(This is part of a group of 25+ true stories posted here, taking place throughout my life, childhood to present day. Like all others in this series, this spanking took place as written. This story marks the 4th of an eventual 12+ 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 punishment spankings being given after a specific number of demerits being accumulated. This story involves two neighbor boys, twins.]
The home that we lived in the longest, raising our family was built on two estate sized lots at the southeast corner of our rural subdivision. It totaled almost five acres, with about two acres comprising a low land area that caught alot of rain runoff. I purposely bought the second lot, so that a large pond/small lake could be built, using the natural runoff as the water source. The eventual 60,000 square foot pond/lake was picture perfect. I used the limestone rock that we drilled out of the front of the lots for the foundation, to construct a rock shoreline about halfway around the lake. Looking at water had, and has now a tremendously relaxing effect on my very dominant personality. As I am writing this story today, waiting for the Chiefs/Raiders game to come on, I am looking the large river channel of the lake I live on, with a total of 9 miles of water to look at. My kids, as well as the neighborhood kids, loved to fish and canoe on that small lake right outside the backdoor of that large country home.
We had certain rules for the lake. No swimming, no rock throwing and ask permission when the flag was raised. We had a special flag pole outside the back door that was raised when we felt it appropriate for outside persons to use the lake. No raised flag, don't knock and ask permission....much less go ahead and start using it. I never punished anyone for violating these rules, I simply sent them home and banned them from the lake. Every single time this got a call from the parents, and almost always the kid or kids got spanked and then sent back to the house to apologize. If some kid showed up with tears in his/her eyes walking kind of slow and stiff, they got immediate reinstatement.
About 50 yards down the road was the main house, barns and caretaker's house for a very large hobby horse ranch. Hobby farms/ranches are tax vehicles for the wealthy to play farmer/rancher and get to deduct the losses incurred with such an operation. This ranch was a dandy. It was owned by a woman whose investment income exceeded $100,000- a month. She had a full time maintenance man/horse man/caretaker, nicknamed Sarge.
Sarge was literally the last of a breed. He was a retired Army Master Sgt, whose last duty post had been at Ft. Riley, Kansas; then the home of the Big Red One. That was the last Army division classified as a cavalry division, based in this country. Sarge had been the last horseman NCO in the US Army, the last horse soldier. His horses were not used for combat, but used for show, to display the historical significance of the horse cavalry. When he retired, he brought with him a second wife and two boys, Jeff & Tony, identical twins.
At the time of this story Jeff and Tony were 13. Their mom had them late in her life, and she spoiled them rotten. By contrast, Sarge lived by the rule of "S. N.S. B.N. S", translated "Start No _s_h_i_t_, Be No Strap". I can remember more than once seeing the two boys headed to the barn with their heads hanging down, and their feet shuffling slowly....on the way to meet their painful fate, with Sarge carrying a short length of saddle harness in his hand. A few minutes later, on a quiet day, you could hear the sound of the short, thick strap and bare butt creating the wailing of two boys being severely spanked. In my opinion, way too severe, because of the size and weight of what Sarge used to spank his sons. No child needs that kind of item used on their bare butts.
Tony & Jeff liked to do things when Sarge & his wife were gone. Since they were 13, they were their own baby sitters. Plus, their mother was grossly overweight with diabetes, and the boys had to do much of the cooking and cleaning around the house. So on balance, the boys were pretty responsible, but they were still boys being raised on a farm in the country. Speaking from personal first hand experience, you folks who were raised in the city missed it all....all!
Tony & Jeff liked to fish and play on our lake, and were somewhat diligent about following the rules. One time I caught them in our canoe on the lake, throwing rocks at their own house. When they got home, Sarge called me, because he saw me motioning them out of our yard. Inside of a minute that I saw Tony & Jeff headed to the barn, Sarge whipping the back of their bare legs forcing them to run to the barn. In a minute the screams of Jeff & Tony started, lasting for almost 20 minutes. I was sick to my stomach at the severity of what I had just heard. But, the boys showed up an hour later and apologized, with ugly red & purple strap marks showing beneath their cutoffs. In a week Sarge let them come back to ask permission to fish. I granted it. Later on, during the winter, they screwed up again.
My wife and boys had gone to visit her mom & dad for the afternoon and evening. I was home with our daughter, who hadn't gotten the flu, and was sick in bed. I was spending most of the time on the second floor living room doing my technical reading, so that I could hear her cry out from her second floor bedroom. My office was in the walkout basement, so Tony and Jeff didn't see a light on at the back of the house and no car in the driveway assumed that no one was home. Sarge and his wife were out of town, at a military base hospital, getting her monthly check up.
Since there was a layer of ice on the lake, the boys decided to play on the ice, since obviously no one was around. Unfortunately, the ice was not nearly thick enough to hold their combined weights, and teenage boy type stomping and jumping. Almost simultaneously I heard both their screams and instinctively knew what happened. By the time I got to the lake they were shouting at eachother, one trying to blame the other. Where they had fallen through was about 4 feet deep, no real danger, except from exposure. By the time I got them out, they were mud to muddy water, sneakers to upper waist/lower chest. They were soaked, cold and scared. They both started to cry, knowing what was going to happen to them when Sarge got home the next day.
I got them to the house and made them strip out of their clothes in our basement rec room area. It was next to my office and the laundry room was inbetween. They stood their naked, with muddy water glistening on their pale skin. Both boys were strawberry blond red heads, with freckles and thick hair, piercing blue eyes....just like their father. I got them into a downstairs shower to warm them up, and while they were cleaning up I got two bathrobes out of Paul & Mike's room.
They came out of the bathroom, with towels wrapped around their waist, which they quickly and eagerly swapped. I took their towels and really dried their hair out as best I could, considering how thick their straight was. I lectured them as I rubbed their wet heads with the towels.
"Boys, you got a problem, because your screams got the attention of the next door neighbors. I'm sure they are going to let Sarge know about your little stunt. What are we going to do about it boys?", I asked quietly.
Jeff and Tony were beside themselves, begging, promising and pleading for the moon and all other planets if I could get them out of their jam. I let them stew in their own pot of misery for awhile longer as I forced them to clean up their sneakers in the laundry room utility sink. They then put those in the dryer and started that process. Then they rinsed out their clothes, before putting them into the washer for cleaning. I took them back into the office and we started to discuss their plight.
"Tony. Jeff. I am not going to spank you for this stunt. In the first place, I really don't know your Dad that well. I don't know if he respects me enough to spank you boys instead of him."
Both of them interjected with quotes from their Mom & Dad that painted me out to be Billy Graham, Sir Lancelot and Knute Rockne in one person.
"Boys, that's just fine, but they have never told me that. Plus, there's even a bigger problem in my mind. You two have not spoken more than a hundred words combined to me, since you moved in a year ago. You really don't respect me enough to accept the kind of paddling I think you two deserve."
This caught them off guard, but it was the truth. Child abuse is an adult who verbally or physically punishes a child....without the respect of that child. Just because a person is an adult, doesn't give them a license from the state to have all children respect them. Respect from children is earned, not granted by chronological accident.
I let them beg and plead for a couple of more minutes. They obviously had heard first hand from my sons and other boys how I spanked, and they figured mine would be better than their own father's thick harness strap on the bare. Actually they were right, but I still wasn't going to turn them over my knee....but I did give them a choice.
"All right. Let's establish something first.", I said quietly, sitting in my office chair and them standing in front of me, my sons' thick robes swallowing up their slender bodies.
"Did you boys violate the rules by getting on the lake without my permission?" They both nodded their head "yes".
"OK. Do you deserve to be punished for such a screw up?" Again two more nods of "yes".
"All right. Would your Dad whip your bare butts with the strap if he finds out about this." That got some quick and furious nods of "yes".
"Based upon what you have heard, would my paddling be easier than your Dad's whipping?" Another two "yes" nods.
"All right then. If I won't paddle you, who should?" That question got them. They both looked at eachother and then at me and shrugged "they didn't know."
"All right. Let's look at this logically. Who forced you to put yourselves in danger?" They both looked at eachother and pointed to the other.
"All right then, if you boys broke the rules together, put yourselves in danger together, who better else to paddle each other, than you two?" You could have heard a pin drop as they exchanged very nervous glances. Again they just shrugged their shoulders, exchanging nervous glances....very nervous. Tony spoke first.
"You mean, I am going to have to paddle my brother?" he said in almost wonderment.
"Why not Tony? Who else is responsible for Jeff and you going onto that ice? The good tooth fairy? I don't think so." Jeff then broke his silence.
"Will I have to spank him with my hand or paddle?"
"Paddle, Jeff. And, you are going to have to really paddle him hard, or I will tell your father afterwards. So if you don't paddle hard, you are going to get a worse second spanking from your Dad!" This really made them nervous.
"How many times do we have to spank eachother?", Tony asked, twisting the robe's waist sash.
"Good question. But I really don't know. And here is why. Right now your clothes are washing in the soap cycle of cleaning. Your underpants are soaked with hot water and soap. You two are going to have to go into the laundry room and pull your underpants out of the washer. Then you are going to rinse them out by hand in the sink, with hot water. Without wringing them out, then you are going to put them on wet, taking off the robes. Then you two are going to have to paddle your underpants dry." Their jaws dropped and they turned and just stared at eachother. Finally Tony turned his head and spoke.
"How can we do that? We've never spanked eachother!", he said with tears beginning to form in his blue eyes.
"Oh, I think that will be pretty easy. I'll teach you two how, as we go along. All you have to worry about is making sure you both paddle eachother as hard as you can until your underpants are dry. Just that simple!"
For the next minute or so, they hit eachother and me with all kinds of questions. Then they finally looked at eachother and nodded in agreement. It was obvious that anything would be better than Sarge's strap tomorrow.
"OK guys, give me your robes." They looked startled, and now shy as they handed over their robes, leaving them stark naked. I pointed into the laundry room and they both went silently into the room and opened up the washer. Since the only things white in the water was their socks and underpants, it was easy to find them. It took them about a minute to rinse them out and then put them on. It was funny watching them try to pull on the soaked knit fabric. But they got them in place, the wet fabric provided a gauze quality to their underpants. I pointed them back into my office, and watched their slim butts show right thru the wet fabric as they shuffled back into the room....just like they shuffle when Sarge is following them to the barn.
They stood next to the window as I put the saddle stool in the middle of the room and got the paddle out of my desk. I could tell from the looks of fear crossing their faces, that the paddle looked worse than what their buddies' tales had portrayed. I motioned Tony over to the stool and for him to bend over. He took the few steps he needed and bent over, grasping the bottom rung.
The wet, white fabric of his Hanes briefs creased into in ass crack, causing them to fit like a second skin....a very tight, white, wet second skin. I motioned Jeff over to me as he looked at his brother's butt in fascination. I handed him the paddle and he looked at it with great nervousness and fear. I could almost read his thoughts. "This could hurt bad." I placed him in the right spot, allowing all the room to swing away.
"OK boys here are the rules. First, you swat eachother as hard as you can, making sure you only hit your brother's underpants. No leg swats. Second, you will give eachother 13 swats, one swat for each of your years on this planet. Third, after 13 swats, you will trade places with your brother, and he will repay you. Fourth, we will keep changing places and trading 13 swats until your underpants are dry. Fifth, if you don't paddle hard enough, I will still report to your Dad. But, you won't know that you are spanking hard enough until the end of the spanking. Sixth, and finally, no rubbing your butts until after the spanking is over with. SSSOOO, if you want a hard bare butt strapping tomorrow, be namby pamby today."
"Jeff, you are first. Do you understand everything, plus the importance of swatting your brother as hard as you can?" He looked at the paddle, then me, then his brother and then back to me, nodding his head.
"Tony, do you understand?" Tony's red head, nodded "yes" as he gripped the stool harder. Jeff drew back and tied into the first swat.
"CRACK" I got hit with hot water from Tony's tightly stretched cotton and so did Jeff. Tony yelled and kicked his legs as I placed my hands on his lower shoulders, pinning him to the stool.
"CRACK" The second swat dot almost as much water over me, Jeff hitting him just as hard, Tony now screaming out. 11 more times Jeff really swatted him hard, Tony now bawling and kicking. I let him up and Jeff bent over the stool. Tony grabbed the paddle and took his position. Jeff's butt looked just as wet and unprotected as Tony's had been.
"CRACK". Jeff screamed out at Tony's first swat. I got sprayed with water from his briefs. 12 more times Tony busted his brother's butt.
Jeff got up and Tony bent back over slowly. His butt showed bright pink thru his thin wet underpants. But that didn't stop Jeff from laying the wood to his brother's butt. Now there was some real serious crying, kicking and begging going on.
Jeff gave the paddle to Tony as he got up. A repeat performance, Jeff adding even more violent kicks to his paddle swats.
After the third time, I stopped both boys and felt their warm buns. "Bad news boys, these underpants are real wet. You're not spanking hard enough!" You would have though I just told them the moon was made of green cheese. They insisted they were hitting as hard as they could.
"Not good enough guys. If you don't really lay it on, Sarge will make sure his strap will kiss your bare butts purple. NOW SPANK!" And they did. They were landing swats harder than I would have, by a bunch. But, I didn't let them know that.
After another three sessions apiece, I rubbed their butts again. This time they flinched at my touch, the fabric of their briefs noticeably dryer. "OK boys, if you don't really give it to eachother, I'm gonna stop this and send you home. Now you stand here with your hands on your heads and I am going to check up on Erin. Don't move!" I got upstairs and she was sound asleep, really oblivious to the 13 year old caterwalling going on in the basement. Got back to the basement and the boys didn't appear to have moved.
"OK lets start again. Now remember, this is your last chance." They took every advantage of the opportunity. This time I let them go 4 sets each before I stopped them to check their butts. The rear seat of their white cotton briefs was getting dry. They were still moist, but not wet. Their butts were now dark red with numerous purple paddle marks. They groaned and flinched as I rubbed their butts, begging me to stop, "we've learned our lessons", etc.
"Tony. Jeff. You have spanked each other 13 times, in 10 sets. How many swats has your butt felt."
It took about 2 seconds of Einstein calculations before they got the right answer "130, Mr. Parker!"
"Way to go guys. Now, your underpants aren't dry, so lets get'm dry boys!" I motioned Tony back over the stool. Now his briefs no longer fit his crimson multi-colored buns as tight. That didn't stop Jeff from making him jump and scream with the first swat.
I let them go 3 more sets and then I stopped them. "Boys, this just isn't working. Your briefs aren't dry, so take them off and put them in the washer and we will just have to let your Dad do this tomorrow." Talk about heart rendering crying. Their bare butts looked like bad raw hamburger as they walked back into the laundry room. When they returned, I gave them back their robes, which they quickly put on, grimacing and flinching at the rough terry cloth rubbing against their tender rumps.
"OK boys, sit down on this floor, while I finish up some work and you wait for your clothes to finish." They sat down and really squirmed and squealed at the terry cloth, concrete floor and their butt's sensitive skin. The more they tried to make themselves comfortable, the worse it got. Inside of a minute, there were tears in their eyes from the experience. In about 5 minutes the washer stopped and I motioned for them to go into the laundry room. Very slowly they got their clothes into the dryer. By now the sneakers were dry, and pulled out. While they made the transfer I checked on Erin. Still sound asleep.
By the time I got back downstairs they had resumed their seats on the floor, tears welling up in their eyes. I continued on with my office work, until the dryer bell went off 45 minutes later.
"OK boys. Get dressed and go into the rec room and have a seat on the couch. I heard a bunch of panic whispering going on as they put their clothes back on. They took their seats on the sofa, and I waited for a few minutes longer. Then I went back into the rec room and sat down on the coffee table in front of two teary eyed teenagers.
"Jeff. Tony. I'm not going to tell your Dad a thing about tonight. I'll make sure Jim next door doesn't say anything either. He probably heard your bellowing clear over there." Both boys kind of smiled at that image, along with a deep collective sigh of relief.
"I also want to tell you both that you did exactly as I asked you to do. You both gave eachother a hard spanking....much harder than I would have given you."
All hell broke loose with "but you told us that...." Once they were calmed down, smiling even more at the way I had gotten to them, they looked very relieved. I had them stand up and gave them both big hugs, which they returned.
The next summer, both boys spent alot of time at our lake. They had earned every minute of it. Today, they are in partners in their own blacksmith business, specializing in mobile horse service. Making a _d_a_m_n_ed mint.
[The rest of my true life stories are posted on this MMSA Stories Archive, in somewhat alpha/chronological order. Put your mouse's arrow on the blue colored "Jason Parker" just below to have access to my stories exclusively. Many of you email me each week with comments about my stories. In my business travels, I then sometimes satisfy those same readers needs to be spanked by an old fashioned Dad.]