matt. Poor kid, she didn't know that I knew Matt was in the closet. The kid had over ten copies of "The Advocate" stashed under his bed.
I took each wrist and tied a tie to it. This was waking Matt up, and he started to protest in a groaning sort of way, not to paddle him. I let him mumble as I slipped my hands under his jeans and unzipped and lowered them to just below his BVD covered buns. His new underpants fit his buns like a tight glove, white fabric creased up his crack. By now Matt was awake enough to know he was in real trouble, on top of feeling like _s_h_i_t_. His breath also smelled just as bad as _s_h_i_t_. He must of eaten the stalest popcorn on this planet, in addition to way too much beer.
I helped him off the bed and then immediately back across my lap. His shoulders, arms and neck were directly over the waistbasket, head almost in it. I pulled up his t-shirt and pulled both arms back. I took his right wrist and pulled it underneath my legs, until his wrist was clear. I secured the tie in the belt loops of his jeans. His left wrist was alittle more awkward since I had to raise him and me off the bed to get his left wrist under my upper legs. I secured his wrist to his jean's belt loops. By now his moaning had stopped, being replaced with begging not to paddle him. His cotton covered buns were across my lap, ready for what had to follow.
I read him the demerit for public drunkeness, a "9". He turned his head as the dice dropped to the floor with a "4" showing. He just groaned and stuck his head into the wastepaper basket.
"CRACK" The first of his 36 swats flattened his buns and he groaned loudly into the basket.
I waited a full ten seconds between each swat, wanting him to feel as much total body agony as possible. At the 11th swat he upchucked and started begging for me to stop. By the 15th his legs were kicking, his butt heaving and squirming as my very slow and very hard swats were igniting a real fire in his butt. Just as I finished the last one, he barfed again.
Now he really started to beg as he knew what I was about ready to give him.
"Jason, I didn't mean to lie to you. I just wanted to impress Jerry and Thad. God, don't paddle me for fibbing. Not now.", he begged as I reached back and picked up anothe dice and dropped it. It showed a "3". I picked up the second dice, since it had been less than 90 days since Matt had lied to me and dropped it, showing a "6".
I rubbed his warm buns as I asked, "What is 3 plus 6 Matt?" He started crying and begging. I picked up the paddle and let his bare upper thighs have two rapid swats. He heaved and arched.
"NNIINNEE JASON! No more, pplleeaasse....no more." as he threw up again.
"CRACK". He choked as he screamed out, begging me not to paddle him.
Each of these new swats were just as hard as the first set, but I went up and down his cotton covered buns and his bare thighs. Those swats really made him scream. As I past 50 swats I landed all of them on his bare thighs. He struggled hard against his bound wrists, his cotton covered feet kicking & twisting. At 64, I stopped.
"NO! NO! NO! Jason don't do it. Don't pull down my briefs. Please No!" he screamed as I did exactly that. Slowly I pulled them down, really dragging it out, making it really agonizing on him. Our arrangement had been that anytime he got over 100 swats in a spanking session, after 100, all would be on the bare. He had 26 more on the bare. With his jeans and wrists next to his legs, it was difficult to actually get them down to his jeans, front and back. When it was done, he was almost beside himself with pleading and begging. It didn't work.
I paused for several minutes, letting him think he might have somehow get a reprieve. I slowly rubbed his upper thighs and bare buns. His buns were dark red with paddle marks. His upper thighs were a lighter shade of red, but with more pronounced paddle marks. I picked up the paddle and he started promising the moon.
"CRACK" Matt's first bare butt paddle swat landed across both cheeks, right where his buns meet his thighs and his whole body bucked.
His bare butt paddle swats were not has hard, because it was obvious from the condition of his skin, sitting in class today was going to be a real trick. By the time I was finished you couldn't understand his pleas. It was after 7AM by the time the last swat landed. Matt's spanking had taken alot of time, but I had purposely spaced out the swats, so that his 19 year old hung over body would feel almost as bad as his butt. WIth his convulsive crying, his stomach had to be in gut wrenching agong....and that was the purpose behind the timing and severity of my paddling.
The thought of having to call my cousin Larry and report his son's injury or worse, because of drunkeness, was not going to happen....NOT on my watch!
(The rest of my true life stories are posted on the main MMSA Stories index, in somewhat alpha/chronological order. Many of you each week e-mail me and express your pleasure and comments from reading my stories. In my business travels around the midwest, I then satisfy some of those same MMSA Stories readers with their needs to receive a spanking from an old fashioned Missouri Dad.]